‘It’ll put Ostia out of business.’
‘I doubt it; Rome is becoming so big that she needs two mouths to feed her.’ Laughing at his wit, the trierarchus began to issue incomprehensible orders of a nautical nature, sending bare-footed sailors scurrying around the deck in preparation for docking.
Vespasian adjusted his toga and walked over to join Magnus, leaning on the larboard rail and admiring the scale of the project. ‘Do you remember when we sailed into Alexandria and saw the Pharos, and I said that’s the way to be remembered: build something that benefits the people?’
‘What of it?’ Magnus asked, not bothering to turn his blind eye to Vespasian.
‘You asked who built the Circus Maximus and when I didn’t know you said, “See, it doesn’t always work.” Well, this time it will work: Claudius will be remembered as the Emperor who built Rome’s great harbour and not the drooling fool who invaded an irrelevant island to fake a victory that will never and can never be complete because the inland tribes have little interest in the benefits of becoming Roman.’
‘You’re wrong, sir; he’ll always be remembered for that and future emperors will curse him for giving them a thorn in their side that they can’t walk away from without losing face and endangering their position. And Claudius has chosen the wrong project to be remembered by: the Pharos is finite; it’s as big as it’s going to be. That port, however, can always be improved upon. I’ll bet whatever you like that the next few emperors, whoever they are, will expand it or just change its name out of spite as they struggle to put down another expensive rebellion in Britannia.’
‘Just to diminish Claudius’ legacy?’ Vespasian considered that for a moment. ‘I suppose so; that’s what I’d do. After four years in Britannia I can see that the money spent holding those parts already pacified and expanding the frontiers until the whole island is under our control is going to be far more than the tax revenue for many years to come. You’re right, Magnus: if Claudius wants to divert attention from his folly then he should have chosen something else, because there is a lot of folly to mask.’
Vespasian fell silent as he contemplated the immensity of the task that he, Sabinus and Plautius had left unfinished in Britannia. Having returned to the Roman sphere of influence, leaving the druids depleted but still in place and Judoc unpunished for his treachery, Vespasian had spent the next month, before the arrival of his replacement, probing into Dumnonii territory in strength, destroying everything that could be destroyed until Arvirargus had seen sense and realised that if he wanted to keep his kingdom and his precious horses then he had to come to an accommodation with Rome. This had cost him far more than it would have done a couple of months earlier: not only did Plautius oblige him to pay a greater annual tribute in tin than might be considered fair but also, at the request of Vespasian and Cogidubnus, he was obliged to ensure that a hundred of Judoc’s followers lived out the rest of their lives mining that tin. Judoc himself was to work in the mines until the time came for him to be transported to Rome to be displayed in Plautius’ Ovation, which the Senate had recently voted him – at Claudius’, or rather Narcissus’, request.
Most gratifyingly for Vespasian had been Plautius’ insistence that Arvirargus clear the remaining druids off Tagell and ensure that it remained unoccupied – apart, of course, from the Lost Dead. Vespasian shivered as he remembered the cold grip of an unseen hand and then the squeezing of his heart as if another hand constricted it; the Lost Dead were welcome to that forsaken spit of land.
The arrival, in November, of Publius Ostorius Scapula, the next Governor of the infant province, along with the new legates, had meant that Vespasian’s work was complete and all that remained for him to do was to brief his replacement, Titus Curtius Ciltus, thoroughly in the geography, people and politics of the II Augusta’s theatre of operations. Finding Ciltus to be a nonentity with a very limited capacity for independent thought and hearing Plautius’ assessment of Scapula as a man who made him seem calm in temper but reckless in action, Vespasian had left Britannia with the feeling that it was a problem never to be solved and he wanted no more part in it. He was put in mind of the legend of Pandora’s box – but without, at the end, Hope flying out of the casket that should never have been opened.
With Caratacus still at large and resentment building as the tax-farmers ploughed their fresh fields, Britannia was far from pacified. Indeed, news had reached him on his way home, during his two-month sojourn at Aventicum to complete the sale of his parents’ estate, that the Iceni, who had hitherto been an independent client-kingdom, ruled by their king Prasutagus, had revolted after Scapula had tried to disarm them. The foolishness of needlessly provoking a peaceful ally into rebellion summed up for Vespasian everything that had been wrong about Rome’s approach to her reluctant province: they had been too tough on their friends and allies in their attempts to keep them subdued and to extract the taxes to pay for the invasion; yet they had failed to crush their enemies because, quite simply, there was not the manpower to fight an aggressive campaign and at the same time police what had already been won.
The multifarious odours of a port in high summer cutting through the salt-tanged sea air and the ship’s smells of musky warmed wood, pitch and hemp rope brought Vespasian back to the present as the trireme entered the harbour mouth with its oars dipping in slow and steady time. He was almost home after his longest ever absence; and, what was more, he had made it in time for Aulus Plautius’ Ovation and then his brother’s inauguration as suffect-consul for the last six months of the year, which was to be on the day after: the calends of July.
As the ship manoeuvred, with much shouting from the trierarchus, in preparation for berthing, Hormus appeared on deck with Vespasian’s travelling luggage, the main bulk of his possessions having been sent overland in the spring.
‘Find a carriage to take us to Rome as soon as we dock, Hormus,’ Vespasian ordered.
With a bow, Hormus went to stand by the gangplank waiting for it to be lowered; down on the quay a crowd of traders and whores had started to gather, eager to sell their wares to voyage-weary sailors.
‘I think I’ll go to my uncle’s house first,’ Vespasian informed Magnus, ‘before going to the palace to see Flavia and the children.’
‘Very wise, sir; he’ll have a good idea of how things stand between the imperial family and yours.’
Vespasian steadied himself on the rail as the trireme nudged the dock. ‘And, more to the point, how I can expect to be received by Rome’s true masters.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that; Sabinus has been nominated as consul and I’m sure that Claudius didn’t do that without his freedmen’s consent. So I’d imagine that you’re in their favour.’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But what I also need to know is whether Messalina and Corvinus made any objections to Sabinus’ appointment, because if there’s one thing that I must do for sure it’s to find some way of getting Corvinus into my debt. Only once I’ve done that will I stand a chance of getting Flavia and the children out of the palace and into the relative safety of my own home in Rome.’
‘Oh, so you’ve finally got one now, have you?’
Vespasian watched the gangplank being lowered and Hormus make his way down and through the crowd of vendors. ‘I don’t know; I wrote to Gaius from Aventicum asking him to find me something suitable near him on the Quirinal.’
‘And near Caenis.’
‘Well, yes; it would make matters simpler all round.’
‘I wouldn’t describe moving my wife into a house that’s been chosen for its proximity to my mistress as “making matters simpler all round”.’
‘How would you describe it then?’
‘As the complete opposite, and the action of a madman; especially when you consider that your mother is living with your uncle. Are you seriously going to put all the women in your life close enough to each other to fight on a daily basis?’
‘But Caenis and Flavia get on very well.�
��
‘Whilst you were away they did; but now that you’re back they’re going to be vying with one another for your attention – as will your mother. And when that sort of competition arises whoever’s winning will make the other two deeply jealous; until, that is, they get tired of fighting and realise that you’re the cause of it and they unite against you as their common enemy – which will probably happen on a monthly basis.’
Vespasian’s face became even more strained. ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that; still, it’s too late, it’s done now.’ He tried to lighten his expression. ‘I guess I’ll just have to spend a lot of time concentrating on getting more money out of the estates.’
‘What? And leave the women unsupervised with none of them getting any attention? That really would be the act of the rashest of fools.’
‘And what makes you such an expert on women all of a sudden? You don’t even have one of your own.’
‘It’s because I’m an expert on the subject that I’ve chosen never to get embroiled with one on any basis more permanent than an exchange of coinage and bodily fluids.’
‘Very romantic!’
‘It may not be romantic but it certainly does make matters simpler all round.’
Hormus’ reappearance on the quay walking next to a four-wheeled, two-horse open carriage took Vespasian’s mind off his complicated domestic situation. Having made his farewells to the trierarchus, whom he left muttering about tight-fisted senators having not given him a tip, Vespasian descended the gangplank behind Magnus, who proceeded to clear a path through the sweating traders and sickly-sweet-perfumed whores without any consideration for their ability to remain upright. Hormus followed with the baggage as best he could through the now irate crowd who saw him as an easy target for their indignant wrath; he had a few fresh bruises on his arms and legs before he managed to stow the baggage on the rear of the carriage and take his place perched atop it.
Vespasian leant back in his seat, stretching his legs as the driver whipped his charges into reluctant action, again without any consideration for the ability of those nearby to get out of the way; the carriage did a hundred and eighty degree turn and headed off down the quay bustling with dock-slaves loading and off-loading goods from all corners of the Empire. Upon reaching the end it turned left onto the waterfront, heading towards the arterial road that would take them to the main gate and onto the Via Ostiensis, at the same time as a party preceded by lictors turned the corner coming in the opposite direction.
‘I wonder who that is?’ Vespasian mused, counting the fasces, the bundle of rods tied around an axe that symbolised the magistrates’ power. ‘Eleven lictors – so it’s a proconsul on his way to his province.’
‘Poor sod has probably been sent somewhere terrible,’ Magnus said with a grin, ‘but is so pompous that he thinks it’s an honour.’
‘It is an honour, wherever you get sent to govern.’
Magnus’ eyes widened as the party came nearer and he could make out their features. ‘But this one’s so pompous you could send him to govern Hades and he’d still puff up with pomposity.’
‘Germania Inferior,’ Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo replied in answer to Vespasian’s question. ‘It’s a great honour and a challenge; I was specifically chosen for my military abilities.’ He snorted in contentment and looked down his long nose at Vespasian as they sat under a hastily erected awning on the waterfront, sipping a fine Falernian wine broken out from Corbulo’s extensive baggage.
Vespasian suppressed a smile as he studied his old acquaintance’s haughty, horse-like face; it had seemed middle-aged even when they had first met in Thracia when they had been military tribunes together in the IIII Scythica. Now, over twenty years later, it was as if his age had finally caught up with his appearance. ‘Do you believe that you’ll get much fighting?’
‘Without a doubt; now that our presence on the Rhenus has been weakened by the …’ He dropped his voice and looked conspiratorially at Vespasian. ‘Shall we say “ill-conceived” invasion of Britannia?’
Vespasian inclined his head. ‘Just between us two we could use that term.’
‘Indeed, Vespasian. And also, just between us two, our weakened presence on the Rhenus has caused a few of the tribes across the river to think that they no longer have to pay their annual tribute.’
‘I see; and you’ve been ordered to make them think otherwise?’
‘A great honour, don’t you think?’ He paused for another snort of contentment. ‘Now that the stain on my character left by my wanton half-sister’s lustful cavortings as Caligula’s wife has been removed I’m finally free to carry on my career.’
‘I had heard that there was a price for the removal of that stain.’
‘What? You have good ears. But you’re right: I had to threaten to bring a prosecution.’
‘Against Corvinus?’
‘You are well informed, seeing as it came to nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, last year Pallas asked me to prepare a case against Corvinus, in secret, accusing him of treason during the ill-conceived invasion. This I did despite the fact that I had to work in conjunction with that arrogant young puppy, Lucius Paetus; he would have been the star witness who could attest to Corvinus exceeding his orders in pushing further north of the Tamesis than he should have. Pallas managed to have Paetus come first in the quaestor elections so the little snob was made an Urban quaestor like his father before him, which would have given his testimony added weight.’
‘But he never had to testify.’
‘No, that was the strange thing.’ Corbulo lowered his voice even more and leant towards Vespasian. ‘Now, I try not to take too close an interest in imperial politics and I certainly never gossip about the subject but I’m not unaware of what the Empress is like, having been … well, you know.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know, Corbulo.’
‘Well, sucked into her circle, as it were.’ A repeated harsh bleat, much like a ram in distress, followed by yet another snort indicated to Vespasian, who knew the signs, that Corbulo had essayed humour.
‘You as well, Corbulo, surely not?’
‘No one has any choice in the matter; if the Empress summons you then obviously you have to obey. Then if she demands that you perform certain acts, only a suicidal fool would refuse. But it is very difficult to refuse her anything; such is the power of her allure that most people would find themselves unable to resist her even if their lives were not under threat. My wife was very displeased.’
‘You didn’t tell her, did you?’
‘Of course I did; a Roman senator should share everything with his wife.’
‘I would differ on that.’
‘But then you’re a New Man, Vespasian, and can’t be expected to act with the same code of honour as those of us who come from far older families.’
Vespasian ignored the insult knowing that it was not meant as such but, rather, as a bald statement of fact based on Corbulo’s patrician view of the world. ‘So the Empress is as promiscuous as the rumours would suggest?’
‘Worse than the rumours, believe me, she made me … Well, no matter; suffice it to say that my eyes watered more than once. Anyway, for obvious reasons Claudius’ freedmen are trying to remove her and this court case was to be a step in that direction by disgracing her brother. At the end of last year I finally showed the case to Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus once I’d assembled all the evidence, and both Narcissus and Pallas were very impressed.’
‘But Callistus, in his capacity as secretary to the courts, dismissed it as being too flimsy?’
‘How do you know?’
‘Just a guess, Corbulo.’
‘Well, it was a very good one. That’s exactly what happened; he tore it up and left the room saying that to get rid of this harpy was going to take more than the feeble work of a … Well, I won’t say what he called me as I didn’t deign to acknowledge the little man’s insult. I expected Narcissus and
Pallas to be furious with me, although it offends my dignitas to worry about ex-slaves’ feelings, but, on the contrary, they were very pleased and promised to ensure that the Emperor appointed me Governor of Germania Inferior seeing as I was obviously the right choice.’
‘And no one tried to block the appointment?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Now that is interesting.’
‘Is it? Anyway, I’ve told you this in confidence as an old er … er, person that I’ve known for a long time, to illustrate just how precarious patronage is in Rome under Claudius. My advice is to avoid contact with the Empress and Claudius’ freedmen until their feud has been played out one way or another because until then it’ll be very difficult to judge who to cultivate for advancement.’
‘Thanks for the advice, Corbulo; however, I think that you’ve confirmed for me who, happily, has the ascendancy.’ Vespasian drained his cup; Corbulo signalled to a slave attending them to refill it but Vespasian held up his hand, getting to his feet. ‘I should be getting on; I want to be in the city well before nightfall.’
‘Quite so. I’m pleased to have seen you, albeit briefly. I believe your brother is to become suffect-consul next month?’
‘He is.’
‘Astounding, really, isn’t it? Second generation senators becoming consuls; where will it all end?’
‘With pompous arseholes becoming governors,’ Magnus muttered not entirely to himself as he came forward to pick up Vespasian’s folding chair. ‘Silly me, they’ve been doing that for ages.’
Corbulo bristled, rising to his feet, but refused to acknowledge the words of someone so far beneath him. ‘I wish you luck, Vespasian; no doubt you will be nominated as a consul in these strange times.’
Vespasian grinned, taking Corbulo’s proffered arm. ‘I fully intend to be; if only for the look on your face when you have to give way to me in the street.’
Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5) Page 22