Unsure how to handle this strange behaviour, Vivius decided his best option was to wait to see if Tiberius came out of this deranged episode of his own accord before taking action. He clasped his hands behind his back, disturbed to see for himself that rumours of his great military hero’s bouts of insanity were true. The emperor’s search extended to the statues; running his long bony fingers over them, looking behind them. Finding nothing he crept to the end of the terrace and peered over the edge until satisfied there was no one there, he straightened up. For a while he looked confused but eventually, his eyes landed on Vivius and a glimmer of recognition dawned.
‘What was I saying?’ His voice sounded flat, vague.
‘You’ve received a letter from a centurion called Fabius, Caesar.’
‘I have?’ Tiberius blinked rapidly. ‘Ah yes, I have.’ He breathed in deeply and then pursing his lips blew out slowly. He did this three or four times before saying, ‘Normally I would, er…I would ignore the contents of such a letter but…er, but for reasons I can’t…can’t disclose…or rather won’t go into, I’m led to believe there could be some truth in it.’
Vivius was relieved to see that he was losing his glazed expression. ‘And what specifically does the letter say, Caesar?’
‘Oh, I can give you plenty of specifics, Senator.’ There was a long pause.
‘Such as?’ Vivius prompted.
‘Such as…well for a start, Rome’s presence in Palestine appears to be upsetting the Jews by us simply breathing the same air as them.’ Tiberius rubbed the bristling hairs on his arms but it didn’t seem to occur to him to go inside. ‘Why is that, I wonder. Why?’
The pause was again a long one.
Curbing his irritation Vivius asked, ‘And how are we upsetting the Jews?’
Tiberius looked up sharply. ‘What? Who’s upsetting the Jews?’ And almost as though he’d forgotten he’d asked the question began rubbing his chin and pacing the terrace seemingly trying to gather his wandering thoughts together.
Vivius blew softly through his lips.
Eventually Tiberius said, ‘I expect my governors to govern the regions I hold, not involve me in their problems. I remember one instance where the Jews complained directly to me. Me! Why bother me? I confess I have no love for the Jews but I can’t afford a possible uprising in my colonies.’ His chin jutted out with a sense of pride. ‘I have made Rome the most powerful empire in the world, Senator, and I intend it to stay that way. To do that I intend to keep peace in the lands we’ve taken. If my governors fail to follow my policies, I see it as a failure for the Empire.’ Tiberius stared moodily across the terrace towards his potted plants.
Vivius decided to try a different tactic in an attempt to discover what the emperor was talking about. ‘And my role in this is what exactly?’ he ventured.
‘You’re a Roman official; you’re here to serve Rome’s interests, and you were an army officer in Palestine so you’ll be familiar with Jewish customs. I want you in Palestine.’
Vivius’s heart sank. ‘I was only stationed there for two years, Caesar.’
‘Long enough!’ Tiberius brushed past him as he made his way indoors. Vivius followed, grateful to be out of the cold, although no warmer and certainly no more informed.
‘I chose you for this task because you undertook a political investigation for me when you were in the Praetorian Guards. You showed a loyalty to me then that got you noticed.’
‘Thank you, Caesar, but I ought to point out that it was more a case of stumbling on a conspiracy than taking on an official investigation.’
Tiberius dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. Striding over to the table, he picked up a parchment and held it at arms’ length so he could read it without squinting. ‘According to your record, Senator Marcianus, you not only have military experience, but as a magistrate, you’re familiar with treason laws and Roman policies in foreign lands.’ He threw the parchment on the table. ‘I need someone familiar with Roman policies in my colonies. Your records also show you to be a brave man, Senator, and I need a man who is not afraid of weathering the political storms in Rome at this time.’ Tiberius gave him a knowledgeable smirk. ‘Ah yes, I may spend all my days on Capri, but I’m well aware of the internal wrangling going on in the Senate. Why they should complain I have no idea. I’ve given Rome years of stability; there are no expensive wars; I have good men governing my provinces and loyal commanders in my army. But now, for reasons best known to themselves, the Senate hate my new laws and my people hate me for my tax reforms.’ He waited, as if expecting a denial. Vivius made no comment.
‘On top of which,’ Tiberius continued. ‘I have members of my family fighting to replace me as Caesar when I am gone. They buzz around me like bees dripping honeyed words into my ear. But I know what they’re up to, forcing their scrawny offspring on to me as the next potential heir. Now if my dear son Drusus was still alive…’ The emperor’s tirade stopped midsentence.
Feeling obliged to make a comment, Vivius said, ‘Drusus was a fine man, Caesar, a great loss to Rome.’
‘Yes indeed,’ Tiberius said softly. He ran his fingers aimlessly across the wax tablets on the table, and then lifting his head regarded Vivius squarely and without even a hint of his previous vagueness. ‘There is trouble brewing in Rome, Senator Marcianus,’ he said quietly. ‘And there are plots being hatched against me. I need a man I can trust.’ He eyed Vivius covertly through half-lowered lids. ‘I need to know who my enemies are. Mark my words, I will have enemies; members of the Senate perhaps, my family or…or…’ He glanced down at the parchment in his hand. ‘Or someone closer, someone I trust.’
Sejanus sprang easily to Vivius’s mind which is why he said, ‘Then perhaps I would serve you better in Rome, Caesar?’
The emperor’s words were measured when he said, ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? I want you in Palestine. I want you to find out what’s going on in that colony. But no one is to know what you’re doing.’
‘Of course,’ Vivius said hastily, but making one final attempt to avert this seemingly impossible assignment, added, ‘I do, however, feel it my duty to point out that as a senator I am obliged to remain in Rome to attend the Senate, so I would need a good reason to justify my absence.’
Tiberius’s face darkened. ‘Then find one and stop making excuses, Senator Marcianus,’ he snapped. ‘This is a sensitive situation. Sejanus is my friend; a close friend. I rely heavily on him to deal with administrative matters in Rome now that my dear Drusus…’ He paused. ‘Sejanus chose Pilate for this post of Governor of Judea, and now Sejanus is betrothed to my granddaughter. As he’s soon to be part of the Imperial household I wouldn’t want to offend him.’ Tiberius wagged a finger at him. ‘And there’s to be no going to the Jewish authorities either; I don’t want them to think we’re incapable of solving our own problems. This is strictly among ourselves. No one must know what’s going on, no one. Do you understand?’
I don’t even know what’s going on, Vivius thought ironically, but all he said was ‘Yes, Caesar. In that case may I have the letter?’
‘No you may not.’ Tiberius barked. ‘This is the only proof I have that there are plots against me. I’m not letting it out of my sight.’
Vivius cleared his throat. ‘So…if I’m to keep this confidential, and I can’t speak to the Jews or know the contents of the letter, how exactly am I to start my investigation, and…what specifically am I investigating, Caesar?’
Tiberius stared at him in a manner that suggested he was puzzled by the question. ‘What do you mean, what are you investigating? You’re going to Palestine to assess the mood of the Jews and to investigate the Governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate. Is he following Roman policies? If not, why not.’
‘Investigate Pilate? But…’
‘You have a problem with that?’
Deciding an honest answer might not be in his own best interests Vivius kept silent, his heart sinking deeper into his
chest at each depressive beat.
Rummaging through the pile of wax tablets on his table, Tiberius brought out a small tablet and stylus and began writing. ‘This is the name of the man who wrote the letter. He lives somewhere in Caesarea. You’ll have to find out where.’
‘And when do you want me to go?’
‘Within the week. The Jews have their Passover festival in early spring. It’s a good time to go. Pilate has to oversee the event in Jerusalem, but you’re to report back to me, only me, understand?’ There was the slightest hesitation. ‘Not to Sejanus; only me,’ he added and with a glare fierce enough to convince Vivius that there would be dire consequences if he was disobeyed. ‘And I want you back in Rome for the start of the summer festival, regardless of what you’ve found out.’
‘That will only leave me two, perhaps three weeks in which…’ Catching the glare Vivius bowed his head. ‘I shall do as you say, Caesar,’ he said quietly.
* * *
Vivius’s boots splashed through the puddles, splattering his toga and cloak, as he hurried down the cliff steps towards the jetty, but he barely noticed. He hated confusion, and there was no doubt his usual clear and analytical mind was confused over what he considered to be a bizarre assignment. Was the emperor hinting he mistrusted Sejanus? And investigate Pontius Pilate? Investigate what? His policies, his actions, his conduct, his handling of the Jews? And how in the name of Jupiter was he supposed to assess the mood of the Jews if he wasn’t allowed to speak to them. As for how he was supposed to find a letter writer in a city the size of Caesarea…
He glanced up apprehensively as a low rumble of thunder echoed across the leaden skies. Anxious to reach the mainland before the storm broke, he stopped momentarily to check the jetty to see if his boat was ready, and was relieved to see bare-footed sailors scurrying around the vessel fixing sails and preparing for a prompt departure. He noticed another boat drawing alongside. The sailors in that one securing their flapping sails and oars ready for landing.
Vivius sucked in sharply through his teeth when caught sight of their passenger. With his hand resting on the mast, his cloak blowing in the breeze, the bull-necked, beefy figure of Prefect Lucius Aelius Sejanus, Commander of the Praetorian Guards, made an impressive figure in his Praetorian uniform.
Realising there was little chance of avoiding him, Vivius continued his descent down the steps, his mind methodically ticking off the options for a feasible excuse as to why Sejanus would find him on the Isle of Capri.
It was the sound of angry voices being carried over the pounding of waves and up the shingled beach that made him stop mid-flight. He glanced towards the rocking boat. Sejanus’s legs were splayed like tree stumps, his frenzied arms waving in the air. Vivius narrowed his eyes, trying to identify whom he was angry with. It appeared to be the captain. His back was turned, and his hands were making slow steady downward movements as if he was trying to calm the situation or explain his point of view; a point that was clearly not getting over to Sejanus. The sailors, having secured their vessel, hovered on the shingled shore, listening, watching, unsure what to do.
The blow, when it came, was sudden, sharp, delivered from the back of Sejanus’s hand, and from what Vivius could see, quite unprovoked. The captain fell, his cloak billowing out across the deck of the boat like a fallen flag. His anger still not abated, Sejanus kicked out with his full weight behind his boot.
Vivius realised there was little else he could do but stand and watch. He’d seen too many senators thrown into the Mamertine Prison, or known of members in the wealthy equestrian class who had disappeared altogether because they had stepped out of line with Sejanus.
To be on the safe side, Vivius stepped back under the shadow of the cliff, relieved to be wearing his dark cloak. He held the cloak tightly to stop it from blowing and watched the captain pull himself to his feet. He was bent double and holding his ribs. It was obvious he was in extreme pain, but he managed to stagger across the deck and down to the hold.
Sejanus stepped on to the jetty; he looked towards the steps but Vivius was reasonably confident that the shadows of the jagged cliffs were keeping him hidden. Nevertheless, he remained perfectly still until Sejanus had begun crunching his way along the shore. Only then did he feel confident enough to continue his decline. They reached the bottom of the steps together.
‘Senator Marcianus?’ Sejanus’s smile was wide and welcoming, but Vivius noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. They had narrowed suspiciously. He gestured to the jetty. ‘You’re heading back to Rome?’ His ruddy apple complexion was sweaty but Vivius suspected that came more from Sejanus’s love of wine, rather than healthy living.
‘I am.’
‘You’ve been to see the emperor?’ His voice rose in surprise.
Vivius remained on the higher step. He had no intention of standing next to a man who, in his opinion, was nothing more than a jumped-up policeman and therefore his social inferior.
‘I have.’ Vivius struggled to force something resembling a smile on to his face. ‘He talked of your betrothal to his granddaughter. May I offer my congratulations?’
‘Yes, yes, yes, thank you. Did he ask to see you or…’
‘He spoke highly of you.’
‘He did?’ Sejanus gave a short proud laugh, his open mouth showing a row of yellow uneven teeth. ‘Yes, well, I am the emperor’s closest friend and advisor, Senator Marcianus. While Tiberius fights with shadows here on the Isle of Capri, he trusts me to deal with administrative matters in Rome. Was it an administrative matter he wanted to see you about?’
‘No.’ Vivius cleared his throat. ‘As you say, he leaves all administrative matters in your capable hands, Sejanus.’ His mind scrambled around for another diverting topic and found one. ‘I see you’ve made further changes to the Praetorian Guards.’
Sejanus’s chin jutted out, clearly delighted to be invited to talk about his favourite subject. ‘Ah! Yes, as a former Praetorian Guard yourself, you’ll no doubt be delighted with the way I’ve reformed them.’
Vivius made no comment.
‘They’re more than mere bodyguards for the emperor now. I’ve turned them into a powerful and influential branch of the government who are more than capable of taking an active role in security and political affairs.’
Vivius wasn’t too sure he liked the idea of the already powerful Praetorian Guards receiving even more power but just then his concerns were more with the waves pounding up the beach and the high wind rolling the seas. The last thing he wanted was be stuck on the Isle of Capri all night with a mad emperor and a bully. ‘So tell me, Senator; did the emperor want you for anything important?’
Vivius listened to his instincts for caution. ‘I found him nervous; he believes he has enemies.’
Sejanus snorted through his nose. ‘Enemies? You’ve seen how well guarded he is. I personally have eliminated any political opponents the emperor may have. I’ve even replaced the army commanders in our colonies if I suspect them of being disloyal.’ He paused, and in a manner that suggested he wanted to share a confidence leant forward and added, ‘I confess I’m concerned for our emperor’s health, Senator. In fact, nothing would please me more than to see him live out his days on Capri, free from political affairs and the calls of public life.’
‘I expect you would,’ Vivius murmured.
‘He dwells on topical issues and then builds them up in his mind until they have little bearing on the actual truth. Paranoia is like that, you know.’ Sejanus moved in closer and Vivius’s nostrils flared as a whiff of stale wine drifted in front of him. ‘In fact, in a few months he’ll have forgotten that you were on Capri, and er…a word of advice, Senator.’ His voice dropped to almost a whisper. ‘So should you.’
Vivius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen.
CHAPTER THREE
(Rome)
Vivius closed his eyes as he breathed in the early morning air, but the fresh smell of dank earth and the woody scent of his olive grove did not
hing to clear his head. Sinking down on to his haunches, he rubbed the gnarled and twisted trunk of the nearest tree as if he was trying to erase all memory of the emperor’s insanity yesterday, and his own confusion over the assignment. If there was one thing he detested, he brooded, it was confusion. He liked things neat and orderly, each aspect of his life in a separate compartment, like the trees in his olive grove, spaced regimentally the same distance apart.
‘The winter frosts haven’t done no harm to the trees, master. And if we can keep them black bugs at bay this year I reckon them olives will be at their best come harvesting time.’
The silvery green leaves seemed to whisper a greeting as Vivius’s Greek manager approached with an easy and familiar gait through the olive grove. Phaedo was a loose-boned, placid, sleepy-looking man with a round weathered face that crinkled easily into a smile and made him comfortable to be around. Vivius raised his head and watched him examining the buds on one of the higher branches.
‘I reckon there’ll be no more frosts this winter. Perhaps we ought to plant those young trees now; that is, if you’re still thinking of extending?’
Vivius, still on his haunches, had an unexpected image of gazing up at Phaedo as a child and being told by his father that he must listen to this new slave; because despite his youth, Phaedo could teach him all there was to know about growing olives.
‘I am, Phaedo. I think we could soon have one of the most prosperous olive groves in Rome; far better than…’ Vivius snapped a dead twig off one of the lower branches with such force that it shook the tree.
The Senator's Assignment Page 2