‘Ah, yes, I have been told to expect you. Please come in and wait in the atrium. I shall announce you to my master,’ the ancient retainer wheezed, bowing even lower as they filed past him. Vespasian was worried that he wouldn’t be able to right himself again, but with the aid of a stick he heaved himself up, closed the door and hobbled off to find the senator at a speed that made it inevitable that they would be waiting for some time.
Vespasian looked around the room. It was almost twice the size of their atrium at home and decorated far more lavishly. Brightly coloured frescoes of naked young men hunting and wrestling, amongst other less noble activities, adorned the walls. Statues of well-formed gods, leaving nothing to the imagination, painted to look lifelike, inhabited niches between the frescoes. The floor was covered with the most beautifully executed mosaic showing a superbly muscled Achilles despatching a doe-eyed Hector, both also mysteriously without clothes. Vespasian noticed his mother grimace as she took in the surroundings and realised that she was the only feminine thing in the whole room.
‘I am not sure that I approve of my brother’s taste in decor,’ she whispered to Titus. ‘It’s very vulgar and most unsuitable for our young lads. Why didn’t you tell me, Titus? You have, after all, been here before.’
‘So has Sabinus, don’t forget, and it didn’t seem to affect him adversely,’ Titus pointed out, also sotto voce, slapping his eldest son on the shoulder. ‘Besides, what would you have done had you known? Changed our plans? You’ve always been aware of your brother’s foibles, so this can’t come as too much of a surprise. Anyway, we’re here now and cannot leave without causing great offence.’
‘Foibles?’ Vespasia snorted. ‘Is that what you call them?’
Sabinus caught Vespasian’s eye. ‘Keep your back to the wall when Uncle Gaius is around, little brother.’
‘That will do, Sabinus,’ Titus hissed. ‘Remember your uncle is to be honoured and respected.’
‘But not submitted to,’ Vespasian mumbled under his breath, unable to resist a smile, which was greeted by a fierce look from his mother.
‘Whatever else my brother may be, he’s very influential, so do as your father says and keep your thoughts to yourself.’
Vespasian nodded his assent and tried not to stare at the frescoes.
‘Vespasia! How lovely to see you again,’ boomed a deep voice in an accent that Vespasian recognised as being very close to his own. ‘And, Titus, my friend, what a pleasure.’
Vespasian looked up to see a hugely fat man waddle into the room. He was dressed in a white tunic with a thick purple stripe down the front that struggled to cover his bulk; any belt that he may have been wearing had disappeared in the rolls of fat that wobbled as he walked. His round face showed signs of make-up, rouge on the cheeks and kohl around the eyes. It was framed by a series of carefully tonged brown curls that covered his ears and forehead. On his feet, which seemed far too small for his body, he wore a delicate little pair of red leather slippers. Vespasian had never seen anyone so outlandish in his life and had to fight to suppress a gasp.
Gaius came forward and embraced his sister. Despite her distaste for his lifestyle and obvious surprise at his size, she seemed genuinely pleased to see her brother and submitted to his affectionate greeting.
‘Gaius, it has been too long,’ she said as he released her from the folds of his body. ‘I trust that we find you well.’
‘Never better, never better,’ he replied, taking Titus’ arm in a firm grip. ‘You’re looking well, my friend; the country air must suit you. Is that why you don’t come to Rome more often? Well, you’re here now and it will be my pleasure to offer you all hospitality. Now, Sabinus, it’s been four years since you were here and it must be ten years since I last saw Vespasian.’
The brothers stepped forward and bowed their heads to their uncle, who put a hand on each of their shoulders and looked them up and down. ‘Fine boys, Titus, fine boys, you must be very proud. Sabinus, I look forward to hearing about your military service. I’m sure that it was the making of you.’
‘Indeed it was, Uncle,’ Sabinus replied. ‘And now I wish for a junior magistrate’s position.’
‘Of course you do, and you shall have it, my boy, you shall.’ Gaius turned to Vespasian. ‘And what does the younger brother want, eh?’
‘To try to serve Rome and my family,’ he replied.
‘Well said, my boy, you’ll go far with that attitude.’ Gaius squeezed Vespasian’s arm. ‘But in what capacity first, eh? The army?’
‘Yes, Uncle, like Sabinus, as a military tribune.’
‘Excellent. I’m sure that can be arranged, I still have connections with the two legions in which I served.’ Gaius saw Vespasian’s eyes widen in disbelief, and laughed. ‘Oh, dear boy, do you think that I was this size all my life?’
Vespasian reddened, mortified that his thoughts had been read.
‘No, I was once as fit as you two, as your mother will confirm. I choose to be this way now; or rather I choose the good life that makes me this way. Rome now has an emperor who tolerates lifestyles like mine, unlike his predecessor, the divine Augustus, who was a prude who led an austere life and expected everyone else to do so too. The gods bless Tiberius for allowing me to indulge myself and to be fat and happy.’ He smiled at Vespasian. ‘Well, let us hope that I can be of service in promoting your careers in this fine city of ours. That is after all what you are here for, eh, boys?’ Gaius chuckled.
‘Yes, Uncle, thank you,’ the brothers said in unison.
‘No, no, don’t thank me yet, I haven’t done anything. Wait until you have just cause, then I trust that you’ll find a way to thank me,’ Gaius said, turning back to his sister. ‘Now, Vespasia, I’ll have you shown to your rooms, then I’m sure that you would all appreciate a bath and a change of clothes after your journey; I have a set of very excellent baths here, unless of course you would prefer to go to the public ones?’
‘No, Gaius, we would be most happy to use yours,’ Vespasia replied.
‘As you will. I shall have them brought up to temperature immediately.’
He clapped his hands and four house slaves appeared from the corner of the room. They were all youths in their early teens with long blond hair down to their shoulders. They wore bright red tunics that seemed very short to Vespasian’s eye.
‘These boys will show you to your accommodation,’ Gaius said. He looked apologetically at his sister. ‘I’m afraid, Vespasia, that there is a shortage of female slaves in this household. I trust that you have brought your own.’
‘Indeed, brother, they are outside with the rest of our belongings.’
‘Excellent, I’ll have Priscus my steward make arrangements for them all. Now, please, make yourselves comfortable, I’ll see you when you are refreshed, and then we shall make plans for these boys of yours.’
The bath had indeed been refreshing, although both Vespasian and Sabinus had felt a little disconcerted at being expertly massaged and then rubbed down by two very pretty youths, who, despite their age, seemed to have no hair on their bodies at all, apart from their long golden locks.
They had joined their parents who were sitting in the shade in the courtyard garden. It was dominated by a statue of an unnecessarily large Apollo placed in the middle of the fishpond at the centre of the garden. Vespasian was sitting at the pond’s edge idly trailing his fingers in the water when Gaius arrived.
‘Don’t do that, dear boy,’ he warned. ‘That pond contains my lampreys; they’ll dig their teeth into your finger in a trice, given the chance. Unfortunately they enjoy eating us as much as we enjoy eating them,’ he said cheerily as he sat on a stool proffered by yet another beautiful slave boy. ‘One of my slaves fell in last year and was dead before he could be pulled out. Apparently the whole pool just seethed as they rushed to sink their teeth into him. I believe he died of shock. I was furious as I was particularly fond of the lad and had only recently bought him.’
Vespasian quickly mov
ed away from the pond and sat down next to Titus. Two more slave boys appeared, one with a table and the other with a tray of sweet cakes.
‘It’s my custom at this time of day to take something sweet,’ Gaius said as one of the boys set down the table. ‘I do hope you will join me, it will be a little while before dinner is served.’
The boy with the tray bowed to Vespasia and offered a cake, displaying as he did a pair of smooth well-shaped buttocks and a tight, hairless scrotum, which Gaius eyed appreciatively. Vespasian felt his father, next to him, shift uncomfortably in his chair at the sight and wondered how his mother would react when his side of the table was being served. Thankfully Gaius became aware of his guests’ discomfort and before Vespasia was subjected to the ordeal he slapped the boy’s arse.
‘Arminius, how dare you serve my guests in a state of undress? Go and put your loincloth on at once.’
The boy stared uncomprehendingly at his master, having obviously never before been told to put on that particular item of clothing, if indeed he even possessed one.
‘Go!’ Gaius barked. ‘And leave the cakes on the table.’
The poor boy did as he was told and ran off. Gaius smiled at his guests. ‘I must apologise, they can be very forgetful, these Germans. Good workers, but a bit sloppy.’
‘Please don’t mention it, Gaius,’ Titus replied. ‘No harm done. Are all your slaves Germans? I believe they are very expensive.’
‘Oh, they are, but worth every denarius,’ Gaius said with a faraway look in his eye. ‘I have mainly Germans, but also a couple of Mesopotamians and a Briton.’
‘Where are Britons from?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Britannia, an island to the north of Gaul. Surely you’ve read Caesar? He went there twice over seventy years ago, but they were a vicious bunch and he never managed to subdue them; that will be someone else’s task in the future, no doubt. But come, Titus, haven’t you given the boys any education. Surely they must have read the classics?’
‘I’m afraid Vespasian was more interested in husbandry than history, and much of his reading was neglected.’
‘That is something that must be repaired. Vespasian, I shall lend you my copy of Caesar’s Gallic Wars; in it you will learn about Britannia and Gaul and Germania as well. You need to know these things as a soldier; who knows where you’ll be posted? You boys may have free use of my library whilst you are my guests.’
‘That is most kind, dear brother,’ Vespasia said. ‘I shall make sure the boys use it to their best advantage.’
Gaius gestured to the cakes. ‘Please, in the absence of a serving boy help yourselves, these almond and cinnamon cakes are particularly good. Tuck in, my boys, we have a busy day tomorrow so you need to get your strength up.’
‘What have you planned for tomorrow, Gaius?’ Vespasia asked.
‘Your boys need to be seen and introduced,’ Gaius replied, stuffing a cake between his plump, moist lips. ‘Tomorrow is yet another public holiday, so where better to go to be seen and introduced than at the chariot races in the Circus Maximus?’
CHAPTER VII
At dawn the ancient doorkeeper opened up and admitted the crowd of clients waiting outside to pay their morning respects to their patron. Gaius sat on a stool near the hearth and greeted each of his forty or more clients in order of precedence. Vespasian and Sabinus sat on either side of him and were introduced only to those deemed worthy enough. A young secretary stood behind them taking notes on a wax tablet of any verbal requests, and receiving written petitions from those clients who had problems that they thought could be resolved by their patron.
Those for whom Gaius had some use that day were asked to wait by his study for a private interview. The rest were all given something to eat and drink and then they waited in respectful silence near the door for their patron’s departure. Each held a small purse of coins that, as it was a race day, had been given to them to gamble with. Once the greeting was over Gaius disappeared into his study and dealt with the return favours that he needed from those indebted to him. Vespasian was impressed by the quiet dignity with which both clients and patron conducted themselves as they exploited to the full this symbiotic relationship.
Business concluded, Gaius waddled out of his study and caught sight of Vespasian. ‘Dear boy, be so good as to fetch your parents. It’s time we were leaving; the crowds will be horrendous.’
Once all were assembled in the atrium Gaius made an offering to his household gods, mumbled a prayer, and then made his way outside followed by his family and then his clients. To Vespasian’s surprise, waiting to escort the large party through Rome to the circus were Magnus and six of his crossroads brothers, all sporting sturdy staffs.
‘What are these men doing here, Gaius?’ Vespasia asked. ‘They threatened us yesterday and showed no respect to their betters. I meant to have a word with you about them last night.’
‘Good morning, madam, please accept my apologies for yesterday-’ Magnus began.
‘Have some manners whipped into this man, Gaius,’ Vespasia demanded.
‘Calm my dear,’ Gaius soothed, ‘Magnus is-’
‘Magnus!’ Vespasia exclaimed. ‘That’s a very big name for such a little crook.’
‘My grandfather fought for Pompeius Magnus at Pharsalus. He named-’
‘I’ve no interest in your sordid little family’s history.’
Gaius stepped between them. ‘Vespasia, please. Magnus is a trusted friend of mine and a great source of information. For my sake, won’t you overlook this misjudgement on his part and let us be on our way to the circus? He and his comrades will prove their worth by beating a path through the crowds.’
Vespasia paused and looked down her nose at Magnus and his men who bowed their heads in abject apology.
‘Very well, brother, for your sake I shall,’ she replied loftily.
Magnus nodded in acknowledgement and then turned to Gaius. ‘I assume that you are heading to your normal place, the senators’ seats to the left of the imperial box.’
‘Indeed we are, my good man; I’ve had five slaves there reserving seats since before dawn.’
Gaius headed off down the Quirinal Hill surrounded by his family, clients and bodyguards. As they descended Vespasian saw many similar parties of important-looking men escorted by crowds of hangers-on; the more important the man, the bigger the crowd. All were heading in the same direction: to the games.
Nearer the circus the crowds did indeed become horrendous, as Gaius had predicted. Magnus and his brothers sweated as they pushed through the hordes of race-goers all sporting the colours of their favourite team, Red, Green, White or Blue. They cheered passing groups of the same faction and hissed and jeered supporters of the opposition. They chanted songs praising their teams at the tops of their voices whilst waving the coloured flags that proclaimed their allegiance. Here and there scuffles would break out as the press of the crowd forced two rival groups into each other, but in general the mood was good-natured, mainly because it was too early in the morning for anyone yet to have drunk too much.
They passed groups of racing horses and wagonloads of chariots and equipment being transported from the four teams’ stables on the Campus Martius outside the northern walls of the city to their race-day bases.
‘They’ll be bringing horses in and out all day,’ Gaius shouted above the din. ‘With twelve races of twelve chariots each, most of which will be four-horse, they’ll get through a lot of animals.’
‘Five hundred and seventy-six,’ Vespasian said without thinking.
Sabinus scoffed but dared not criticise his brother’s calculation in case it was right.
‘And at least another two hundred spares,’ Gaius said, raising an eyebrow at the speed of his nephew’s arithmetic. ‘Plus the mounts of the hortatores, the riders who lead each of the chariot teams around.’
Vespasian savoured the atmosphere. His mind filled with the images of the city that they had passed on their mile-long journey: the arches o
n the Sacred Way; the temple of Jupiter, resplendent in the early-morning sun, perched on the Capitoline Hill above the Forum Romanum; the Senate House and next to it the Rostra, adorned with the rams of Carthaginian ships captured in the battles of Mylae and Cape Ecnomus in Rome’s first struggle with its ancient foe long, long ago. He had seen the new forum of Augustus, the forum of Caesar and other public buildings both religious and civic, buildings he had only heard of, never seen, and had been struck dumb by their size, splendour and beauty.
The outer walls of the circus were now in sight. Four storeys high, they rose majestically above the swarms of people pushing and shoving their way through their arches and into the belly of the building. Once in they would make their way through the colonnaded interior, filled with vendors of hot food, cushions, wine and other necessities, then up one of the many sets of marble steps that led into the huge stadium seating nearly a quarter of a million people.
To his right Vespasian could see the temporary camps of the racing factions set up in the Forum Boarium in front of the narrow, straight end of the circus, through which all the competitors would enter. Thuggish-looking guards, who made Magnus and his friends look like acolytes at a religious ceremony, kept this area secured from the riff-raff keen on getting a sneak preview of the teams being readied for the day.
They passed underneath an arch into the heaving bowels of the circus and Gaius’ party started to diminish as his clients paid their respects to their patron and wished him good fortune, before leaving to try their luck gaining access through one of the many public entrances. Magnus’ job became increasingly difficult in amongst the colonnaded passageways, beating a path through the tightly packed mass of humanity, occasionally pausing to give way to another party of higher status, then following on in their wake. Slowly they made their way to the entrances reserved for senators and their guests.
Gaius called out greetings to acquaintances as they passed close in the heaving melee: ‘Good day to you, Lucius, may the gods smile on you and give you good fortune… Postumus, I hope your Whites fare better today. I shall be backing them in the second race…’ all the time giving Vespasian and Sabinus a brief resume of who they were and how influential they may or may not be.
Tribune of Rome v-1 Page 8