‘Very well, the traitor may speak,’ he ground out, ‘but know that words will not save him.’
‘Everything I did, I did for Rome,’ Valerius continued. ‘When Marcus Salvius Otho sent me as emissary to Aulus Vitellius I went willingly, because I believed I could persuade him from war.’ He shook his head. ‘I was wrong. A shift was under way that no one man, not even Vitellius himself, could halt. So I took up arms against my old friend and I was proud to fight beside the First Adiutrix at Bedriacum. Was that the act of a traitor? You have been told that Vitellius deliberately freed me to spy on Marcus Antonius Primus, and that I attempted to delay him. I am no spy, but it was Titus Flavius Vespasian’s wish that Primus should wait, and the general himself would tell you that if only he would speak.’ Primus glanced nervously at Domitianus, but he stayed in his seat. ‘It was Marcus Antonius Primus who sent me to Rome to persuade Aulus Vitellius to surrender and save needless bloodshed, and his plan would have succeeded if one man,’ he let his eyes settle on Domitianus, ‘just one man, had had the courage to step forward and accept the sword of Caesar from his hand. When Rome needed a hero, those who could have saved her instead fled to the Temple of Jupiter and left her to her fate.’ The speech seemed to have drained the strength from him, and Domitianus gave a thin smile as his enemy’s head dropped. But Valerius drew a long breath and his chin came up as he somehow found the will to continue. ‘Perhaps I deserve to die for what happened in the sacred precincts of the temple, though neither I, nor any other, knows who cast the fateful brand. And for taking up arms against my former comrades. But I am no traitor. I swear it on the life and honour of Gaius Valerius Verrens.’
‘Condemned from his own mouth.’ Domitianus couldn’t suppress a sneer. ‘Let the sentence be carried out.’
Valerius made no attempt to resist as they came forward to bind him. He tried to put what was to come out of his mind, looking over the heads of the crowd to where a procession of men on horseback were approaching down the Argiletum. The leader wore a breastplate worked with gold and the glittering plumed helmet of a Roman general. His old enemy Gaius Licinius Mucianus had come to watch him die.
Mucianus forced his horse through the crowd to the dais and dismounted, throwing the reins to one of the guards. Primus darted a look of alarm as his rival approached Domitianus and saluted, earning a wary nod of recognition in return.
‘I bring greetings from your father, the Emperor,’ the general announced, ‘and from your brother Titus. Your father sends word that he will return to Rome once his business in Judaea is completed and you have had sufficient time to arrange an appropriate welcome for him. He confirms your position in sole charge of the city as acting Prefect of Rome.’ He turned to survey the scene around him as if noticing the thronged Forum for the first time. ‘What is happening here?’
‘Your timing is good.’ Domitianus smiled. ‘I am having this criminal put to death. You will no doubt enjoy the spectacle.’
Mucianus studied the prisoner and frowned as he recognized Valerius. ‘My timing is indeed propitious.’ He turned to an aide and the tribune ran forward with an open scroll. ‘I carry a pardon for this man signed by the Emperor himself.’ He handed the scroll to Domitianus. The newly appointed Prefect of Rome took it with shaking fingers, and when he came to the end of the document he raised his head with a look of puzzled amusement.
‘But this is a pardon for a previous sentence of death, for cowardice in the face of the enemy.’ He laughed. ‘The Senate has convicted Gaius Valerius Verrens on the most vile charges of treason and I have just sentenced the traitor to death by crucifixion.’ The sallow face creased into what he obviously believed was a benevolent smile. ‘However, in recognition of my father’s regard for the man’s past service, I hereby commute the sentence to a merciful beheading. Send for the executioner.’
‘Sir,’ Mucianus stepped forward urgently, ‘may I respectfully advise …’
‘You may not,’ Domitianus snapped. ‘I will have his life.’
Mucianus continued to whisper to Vespasian’s son, and Primus attempted to join the conversation, but Domitianus waved him away.
Strong hands pushed Valerius to his knees and he raised his head to see the bull-shouldered executioner walking towards him, a long cavalry spatha twirling expertly in his right hand. He recognized the brick-red peasant face of the man who had been within a heartbeat of removing his head four months earlier in a grassy Pannonian field. The soldier’s face split in a wry grin and he shook his head. ‘You should have run, son, and just kept running,’ he whispered.
‘Just make it quick,’ Valerius said.
‘You know the drill, lad. Head up and keep it still. Makes it easier on both of us.’
Valerius did as he was instructed, the wall of faces on the far side of the Forum a flesh-coloured blur. As a hush fell over the sacred space he took a final breath.
In the pause before the blow fell he was distracted by a slight movement at the corner of his eye. A wall of white entered his vision, moving from left to right, and his astonished eyes registered a procession of Vestal Virgins from the Temple of Vesta a few dozen paces up the Via Sacra. One face stood out at the centre of the little group and his heart stopped as he realized he was looking at Domitia Longina Corbulo. Domitia stared directly ahead, acknowledging neither the crowd nor the man kneeling in the centre of the square. Suddenly he knew.
‘Strike,’ he hissed at the legionary. He tensed for the stroke, but it never came.
‘Strike,’ he repeated, loud enough for every man to hear.
But the executioner was looking to Titus Flavius Domitianus for the signal, and Domitianus only had eyes for Domitia Longina Corbulo, who detached herself from the procession and serenely approached the platform, where a space miraculously appeared at his side. Their heads bowed together and Valerius watched in despair as a one-sided discussion took place. Eventually, Domitianus nodded gravely and stood, his face a picture of bewilderment.
‘I have taken the advice of my generals. The sentence is commuted to exile.’ He blinked and his eyes focused on Valerius. ‘You will leave Rome within twelve hours and never set foot on the soil of Italia again … on pain of death.’
Valerius bowed his head and understood for the first time that there were worse fates than death.
LIII
‘You should not have come here.’
The bitterness in Valerius’s voice was like a knife through Domitia’s heart, but to betray it would only have increased the pain for them both. Somehow, she managed to remain composed and apparently unmoved. ‘Do not judge me, Valerius. I did what had to be done.’
‘Your duty?’ He spat the word as if it were a curse. She had arrived at the room where he had stayed before his capture as he was packing a leather bag for a journey that did not yet have a destination. Curtains covered the windows and the darkness was like a cloak between them, which was a blessing because it meant they did not have to look into each other’s eyes.
‘Not my duty,’ she said without bitterness. ‘What was right. Would you deny me the right to make a sacrifice to save the man I loved?’
Now it was his turn to feel the sting of the blade and she heard the agony of it in his voice. ‘I would rather have died.’
‘Yes,’ she said carefully. ‘I understand that, but ask yourself how Domitia Longina Corbulo could have lived if she had left you to your fate when she had the means to alter it.’
‘I should kill him.’
‘And have my sacrifice mean nothing?’ She shook her head at his naivety. When she had made her decision it had felt like a death sentence, but once it was taken she realized she had the capacity to live with it. How many women of her class had the luxury of choice? ‘Have I misjudged you so, Valerius? The man I love is brave and honourable and kind. He is not a fool who voluntarily throws himself to the wolf for no purpose. It is what Domitianus wants you to do, and you would die for nothing. I have given him my vow, and I will not break my word. Y
ou have often said I am my father’s daughter. Would you expect me to dishonour his shade?’
Valerius fought for words, but he knew nothing he said would change what was. When the silence became unbearable, it was Domitia who spoke.
‘Where will you go?’
‘I don’t …’ He swallowed. ‘To Titus, I think, if he will have me. If he does not want me, or if my presence threatens his position, then east; a sword for hire.’
‘Better with Titus,’ she nodded. ‘I will send Serpentius after you when he has recovered.’
At first he thought he’d misheard her. ‘Serpentius?’
‘He was hit by a club from behind as he tried to save little Lucius.’ Her eyes misted over as she remembered the moment, her heart in her mouth for Serpentius, the awful flood of blood from the pale flesh of the child’s throat. His mother’s screams. ‘Serpentius is not invincible after all, Valerius. Neither are you. You may find him …’ she searched for the proper word, ‘changed. Since he woke it is as if he sees the world differently.’
Valerius sighed. Of course, the boy’s fate had been certain from the moment Vitellius had named him his heir. But Serpentius? ‘I thought he was dead.’ His voice sounded very tired. ‘Better then to send him back to his homeland. The gods know there is no more honour in riding with Gaius Valerius Verrens, enemy of Rome. If you could find a way to …’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I will ensure he has the means, and more. It is the least I owe him.’ Valerius finished packing the bag and straightened, meeting her eyes for the first time. She realized that Serpentius was not the only one who had changed. ‘I will try to make sure that your property passes to Olivia,’ she continued, ‘and that the villa is rebuilt.’ She saw his bemusement. ‘It was burned. Deserters from one army or the other. She is safe, but a few of your people were killed.’
A bell tolled somewhere nearby.
‘I will …’
‘You should …’
Their words emerged simultaneously and faded in the same instant. She stepped forward into his arms and he held her, breathing in the fresh sweetness of her hair, trying to imprint every nuance of it on his memory. He felt dampness on his unshaven cheek and tasted salt on his lips. For a time it seemed neither could find the will to break the embrace, but eventually Domitia pushed herself away.
‘You must go.’ She turned away to the window.
He nodded. What else was there to say? He picked up the bag and walked to the doorway, hesitating as she spoke again. ‘He has pledged to leave you in peace, but he will send them after you.’
Them. Assassins: backstabbers and poisoners.
‘I will be ready for them.’
A soft current of air brushed the back of her neck.
‘Valerius …’ She turned back, not ready to let him go despite her entreaty. But where he’d stood was only darkness.
Historical note
The downfall of Otho at First Bedriacum in AD 69 would have marked the end of the civil war known as the Year of the Four Emperors, but for the ambition of Titus Flavius Vespasian, proconsul of Egypt and commander of the eastern legions. How long Aulus Vitellius would have lasted as Emperor is anyone’s guess given his own character and that of his two foremost generals, Fabius Valens and Aulus Caecina Alienus, both of whom probably had their eyes on the purple. It’s possible he would have survived thanks to the unswerving loyalty of the German legions who had placed him in power, but Vespasian’s intervention ensured the question never arose.
Like his predecessor, Vitellius’s short time in office seems to disprove his reputation. Suetonius represents him as a slothful glutton, but Tacitus, who was more contemporary, is a little more reasoned in his criticism. Revealingly, he says that Vitellius’s most important edicts, the curbing of centurions’ abuses of power and the expansion of the major Imperial offices beyond a small pool of privileged freedmen, were adopted by successive emperors. The Emperor also managed to keep the population happy and fed at a time when Vespasian had halted grain shipments from Egypt and Africa.
But one thing is clear; Vitellius was no general. When Vespasian’s Moesian and Pannonian legions advanced on Italy he stayed in Rome or in one of his villas nearby, leaving the conduct of the fighting to Valens and Caecina. It was a big mistake. Caecina betrayed him at the first opportunity and would have gifted his legions to Vespasian but for the loyalty of his senior officers to their Emperor. Valens, sick and apparently having lost his appetite for the fight, wandered aimlessly until he was scooped up by Vespasian’s loyalists.
Vespasian also avoided the front line, preferring to stay in Egypt, but for different reasons. It’s suggested that he wanted the bloodshed kept to a minimum so that he could enter Rome in triumph as a protector as well as victor, and he might well have done so if Marcus Antonius Primus, commander of the Balkan legions, had obeyed orders and waited for reinforcements. But Primus was a man in a hurry. He’d been exiled for fraud under Nero and now he had the opportunity to resurrect his political career and wipe out the stain on his character. Instead of waiting for reinforcements from the Syrian legions he decided to attack Italy and moved on Cremona over the same ground that had been saturated in blood nine months earlier. Barely able to control his men and drawn into a battle he didn’t want, he was forced to fight a night action which could have ended in disaster. Fortunately for Primus, without Valens and Caecina the Vitellian legions were more or less leaderless and he was able to fight his way through and take Cremona. However, the city paid the price for its support of the enemy in an orgy of blood, rapine and fire that probably cost Primus any chances of future advancement under the wrathful Vespasian.
Vitellius, now without an army, was still in Rome as the legions approached. It’s clear he wanted to give up the purple and save the lives of himself and his family, but his Praetorian Guard of German veterans thwarted an attempt to broker a peace with Vespasian’s brother Sabinus, who was still in the city. Sabinus attempted to take refuge on the Capitol with his nephew, the future Emperor Domitian, and a group of allies, but the Praetorians flushed them out and the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus burned to the ground. Domitian survived, but when Vespasian’s vengeful soldiers marched into Rome Vitellius was dragged from the Domus Aurea and butchered. Vespasian was Emperor and the Flavian dynasty had begun.
But what of Gaius Valerius Verrens? Disgraced and hunted, he must seek out the only friend he has left, the Emperor’s elder son, Titus, and attempt to regain his honour against the Judaean rebels who are determined to be the Scourge of Rome.
Glossary
Ala milliaria –
A reinforced auxiliary cavalry wing, normally between 700 and 1,000 strong. In Britain and the west the units would be a mix of cavalry and infantry, in the east a mix of spearmen and archers.
Ala quingenaria –
Auxiliary cavalry wing normally composed of 500 auxiliary horsemen.
Aquilifer –
The standard bearer who carried the eagle of the legion.
As –
A small copper coin worth approximately one fifth of a sestertius.
Aureus (pl. Aurei) –
Valuable gold coin worth twenty-five denarii.
Auxiliary –
Non-citizen soldiers recruited from the provinces as light infantry or for specialist tasks, e.g. cavalry, slingers, archers.
Ballista (pl. Ballistae) –
Artillery for throwing heavy missiles of varying size and type. The smaller machines were called scorpions or onagers.
Batavians –
Members of a powerful Germanic tribe which lived in the area of the Rhine delta, now part of the Netherlands. Traditionally provided auxiliary units for the Roman Empire in return for relief from tribute and taxes.
Beneficiarius –
A legion’s record keeper or scribe.
Boar’s Head (alt. Wedge) –
A compact arrow-head formation used by Roman infantry and cavalry to break up enemy formations.
Sturdily constructed, reinforced leather sandals worn by Roman soldiers, normally with iron-studded sole.
Century –
Smallest tactical unit of the legion, numbering eighty men.
Classis Germanica –
Fleet of galleys which patrolled and carried military traffic on the River Rhine frontier.
Cohort –
Tactical fighting unit of the legion. Normally contained six centuries, apart from the elite First cohort, which had five double-strength centuries (800 men).
Cohortis urbanae –
Literally ‘urban cohorts’, a kind of paramilitary police force in Rome, formed by Augustus and used to counteract the power of the Praetorians.
Consul –
One of two annually elected chief magistrates of Rome, normally appointed by the people and ratified by the Senate.
Contubernium –
Unit of eight soldiers who shared a tent or barracks.
Cornicen (pl. Cornicines) –
Legionary signal trumpeter who used an instrument called a cornu.
Decimation –
A brutal and seldom used Roman military punishment where one man in every ten of a unit found guilty of cowardice or mutiny was chosen for execution by his comrades.
Decurion –
A junior officer in a century, or a troop commander in a cavalry unit.
Denarius (pl. Denarii) –
A silver coin.
Domus –
The house of a wealthy Roman, e.g. Nero’s Domus Aurea (Golden House).
Duplicarius –
Literally ‘double pay man’. A senior legionary with a trade, or an NCO.
Equestrian –
Member of the Roman knightly class.
Evocatus (pl. Evocati) –
A Roman legionary who voluntarily re-enlisted after the completion of his service.
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