Masters of Rome (51 page)

‘I wouldn't count on it, brother,' Vespasian warned, ‘three years is not such a long time.'

Sabinus waved Pallas' note. ‘Which is why I've been guaranteed at least seven in Moesia.'

Without waiting for anyone to be rash enough to oppose the motion, the Senior Consul called upon the House to divide. But there was no division; unanimously, the Senate voted to send Gaius Silius to Claudius so that the Emperor, whom he, along with most of the men who had condemned him, had cuckolded, could decide his fate.

Rumour of Messalina's marriage had spread throughout the city as senators passed on the news to clients awaiting them outside the Curia and they in turn informed their hangers-on. Before Vespasian and Magnus had returned to the Porta Ostiensis it was already being discussed in the Fora and the baths; in markets and over the counters of shops and taverns; and by just about every person that they passed in the streets as they pressed through the crush of a city ripe with salacious gossip. Outrage grew as the perceived wrong done to their Emperor – the conqueror of Britannia, the man who had added Mauritania and Thracia to the Empire, the holder of the Secular Games, the builder of the new port that would solve all Rome's supply problems, the brother of Germanicus and the rightful heir of the Caesars, the dynasty that had kept the common people of Rome fed, entertained and free from civil war for three generations now – the wrong done to him by a notorious nymphomaniac well known in the brothels frequented by the masses.

‘It makes you wonder how she ever thought she would succeed,' Magnus observed as they mounted their horses surrounded by crowds of common people gathering at the Porta Ostiensis to welcome their wronged Emperor back to Rome.

‘It's not so hard to imagine how she saw it,' Vespasian replied, tugging on his mount's reins as it shied at the crowd. ‘Claudius gone, Silius, Agrippina and Lucius murdered, the Guard paid off and the populace showered with money and games; in three months she could have been safe as the mother to the last true heir of the Caesars. The trouble was that she failed to take into account the loathing that most people have for her.' From within the city came the ever-swelling sound of mass disapproval moving closer. ‘It sounds as if Messalina also has it in mind to come and greet Claudius.' Vespasian urged his horse forward, down the Via Ostiensis. ‘Let's hope Narcissus manages to keep her away from the fool.'

‘Sabinus has taken Silius to the Praetorian camp,' Vespasian informed Claudius as he rode next to the imperial carriage; two turmae of Praetorian cavalry rode in escort.

‘And my w-w-wife?'

‘She is no longer your wife,' Narcissus reminded Claudius.

‘We do not know that for sure,' the elder Lucius Vitellius pointed out, earning a vicious sidelong look from Narcissus. ‘We only have the word of two whores.'

‘And the word of Vettius Valens in the Senate,' Vespasian countered, ‘plus the fact that Silius did not deny the fact.'

Claudius squeezed out a couple of tears to add to the sheen on his face. ‘Oh, my little bird, where is she?'

‘I would surmise that your wi … Messalina has heard that Silius' consular oath was void and therefore realises the seriousness of her predicament as I believe that she was on her way to the Porta Ostiensis to greet you as I left.'

‘I won't see the treacherous b-b-bitch until she's dead!' Claudius began to twitch as his cheeks reddened and his breathing became irregular.

‘Indeed not,' Narcissus crooned.

Vitellius shook his head. ‘Ah, such a crime.'

Narcissus fixed Vitellius with another vicious stare. ‘What do you mean, Vitellius? Is what Messalina has done a crime or is what's about to be done to her a crime?'

Vitellius smiled vaguely. ‘Such villainy, such villainy.'

Narcissus wrinkled his nose in disgust at Vitellius' careful avoidance of declaring his position.

Claudius quickly calmed, sinking back into self-pitying reverie. ‘Alas, my little bird, for the sake of the children I'll forgive you.'

‘You must not talk like that, Princeps.'

‘Oh, how happy we were for so long; the children playing as we sat together in our garden, always together, never apart, every night a first. Oh, little bird, fly back to me.'

‘She'll see you dead, Princeps, unless you kill her first.'

‘Ah, such villainy.'

Narcissus rounded on Vitellius. ‘If you are determined to say nothing that could be construed as support for either side then I suggest you stay silent.'

Vitellius looked to the sky. ‘Such a crime.'

Vespasian watched Narcissus struggle to control himself, surprised by just how rattled this normally neutral-faced politician had become; he glanced at Pallas, riding up front, next to the carriage driver, and saw the placid face of a man in control.

‘The filthy whore! I'll snap her neck!' Claudius exploded, before sinking his head onto his chest and mumbling about the milky smoothness of the little neck that he planned to snap.

Beyond the lead turma of cavalry the city walls were no more than a mile away; but closer, less than three hundred paces distant, stood a cart and kneeling in it was the figure of a woman with her hands outstretched in supplication.

Pallas signalled to the tribune, a dour-faced man in his forties, commanding the escort to come closer. ‘Burrus, ride that cart off the road, but be careful as he hasn't yet signed her death warrant. And tell your men to start singing.'

Burrus nodded as if ordering his men to sing was the most natural thing in the world and rode to the head of his column. As repeated, high-pitched, female screams rose over the clatter of hoofbeats the escort broke out into a raucous military march.

Claudius looked up, his eyes wide with hope. ‘Was that my little bird I heard? Oh, t-t-tell them to stop singing, I'm sure I heard her.'

‘Nonsense, Princeps,' Narcissus reassured him, whilst rummaging in the satchel by his side. He pulled out three writing tablets and handed them to his patron; again Claudius cocked his ear at the sound of another brief shriek between verses of the song. ‘Please take a look at these, Princeps; one is a report on how the new letters that you wish to have inserted into the alphabet have been received.'

Claudius was immediately all interest. ‘Ah! I've been waiting for this.' He snatched the tablet and began reading; he was instantly immersed and failed to notice another series of screeches piercing the boisterous singing of his escort. The carriage slowed a fraction as the lead turma, too, reduced its speed; another shrieked call broke over the song and then the column picked up speed and Vespasian saw the cart carrying Messalina driving away over the rough, freshly ploughed farmland on the other side of the road.

‘Claudius!' she cried as the out-of-control horses carried her off. ‘Claudius!' She held out her arms towards him, her hair awry and her robe in tatters.

‘That was my little bird!' Claudius exclaimed, tearing his eyes away from his report.

An instant before he turned his head in Messalina's direction Narcissus thrust another tablet at him. ‘This is about your safety, Princeps.'

‘My safety?' Once again Claudius was all attention.

‘Yes, Princeps. We're sure of Burrus and his cavalry's loyalty but we feel that as we don't know just how far this plot has spread through the other senior officers of the Guard it would be best to transfer their command to someone neutral just for the day.'

‘Yes, y-y-yes, that will make me feel much safer. Who do you suggest?'

‘Whom would you trust, Princeps?'

Vespasian knew the answer before it was spoken as he watched the cart bearing Messalina speed off into the distance out of earshot.

‘I trust you, Narcissus.'

Narcissus' face smoothed into a mask of modest gratitude. ‘I am honoured that you should entrust me with such responsibility, Princeps.' He opened the tablet. ‘Would you put your ring to the wax to make it official?'

As Claudius signed over the command of the Praetorian Guard to an ex-slave, Vitellius carried on gazing at the sky. ‘Such villainy!'

Narcissus and Lucius Vitellius assisted Claudius up the steps to the main entrance of the palace as he railed at his wife and blubbered for his lost love in turn. Since seeing the size of the crowds waiting for him at the City Gates and lining the streets to the Palatine and feeling the warmth of their affection towards him, Claudius had become increasingly unstable, swinging from pathetic melancholy to murderous rage and then back again, in heartbeats. The people of Rome had watched in sympathy as their wronged Emperor had gibbered and seethed and snivelled his way through the streets; they had called out words of consolation and had urged him to avenge himself on his errant spouse, beseeching the gods that her death would bring him happiness.

Leaving Magnus with his horse, Vespasian followed the Emperor into the palace at Pallas' side.

‘The next couple of hours are the most crucial,' the Greek whispered as they passed through the vestibule into the atrium. ‘Narcissus needs to be driven to distraction by Claudius' behaviour.'

Before Vespasian could ask him what he meant a wail of grief echoed around the atrium.

‘Uncle! Oh, Uncle! How are you, dearest Uncle?' A female came running barefoot across the chamber, her hair loose and streaming behind her and her cheeks lined with kohl-stained tear-tracks. ‘Oh, how could she?' She launched herself at Claudius and flung her arms around his neck, kissing him all over his face and leaving black smudges in her wake. ‘Are you all right, Uncle?'

‘I don't know, Agrippina, I don't know; it's all such a shock.'

‘Yes, Uncle, who'd have thought it of such a model wife?'

‘That's just it, my child; there were no warning signs.'

Pallas gave the slightest of nods as if pleased with the entrance and Vespasian understood exactly what was happening and silently admired the audacity of it as Claudius disentangled himself from his niece and sat on the nearest couch. Before Narcissus could interpose, Agrippina had planted herself firmly on her uncle's lap and with her left hand gently around the back of his neck, stroked his hair with her other whilst cooing soothingly in his ear and moving her rump slightly more than necessary. The effect on Claudius was immediate; he drew her close, rested his head on her full breast and let fly finally with abundant sobs dredged from the very core of his being.

‘There, Uncle, there,' Agrippina purred, kissing the crown of his head as if he were a small boy woken in the middle of the night from a bad dream. ‘It'll soon be over; I'll look after you until you find another wife. You can trust me, you can trust family. Never forget that, Uncle: you can trust me because I'm family.'

‘Yes, yes, my child, I know that I can trust you; but I still can't believe that I misplaced my trust in my little bird.'

Agrippina softly pulled Claudius' face away from her breast, its imprint marked by a moist patch on her stola, and held it in both hands; she looked deep into her uncle's eyes. ‘I shall take you to see all the proof you need to believe her to be false, once and for all. Would you like that, dearest Uncle?'

Claudius nodded and twitched, gazing back at his niece who, although now in her early forties, still retained a beauty and sensuality purchased by a lifetime's use of the finest cosmetics. ‘I should like that very much.'

Agrippina slipped from Claudius' lap, working her buttocks gently against him as she did so, leaving him obviously aroused but too transfixed by her spell to notice his public embarrassment. ‘Follow me,' she purred, turning from him and swinging her hips as she walked away.

Claudius followed as if in a trance.

‘Where are you taking him?' Narcissus demanded.

‘Not far, Narcissus; you should come too.'

Having no choice other than to follow his patron, Narcissus complied.

‘Shall we go and see what she's found?' Pallas asked Vespasian.

‘By all means; although something tells me that you already know.'

‘How could I? I've been in Ostia for the last few days.'

Vespasian smiled as he and Pallas followed Agrippina out of the atrium.

Lucius Vitellius trailed in their wake, shaking his head slowly. ‘Such villainy.'

Agrippina took the route that Vespasian and Sabinus had been taken along on the day of Asiaticus' hearing and soon they were in the familiar corridors of the house that had once belonged to Antonia.

Taking Claudius by the arm as he lurched beside her, Agrippina led him past the formal reception room – the scene of Asiaticus' hearing – and on into the atrium that Vespasian had first entered twenty-two years before when his uncle had brought him and his brother to dine at Antonia's request. The high-ceilinged room had changed beyond recognition: it was now stuffed with statuary, furniture and ornaments, some modest, some brash, but all together gave the gaudy impression that the décor had been fashioned by Caligula after a three-day drinking session.

But it was not with Messalina's lack of taste that Agrippina hoped to demonstrate beyond all doubt her untrustworthiness; it was with the furnishings and ornaments themselves. She said nothing as she held out her arm and swept it around the room, encompassing each and every item on display.

And Claudius' mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Every item was an heirloom of his house.

Vespasian recognised Antonia's writing desk and polished walnut dining table with the three sumptuously upholstered
matching couches that had once graced her private rooms. The much-copied original bronze statue of a young Augustus painted in breathtakingly life-like detail: in military attire, his right arm raised and pointing the way and with a cupid at his feet; it had been, Vespasian knew, the prized possession of Claudius' grandmother, Livia. Statues of Claudius' kin and ancestors going back to Julius Caesar littered the room as if they were just being stored there amongst the elegant furniture, bowls and vases, each with a story to tell about the family that had ruled Rome for almost a century.