Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  Vespasia sniffed. ‘So you say. Anyway, Agrippina took up residence there a couple of months ago; she has invited me on numerous occasions since and is very well informed about Messalina.’

  ‘That’s no reason to repeat her malicious gossip.’

  ‘It’s not gossip, it’s true.’

  Vespasian restrained Flavia again as her hand reached out, claw-like, towards Vespasia’s eyes.

  Gaius steered his sister out of range. ‘I’d be very careful about becoming friendly with Agrippina; she’s not known for her kindness. In fact, the rumour is that she murdered Passienus. And don’t forget what her first husband, Gaius Domitius Ahenobarbus, said about their child – what was it? “I don’t think anything produced by me and Agrippina could possibly be good for the state or the people.”’

  ‘Nonsense, Gaius, she’s perfectly charming to me; it’s a great honour to be an intimate of the Emperor’s niece, the daughter of the great Germanicus, and it could be very useful for our family.’

  ‘How? She’s hardly ever in Rome.’

  ‘She’s going to be in Rome far more in the future, Gaius; she has her eyes on Messalina and in revenge for her trying to murder Lucius, she is going to take everything that she has away from her.’

  ‘Hush your mouth, woman; that’s treasonous talk.’

  ‘Is it? It’s also the truth, Gaius.’ She looked at Vespasian and Flavia. ‘If I were you, Vespasian, I’d remove that whore of yours from Messalina’s bed before she’s dragged from it clinging to her lover’s corpse.’

  Vespasian pointed a finger in his mother’s face. ‘And if I were you, Mother, I would keep my mouth shut and my nose out of things that you obviously don’t understand. Don’t talk about this to anyone, do not hint that you know of it, don’t even think about it. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘But Flavia—’

  ‘Flavia is my wife and I know perfectly well what is going on and why. You, on the other hand, are just another lonely old woman who enjoys her opinions far too much and talks carelessly about politics and intrigue without knowing just how dangerous her words are.’

  Gaius agreed with a wobbly-jowl nod. ‘Vespasia, I forbid you to see Agrippina again.’

  ‘Why, brother, are you jealous of my well-connected friend? Are you feeling a little inferior?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, woman; I’m just trying to protect our family.’

  ‘How does forbidding me to cultivate the Emperor’s niece do that?’

  Vespasian looked at his mother in exasperation. ‘Because if what you say is true then Agrippina doesn’t just want to take everything away from Messalina, she wants to possess everything Messalina’s got; she has her eye on becoming the mother of the next emperor.’

  ‘She can’t; it’s illegal to marry one’s niece.’

  ‘Of course, but she doesn’t need to marry Claudius; all she need do is dispose of Britannicus. With him dead then her son, Lucius, would be the obvious choice to be Claudius’ heir; and actually he’d be a better choice: he’s three years older and he’s the grandson of Germanicus. The people would feel that at last the succession had got back to how it should have been.’

  ‘She would kill Britannicus?’

  ‘That’s the whole point, Mother; for her plan to work Britannicus would have to be dead. Agrippina is cultivating you because she knows that your grandson is Britannicus’ companion. Does she ask about him?’

  Vespasia looked concerned, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘We always discuss my latest visits with my grandchildren.’

  ‘And if Britannicus had been there?’

  ‘Then she’s very interested; she likes to know what they do together, where they go, who supervises them.’

  ‘You see, Mother, you’re being used; and the information that you inadvertently give her is putting my son in danger. An accidental death will look much more convincing if two young boys suffered it instead of just the Emperor’s heir. You will not speak to Agrippina any more and you will not leave Rome. Am I clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vespasia whispered, looking suitably chastened.

  ‘And you will apologise to Flavia.’

  But this was evidently a step too far for Vespasia and she turned away with her nose in the air as the wedding procession split in two and Paetus’ party began to ascend the Esquiline Hill so that they would arrive at his house before the bride, whose party would take a more circuitous route.

  *

  Flavia Tertulla rubbed oil and fat into the doorframe of Paetus’ house and then wreathed spun wool around it. Once she was satisfied that her role as the domestic wife in the house had been announced to the household gods she stepped over the threshold, taking great care not to trip. ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia,’ she said, taking Paetus’ hand as she entered the vestibule.

  ‘Where you are Gaia, I am Gaius,’ Paetus replied before leading her on into the atrium with the guests following.

  Vespasian threw his torch aside as he entered the house with his uncle.

  ‘Vespasia does have a point,’ Gaius remarked in a hushed tone as they walked into the atrium. ‘Perhaps it is time to think about protecting Flavia. Gaius Silius will be sworn in as suffect-consul in four days; Messalina will make her move very soon after that and you don’t want Flavia caught up in it, do you?’

  ‘That’s just it, Uncle; Flavia has to stay close to Messalina now of all times. Narcissus needs to have the wedding witnessed so he must know in advance where and when it’s going to be.’

  ‘Surely he could get that information from other sources; Corvinus, for example?’

  ‘Perhaps; but if Flavia doesn’t provide him with that information, there’ll be no reason for him to persuade Claudius to let me take my family away from the palace. If what Mother says is true and we’re going to replace one poisonous bitch with another possessing even more venom, then that has to be my highest priority – for Titus’ sake. And besides,’ Vespasian added, with a conspiratorial grin, ‘Flavia hasn’t yet received the quarter of a million denarii that Messalina has promised to loan her.’

  Gaius chuckled and clapped Vespasian on the shoulder. ‘You seem to be making a lot of money recently.’

  ‘I’ve made up my mind to profit whenever I can from the unpleasant situations that the politics of this city push me into, Uncle.’

  ‘Very wise, dear boy; no one is going to give you a handout for getting your hands dirty.’

  They watched in silence as Flavia Tertulla passed her hand through the flame burning in the atrium hearth and then dipped it in a bowl of water placed next to it. Having touched the two elements essential to life through cooking and washing, Flavia Tertulla placed her hand in that of her father. Sabinus then formally handed his daughter over to Paetus, who was standing next to a miniature marital bed decorated with flowers and fruit and set next to the impluvium for the newlyweds’ spirits to consummate the marriage in. The guests broke into a song encouraging the couple to imitate their spirits and then Flavia, as the matron of honour, led Flavia Tertulla away to the bridal chamber to pray and sacrifice with her and then to help her undress in readiness for Paetus’ arrival.

  ‘The hypocrisy of it!’ Vespasia snorted. ‘She may be married just once to a husband who is still living but she can’t be accused of being the incarnation of a faithful wife.’

  ‘Mother, if you carry on about my wife any more then I shall see to it that you no longer visit the children; which judging by the unfair way you reprimanded Domitilla just now will probably come as a relief for them.’

  Vespasia turned to Vespasian, outrage in her eyes. ‘You support your wife against the woman who gave you birth?’

  ‘I support the mother of my children against the uninformed opinions of an ageing woman who does not understand what is going on and why; the fact that you gave birth to me is irrelevant. Now let that be an end to it, Mother.’

  Vespasia snorted again and walked off to join a group of similarly aged females.

  ‘She’s been
getting worse every year since your father died,’ Gaius informed him as slaves came round with trays of wine and bowls of fruit.

  ‘She’s becoming dangerous, Uncle,’ Vespasian said, watching his mother break into the conversation of the women she had just joined. ‘If she starts to gossip about Flavia then her affair will become public knowledge.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, dear boy; if it suits her purposes, Agrippina will have seen to that.’

  Vespasian knew that his uncle was, in all likelihood, right and cursed the situation that had kept him in limbo for the past year. Messalina had made no move to marry either of the first four Consuls of the year and it was now beyond doubt that it was Silius, the final nomination, that she had chosen for her husband. However, as she could not marry him until he had the protection of the consulship, which was not due until October, the few people in Rome who knew of the plot had settled down to a period of uneasy watchfulness. Narcissus and Pallas had eyed the antics of Messalina’s court with growing incredulity that their master’s ears were deaf to all rumour and report of their actions.

  Messalina had grown even more reckless: she was now whoring herself out to the people of Rome almost every night as well as sleeping with her many lovers amongst the aristocracy. Despite her hectic sexual schedule, however, she still found time to enjoy her more constant lovers, Silius and Flavia, although Flavia was becoming less keen on Messalina’s favours as she spread them around so many of the insalubrious city folk.

  But Vespasian had insisted that Flavia act as if nothing was wrong and she had borne the ordeal with reluctance and fortitude. The information that she had got from her pillow talk with Messalina had been of great value to Narcissus and Pallas: the names of new lovers, clandestine supporters in the Senate and, eventually, the final confirmation of her plan to marry Silius as a sitting consul; however, the date was never discussed.

  Vespasian took a deep breath as he consoled himself that soon the wait would be over now that October was fast approaching.

  He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of Sabinus leading the cheering of his new son-in-law as he left the atrium to perform his marital duties whilst the guests drank and feasted, waiting for news of the coupling.

  Vespasian raised his cup to Paetus and then took a long sip of wine, letting his eyes wander over the happy crowd. He was surprised to see Marius, looking rather out of place, walking towards him. ‘Are you looking for me?’

  ‘Yes, sir, you and your brother,’ Marius replied. ‘Magnus has asked if you can both come to the tavern at the sixth hour. He says to be as discreet as possible as there’s going to be someone there who wants to talk to you in private.’

  *

  Vespasian and Sabinus struggled through the crowds, up the Vicus Longus to its acute junction with the Alta Semita on the southern slope of the Quirinal Hill. Wearing tunics and cloaks rather than senatorial togas, there was nothing to signify their status so their progress towards the tavern at the apex of that junction was impeded by the citizens of Rome, male and female, free, freed and slave, all going about their business, which was, naturally, far more important and urgent than the next person’s.

  Traders shouted their wares, either edible or functional, from open-fronted shops on the ground floors of the three- or four-storey brick-built tenements lining the street, and haggled with customers. Goods were inspected and then chosen or rejected, arguments flared and were quickly settled, either by violence or reason, bargains were made, coinage changed hands and deals were concluded. Acquaintances met with exaggerated geniality and discussed business over cups of wine, standing at the bars of open taverns emitting wafts of pungent smoke from charcoal grills upon which sizzled cuts of pork and chicken. The aroma helped to sweeten the sour odour of human sweat and stale urine that hung in the air warmed by the midday sun and was stirred only by the passage of the multitude.

  Keeping to the crowded pavements, so as not to soil their sandals in the squelching refuse that befouled the street, Vespasian and Sabinus wended their way uphill, through the heaving knots of humanity that made Rome the busiest city in the Empire.

  ‘I was afraid that you might have been too occupied,’ Magnus said as they finally reached the tavern that acted as the headquarters of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; a few of the brethren sat outside at wooden tables, playing dice.

  ‘I hope this is worth it on my daughter’s wedding day, Magnus,’ Sabinus growled. He had not been keen to come even though the marriage had been consummated and the ceremony was now over, but curiosity had got the better of him.

  ‘You can judge that for yourself, sir.’ Magnus rattled a dice-shaker and rolled its contents onto the table; with a look of disgust he slammed the shaker down. ‘That’s your fourth win in a row, Tigran; I ain’t playing with your dice again.’ He pushed his stake across the table to his eastern-looking opponent and got to his feet. ‘Were you followed?’

  Vespasian shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, but we told Marius to trail behind us and keep an eye on our backs.’ He turned to see Marius making his way up the hill. ‘Here he is. Well, Marius?’

  Marius wiped the sweat from his brow, looking puzzled. ‘No one followed you from Paetus’ house back to Sabinus’, but then when you left that to come here I kept on getting glimpses of two men in deep-hooded cloaks taking it in turns to keep about thirty paces behind you.’

  ‘Did you see their faces?’

  ‘No, all that was visible under the hoods were beards.’

  ‘Eastern?’

  ‘No, more like German beards.’

  ‘What else were they wearing?’

  ‘Normal stuff, tunics and sandals.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘That was strange as well. Having followed you half the way here they suddenly veered off and disappeared.’

  Vespasian looked at Sabinus. ‘What do you make of that?’

  ‘Someone knows where I live but wasn’t so interested in knowing where I was going?’

  ‘Or they were scared off by someone,’ Magnus suggested. ‘Did you notice anyone else, Marius?’

  ‘No, brother; they was clean the rest of the way here.’

  ‘All right, then; you hang about out here and keep an eye out for anyone you might recognise.’

  ‘Right you are, Magnus.’

  Magnus indicated with a jerk of the head to the brothers. ‘He’s inside.’

  They followed Magnus past the altar to the Crossroads’ lares set into the wall of the building and on into the fuggy, raucous interior of the tavern. It was crowded with drinkers and a few whores who all made way for Magnus as he steered a straight course for a door at the far end of the room, next to the amphora-lined bar. The noise dipped as Vespasian and Sabinus passed and then resumed as they followed Magnus through the door and then right, along a short corridor and on into another room, dimly lit by shuttered windows and with the cloying blend of lamp fumes, damp wood and stale wine in the air.

  ‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen,’ a voice said as they stepped inside.

  ‘Pallas!’ Vespasian exclaimed. ‘Why so mysterious? Why go to all these lengths to have a conversation that we could have anywhere?’

  Pallas rose from his seat and grasped their forearms in turn. ‘Because I can no longer trust anywhere in the palace: there are too many spies about; so I came here taking care not to be followed as I wouldn’t want to be seen going to either of your houses. My people have reported that Sabinus’ house is being watched and we must assume that yours is too, Vespasian.’

  ‘By Messalina?’

  ‘I would think so but I don’t know for sure; what I do know is that my people have reported undue interest in Sabinus in the last couple of days.’

  ‘That would explain the two bearded men, brother,’ Sabinus said as they each took a seat.

  Magnus poured cups of wine from a pitcher on a table in the corner. ‘I’ll have my lads take a look at them, see if we can invite them here for a
quiet drink and a hearth-side chat, if you take my meaning?’

  Vespasian shook his head as he accepted his cup. ‘I think we’ll find out more by following them and seeing whom they report to.’

  ‘Fair point; I’ll go and get that organised.’

  As Magnus left, Pallas turned his attention to Sabinus. ‘I need to call in the favour that you owe me for getting you cleared of all involvement in Caligula’s death.’

  Sabinus inclined his head a fraction. ‘I acknowledge that I am in your debt for that, Pallas.’

  Pallas’ semi-shadowed face betrayed no emotion. ‘I’m pleased that you accept the fact.’ He paused and collected his thoughts. ‘I have it within my grasp to supplant Narcissus, get rid of Callistus and become the most powerful man in the Empire, which, I think you’ll both agree, considering our past relationship, will benefit your family considerably. The key to it all is to set in train a series of events that move rapidly, so my opponents have no time to think how they are going to react. Firstly, I need to force Messalina’s hand by providing an impetus for her to bring her wedding plans forward to the first day of Silius’ consulship, rather than wait and react to her move. Vespasian, Flavia can do that for me and in return I’ll make good Narcissus’ undertaking to persuade Claudius to allow you to move her out of the palace. He won’t be able to, seeing as he will not be in a position of favour.’

  Vespasian attempted to match Pallas in the neutrality of his expression. ‘What do you want her to do?’

  ‘Tell Messalina that she overheard you and Sabinus talking about plans for Claudius to marry again. She must tell Messalina that, according to you, Callistus supports the idea of Claudius marrying Caligula’s third wife, Lollia Paulina, while Narcissus and I want him to remarry his second wife, Aelia Paetina. You know, the one with whom he had a daughter before his mother forced him to divorce her because she was the half-sister of Sejanus.’

  ‘Thereby convincing her that a plot to remove her is far advanced?’