Robert Fabbri: Rome's lost son

‘Where did they come from?’ Gaius asked.

‘Now that’s the interesting thing. They weren’t from a neighbouring area like I originally assumed; they came all the way from the eastern end of the Aventine.’

Vespasian’s mood was not improved by the start of a steady drizzle of rain. ‘What’s so interesting about that apart from the fact that Sabinus lives over there?’

Magnus looked at Vespasian as if he were a slow but amiable child. ‘Because, sir, it confirms a possibility that we were contemplating. Why would a brotherhood from the far end of the Aventine bother to try to take over one on the other side of the city on the Quirinal? It don’t make any sense unless their objective wasn’t a takeover. As was pointed out at the time: why did they attack at the precise moment that the imperial secretary and the Junior Consul were having a secret meeting? So if you or Narcissus or both of you were the real targets, the East Aventine lads must have been put up to it.’

‘Of course they were put up to it; but by whom?’ Lack of sleep made Vespasian’s remark sound terser than he had meant it to be.

Magnus looked offended. ‘Just because you’ve been up all night, or should I say, up Caenis all night, there’s no need to be sharp with me.’

‘I’m sorry, Magnus.’

‘Yeah, well. Anyway, what you may not know is that since the Palatine became the exclusive abode of the élite there are no brotherhoods there in the modern sense of the concept because there aren’t people there who need our … er … help, if you take my meaning?’

‘No poor people to terrorise, you mean?’

‘Now that ain’t fair, sir. Anyway, the residents look after the crossroads lares themselves, so the nearest places to the Palatine where you would find a brotherhood in the very real sense of the word are the Via Sacra or … ’

‘The Aventine!’

‘Precisely, just the other side of the Circus Maximus. Now I ain’t saying that it was definitely someone on the Palatine who paid the East Aventine to do it, but I imagine that those lads have quite a close relationship with their betters living on the opposite hill, at least with the more unscrupulous of them, that is.’

‘Which would be most of them. I think you may well be right, old friend. So what are you going to do about it?’

Magnus chuckled. ‘Me? Nothing. I ain’t involved with the brotherhood no more. However, as you know, my mate Tigran is now the patronus and he does listen to the advice of those older and wiser than him.’

‘And what advice did you give him?’

‘I suggested that he might see if he could catch one of the Aventine lads and persuade him to answer a few questions.’

‘That’s very good advice.’

‘I thought so too and, talking of good advice, Lucius is back there.’ Magnus indicated to the crowd of clients following them down the hill. ‘As you didn’t have a salutio this morning he hasn’t had the chance to tell you that Eusebius will send someone to inspect the Arabs today and would be honoured to have a meeting with you to discuss them; Lucius wants to know when and where.’

Vespasian thought for a few moments as the Curia came into view with scores of senators swarming up its steps, leaving crowds of clients milling around waiting for news of proceedings within. ‘Tell him I’ll come out to the Greens’ stables tomorrow; I want to make sure that they’re good enough for the team.’

Magnus rolled his eyes. ‘The Greens’ stables not good enough? As if!’

The rumble of agitated voices filled the Curia as the Senate awaited the arrival of the Junior Consul to call the meeting to order. Rumour and counter-rumour circulated on a tide of apprehension as those who had been present when Claudius had collapsed informed others of the circumstances. Confirmation of his death had not been given and all were afraid to react one way or another for fear of insulting Claudius if he still lived by talking of the succession or insulting his successor by expressing a hope that he was indeed still alive. It was therefore with great relief to all that the Consul arrived, stilling conversation, and began the process of deciding whether the day was auspicious for the business of Rome, which, two goose livers later, it was pronounced so.

Vespasian carried on running over his speech in his head as prayers of thanks to Jupiter Optimus Maximus were said and the sacrifices were cleared away.

‘Servius Sulpicius Galba,’ Marcus Asinius Marcellus said, once he was seated in his curule chair, ‘for what reason have you summoned the Senate on a day that we were not due to sit?’

Galba rose to his feet, bald, muscular and sinewy; his eyes glared around him, his jaw jutted forward and he held himself rigid as if he was about to address troops who had severely displeased him. ‘Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus,’ he bellowed, causing those around him to wince, ‘died in the early hours of this morning.’ With that he sat back down as if he had just announced the name and position of the most junior of magistrates for the upcoming year.

Uproar was instantaneous as all vied to be loudest in their grief for the departed Emperor. Vespasian, prepared for this moment, strode to the centre of the floor and demanded the presiding Consul’s attention.

Marcellus stood, arms outstretched, roaring for silence, which was slow to come, but eventually the senators settled with all eyes on Vespasian standing in their midst. ‘Titus Flavius Vespasianus,’ Marcellus said, his voice rough edged from yelling, ‘has the floor.’

Vespasian composed his face into the most sombre of expressions. ‘Conscript Fathers, I mourn with you.’ He looked around, catching the eye of many in his audience so that they could see just how deeply he felt. ‘But the time for grief must be postponed for the good of Rome. Rome must have someone to lead her in her mourning. Before we succumb to the deep sorrow that we all feel let us first do our duty to Rome as her responsible Senate.

‘Let us remember the indecision and inaction with which we, to our shame, marked the passing of the last Emperor; our prevarication caused the Guard to nominate Claudius, not this ancient House.’ He turned full circle, gesturing with one hand to take in the entirety of the Senate. ‘We were all of us to blame. Let us on this occasion, Conscript Fathers, reassert our authority with a decisive act; a course of action that none here can deem wrong as it was clearly stated to be the will of the late Emperor, just three days ago in this very House. Let us call upon the Emperor’s son, who, in accordance with Claudius’ wishes expressed in here, remains his heir.’ Vespasian paused, contemplating the consequences of his next line for Titus’ friend. ‘Britannicus has not yet come of age! Let us therefore call upon Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus to come to this House at his earliest convenience. Here, Conscript Fathers, we shall ask him, no, beg him, to take up the Purple so sadly lain down by his father. If we can persuade Nero to shoulder the onerous burden of power, then, Conscript Fathers, we would have done our duty. Then, and only then, would we be free to mourn!’

Vespasian walked to his stool amidst thunderous applause as Gaius waddled out into the centre of the House, the nervous sweat lining his top lip betraying his unease at being so conspicuous.

Again Marcellus called for silence and when it was manifest he gave the floor to Gaius. ‘Conscript Fathers, my nephew has displayed two of the qualities that have made us Romans great. Unselfish dedication to duty and the ability to suppress deeply felt emotion in order to best serve the Senate and the People of Rome. I second his motion but I would add one more line to it: that, should Nero be gracious enough to grant our pleas, then we should thank him by voting him all the honours and titles that we voted Claudius throughout his reign so that he should begin his rule in no less dignity than his father’s ended.’ With a dramatic flourish of his right arm above his head, Gaius moved back to his seat next to Vespasian as applause came from every senator, each, no doubt, wishing that they had been the first to have moved such a sycophantic motion.