False God of Rome

by Robert Fabbri

  Messalina joined in the communal laughter but the mirth did not reach her cold, dark eyes, which Vespasian felt glare at him as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

  Claudius shambled onto the stage and began a series of jerky jigs and pirouettes, waving his arms in an ungainly manner while the confused dancers carried on their graceful routine around him. On the stage next to them four chained lions began to devour the corpse of the decapitated criminal. Behind them the sun sank below the Circus Maximus.

  ‘Look at him,’ Caligula said through his mirth, ‘if we didn’t happen to have a god in the family he could have become emperor. If that had been the case, then I think that Thrasyllus’ prophecy would have been fulfilled.’

  ‘What was his prophecy, Divine Gaius?’ Sabinus enquired as down below Claudius collapsed into an undignified heap to the amusement of all present.

  ‘He prophesied that if a member of the senatorial order witnessed the Phoenix while it was within the boundaries of the Kingdom of Egypt he would go on to be the founder of the next dynasty of emperors.’

  Vespasian almost choked on his wine. ‘So if a senator saw it flying over Judaea, for example,’ he asked innocently, ‘it wouldn’t count?’

  ‘He was very specific; it had to be within Egypt itself, that’s why we refused permission for senators to travel there for so long.’

  Vespasian nodded thoughtfully, missing Sabinus’ questioning look.

  Caligula leant back to stroke Incitatus and then turned to Clemens. ‘Incitatus says he’s tired and wishes to sleep; like me he’s excited about tomorrow. Clear all the residents out of the houses within a quarter of a mile of his stables and post guards to make sure that no one makes any noise; I want him well rested for the journey.’

  ‘A sensible precaution, Divine Gaius,’ Clemens said without a hint of irony, getting to his feet.

  Caligula followed him. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see Incitatus out; he’ll be greatly offended if I didn’t.’ He kissed the horse on the lips. ‘Isn’t he beautiful? Perhaps I should make him a consul; he would be a fine colleague for me next year, much more suitable than the horse-faced idiot I’ve already chosen.’ With another fond kiss he led his special guest off.

  ‘What was it about the Phoenix prophecy that made you ask that question?’ Sabinus asked once Caligula was out of earshot.

  Vespasian looked at his brother with an amused grin. ‘According to that old charlatan, Thrasyllus, I’ve narrowly missed being the founder of the next imperial dynasty.’

  ‘You said that you didn’t see the Phoenix.’

  ‘I didn’t in Alexandria but almost four years ago in Cyrenaica I did; I witnessed its rebirth. But Cyrenaica’s not Egypt so the prophecy can’t apply to me.’

  ‘It used to be a part of the Egyptian Empire, I remember someone telling me that in Judaea.’

  ‘A province of Egypt, not a part of the kingdom itself. Even so, I was in Siwa, which is an oasis out on its own in the middle of nowhere.’

  Sabinus looked at Vespasian intently. ‘When Alexander conquered Egypt he went to the Oracle of Amun in Siwa, it was a part of the kingdom then. It’s only us who have put it in Cyrenaica for administrative reasons; historically, it has always been a part of Egypt.’

  Vespasian’s eyes opened wide and then he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. ‘No, no. I was taken to the Oracle of Amun after I saw the Phoenix. The Oracle spoke to me and it didn’t tell me that I was going to start an imperial dynasty; it didn’t tell me anything really, it just said that I had come too soon and that next time I should bring a gift to match the sword that Alexander had left there.’

  ‘What sort of gift?’

  ‘That’s what I asked, but it’s for you to decide.’

  ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Because, Sabinus, the Oracle said that a brother will understand and, whether we like it or not, we will always be brothers.’

  Caligula’s growing excitement at the prospect of setting off on the progress to the Bay of Neapolis caused him to curtail the dinner shortly after dark, announcing that he wished to spend the rest of the night settling his feud with Neptune so that he would not send a storm to destroy his bridge. The guests departed with obvious relief at being able to leave with their lives, limbs and virtues intact.

  Vespasian left Sabinus to make his own way home to the Aventine and, despite the lateness of the hour, set off to make a call that he was dreading but knew he could not put off.

  Apart from a couple of crossroads brothers on watch at the corner, Caenis’ street was empty. Vespasian nodded his regards to the lads and walked purposefully to her door.

  The huge Nubian answered his knock within moments and he was quickly and silently admitted.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ Caenis said gently as he walked into the dimly lit atrium, ‘I’ve been waiting up for you.’ She walked over to him and, looping her arms around his neck, kissed him on the lips.

  Vespasian closed his eyes and responded in full, drinking in her intoxicating scent and caressing the curve of her back with his hands. ‘How did you know I was back in Rome?’ he asked as they finally broke off.

  She looked up at him with moist eyes and a smile. ‘Occasionally, as you know, to relieve the boredom I go to your uncle’s house; I went there this evening.’

  Vespasian sucked in his breath. ‘So you’ve…’

  ‘Met Flavia? Yes, my love, I have. She’s very beautiful.’

  Vespasian swallowed and wondered how that might have gone. ‘I wanted to tell you about her first.’

  ‘That’s why I knew you’d come tonight. But you don’t need to tell me about her, she’s done that already and in great detail; if you wish to marry her you do so with my blessing.’

  ‘You will always be first and foremost, my love.’

  ‘I know that, that’s why I’m happy to let you go; it’s my own private victory over her. I may be second in line when it comes to receiving your attention and can never bear your children, but I will always be first when it comes to your love and I’ll settle for that.’

  He held her shoulders and looked down at her, smiling, and then kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Should I stay?’

  ‘I’d never forgive you if you didn’t.’

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A SHORT CHORUS of bucinae echoed around the Forum Romanum, followed by the mass barking of centurions bringing five cohorts of the Praetorian Guard to simultaneous attention with a single crack of hobnails on stone. Along the crowd-lined Via Sacra trotted two alae of Praetorian cavalry, keeping pace with the star of the spectacle, Caligula, fifty feet above them and a hundred paces to their left, as he traversed his bridge from the Palatine to the Capitoline Hill riding Incitatus and dressed as Vulcan: a single-shouldered tunic, a pileus and brandishing a smith’s hammer in one hand and a large clamshell in the other. Behind him followed ten naked women painted gold, representing the slave girls whom Vulcan had forged out of the precious metal to serve him.

  All around the vicinity of the Forum bonfires burned into which people threw live fish or small animals – rats, mice, puppies and kittens – as a sacrifice to the god of fire in the hope that he would spare the city from burning during the hot, dry summer. In their capacity as the city’s fire fighters the Vigiles kept a close eye on every bonfire.

  From the steps of the Curia, Vespasian and the rest of the Senate watched Caligula progress onto the Capitoline, dismount and then descend the Gemonian Stairs past the Temple of Concordia and stop before the Volcanal, the sacred precinct to Vulcan, and one of the oldest shrines in Rome. Here, before the altar, shaded by a cypress tree, there waited a red calf and a red boar ready to be sacrificed to the god whose festival it was that day.

  ‘Having made his peace with Neptune I suppose that our Emperor is now ensuring that Vulcan doesn’t burn the city down in his absence,’ Vespasian observed as the sacrificial knife flashed in Caligula’s hand despatching the calf.

  ‘Or send fir
e out from his smithy under Vesuvius to burn his bridge,’ Sabinus muttered.

  ‘Wrong mountain, dear boy,’ Gaius corrected him as the boar collapsed spurting blood. ‘Vulcan lives under Etna in Sicilia. Anyway, he only does that every time his wife, Venus, is unfaithful to him, so if we wanted to avoid an eruption in Sicilia perhaps it’s her that we should be sacrificing to, in order to ensure her good behaviour.’

  Vespasian grinned at his uncle and brother. ‘I should certainly offer a sacrifice of thanks to her after Flavia’s behaviour this morning.’

  ‘You should indeed,’ Gaius agreed.

  Sabinus looked confused. ‘Who’s Flavia?’

  ‘She, dear boy, is the woman whom your brother intends to marry. The same woman who, when Vespasian turned up soon after dawn, having spent the night with Caenis, gave him a kiss and asked if he’d had a pleasant evening before calmly finishing her breakfast and then, having packed, left for her father’s house, with my letter opening the marriage negotiations, and with no more than a warning to your younger brother that he should ensure that he has something left for their wedding night next month.’

  Sabinus stared in disbelief at Vespasian who shrugged innocently. ‘She must be a very stupid woman if she didn’t realise that he’d spent the night with someone else.’

  ‘Oh, she knew all right; in fact, she even met Caenis yesterday evening and explained to her the rules.’

  Vespasian was alarmed. ‘The rules, Uncle?’

  ‘Yes, dear boy, the rules.’

  ‘What are the rules?’

  ‘The rules are simple: Flavia has first call on you if she is entertaining, wanting a holiday, needing to discipline children, wishing to take a walk around the city or trying to get pregnant. At any other time Caenis is welcome to have you but not for more than four nights in a row, going down to three once the first child is two and more in need of a regular paternal figure, and then two once it is seven.’

  Sabinus guffawed, much to the outrage of the senators nearby; he quickly controlled his face into one more befitting a religious ceremony. ‘It sounds like they’ve parcelled him up very neatly.’

  ‘Oh, they both knew very well what they wanted. They were icily polite to each other, complementing one another’s hair and trinkets and suchlike, but they came to a peaceful understanding despite their obvious mutual loathing; it was a wonder to behold and confirmed to me the wisdom of my lifestyle.’

  Vespasian was indignant. ‘And you let them negotiate about me as if I were a gladiator that they’d both taken a fancy to.’

  ‘I didn’t let them do anything, dear boy,’ Gaius replied, shrugging his shoulders, ‘it’s nothing to do with me; I just observed. You’re the one who’s insisting on having a complicated domestic arrangement. I just hope that you don’t have to pay too high a price for it, both emotionally and financially.’

  A roar from the crowds brought their attention back to the day’s proceedings; the auspices having evidently been declared favourable, Caligula had mounted a quadriga, with Incitatus now installed in his place on the left of the team, and was leaving the Forum followed by the cavalry alae. Cohort by cohort, the Praetorians began to march out after them to the cheers of the crowds.

  ‘I think that their enthusiasm is less for the spectacle and more for the fact that once Caligula’s driven over his bridge the ships can be used to bring some much needed food to their bellies,’ Gaius observed as they and the rest of the Senate began to follow. ‘Let’s hope that we can get this sorry affair over with quickly.’

  Two miles outside the Porta Capena, in a field alongside the Via Appia, the senators’ carriages waited with their wives already installed and being fussed over by slaves in the ever growing heat. The chaos of reuniting over five hundred men with their vehicles lasted for more than an hour and was not helped by Caligula riding his chariot, followed by a turma of grinning Praetorian troopers, up and down the rows of carriages and lashing out with his whip in an effort to speed up the process. Many a mule team bolted, dragging their burdens, with their screaming passengers, over the rough ground to an inevitably calamitous conclusion.

  ‘I’m over here, sirs,’ Magnus’ voice eventually shouted over the din.

  Vespasian, Sabinus and Gaius followed the voice and were relieved to see Magnus in the driving seat of a covered carriage drawn by four sturdy-looking mules; next to him sat Aenor and another young German slave boy. A horse each for Vespasian and Sabinus were tethered to the carriage’s rear.

  ‘Magnus, gods be praised,’ Gaius shouted back, breaking into a fast waddle, as the two slave boys dismounted to see to their master’s needs. ‘I didn’t think we’d ever find you in this madness.’

  As they reached the safety of their carriage Caligula appeared in his chariot, lashing at a group of elderly and bewildered senators running alongside him. ‘Why do the old always slow down the young?’ he bellowed at them, giving the rearmost of his quarry a furious beating on the back, sending him tumbling to the ground with a scream to disappear beneath the hoofs of the following turma. ‘Useless old shit,’ he called out with a grin as he caught sight of Vespasian and Sabinus and brought his chariot to a skilful halt, letting the rest of the senators run on. ‘His family have probably only been in the Senate for a generation or two; no breeding, you see, dulls the memory. He probably couldn’t even remember where his arsehole was; it’s no wonder that he was having such trouble finding his carriage.’

  ‘I’m sure that you’re right, Divine Gaius,’ Vespasian agreed, not wishing to point out that he too was only a second-generation senator.

  Caligula beamed at him. ‘At least you all managed to be ready on time; you’ll join me at the front of the procession as we near the bay. I’m looking forward to seeing the wonder on your faces when you first see my bridge.’ His eyes opened even wider with pleasure. ‘And you Sabinus, I’m especially looking forward to seeing yours; I’ve got a lovely surprise for you.’ With a crack of his whip over his teams’ withers he accelerated away with the turma following, leaving the crumpled and bloody body of the old senator for his family to reclaim.

  Gaius shook with suppressed fury. ‘This is going too far; riding down senators and leaving them in the dirt as if they were fleeing savages rather than men who have served Rome all their lives. It’s an outrage!’

  ‘Uncle,’ Vespasian said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder, ‘remember your own good advice to me.’

  Gaius took a breath and got himself back under control. ‘You’re right, dear boy: stay alive and don’t let your sense of honour overrule your judgement. Let it be someone else that he pushes over the edge; with behaviour like that it won’t take long.’

  ‘At least with behaviour like that you can see it coming,’ Magnus pointed out. ‘You know what to expect, and can accept it before it even happens; it makes it easier to control yourself. It’s when things take you by surprise that you lose your judgement.’ He stared darkly at Sabinus who was looking pleased with himself, having been singled out for favour so conspicuously by the Emperor. ‘And if there’s one thing I wouldn’t like it would be Caligula preparing a surprise for me, if you take my meaning?’

  The procession south along the Via Appia, however, was far from surprising: it was long, hot and very uncomfortable. Caligula had impetuously decided to start out the day after Vespasian had brought him the breastplate. There had been no time to consider the complex logistical problems of moving so many people through a region already suffering from the privations caused by Caligula’s impounding of every ship entering Italian waters. By the fifth day the Praetorian Guardsmen’s marching rations had run out and any food that the senatorial party had brought along was either finished or had gone off in the baking heat of high summer.

  By the sixth day the progress had not even reached the halfway point due to Caligula taking a sudden interest in the civic doings of every town they passed. He would halt the mile-long column as his litter passed through the Forum, and from beneath the sh
ade of his swan-down canopy dispense justice – as he saw it – and decree new civic laws while his quartermasters stripped the community bare not only of their new harvest but also of their livestock and winter stores. The column would then move on an hour or so later, leaving a handful of decapitated, crucified or maimed criminals, new laws concerning the sacrifice of peacocks or suchlike to their emperor deity, and a community unable to feed itself for the coming months, but in possession of an imperial promissory note for such an eye-watering amount of money that the civic fathers knew it would never be honoured.

  In the evenings Caligula would order the Praetorians to build a full marching camp with ditch and palisade as if they were on campaign in hostile territory – which indeed, after his activities during the day and the felling of trees for miles around, they generally were. Unless they were one of the few to have had the foresight to bring their own tent, the senators and their wives were obliged to sleep in their sweltering carriages parked tightly together in one corner of the camp with no hope of any seclusion. The one consolation of this arrangement for the women was being able to take advantage of the limited privacy of the latrines built especially for them. Their husbands, who had generally all served under the eagles, had, like any soldier, no problems relieving themselves in the open during a rest halt. For the women, however, this was an ignominy too hideous to bear, and consequently their pained expressions and very short tempers by the end of each day were the product of more than just being jolted around in their carriages for the past few hours.

  Vespasian and his companions tried to remain unobtrusive, anxious to have as little to do with Caligula’s entertainments as possible. Those senators who suffered the misfortune of being summoned to his huge pavilion in the evenings inevitably came back with tales of mutilation, sodomy and rape, as well as other excesses that they and their mostly hysterical wives refused to – or were simply unable to – find words for.