Tiberius (34 page)

"If that is so, then . . . who are they?"

"The first is Drusus."

"Drusus? Why should he inform against his mother and brother?"

Sejanus smiled, like a great cat playing with a mouse.

"Oh he has several reasons. O
ne, he is jealous, because Nero
is the elder. Two, he hates his brother and is disgusted by his addiction to vice. Our Drusus is a nasty little prig, you know. Three, he is ambitious. He hopes, with Nero out of the way, that he himself may be your successor."

"I would rather be succeeded by a pig than by Drusus. It seems to me that his evidence is suspect, Sejanus, for it is founded on animosity and chimes too well with what he thinks are his own interests."

"That's as may be. And it might be suspect, if it was not corroborated." "By whom?"

"By his sister-in-law, Livia Julia, little Nero's wife. Her husband does not love her of course, but they are apparently on friendly terms. I should say perhaps they are on friendly terms by my instructions, relayed through my dear Julia Livilla, the girl's mother. She early realised that little Livvy was disgusted by her husband's preference for men, and regarded it as an insult to her own charms. And what girl wouldn't? But she has the sense, and the self-control, not to show her feelings, and little Nero is a blabbermouth, with no more idea of security than a pigeon. She knows about his dealings with the German armies and whatever she knows she tells her mother, who passes it on to me. So, you see, Caesar, it's not just a matter of paid informers this time. And don't forget that, though we dropped the poisoning charge laid against Agrippina's friend Claudia Pulchra, I have always said that was a mistake. You can't know what a relief it is to me to have you here, on this island, but even here, you may not be completely safe."

"Why should I care about safety when I long for death?"

"You have been asking that question for twenty years. The answer is still the same. Because you care for Rome."

"A stinking hole."

"Granted, you think that. But an idea. You don't want to go down in History as the man in whose hands the empire broke. And empires are frangible. Think of how Alexander's dissolved within a few years of his death. You don't want historians to write that Tiberius, through a supine idleness and a feeble irresolution which overtook him in old age and corrupted his judgment of men and affairs, allowed the empire bequeathed by Augustus to be destroyed in civil war and internecine feuds.

Better to strike now to avert disaster. It is sometimes necessary to be brutal in order to do good . . ."

But I hesitated. I heard the waves lap on the rocks, and saw the moon lie on the waters. My judgment had been called in question; but I remembered how young Nero had embraced me after my son's death and told me he wished I could weep for my own sake. His emotion had embarrassed me but I could not believe that a boy capable of such sympathy was also capable of plotting my death.

"Let us eat first," I said.

Sejanus settled himself on his couch, and broke off a crab's claw.

"Of course," he said, "young Nero is a consummate hypocrite."

In the end I compromised. I compromised because I could not bring myself either to believe the reports Sejanus had brought me, or to dismiss them. So I sent him back to Rome with a letter to the Senate in which I complained in careful phrases and opaque terms of the seditious implications of Agrippina's animosity towards me; if a lady of her status, I observed, was permitted to speak with the licence she was reported habitually to allow herself, then others, lacking her intimate connection to me, would feel themselves at liberty to express insubordinate and disobedient thoughts. All authority would soon be called in question and, without authority, the Republic would be endangered. Insults directed at my person were no matter to me, for I had long accustomed myself to endure them. Half a century of public life had inured me to mere personal abuse. But I had been entrusted with responsibilities by the Senate, and I could not acquit myself properly of the duties thus laid upon me if my authority was so freely questioned. As for Nero, I contented myself with drawing the Senate's attention to the political consequences of his licentious self-indulgence.

We are honoured only as we behave honourably, and the decency of public life depends on the decency of the private conduct of those whom the Senate has entrusted with authority, and of those around them, including members of their own family. I have in the past
endeavoured in private conver
sation to persuade this young man, for whom I have much affection, to conduct himself in a more seemly manner. I arranged that he marry my dear grand-daughter, hoping, as I did so, that her charms and virtues would succeed where my earlier pleas had failed. Now, to my sorrow, I learn that the experience of marriage has not persuaded him to turn away from the practice of vices, which, if indulged in the public gaze, cannot fail to bring the young man himself into contempt, and which will, in its turn, be transferred to other members of my family, even perhaps to me myself, and also, by extension, to you, Conscript Fathers, and thus to the whole structure of legitimate authority. Therefore, I address this letter to you, in the hope that my public reproof, supported as I trust it will be by your unanimous expression of your very natural and proper abhorrence, will succeed where my private urgings have failed, and so persuade this young man, who possesses so many talents, and in whom I discern - setting aside this particular matter — so much natural virtue — to amend his way of life, discard the vices which corrupt his character and tarnish his reputation, and so live in a manner more worthy of his status as a Roman nobleman and the great-grandson of the Divine Augustus.

Sejanus was not satisfied with this letter. He complained of my moderation, even timidity. He told me that I would destroy myself through my own benevolence.

I am not certain how my letter was received, for I have had conflicting reports. It seems that it puzzled the senators. They did not know what I wanted them to do, though I should have thought it was clear. One, Messalinus, leaped up to demand that Agrippina and Nero should be put to death, but omitted to say on what charge. Then Julius Rusticus, a man I had long revered and whom I had appointed to keep the minutes of senatorial proceedings, tried to calm the assembly by arguing - quite correctly as my account must have made clear — that the motion should not be put to the vote. It was inconceivable, he said, that I should wish to eliminate Germanicus' family. All that was required of the Senate was to note the arrival of the letter and its contents, in the hope that its
measured and dignified language
would serve as a public warning to the two errant members of the imperial family. That was all the emperor wished.

News of the letter alarmed the mob. They crowded round the Senate House, baying support for Nero and Agrippina. This unsettled the senators further. I doubt now whether the appearance of the mob was spontaneous. It was reported that some of them shouted that my letter was a forgery - Tiberius could not favour plots to destroy his family. If this report was true, it sounded to me as if someone's agents had implanted that idea in their minds.

But whose? I was already aware that my retirement to Capri had made it more difficult for me to know what was happening. I was more than ever at the mercy of the information I received.

My letter did not have the desired effect of persuading either Agrippina or Nero to mend their ways. Indeed, it may have had the contrary effect. Within a month of its appearance, Sejanus sent me word of new communications between the pair and the German legions.

He appeared on Capri without a prior announcement, something he had never done before.

"The situation," he said, "is critical."

It was a beautiful morning. I had bathed early, and was breakfasting with Sigmund and other members of my household when news was brought that a ship was approaching the island. Unannounced arrivals were always agitating, and Sigmund exerted himself to calm my suspicions. It was a relief when I learned that Sejanus was on board. Nevertheless I reproved him for having taken me by surprise.

"The situation is critical," he repeated. He spoke without geniality. He was insensible to the beauty of the scene and of the morning. "You don't understand," he said, "you refuse to understand the danger we are in. Conspiracies are afoot all around us. To speak frankly, I don't know that I can trust the security of your own household. If I let my movements be known in advance, then it becomes more difficult to protect you. Think what your position would be if I were assassinated. And there's nothing they would like better. Without me, you would be quite helpless here. You would actually be a prisoner. It wouldn't be necessary to kill you, or even arrest you, though of course they would get rid of you as soon as they felt it safe to do so. And that wouldn't be long."

He sat in the sun, sweating. He had dismissed all my attendants, and posted guards at the doorway which led to the terrace, and more guards in the anteroom by which the terrace was approached.

"I've taken a risk leaving Rome," he said.

I told him I didn't understand why he had come.

He sighed. He got to his feet and strode to the corner of the terrace looking down on the beautiful bay which I was quite sure he did not see. He stood with his back to me while the silence prolonged itself. Then he turned, frowning.

"Anything may happen while I'm away," he said. "I have left good men in charge, but even good men may be suborned. What's brewing is more than a plot, more than a revolt. It's a revolution. Agrippina dines half a dozen different senators every day. Letters fly to and fro between her and the legions in Germany. Here's an example."

The letter he passed was evidently seditious. It called on the commander of the legions there to hold himself in readiness for the day which would soon be upon them. "As soon as we act against the Bull, or are ready to act against him, I shall let you know. I understand of course that you do not dare to commit yourself till you are certain he has been eliminated."

Sejanus threw back his head in that defiant gesture I had once loved.

"I am the Bull," he said. "And this is genuine?" "Yes."

"You are certain?" "Yes."

Four weeks earlier, one of Agrippina's trusted freedmen had left her house disguised as an Egyptian dealer in precious stones. He had given Sejanus' agent the slip in Ostia, but the agent discovered that he had embarked on a ship bound for Marseille. Messages had been sent to the governor of the city to intercept the merchant, but they had been delayed, and Agrippina's man had escaped the city. A cavalry troop had set off in pursuit, and he had been apprehended at the Augustan gate of Lyon. The letter had been found on his person
. It bore no direction, but the
freedman had been put to the question and, under torture, had revealed the name of its intended recipient.

Sejanus said, "It is unlikely that Agrippina will act till she has had an acknowledgment but, if none comes, she may be minded to move for fear it has been discovered. She will not dare to move directly against you in such circumstances, but she will certainly act against me. As you can see, that does not depend on the assurance of help from the German legions. Here, however, is the second sheet of the letter."

It read:

As for the old man himself, it will be time enough when we are in control of the machinery of the state to determine his fate. I know you have tender feelings of residual loyalty, and these shall be respected. Therefore you yourself may conclude, in conversation with my son, who to some extent shares your sentiments, whether he shall be imprisoned where he is, or in some less salubrious island, such as that to which my mother was confined, or whether he shall be more conclusively disposed of. I am bound to say that, for our general security, I favour the last course, since who can tell the number of adherents he may still have, or how his survival might act as a focus for disaffection?

Sejanus smiled for the first time that morning. I lifted my eyes from the page, compelled by his smiling stare.

"I do not think this is her handwriting," I said.

"No. She has dictated it."

"Would she trust a slave or freedman with such matter?" "Evidently. Since she has done so. Who else could have composed it? I grant you it was imprudent. . ." "Strangely imprudent . . ."

"Imprudent, yes, but not strangely so. I have always known that you have never understood Agrippina. She thinks normal rules don't apply to her, and consequently she disdains precautions that any sensible person would take. Moreover she is so swollen with pride in her own popularity that she cannot imagine one of her own people capable of acting against her. Besides which, in this case, she has been justified. She wasn't betrayed . . ."

His impatience and assurance both disturbed me. Early in my military career I learned to be suspicious of any course of action which was vehemently advanced. Whenever a man shows unusual ardour in urging a policy, you may be certain that something is wrong somewhere. Sejanus had always been alert to my moods; he caught a whiff of my doubts.