Vespasian forced his foot onward another pace; Clementina’s screams and the horror being inflicted on her filled his senses so that he hardly registered the flashing iron that spun in from the right-hand side of the garden. So fast did it fly that it seemed a knife simply materialised in the yet-to-be-Myrddin’s temple; his eyes widened with shock and his chant abruptly ceased. His four colleagues continued, unaware of the reason for their leader’s swaying. A massive roar followed the knife and drew the druids’ attention as the yet-to-be-Myrddin fell forward onto his knees; Sextus catapulted himself off the sloping roof of the colonnade to land with a body-roll in the garden. The chant faltered, the god thundered its filth, Clementina wailed in agony but the spell was broken. The chant ceased. Forward dashed Vespasian, Sabinus and Magnus as Sextus came barrelling in from the right. The druids did not run; they did not even raise their arms to defend themselves; they picked up the chant but too late. Sextus piled into two of them, sending them sprawling with a splash to the blood-puddled ground with him on top, stabbing with his knife at a speed that belied his lumbering ways, and adding to the gore already spattered about. With a straight arm, Vespasian powered his blade through the left eye of his adversary as Magnus ripped the throat from his with a shower of blood, severing his long beard.
Sabinus thrust his sword into the small of the god’s back; it roared, its mouth full of flayed skin; it turned to face its attacker, pulling the embedded sword from his grasp. Freed from her tormentor, Clementina slumped to the ground bleeding from hideous wounds. Vespasian glanced down at her before launching himself at the husk of Alienus as it struck out at Sabinus, knocking him far back as if suddenly dragged by an invisible rope. Vespasian’s blade sliced through pallid flesh into the ribcage; no blood flowed or even seeped; the body was devoid of it. The god turned to him and spewed obscenities, loose skin falling from its mouth; Vespasian thrust again with his knife, piercing the shoulder but doing no harm to the lifeless body as Magnus and Sextus joined him facing the terror. They all three attacked at once and with a wild swipe of its pale arm the husk of Alienus smashed them aside, breaking both its forearm bones so that the hand hung at an impossible angle.
Its head turned, surveying each of them on the ground in turn; the dead eyes had vision and staring at their lifeless gaze Vespasian realised how to put an end to such a monstrosity. ‘The head! We must get the head!’ he shouted. ‘I need to grab that sword.’
Magnus understood immediately and picked himself up as the god stepped out of the pond, its eyes rolling and the ground shaking beneath it. ‘Sextus, take the left!’
Sextus nodded, his breathing laboured; he sprang forward at the same time as his leader, each in a different direction as Vespasian circled around the dead druids and the crumpled body of Clementina to get behind the god.
Using its shattered forearm as a club, the god pounded Sextus’ chin, sending him into the air, back arching and arms flailing. Vespasian leapt forward as Magnus landed a knife wound to the unfeeling thigh of what had been Alienus. Vespasian grabbed the sword and, raising his foot to brace himself against the god’s buttock, wrenched it free as Sabinus charged back in and the god rumbled out its hatred.
Vespasian felt the weight and balance of the weapon, his eyes fixed on the neck just three paces in front of him; the image of Sejanus’ freedman, Hasdro’s, head, spiralling through the air flickered across his inner eye. He recalled the sensation of decapitation that he had first felt as a sixteen-year-old and the finality of it made his heart sing with joy as the blade hissed through the air; the impact of iron on flesh and bone juddered up his arm but the honed edge was true. It carved through the neck’s flesh, muscle, sinew and bone, sending the head up and forward, spinning on an axis through the ears but spraying very little fluid to mark its passing. The body remained upright, its limbs in spasm; the guttural roaring had ceased and in its place came the rush of expelled air. The head bounced on the ground and then rolled to where Sextus lay unconscious, coming to rest in the crook of his arm as the noise of rushing wind increased, seemingly from nowhere. The loose flesh around the gaping neck wound vibrated as if being blown upon and then the noise stopped with an abruptness that was almost a sound in itself and a faint scream could be heard; but no one could ascertain whence it came.
The headless corpse of Alienus collapsed to the floor and Vespasian stared at it with his chest heaving. Sabinus jumped over it and rushed to his wife’s side. Vespasian joined him but one glance at her skinned arms and slashed face was enough to assure him that there was no hope. He left his brother to his grief to help Magnus rouse Sextus.
‘I thought I’d seen the last of them when we left Britannia,’ Magnus muttered as he pulled his crossroads brother up into a sitting position. ‘How did they get here?’
‘Myrddin said that they would find Alienus to punish him and they did once Narcissus restored Theron’s licence to trade in Britannia. He also told me that he still demanded my death but I never, in my darkest dreams, thought they would leave their island to pursue it.’
Magnus hawked and spat at the corpses. ‘They should have stayed there and we should leave them well alone.’
‘I agree; it’s a worthless island and I don’t know anyone who’s been there, other than the Emperor and his freedmen, who think the effort spent subduing it is worthwhile; especially with that canker at the heart of it.’
‘What was that about letting cankers grow?’
‘Magnus, I have no idea; but at Messalina’s death I did realise she was a canker growing in the very heart of Rome’s beauty and wondered what would take her place. Perhaps the next canker that grows here will threaten the old ways. The druids needn’t worry; they’ll all be dead before it will have had the chance to mature. If we really are going to stay in Britannia then such abominations cannot be allowed to survive.’
Magnus did not look so sure. ‘The trouble is that abominations can be very difficult to kill.’
Vespasian looked down at the five druids. Blood further matted their beards and hair and befouled their filthy robes, but in death their malevolence had disappeared. Their faces were serene, as if merely asleep, and showed no hint of the pain that had ripped their lives from them. Vespasian still felt fear as he beheld them. ‘I’m afraid that you’re right, Magnus; and even if you do manage to get rid of one, another will always come along to replace it.’
EPILOGUE
1 JANUARY AD 49
AGRIPPINA GAZED UP at the slobbering fool that she took for husband; her eyes filled with a love that Vespasian knew did not exist. ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.’
Claudius recited the formulaic words with excruciating difficulty as the guests all hid their feelings behind their happiest faces. Vespasian knew that the only people truly happy at the ceremony were the bride herself, her son, Lucius, and their surreptitious supporter, Pallas. But it had been Agrippina’s triumph and it had shown on her face as she revelled in the executions that morning of the men condemned for associating too closely with Messalina and Silius. Juncus Vergilianus, Vettius Valens and a dozen others had all been executed, although Suillius Caesoninus was spared because he only ever took the passive role in Messalina’s extravagances; Plautius Lateranus had also been spared as a mark of respect for the conduct of his uncle, Aulus Plautius, in the invasion of Britannia.
And now as Claudius eventually concluded the ceremony Agrippina’s triumph was complete; she was the Empress. She took Claudius’ hands and smiled with such innocence that all who beheld her would be tempted into thinking that here was the most honest and unselfish person in Rome. ‘Come, dear husband, we should consummate our love.’
Claudius gibbered something to the affirmative.
‘But before we do you should complete our family; I will not be able to relax and be truly comfortable with you until we do.’
Claudius’ head jerked to the left a couple of times in alarm. ‘W-w-what w-w-would you have me do, little bird?’
‘I am your wi
fe, so my son should be your son.’
‘B-b-b-but of course he is.’
‘Then give him your name.’ The steel in her voice was palpable; no one present moved.
Claudius had a blinking fit that was rounded off by a couple more jerks of his head. ‘Of course, little bird, I shall do that; he shall have my name, your father’s name and your elder brother’s name. He shall b-b-be, he s-s-shall be: Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus.’
‘And when will you adopt him?’
Narcissus stepped forward. ‘Princeps, is that a wise course—’
Claudius did not turn to face him. ‘Silence! You’ve overstepped your limit once in my family’s business, Narcissus, do not do it again. I may have given you the rank of quaestor with the right to sit in the Senate but I can no longer trust you completely, especially as you wanted me to marry someone whom I’ve already d-d-divorced once. In future when I want your advice, I sh-sh-shall ask for it.’
Vespasian could guess what the once all-powerful imperial secretary would think about being given the rank of a mere quaestor. Narcissus retreated with haste, back to where Callistus stood looking forlorn having never returned to favour after the disaster for him of Asiaticus’ hearing.
Agrippina stared at her husband’s out-of-favour freedman with cold contempt before turning to Pallas. ‘What do you think, Pallas? Is the Emperor embarking on a wise course by adopting my son?’
Pallas inclined his head a fraction. ‘Indeed, domina, all the Emperor’s decisions are wise; like his decision to marry you, for example.’
Agrippina raised her carefully plucked eyebrows. ‘But that was your idea.’
Claudius started. ‘I thought that it was Sabinus’ idea.’
‘No, my sweetest husband, Sabinus was acting under Pallas’ instructions; we have him to thank for our happiness.’
Claudius put an imperial hand on his freedman’s shoulder. ‘I am grateful indeed, Pallas, that you should have understood what would make me happy. You shall escort me to the bridal chamber once my little bird has prepared herself.’
‘An unimagined honour, Princeps.’
‘Before I do that, husband, I have one more favour to ask.’
‘Anything on your wedding day, little bird.’
‘Seeing as Lucius is to be the Emperor’s son, should he not have the best tutor that money can buy?’
‘Of course he should.’
‘Then recall Lucius Annaeus Seneca whom that bitch, Messalina, in her spite, persuaded you to banish to Corsica; only he has the intellect to educate the son of an emperor.’
‘As s-s-soon as we are man and wife in body as well as in spirit, it shall be done.’
Agrippina went up onto her toes and, leaning forward, gave her drooling new husband a passionate kiss.
Vespasian looked around the gathering of Rome’s élite; from his family only Sabinus was missing, having left for Moesia two months previously to drown his grief in work.
‘Come, Lucius, my baby darling, or Nero as I shall now call you,’ Agrippina purred to a ginger-haired boy of ten escorted by a dark-haired youth in his early teens. ‘You and Otho should escort me to the marriage chamber; I would rather a pair of lovers such as you do that for me.’
‘Mother my love, we would be delighted,’ Nero almost squealed with pleasure. ‘Will we help you undress?’
‘But of course; and then you shall both help me prepare my body.’
‘She’s breaking taboos before she’s even been married an hour,’ Gaius whispered to Vespasian. ‘I wonder if she’ll know where to stop?’
Vespasian looked over to Pallas now standing well in front of a broken-looking Narcissus and a cringing Callistus. ‘I wonder if he’ll be able to stop her.’
Gaius shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think so; and her husband certainly won’t be able to.’
Vespasian looked around the guests again and wondered if there would be anyone who would be able to curb Agrippina. Claudius shuffled at her side giving her sidelong lecherous glances; he would do anything she told him to. Nero preceded her holding Otho’s hand; when he grew up would he exert influence over her or would he always be in her thrall? Vespasian caught sight of Corvinus, who studiously ignored him, keeping up his promise to conduct himself as a dead man in his presence. Next to him stood Galba and Lucius Vitellius with his sons, young Lucius and Aulus Vitellius; would the ancient families of Rome stand for such a woman? Of course they would, she was the daughter of Germanicus, the man who should have succeeded Augustus.
Vespasian’s face tensed as he thought of the future; he put his arms on his son, Titus’, shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. At Titus’ side stood Britannicus, watching his father remarry with tears in his eyes. As Agrippina came close, Vespasian saw behind the smile she offered her new stepson a cold hatred that would not be satisfied by anything less than the child’s death. Britannicus felt it too for he grabbed Titus’ hand and tried to pull his friend close.
Vespasian held onto his son, drawing him away. To allow Titus to continue being intimate with Britannicus would mean that he too would die at the hands of Agrippina.
And that, Vespasian would not allow to happen.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THIS HISTORICAL FICTION is based upon the writings of Tacitus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio.
We do not know any details of the latter part of Vespasian’s four years in Britannia other than he subdued two tribes, fought thirty battles, captured twenty hill-forts as well as the Island of Vectis, as Suetonius tells us. Tacitus’ account is lost and Cassius Dio has a reference to Vespasian being hemmed in by barbarians and being saved by his son, Titus, which is obviously a mistake seeing as Titus was only six or seven at the time! However, we can assume from Suetonius that he was very busy and the excavations of various hill-forts in the southwest of England attest to the long and methodical advance west that the II Augusta must have made. The battles, therefore, are fictitious as is Caratacus and the druids’ attempt to lure Vespasian into a trap using his brother as bait.
As to the druids, we just do not know as they left no record of themselves. The best book on the subject that I have found is The Druids by Stuart Piggott; his conclusion is that you can have druids as imagined or druids as wished for, but never druids as really were. My druids are totally imaginary but backed up by five references. Tacitus gives us an interesting insight when he describes them as lifting their arms to the heavens and showering imprecations that struck the Roman soldiers invading Anglesey with such awe at first that their limbs were paralysed and they left their bodies open to wounds without attempting to move. I have taken this quite literally. Pliny tells us that they wore white robes and Cicero in his On Divination implies that they practised human sacrifice as they were keen on reading the intestines of humans; Diodorus Siculus confirms this by saying that they sacrificed their victims with a dagger in the chest. Caesar tells us that victims were also sacrificed by burning in a wicker man; he also tells us of the druids’ belief in the transmigration of the soul, which is what gave me the idea of an immortal Myrddin. Their keeping alive the rites of the old gods of Britannia that were worshipped before the coming of the Celts is, of course, fiction; but I’ve often wondered what gods inspired the building of so great a monument as Stonehenge, which was already ancient by Vespasian’s time.
Having Tintagel as a smaller version of the druids’ main stronghold of Anglesey is my fiction.
The Cornovii were a tribe in the northwest of Britannia, but there must have been a sub-tribe in the area of Tintagel as implied by the name of the settlement, Durocornavis or ‘fortress of the Cornovii’.
Legend has it that Yosef of Arimathea came to Britain and founded a church on Glastonbury Tor, bringing with him either the Spear of Destiny or the Holy Grail or both. Legend also has it that Jesus’ children – or at least his son of the same name – accompanied him; this may have given rise to the belief that Jesus himself walked on our green and pleasant land and cau
sed William Blake to write Jerusalem. Having already been, rather sadly, accused of ‘heresy’ for similar offences I have felt free to incorporate the legend into this fiction.
I am indebted again to John Peddie who suggests, in his Roman Invasion of Britain, that the portage way between the Axe and the Parrett would have been important to the invaders because it would have been a lot safer and quicker than sailing around the peninsula with its contrary tides and winds. Given the manpower at their disposal the Romans would not have blanched at the prospect of dragging ships overland.
Tacitus mentions Hormus as being Vespasian’s freedman in The Histories so I thought it appropriate that he should be the first slave that Vespasian purchases.
Messalina did covet Asiaticus’ Gardens of Lucullus and forced his suicide in order to get hold of them. Asiaticus’ private hearing before Claudius and Messalina is recounted by Tacitus and happened pretty much as described apart from Vespasian’s intervention. Asiaticus did have his pyre moved so that it would not damage his gardens before eating with friends and then bleeding to death in his bath. The gardens were on the Pincian Hill; however, the hill was not known as that until the fifth century when it took its name from a family that lived there. I have used the name to avoid confusion.
The Dying Gaul and the Gaul Killing Himself and His Wife were both rediscovered at the Gardens of Sallust just close by in the early seventeenth century; it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that they may have been in the Gardens of Lucullus in Vespasian’s time.
Messalina’s excesses are a matter of record in all three of the primary sources; the question is why did she go so far and marry Silius? Even the normally unshockable Tacitus feels that his readers would find it hard to comprehend. Silius was consul-designate in AD 48 according to Tacitus – but not Wikipedia! At the time of writing, that is – maybe that could explain it and perhaps I’m not that far from the truth; perhaps, though, it was just madness. The details of their wedding, the orgiastic behaviour, the tubs of grapes, Messalina’s thyrsus, Silius’ boots, wreath and head-tossing and Vettius Valens climbing the tree and seeing a storm over Ostia, all come from Tacitus. He also tells us that it was two prostitutes, Cleopatra and Calpurnia, who brought the news to Claudius in Ostia.
Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5) Page 43