Rome’s Fallen Eagle (5 page)

Vespasian looked around from his position at the rear of the gathering to see that the unpalatable truth in Plautius’ words was sinking in.

Plautius’ eyes hardened as he too saw that his argument had traction. ‘This is what I suggest, Conscript Fathers: that we send a delegation to the Praetorian camp to meet with Claudius. We need to ascertain whether he really wants to be our Emperor and, if he does, how he intends to rule? If he doesn’t, and he can be persuaded to refuse the Guard’s offer, whom would they accept in his stead? Because I can tell you this for sure: the Guard will not accept a return to the Republic.’

The senators were silent as the last word echoed around the chamber until it was finally lost, like the vague memory of a pleasant dream that disappears upon waking to the reality of daily existence.

‘We should leave immediately,’ Vespasian whispered in Gaius’ ear, ‘and present ourselves to Claudius.’

‘And what if the Senate persuade Claudius to step down? Where would we be then? It’s too soon to make a decision; we stay with the flock.’

Vespasian frowned, doubt clouding his thoughts. ‘At this point whatever we do is dangerous; we should take a gamble on the most likely course of events.’

‘Would you gamble with the lives of your wife and child?’

Vespasian did not need to think about the answer. ‘No.’

‘Then stay anonymous; don’t make a decision until you have all the information.’

The Senior Consul stepped forward, his demeanour now subdued. ‘I am forced to agree with the ex-Consul and suggest that we nominate a deputation representing the full dignity of this House; all Consuls and praetors, past and present, should go.’

There was a murmur of assent.

‘Very good, Consul,’ Plautius jeered, ‘and who should head this delegation?’

‘Naturally as Senior—’

‘No, not naturally at all; you’ll just be seen as a prospective candidate for the job and not impartial. This has to be led by someone who, although he has senatorial rank, is not eligible to be emperor or even consul. It must be someone whom Claudius considers to be a friend so that he won’t feel that he’s being bullied or manoeuvred. In short it cannot be anyone here present.’

Secundus looked puzzled. ‘Who then?’

‘King Herod Agrippa.’

Night had fallen by the time the Judaean King had been found and summoned before the Senate. Torches and sconces had been lit in the temple making its polished marble interior a place of dancing light, far brighter than during the day. The
sedentary statue of Rome’s guardian god watched over the deliberations. If Jupiter’s stern face had been able to register emotions it might have taken on a look of contempt as it looked down on the depleted gathering. Over the last couple of hours, now that it was apparent that the Guard had the upper hand, many of the senators who had openly supported a restoration of the Republic had suddenly remembered urgent reasons to hurry to their country estates outside Rome. Vespasian and Gaius had stayed, safe in the knowledge that they had, as yet, expressed no opinion.

Herod Agrippa’s dark eyes glinted with amusement as they looked around the remaining senators from either side of a beaklike nose. ‘I’m very happy to head your delegation, Conscript Fathers; you honour me by your invitation. However, I fail to see what it can achieve.’

‘We wish to know Claudius’ mind,’ Pomponius Secundus replied testily. ‘Perhaps he would be willing to refuse the Guard’s offer of making him emperor.’

‘He tried to do that but has been persuaded otherwise.’

‘By the Guard at the points of their swords?’

‘No, Secundus, by me.’

‘You!’ Pomponius Secundus almost choked and had to slap his chest as he stared with disbelief at Herod Agrippa sitting serenely before him in his gold-embroidered, purple robe and kingly golden diadem.

‘Well, someone had to.’

‘Someone did
not
have to,’ the Senior Consul exploded, ‘especially you; a greasy little, eastern client king who can’t even bring himself to eat pork like any self-respecting Roman should.’

‘I think that was the final bit of information that I needed to make a decision, Uncle,’ Vespasian said out of the corner of his mouth.

Gaius nodded his head sagely. ‘I’ve just become an ardent supporter of Claudius. I always thought that he was the best man for the job, a natural leader.’

Herod Agrippa remained unruffled by this outburst. ‘This greasy little, eastern client king – who, by the way, enjoys pork
very much – took it into his own hands today to save your idiotic necks because I could see that the outcome was inevitable; unlike some people. I followed Claudius to the Praetorian camp and I was there when the Guard proclaimed Claudius emperor. However, Claudius thought it unconstitutional for the Guard to elevate him to the Purple—’

Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus jumped to his feet, bursting with latent Republican indignation. ‘It’s absolutely unconstitutional, only the Senate can do that!’

Herod Agrippa smiled placidly. ‘Yes, that was Claudius’ view, even though the Guard proved otherwise by killing one emperor and replacing him with another. Claudius was very keen – insistent even – that the Senate should proclaim him emperor immediately he was taken to the camp; he wanted his elevation to have at least the appearance of it being requested by this House. He waited for hours but heard nothing from you. Instead you sat up here on treasury strongboxes, scheming and plotting – what about, he could only guess. However, he knew that one thing was for sure: the fact that you hesitated to make him emperor meant that you didn’t want him.’

‘We never said that,’ Pomponius Secundus stated flatly.

‘Don’t demean yourself by lying to me. Every word of what has been discussed up here has recently been reported to Claudius by a few senators, including one of the praetors, anxious to stress that it was nothing to do with them but, strangely, begging for his forgiveness anyway.

‘From my understanding of it the only one of you who has come out of this reasonably well is Aulus Plautius.’ Herod smiled thinly at the gathering as each man tried to remember exactly what positions he had held in the debates that afternoon. ‘Once your silence had deafened him for a few hours, Claudius decided that it might be best, for his own safety, to step down before things started to escalate into an armed confrontation. I persuaded him not to, arguing that that would be akin to signing his and all your death warrants; his freedmen agreed. So he accepted the Guard’s acclamation and showed his thanks by promising a donative of one hundred and fifty gold aurei per
man.’ There were soft whistles of incredulity. ‘He now feels very safe and intends to stay as emperor. Face it, gentlemen, by your failure to take the initiative and quickly accept the inevitable you have allowed the Guard and Claudius to create a very nasty precedent: from now on the Guard can make emperors and the emperors will pay handsomely for them to do so. You’ve just lost what little power remained to you.’

Cossus Cornelius Lentulus, the Urban prefect, got to his feet. ‘I’ve heard enough, I’m taking the cohorts to swear loyalty to Claudius.’

‘You can’t do that,’ the Junior Consul called, ‘they’re meant to be protecting the Senate.’

‘From what? The Senate has just become irrelevant,’ Lentulus barked. ‘And even if the Guard were to come to attack the Senate with an emperor at their head do you think my men will fight? Bollocks they will.’ He turned and walked out.

Gaius looked at Vespasian; they came to a swift mutual agreement. ‘We’ll come with you, Lentulus,’ Vespasian called as he and Gaius stood up.

There was a chorus of similar calls as the senators rose to their feet.

Following the Urban prefect to the door, Vespasian glanced at Herod Agrippa who frowned as their eyes met; then a half-smile of understanding seeped over his face.

As Vespasian passed, the Judaean King turned back to Secundus. ‘Would you still like me to lead that delegation, Senior Consul?’ he asked innocently, above the noise.

Pomponius Secundus scowled at him and stormed from the temple.

The streets of Rome were almost deserted as the Senate led the Urban Cohorts up the Vicus Patricius towards the Viminal Gate, beyond which was situated the Praetorian camp. As one of the main brothel streets in Rome, its pavements would normally be crowded at any time of the day or night; but this evening business was very slow. There was not even a single cart or wagon, forbidden to enter the city during the day, rumbling
along the road taking advantage of night-time delivery hours. The common people of Rome had mostly locked their doors and closed their shutters as they waited for the power struggle to be played out so that life could get back to normal and they could be safe in the knowledge that somebody – and they cared not who – was in charge of distributing the grain dole and financing the games.

Passing under the Viminal Gate, Vespasian took a deep intake of breath; before them, a hundred paces away, lined across the front of the Praetorian camp, stood three cohorts of the Guard in full arms. The burnished iron of their helmets and scale armour and the bronze of the rims and bosses of their oval shields reflected the guttering torchlight. At their centre, on a raised dais, sat the new Emperor; the few senators who had already offered their allegiance to him stood to either side.

On the dais, behind Claudius, Vespasian recognised Claudius’ freedmen, Narcissus and Pallas, as well as Caligula’s erstwhile freedman Callistus; all three wore citizens’ plain white togas.

‘I’ll go first,’ Herod Agrippa told the two Consuls who were showing a reluctance to go forward although each was escorted by twelve lictors bearing fasces, the bundle of rods tied around an axe symbolising the magistrates’ power.

The Consuls both nodded and, despite the loss of dignitas, allowed themselves to be preceded by a client king.

Upon drawing closer, Vespasian could see an amused look play on Narcissus’ pudgy face as he stroked his oiled, pointed black beard with a stubby hand, heavy with bejewelled rings. He had always served Claudius, and Vespasian knew that he had been responsible for keeping his master safe during the reigns of Tiberius and Caligula by encouraging him, although little encouragement was needed, to play the fool; for him, today was the vindication of that policy. Pallas, tall, slim and full-bearded, betrayed, as ever, no emotion; he had served Vespasian’s late patron, the Lady Antonia, but upon her death had transferred his allegiance to her son Claudius, as the eldest surviving male in her family. Vespasian tried but failed to catch his eye, hoping that their past acquaintance, friendship even, would still count for
something. The shaven-headed, wiry Callistus was not so well known to Vespasian although he had met him on a few occasions, firstly as Caligula’s slave and then as his freedman. How he had transferred his loyalty to Claudius before Caligula’s assassination, just in time to save himself, Vespasian did not know. It did not, however, surprise him, as the one thing he did appreciate about the three men who now stood behind the Emperor was that they were all consummate politicians; not public demagogues but private intriguers with a subtle and accomplished understanding of imperial politics.

When Herod Agrippa was ten paces from the dais a sharp command followed by the deep rumble of a
cornu
, the horn usually used for signalling on the battlefield, led to three thousand blades being simultaneously unsheathed. The Consuls stopped abruptly.

‘The Senate and the Urban Cohorts have come to swear allegiance to the Emperor,’ Herod Agrippa shouted and then swiftly stepped aside.

‘And ab-b-bout time,’ Claudius yelled at the senators; saliva sprayed from his mouth and his left arm shook uncontrollably as it gripped the arm of his curule chair. ‘I wanted you to make me e-e-e-emperor in a constitutional manner; instead we have a situation whereby my first issue of coinage is going to have my head on the front and “emperor, thanks to the P-P-P-Praetorian Guard” on the back and not “thanks to the Senate and People of Rome”. Why did you delay? Didn’t you want a cripple for your emperor?’

‘That never crossed our minds, Princeps,’ Pomponius Secundus lied.

Claudius held up his right hand and Narcissus unravelled a scroll and, after a small pause for effect, started reading: ‘“Not only does Claudius stutter and drool and stumble in a way that would bring dishonour to the dignity of government but also he is not known to, and therefore not loved by, the legions.”’ Narcissus lowered the scroll and his eyebrows raised a fraction as he met Pomponius Secundus’ bewildered gaze.

Claudius turned to a senator, in his early thirties, standing close to the dais. ‘That is what he said, isn’t it, Geta?’

‘It was, Princeps, word for word,’ Gnaeus Hosidius Geta replied, looking smug. ‘I was ashamed that a consul of Rome could state such untruths about …’

‘Yes, yes, that’s e-e-enough. No need to overdo it, praetor.’ Claudius jerked his attention back to the mortified Consul. ‘Can you think of one reason why I should not have you executed? In fact, can anyone think of one reason why I shouldn’t have the whole S-S-Senate executed?’

‘Because you wouldn’t have anyone worthwhile left to dominate, Princeps?’ Herod Agrippa suggested.

There was a moment’s stunned silence before Claudius exploded with laughter. ‘Ah Herod, you do cheer me up, my friend.’

Herod smirked and bowed extravagantly, his hands upon his chest.

Claudius acknowledged the gesture and then turned back, his face set rigid again with displeasure, to the Senior Consul. ‘As to the army n-n-not knowing or loving m-m-me, you are mistaken. I am the brother of the great G-G-G-Germanicus; they will love me as they loved him because I will love them as he did. I will …’ Behind him Narcissus subtly pressed a hand on his shoulder and Claudius immediately fell silent. Pallas bent down to whisper in his ear.

‘I think we’re getting a foretaste of what is to come,’ Vespasian mused. ‘But at least we can still consider Pallas to be a friend.’

Gaius frowned. ‘Let’s hope so, although past friendships can’t always be counted upon when the political landscape changes. How are you with Narcissus? Has he forgiven you for cashing that bankers’ draft of Claudius’ whilst you were in Alexandria?’