Nero's Heirs (18 page)
'So,' the Emperor continued, talking to keep me with him and save himself from solitude, 'my debts grew, vaster than empires and a good deal quicker, like monstrous vegetables, marrows or pumpkins. When I followed Galba to Rome - at his request, after I had declared my support for him - I was positively besieged by clouds of mosquitos whom I identified without difficulty as creditors. What was I to do? They threatened to strip me of all I possessed, make me bankrupt, disgraced and debarred from public life. Which I was weary of, I assure you. I could have borne exclusion and disgrace, but for one thing: my pride would not let me display to the world the miserable condition to which my extravagance had reduced me . . .
'Are you still listening? It's good of you to listen. What am I saying? I've forgotten for a happy moment that I am the Emperor. You can't walk out on me, or go to sleep, as you would if I was a private citizen. Still, you're a good boy to listen. Come and sit beside me.'
He ruffled my hair, stroked my cheek, and sighed.
'Poppaea was the only person I ever truly loved, except that, when I was with her, I could also love myself. No more; Otho's despicable, a sad piece of work. Relax, boy, I have no designs on you. I had designs on Galba. He half-promised to make me his heir and his partner in the Empire. That was one night on the journey to Rome. He was in his cups, but not heavily drunk, though many nights the old general was carried sodden to bed. For my part, I have never found pleasure in heavy drinking. It destroys all other pleasures and abilities. Galba - that model of old-fashioned Republican virtue - propositioned me. Well, Julius Caesar may have consented to be bedded by the King of Bithynia, but Galba
...
He had a taste, you know, for mature men, like that brute Icelus, who shared his bed and did who knows what to the old man. That sort of thing has never attracted me. I can see the point of a boy and can understand men who run after boys, though it's never been my taste since I was a boy myself. But to take your sexual pleasure from some hairy brute - no - it disgusts me. Galba even in his cups understood the repulsion that I felt. He called for Icelus and dismissed me, and with my refusal my chances of being adopted as his heir went out of the window - where, as you might say, my creditors were lurking and clamouring. So there it was. I had a choice: dishonour and poverty, death at my own hand, or a bid for Empire. When some officers of the Guard approached me and told me how the Guard detested Galba on account of his stinginess, what could I say? It's one thing to turn down an Emperor, quite another to turn down the Empire itself. And so I said yes. Should I have done so? What else could I have done?'
Had I known then as much of men and affairs as I do now, I would have realised that Otho's future as Emperor was likely to be brief. His self-pity corrupted any determination and ability he might possess. Even his winning of Empire had had no more moral significance than a gambler's lucky throw. Yet because I was young and inexperienced and of a generous nature, I warmed towards him. I was flattered, too, that he had unburdened himself to me, and I did not consider that a man who would so abandon the reticence that dignity demands - and before one who was little more than a boy, a mere youth, however admirable my breeding, bearing and intelligence might be - was unlikely to be more restrained in other company. In short, I should have realised that Otho, expressing his regrets and misgivings, even to casual acquaintances (for I was in reality no more than that) was certainly dismaying his supporters and proving himself incapable of giving that impression of serenity and steadfastness which is necessary if soldiers are to be ready to die for a cause.
In passing, Tacitus, let me urge you to consider the significance of the numerous desertions that occurred in this turbulent year. Was it not the case that the legions had only one interest in these wars: to finish on the winning side? Few held their generals
in
affection or respect; few were wedded to them as Caesar's, or Mark Antony's troops to them. So, for instance, Otho would embark on his campaign at the head of an army some of whose legions had only a few weeks earlier hailed Galba as Emperor, and had indeed marched from Spain to install him on the throne. Now they were to fight for Otho, who was responsible for the murder of Galba. How hard would they fight? What loyalty was to be expected from men in their position?
XXIII
Domitian was furious. As usual - this will not surprise you, Tacitus -his anger was inspired by resentment and self-pity. He had had a letter from his father informing him that he had written to Otho requesting that Domitian should not be included among the members of his staff, but be permitted to remain in Rome 'to continue his studies'. Otho had 'graciously' consented. He had in any case developed a dislike for Domitian, whose restless look and quickness to take offence were, as he told me, 'intolerable'.
'It's not fair,' was Domitian's refrain. 'I have no studies worth the name and, even if I had, my father has never given a hang for them. You're going to the war, with a position on Otho's staff. It's not fair.'
'Well,' I said, in what I hoped was a conciliatory manner, for in truth I had some sympathy with Domitian's resentment. You forget that I have no father to make such a request. It's true that I have a guardian, my mother's brother, who may still claim some notional authority over me, but then he has never cared a tinker's cuss whether I live or die. So there's no reason for him to start doing so now. But I'm sure you wrong your father. It's natural he should be concerned for your safety. Indeed, he said as much when I was with him recently. He spoke very warmly of you,' I lied.
'It's not fair,' Domitian said again, 'and I know who to blame. It's Titus who has persuaded my father to take this attitude. He's jealous in case I win a renown in battle that would put him in the shade.'
'That's ridiculous,' Domatilla said. As if you could! Everyone knows what a hero he is. His soldiers adore him. Don't they?' she turned to me and flushing, sought confirmation of what she could not have known, but nevertheless believed, for she herself 'adored' her glamorous elder brother, and could never suppose that Domitian might be in any way his equal.
'He is certainly very popular,' I said. 'As I daresay, Domitian, you yourself will be too, when the time comes. In any case, surely you see that it is in your father's interest - whatever reason he may have given Otho - that you remain in the city as his representative.'
'Oh, fine words,' Domitian said, 'awfully fine words. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know that my uncle Flavius Sabinus is also to remain in Rome, and that he will be the man to receive confidences and instructions from my father?'
He continued in this vein interminably, till at last Domatilla told him to 'grow up' - a piece of admirable, if impracticable, advice which sent
him
into a deeper sulk.
At the time I shared her irritation. Subsequently I have wondered whether Vespasian's treatment of Domitian wasn't in truth prompted by Titus' determination that his little brother should be denied any chance to distinguish himself. If this was indeed the case, then Domitian's resentment was justified. It is regrettable that Rome, and my own career, should have suffered on account of resentment becoming his dominant characteristic.
XXIV
Near the beginning of March word came that the first army of the German legions had crossed the Alpine passes, under the command of Caecina. Orders given to the Danube legion based at Poetevio in Styria to intercept them had either gone astray or been ignored. So Otho found himself in a position similar to Pompey's at the opening of the campaign which led to Caesar's dictatorship. There were those who advised him to act like Pompey, abandon Italy to the invader, and carry his legions to the East, where they could join with those commanded by Vespasian and Mucianus, and so return, strengthened, in triumph.
Otho considered this advice and sought other opinions, hoping (I believe) to find that a majority of his advisers favoured this course. It was not that he was a coward, however effeminate and unsoldierly he might be in manner. But he doubted his abilities as a general; he detested the prospect of civil war; his sleep was made wretched by nightmares in which the ghost of Galba appeared to him; and he was temperamentally inclined to favour any course which would postpone the day of decision. In private conversation with me, he repeatedly bewailed his misfortune in being saddled with the load of Empire, and reverted to his favourite theme: that it had been forced on him by circumstance rather than by his own will. Everything in his speech was such as my Stoic upbringing had led me to condemn. And yet I could not do so. It was not merely that I was flattered (as any young man might be) by being singled out, as I supposed, to be the recipient of the Emperor's confidences. It was also that I responded to Otho's charm and vulnerability. Moreover, as I have said, my mother had always had a tenderness for Otho and this naturally inclined me in his favour.
Yet I did not abdicate my judgement to his fears or futile hopes. When he pleaded with me - with looks as well as words - to advise him that this course of withdrawal from Italy was wise and right, I could not, or would not, do so. On the contrary I pointed out that it had been fatal for Pompey, that it would be wrong - I may even have said 'unmanly' - to abandon Rome to the doubtful mercies of the Vitellian troops, all the more so because the Guard, whose duty it was to defend the city as well as the person of the Emperor, had committed themselves to his cause, and were reputedly loathed by the German legions. Then I added:
'Believe me, sir, I know Vespasian and Titus - the latter well, as you yourself know - and I have met Mucianus. If you abandon Italy and seek to unite your army with theirs, you will find that you have in reality surrendered the Empire to them. At best you will be the third or fourth man in the Empire. The only way in which you can maintain your position and make use of the friendship which Vespasian at least feels for you, and the good will which all three have expressed, is by meeting them in the character of a victorious general who has driven the German legions back beyond the Alps.'
'So young and yet so stern,' he replied. 'I'd like to get drunk, but I can't, however much wine I take. If I could get drunk, then I might sleep. And if I could sleep, my resolution might return.'
Otho's weakness and indecision were pitiful. It is therefore, surely, the more to his credit that he was able to overcome his fears, or at least to give his troops the impression that he felt none. Summoning up whatever resolution he could command, he gave the order to advance and seek out the enemy. As he buckled his armour on, he sighed. Then he wept a little, when he had dismissed the slave who had helped dress him as a man of war, and told me that he wished to keep me by his side throughout the forthcoming campaign.
You may bring me good fortune,' he said. 'I have a notion that you may.'
'I have read,' I said, 'that Caesar himself used to say that Fortune was the only goddess a commander should concern himself with.'
Having come to a decision Otho embarked on the campaign with the utmost urgency, lest, perhaps, he should have second thoughts, or his nerve should fail him again. The speed with which he now determined to move disturbed many. For one thing the shields had not yet been returned to the Temple of Mars after the annual procession; which, a centurion assured me, was 'traditionally a bad sign, sir, if that is you take any heed of such traditions. I don't meself of course. To my mind it's a lot of balls, but I'm bound to say many of the men don't like it, sir.' It didn't please them either that the order to move was given on the day when the worshippers of Cybele, the Great Mother, commenced their annual wailings and lamentations, as they mourned the death of her lover Attis, nor that the priest who took the auspices after a sacrifice to the God of the Underworld, found the victim's intestines were in prime healthy condition - just what they shouldn't be on such an occasion - in the opinion of the superstitious anyway. More to the point, as I saw it, was that the march north was delayed by floods in the vicinity of the twentieth milestone from the city, and that we then found the road blocked by the rubble from buildings which had collapsed as a result of the flooding. All this disturbed the nervous.
For my part, however, I was in a state of high but controlled excitement. All my life I had longed for the chance to emulate the achievements in war of my Claudian ancestors, and now this was being given me at an enviably early age. I sang as we marched, and the soldiers cheered to see an officer (even an honorary one)
in
such high spirits. But they could not fail to observe that the Emperor's face twitched and that he rode silent and seemingly indifferent to what happened around him. Since soldiers are as affected by the mood of their commanders as schoolboys are by their master's temper, this was an omen far more serious than any of those which had excited the fears of the superstitious.
Yet the news of the first actions was good. A detachment sent north to try to intercept the army which Valens was leading down the valley of the Rhone gained a victory near the colony of the Forum Julii. Then there were rumours of a mutiny in the camp of the enemy; these were premature, though in truth such a mutiny did break out in a few days, for reasons which I have never discovered. The word came to us that the advance of Caecina and his legions through north Italy was resented by the citizens of the towns where he quartered his troops, and that they were particularly angered by the conduct of his wife Salonina, who rode through their towns garbed in the imperial purple. Of course, the dissatisfaction of these citizens could be of little immediate benefit to our cause. Yet the unpopularity of an invading enemy is always to be welcomed. For one thing, it may demoralise the troops who, in a civil war, always hope to be received as liberators.