Rome's executioner v-2

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘We will keep him there until we are better able to discern the Emperor’s wishes,’ Regulus replied with uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘We already know his wishes,’ his junior colleague Trio snapped. ‘The question is how long will the Praetorian Guard stand for it? If they come marching into the city to release him, I for one will not stand in their way; in fact I will lead them to the Tullianum and unlock the cell myself.’

  ‘Then you will be going against the Senate and People of Rome,’ Regulus shouted back.

  ‘The Senate and People of Rome be buggered; the power lies with the Praetorians and whoever commands their loyalty. I intend to be on their side rather than lying dead on the Gemonium Stairs,’ Trio replied, pointing at the steep steps that led from the Forum up to the summit of the Capitoline Hill.

  ‘But you were a part of the meeting that condemned him,’ Regulus said, shocked, ‘how can you in honour go back on that decision?’

  ‘I may have been a part of the meeting but I didn’t vote, only one man voted, Senior Consul, and you chose him because you, like every other senator, knew him to be a supporter of Sejanus’ greatest enemy, the Lady Antonia. That has left the rest of us free to keep our opinions to ourselves until such time as we see fit to express them.’

  There was a murmur of agreement amongst some of the surrounding senators.

  Regulus was outraged at being so outmanoeuvred. ‘But it was your idea, which I went along with in the spirit of reconciliation, so as not to force men into voting against someone whom they had previously supported.’

  Trio smiled thinly and shrugged.

  Vespasian could see that the concord of the morning was starting to fracture; people were reassessing their positions as it dawned on them that the matter was far from resolved and that Trio had indeed left them room for manoeuvre.

  Gaius came puffing up the steps towards the group; his usually carefully tonged hair lay flat on his head, lank with sweat.

  ‘Consul Regulus,’ he said, trying to regain his breath, ‘may I have a word with you in private?’

  ‘Very well.’ Regulus stepped away from the group, with obvious relief, to join Gaius.

  The senators split up into smaller clusters, muttering.

  Paetus came over to Vespasian. ‘It’s all becoming a bit tricky, old chap. A bit of a mess, I should say,’ he observed, beaming as if he was quite enjoying the situation.

  ‘I think that the Lady Antonia has just forced the issue,’ Vespasian replied, noticing a large group of senators cutting their way through the crowd and heading towards the Senate House.

  Regulus broke off his conversation with Gaius, nodding his agreement at whatever he had been told, as Aulus Plautius led thirty or so of Sejanus’ supporters to the bottom of the steps.

  Plautius pulled back his broad, muscular shoulders and raised his head; the veins on his thick neck bulged blue. ‘Consuls Regulus and Trio,’ he called in his loudest voice so that the crowd of citizens all around him heard and quietened. The silence spread throughout the Forum as people became aware that the next move in the day’s events was under way. Plautius waited until the hush was complete. ‘I demand a full meeting of the Senate immediately, to address the unsatisfactory situation that we find ourselves in.’

  ‘And I second that,’ Trio immediately shouted triumphantly, ‘unless you would prefer to do so yourself, Senior Consul? The day has already been declared auspicious for senatorial business, so you can’t get out of it that way.’

  Regulus looked to the sky and pointed at a skein of honking geese flying in a V formation, northwest, over the Temple of Concordia at the foot of the Capitoline Hill. ‘I declare that to be a sign from the gods,’ he shouted.

  ‘You can’t refuse a meeting because of a flight of birds,’ Trio responded angrily.

  ‘I could quite easily, there are many precedents for me to do so, but I take it as a positive sign: the saviours of Rome, who, whilst the dogs stayed sleeping, woke the defenders of the Capitoline Hill when the Gauls were scaling it at night, have shown us that the Senate should meet in the Temple of Concordia, the goddess of Harmony. Summon the Senate; there, in Concordia’s sacred precinct, we shall resolve this matter.’

  The crowd roared their approval of this patriotic reading of bird flight and parted to make way for the twenty-four lictors, who preceded the two Consuls to the Temple of Concordia.

  Vespasian caught up with Gaius halfway across the Forum.

  ‘What did you tell Regulus, Uncle?’

  ‘When I went back to Antonia’s house a message arrived for her from Plautius saying that he agreed to her demand and that over thirty of Sejanus’ supporters, who were currently meeting at his house, would support it too, on condition that Antonia would intercede on their behalf with the Emperor. So she sent messages out to all the senators that didn’t turn up to this morning’s meeting, because they hadn’t wanted to be a part of Sejanus’ supposed victory, telling them to attend the Senate when the summons came. She asked me to come here as quickly as possible to ensure that Regulus didn’t find an excuse to refuse a further meeting.’

  ‘Like, for example, an ill-omened flight of birds?’

  Gaius chuckled. ‘Exactly. He could just as easily have declared the geese to be a sign that Rome’s luck was leaving the city and no more business should be attempted today; we’ve all seen it done before.’

  They reached the Temple of Concordia, set in front of the beautiful, arched facade of the Tabularium, where all Rome’s records were kept. Gaius went in, leaving Vespasian by the doors.

  For half an hour Vespasian watched as senators, many of whom had not been present at the morning meeting, appeared from every direction in answer to the Consuls’ summons, each now believing that their faction would win the debate. Amongst the last to arrive were Corbulo and his father, who looked remarkably like his son. They both appeared very unsure of the situation.

  ‘Vespasian, what’s going on?’ Corbulo asked nervously as his father went into the temple.

  ‘Well, if you’d been at the debate this morning you would know.’ Vespasian was going to enjoy toying with him.

  ‘We were ill,’ Corbulo replied huffily, ‘we had some bad prawns last night.’

  ‘You really must give up prawns: they obviously don’t agree with you.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ Corbulo spluttered, remembering that he had used that excuse once before in Vespasian’s presence. ‘Tell me what’s happening.’

  ‘If you go in and vote for the motion you’ll be fine,’ Vespasian replied enigmatically.

  Realising that he was demeaning himself by asking someone who was not a senator about senatorial business, Corbulo snorted and went inside.

  ‘Conscript Fathers,’ Regulus’ voice carried out of the door, ‘come to order.’

  The chatter inside the temple immediately died down. The doors remained opened; Vespasian stood in the doorway to watch the proceedings.

  ‘Although the day has already been declared auspicious,’ Regulus began, ‘we are now under the guidance of a different goddess and should therefore sacrifice to her.’

  There were mutterings of assent and dissent from the opposing factions of senators; Trio instantly got to his feet but Regulus continued before he could take the floor.

  ‘To ensure that there are no allegations of foul play in reading the omens I invite the Junior Consul to make the sacrifice.’

  Trio accepted the offer gladly; he pulled a fold of his toga over his head and stepped up to the altar. Because a flight of geese had led them to the Temple of Concordia a goose had been chosen as the most propitious sacrifice. Trio hastily despatched the bird, saying the prayers over it in a most perfunctory manner, then slit it open to examine the liver, which he quickly declared to be perfect and a sign that the good goddess of harmony favoured their endeavour.

  ‘Thank you for your diligence, Consul,’ Regulus said, without a trace of irony, as he took the floor again. ‘Senator Plautius has asked for thi
s meeting, I therefore call upon him to speak first.’

  Regulus sat back down on his Consul’s curule chair as Plautius stood to speak.

  ‘Conscript Fathers.’ He held out his right arm and, in a dramatic gesture, swept it around the room to include all the seated senators. ‘I have asked for us to meet again today because I, like many of you, feel that we haven’t rightly interpreted our Emperor’s wishes and in not doing so we have created a very combustible situation.’

  There was a general murmur of agreement; neither faction could dispute that.

  ‘I therefore propose to examine more carefully what he meant. He asked us to vote on “whether or not he should be imprisoned”; we all took that to mean that the Emperor wanted Sejanus imprisoned, did we not?’

  Again both factions found themselves agreeing.

  ‘Yet imprisonment of a citizen has never been a punishment recognised by the State, so was the Emperor really asking us to mete out a punishment that doesn’t exist?’

  Frowns and puzzled looks passed over the faces of his fellows.

  ‘Let us look again at the words “whether or not”. In using that form of words Tiberius was deferring to the Senate; he was leaving the decision as to what to do with this man to us. However, Conscript Fathers, we took him too literally; it wasn’t just a choice between imprisoning Sejanus or not. No, the Emperor is sometimes too subtle for even his loyal Senate to follow.’

  Another chorus of unanimous agreement rose from the senators. Vespasian smiled to himself; he could see that that sycophantic line had been put in with the Emperor’s reading of the meeting’s transcript in mind.

  ‘The choice our beloved Emperor was giving us wasn’t nearly so narrow; he in his wisdom knows that to have Sejanus locked up here in Rome could only lead to ill feeling, riots or even civil war. It was not just imprisonment or freedom that he was giving us the choice of, it was also imprisonment or loss of all honours previously voted him; imprisonment or confinement to his house, either here in Rome or one of his many country estates; imprisonment or denial of fire and water within three hundred miles of Rome; imprisonment or banishment to an island or a faraway town.’ He paused as the truth of what he was suggesting began to sink in to his audience and senators started to call out for their preferred punishment or for clemency. Plautius raised his strong voice and drowned them out. ‘Or, Conscript Fathers,’ he declaimed, ‘ imprisonment or death. And I call for death — but not the death of a Roman citizen that he has denied to so many of his victims. No, let it be the death of an enemy of Rome: strangulation.’

  There was uproar, but Plautius stood his ground, raised his arms in the air and waited for the commotion to die down.

  ‘But let it not be just I who expresses his view,’ he carried on once the noise had abated enough for him to be heard again, ‘let us do this properly, unlike this morning, so that there can be no doubt as to the will of the Senate. Every senator should speak and give his opinion, and then the motion should be put to a full vote. If you agree, Senior Consul, I would have you call my colleague, Silius Nervus, to speak next as is his right as an ex-Consul.’

  Plautius sat back down whilst Regulus retook the floor.

  ‘Consul Trio, do you agree that we take this to a full debate?’

  Trio was in no position to argue, having insisted upon the meeting and having taken the auspices himself. He stood and mumbled his agreement, shocked by such a high-profile desertion from his faction.

  ‘Very well then, I call the ex-Consul Silius Nervus.’

  A round, middle-aged man waddled forward and took the floor. ‘Conscript Fathers, I too demand death by strangulation, and also damnatio memoriae, let his name be removed from all monuments and history,’ he said simply, before waddling back to his stool.

  There was a communal gasp from all sides as the senators realised that this had been an ambush and Sejanus now had no chance of reprieve. Vespasian watched with an increasing sense of awe at Antonia’s political finesse as Regulus called every senator in order of precedence, from ex-Consuls down, to speak. With a few exceptions, who pleaded briefly but ineffectually for either death by decapitation or one of the more innocuous punishments, they all called for death by strangulation.

  By the time the most junior of the more than four hundred senators present had spoken the sun was getting low in the sky and it was time for the presiding Consuls to wind up the debate.

  Regulus took the floor. ‘Conscript Fathers, it now only remains for the two Consuls to speak before I call a vote. I call Consul Trio.’

  Trio rose slowly to his feet and walked unhurriedly into the centre of the Temple. He had the look of a beaten but unbowed man determined to pursue the only course of action left open to him.

  ‘Conscript Fathers, we have over the centuries witnessed many a man who has for one reason or another exceeded himself.’ His voice was slow and flat; there were angry growls from the senators as they immediately saw that this was the beginning of a filibuster. ‘Coriolanus, Gaius Marius, Sulla, Tarquinius Superbus, Appius Claudius

  … ’

  The list went on and on and Vespasian, like the senators, began to worry that he would talk until sundown at which time the debate would be talked out and no vote could be taken.

  ‘It is time to consider what manner of a man is Sejanus,’ Trio continued, having named scores of ambitious historical figures and being forced to raise his voice against the growing clamour of his furious colleagues. ‘Is he the sort of man who-’ A stool hit him full in the face, gashing his right cheek and almost felling him. He stood back erect with blood flowing on to his toga and opened his mouth to speak again; before he could get another word out he went down under a sustained salvo of brutally hurled stools and was forced to crawl from the floor and seek shelter behind his curule chair.

  ‘Thank you for your opinion, Consul,’ Regulus said, nodding to his bloodied and bruised colleague as if nothing was amiss. ‘I too demand death. The house will now divide, those in favour to my right, those against to my left, on this motion: That this house would condemn Lucius Aelius Sejanus to death by strangulation and that his name be expunged.’

  There was almost a stampede as the senators all struggled not to be seen to be the last man standing on the left. Within a few moments the only man not to Regulus’ right was Trio, who was still cowering behind his chair; he gingerly poked his head up and looked around to see that he had been utterly defeated.

  ‘I declare,’ Regulus called out, ‘that the motion is-’ He stopped mid-sentence with his mouth open, staring through the doors, past Vespasian and out into the Forum.

  Vespasian spun around to follow his gaze; fifty paces away, resplendent in blazing white togas, scything through the panicking crowd with ease and heading directly for the Temple of Concordia, marched a cohort of the Praetorian Guard.

  CHAPTER XX

  ‘Me and the lads are down here, sir,’ Magnus’ voice called from the crowd. Vespasian turned to see his friend, at the bottom of the steps to the side of the temple, surrounded by his crossroads brothers, all bearing cudgels and staffs. Behind them the Gemonium Stairs rose up the Capitoline. ‘I think that it may be time for dinner, if you take my meaning?’

  Vespasian paused and looked with concern towards the central steps; the front rank of the cohort’s first century had just begun to mount them with Macro at their head. Had Macro been unable to persuade the Guard to change allegiances and therefore changed sides himself to save his own life? Vespasian did not know but reckoned he would be safer surrounded by Magnus and the brothers. He turned to withdraw.

  ‘Triumvir capitalis!’ Macro roared. ‘Come here or I’ll have my men cut you down.’

  With no chance of escape Vespasian did as he had been ordered. Macro clamped a massive hand on his shoulder and propelled him forward into the temple.

  Inside the senators stood aghast as the Praetorians clattered in and, on a command, came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘What is the meaning of
this, tribune?’ Regulus barked as Macro walked forward, leaving Vespasian next to the front rank of the century.

  ‘Have you taken your vote, Consul?’ Macro growled.

  ‘We have.’

  ‘And what was the outcome?’

  ‘I was just about to announce it when you so disrespectfully interrupted me.’

  ‘Well, I suggest that you announce it now, Consul.’

  All the senators huddled together fearing that they had just made the wrong decision. Trio came out from behind his chair looking triumphant.

  Regulus swallowed. ‘The motion before the house was: that this house would condemn Lucius Aelius Sejanus to death by strangulation and that his name be expunged.’ He paused and looked at Macro nervously. ‘And I declare that the motion is carried,’ he said in a thin voice.

  There was silence all around the chamber as the senators awaited Macro’s reaction. No one moved.

  Macro slowly clapped his hands together three times. ‘I congratulate you, Conscript Fathers, for once you have made the right decision.’

  The senators exhaled with relief.

  Trio’s face fell.

  ‘I’m pleased that you should think so, tribune,’ Regulus said.

  ‘You will address me as prefect from now on, Consul; I have a warrant from the Emperor appointing me prefect of the Praetorian Guard,’ Macro said, brandishing two scrolls. ‘I also have a request from the Emperor demanding the same punishment that you have voted Sejanus for this man. Bring him forward, centurion.’

  The Praetorian centurion pulled a young man out from the middle of the century; his hands were manacled. He held his head high and had a proud, contemptuous look on his square-jawed face.

  ‘Who is he, prefect?’ Regulus demanded.

  ‘He is Sejanus’ eldest son, Strabo. The Emperor is sparing the two younger children.’

  ‘What is the charge?’

  ‘That he is a traitor’s son.’

  ‘We can’t just condemn him for his family ties; that would be going back to the excesses of the civil wars.’