Robert Fabbri - Rome's lost son

‘That seems to have got them going, dear boy,’ Gaius observed as he sat down with a flurry of hands patting his back and shouts of agreement in his ears.

‘We were only doing our duty,’ Vespasian replied, just managing to keep a sombre countenance.

They sat, with the rest of the Senate, nodding, murmuring, applauding or shouting in agreement where appropriate as, first, the two Vitellius brothers extolled Nero’s many virtues and the likelihood of him ushering in a golden age, and then Gaius Licinius Mucianus expounded at length on the necessity of coming to a decision very quickly. He was followed by Lucius Junius Paetus who begged Marcellus, with great rhetorical eloquence, to call an immediate vote; but before the Consul could do so, Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus took to the floor.

‘Conscript Fathers,’ Corvinus declaimed once he had received permission to address the House, ‘should we come to an agreement on this matter I would suggest that we contemplate how we carry our request to Nero. We can’t send too many delegates to the Palatine otherwise there would not be enough of our body here to welcome Nero when he arrives.’ Corvinus paused for a few moments as the senators reflected on the difficulty of getting the balance right. ‘I propose, therefore, that we remove these problems by sending only one man. Naturally the obvious choice to go should be the Junior Consul, who in the absence of his colleague is the most senior magistrate here. But then, Conscript Fathers, should not the most senior magistrate be waiting here at the bottom of the steps to greet Nero and escort him in?’ There were murmurings of agreement and worried mutterings that it was vital for the Senate to start off with a favourable relationship with the man they planned to make emperor.

‘Pallas said that he was meant to be nominating Marcellus to go, not blocking him,’ Vespasian hissed out of the corner of his mouth. ‘What’s he doing?’

‘Building up his part, is my guess,’ Gaius muttered back. ‘He hasn’t had any preferment since you had Pallas save his life after Messalina’s death; Agrippina still can’t forgive him for being the harpy’s brother.’

‘Ah! But if he comes with the request from the Senate she might; is that it?’

‘Something like that.’

Corvinus opened his arms to the House. ‘So whom should we choose, Conscript Fathers?’

As Corvinus shamelessly beseeched the House, Vespasian regarded his old enemy, recounting the wrongs that he had done to him and his family; and then, as the senators began to call on Corvinus to deign to accept the task, one detail, one small memory of what Sabinus had told him about Corvinus, years ago, caught his attention. ‘Quick, Uncle; nominate me.’

Gaius looked at him, surprised.

‘Now!’

With a shrug, Gaius got to his feet. ‘Consul!’

‘Gaius Vespasius Pollo has the floor.’

Gaius waddled out into the middle as Corvinus glared at him. ‘Senator Corvinus has made an excellent point and we should be grateful to him for his perception. However, I do not judge him to be quite the right man for the job. I believe that we have one amongst us who would be ideally suited to such a task. A man who is, unlike Corvinus, of consular rank; but more than that: a man who has not been present in the city for almost three years and so therefore can be said to be removed from all the arguments and politics that have dominated the issue of the succession recently. I propose Titus Flavius Vespasianus.’

As the proposal was seconded by Paetus and a vote was called and passed, almost unanimously, Vespasian felt Corvinus’ eyes boring into him and the malice that they conveyed; he was, most certainly, breaking his oath to conduct himself as a dead man in Vespasian’s presence. However, that did not surprise him as, if he had guessed correctly, it was not the first time that Corvinus had broken that oath.

Nero leant on Otho’s arm, trying to draw breath; he threw his head back, his sunset locks flowing with the motion, as he pinched his temples with the thumb and ring-finger of one hand. Eventually he inhaled, gasping, and Vespasian wondered how much longer the Prince of the Youth would be able to keep up this show of overwhelmed surprise.

Vespasian glanced around the atrium of the Praetorian prefect’s quarters in the Guard’s camp, outside the Viminal Gate. Agrippina, Pallas, Seneca and Burrus waited patiently as if such a ghastly display of overacting, which would put even the most melodramatic actor to shame, was a normal way to react to something totally expected; however, none of them would meet Vespasian’s eye.

‘I must compose my speech.’ Nero’s voice, husky at the best of times, was gravelled with emotion.

Seneca stepped forward and pulled a scroll from the fold of his toga. ‘Princeps, you already have.’

Both Nero’s hands came up, his thumbs touching the tips of his middle fingers, delight now upon his face. ‘Ah! So I have.’

Seneca handed the document over. ‘I’m sure it’s a masterwork, Princeps.’

‘It is, it is,’ Nero affirmed as he read through it.

‘Your skill with words is unsurpassed.’

‘Apart from musical talent; and if I were to put the two together …’ Nero looked up to the ceiling, his eyes wistful, and then returned his attention to the scroll.

All stood in silence as Nero finished perusing the speech. ‘I shall answer the Senate’s call and come at once, Senator Vespasian.’

‘You honour us, Princeps.’

‘But what to wear? What to wear, Mother?’

Agrippina smiled at her son, reaching out and stroking the ginger down on his cheeks. ‘Your steward has a selection of suitable attire ready for your inspection in your rooms.’

‘Mother, you think of everything.’ Nero kissed her on the lips and then grabbed Otho’s arm again. ‘Come, Otho, you shall help me decide; I mustn’t keep the Senate waiting.’

Vespasian watched the chosen Emperor almost skip from the room and wondered just for how long his antics would be tolerated; but he surmised that the innate sycophancy of the senatorial and equestrian classes would mean that his behaviour would have to deteriorate to the levels of Caligula before the whisperings would start. He then got a taste of what was to come as Agrippina turned to Burrus and, with a cold smile on her lips and malice in her dark eyes said, in almost a purr, ‘Send a turma of Praetorian cavalry to bring Narcissus back to Rome.’ As Burrus saluted and turned to go she added, ‘And remove Callistus from his position as secretary to the Law Courts; on a permanent basis.’

The killing was about to begin.

Four hours later, after Vespasian had sent repeated messages back to the Senate assuring them that Nero was coming once he had finished changing, the senators rose to their feet and applauded the Golden Prince after he had, with great verbosity and many shows of reluctance, accepted their pleas. Tears of gratitude were evident in many an eye in imitation of the tears rolling down Nero’s cheeks, as he slowly rotated with both hands pressed to his heart so all understood just how acutely he felt the emotion. Resplendent in golden slippers, a purple tunic embroidered with gold thread, a wreath of laurels worked from thin foil of the same metal and bracelets studded with all manner of precious jewels, Nero showed his modesty by sporting a plain white citizen’s toga. Of his humility all could be certain as Nero approached the Consul and, kneeling before him, pleaded to be allowed to address the Senate once again.

Fighting against a look of bemusement that kept on flickering over his face, Marcellus gave the floor to the new Emperor. Nero drew himself up to his full height, which was average, and passed his pale blue eyes over his audience, before arranging himself into the classic orator’s pose with his left arm across his midriff, supporting the folds of his toga, and his right down by his side, his hand clutching a scroll. Once he was happy with his stance, he heaved a couple of sobs and then cleared his throat of the heavy emotion before launching into a speech that within a few paragraphs had surprised everyone by its fair-mindedness and conservatism. All could see it bore no resemblance to his character and yet none wanted to disbelieve what they were hearing.