Robert Fabbri: False God of Rome

Chiding himself for falling into a self-pitying reverie, he turned back to his companion trotting along beside him. ‘Did Sabinus finally manage to get himself elected as an aedile?’

‘Yes, just,’ Magnus replied. ‘But as your brother always says: just is good enough. Although he was relieved that he wasn’t contesting the praetor elections until next year — all those positions were filled by the sons of Macro’s cronies.’

‘So we’re back to having a Praetorian prefect who interferes with politics, are we? You would have thought Macro would have learnt a lesson from his predecessor’s untimely demise. I can’t imagine that’s endeared him much to Antonia: she believes that meddling in politics is the prerogative of the imperial family and, specifically, herself.’

Magnus indicated to the litter-bearers.

‘Don’t worry about them, they don’t speak Latin,’ Vespasian informed him, ‘and the boy’s a deaf mute.’

‘Fair enough. Well, since you left in March some strange things have been happening; Antonia’s getting quite concerned.’

‘I thought that she didn’t tell you anything other than what to do.’

‘No, I get most of the inside gossip from your uncle, Senator Pollo; although she does occasionally let things slip, afterwards, if you take my meaning?’

‘You old goat!’ Vespasian smiled for what felt like the first time since he had arrived in Cyrenaica, enjoying the unlikely and unequal sexual relationship between his old friend and the most formidable woman in Rome, his patron Antonia, sister-in-law to the Emperor Tiberius.

‘Yeah, well, that doesn’t happen so much these days, I’m pleased to say; she’s getting on a bit, you know, sagging somewhat. Anyway, she’s concerned about Caligula’s relationship with Macro, or more precisely Caligula’s new relationship with Macro’s wife, Ennia, which Macro seems to be encouraging.’

Vespasian smiled and waved a hand dismissively. ‘Caligula’s had his eye on her for some time; he’ll no doubt tire of her, he’s notoriously insatiable. Macro’s just being sensible about it; he’s well aware that if he makes a fuss about it now he’ll be in a very precarious position if and when Caligula becomes emperor.’

‘Perhaps, but your uncle thinks that there’s more to Macro’s behaviour than just being polite, he reckons that he’s trying to ingratiate himself with Caligula because he wants something from him if he does become emperor.’

‘As Praetorian prefect he’s the most powerful person in Rome outside the imperial family; what more can he want short of becoming his heir? Caligula may be a lot of things but he’s not stupid.’

‘That’s what’s worrying Antonia, she doesn’t understand what he’s aiming for; and what she doesn’t understand, she can’t control, which pisses her off considerably.’

‘I can imagine, but I wouldn’t call that very strange.’

‘No, the strange bit is the other person who Macro’s cultivating,’ Magnus said with a conspiratorial look in his eye. ‘Herod Agrippa. He used to be a friend of Antonia’s and used to borrow money off her but he never paid her back, thinking that because he was a favourite of Tiberius and a good friend of his son Drusus — they were educated together — he was owed a living. However, when Drusus died he fled Rome and his debts and went back to his homeland, Iudemaea.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Fuck knows, but close to Judaea, I should think, as he’s Jewish. Anyway, he soon had to leave there, debts again, and then spent his time pissing off every petty king and tetrarch in the East demanding a position of power or a loan just because he’s the grandson of Herod the Great. A couple of months ago he returned to Rome and managed to wheedle his way back into Tiberius’ favour. According to your uncle he’s organised an embassy of Parthian rebel noblemen to come to Rome next year; they want Tiberius to help them depose their king. As a reward Tiberius has made Herod Agrippa tutor to his grandson Tiberius Gemmelus.’

‘So what makes it strange that Macro and he should be friends?’

‘Because while Macro is trying to ingratiate himself with Caligula, he’s at the same time snuggling up to Herod, the person who has the most influence over another possible heir, Gemmelus.’

‘So he’s backing both chariots?’

Magnus grinned and shook his head. ‘No, sir, it would seem that he’s backing all three. Herod Agrippa has another contact, a very good childhood friend of his who was educated alongside him and Drusus: the third possible heir from the imperial family, Antonia’s son Claudius.’

The sun was beginning to dip in the west and the sea sparkled bronze below as Vespasian and Magnus passed under Cyrene’s principal gate into the lower city. The litter-bearers had to force their way through scores of beggars — refugees from the failed silphium farms hoping to receive alms from newly arrived merchants before they tired of being importuned by the countless destitute now obliged to rely on charity.

‘I’m getting to really hate this place,’ Vespasian commented as he pushed away supplicating hands. ‘It just rubs my face in the fact that my family’s standing in the Senate is very low; only the most insignificant quaestors get sent here.’

‘You drew it by lot.’

‘Yes, but only the insignificant quaestors go to the ballot; the ones from the great families get the plum jobs in Rome. Sabinus was lucky to draw Syria last year.’

Magnus kicked away an overly persistent old crone. ‘I’ve got a letter from Caenis in my bag, hopefully that’ll cheer you up; you certainly seem to need it.’

‘It’ll help,’ Vespasian shouted back over the torrent of abuse that Magnus was receiving from the floored crone, ‘but I don’t think that I’ll feel cheerful until after the sailing season starts again in March and my replacement arrives. I need to get back to Rome, I need to feel that I’m making progress rather than festering in this arsehole of the Empire.’

‘Well, we’ve got four months to kill, I’ll keep you company. To tell you the truth, when Antonia failed to get your Egypt travel warrant I told her that I’d still come anyway to bring the bad news. Things are a little too hot for me at the moment in Rome; your uncle is going to smooth it all over while I’m away.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing, just a bit of business looking after the interests of my Crossroads Brotherhood; I’ve left my second, Servius, in command, he’ll look after things.’

Vespasian knew not to pry into Magnus’ underworld life as the leader of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; protection and extortion were the primary business of all the Brotherhoods. ‘You’re welcome to stay but there isn’t much to do.’

‘What about the hunting; what’s that like here?’

‘It’s not up to much close to the city, but apparently if you go south for a couple of days you might find some lions in the foothills of the plateau.’

‘It’s your birthday in a few days; we’ll kill a lion to celebrate,’ Magnus suggested.

Vespasian looked at his friend apologetically. ‘You go and celebrate by yourself, I’m afraid that I can’t. I’m not supposed to leave the city unless it’s on official business.’

Magnus shook his head. ‘I can see that this is going to be a very dull few months.’

‘Welcome to my world.’

‘What are the whores like?’

‘I’m told they’re nice and old, just as you like them, but rather sweaty.’

‘Now come on, sir, don’t mock, it’s not out of choice; I just do as the good lady tells me. And, as I said, it doesn’t happen much nowadays.’

Vespasian smiled again. ‘I’m sure that Quintillius, my clerk, can procure something suitable to make up for that.’