Robert Fabbri - False God of Rome

‘Look at him,’ Caligula said through his mirth, ‘if we didn’t happen to have a god in the family he could have become emperor. If that had been the case, then I think that Thrasyllus’ prophecy would have been fulfilled.’

‘What was his prophecy, Divine Gaius?’ Sabinus enquired as down below Claudius collapsed into an undignified heap to the amusement of all present.

‘He prophesied that if a member of the senatorial order witnessed the Phoenix while it was within the boundaries of the Kingdom of Egypt he would go on to be the founder of the next dynasty of emperors.’

Vespasian almost choked on his wine. ‘So if a senator saw it flying over Judaea, for example,’ he asked innocently, ‘it wouldn’t count?’

‘He was very specific; it had to be within Egypt itself, that’s why we refused permission for senators to travel there for so long.’

Vespasian nodded thoughtfully, missing Sabinus’ questioning look.

Caligula leant back to stroke Incitatus and then turned to Clemens. ‘Incitatus says he’s tired and wishes to sleep; like me he’s excited about tomorrow. Clear all the residents out of the houses within a quarter of a mile of his stables and post guards to make sure that no one makes any noise; I want him well rested for the journey.’

‘A sensible precaution, Divine Gaius,’ Clemens said without a hint of irony, getting to his feet.

Caligula followed him. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see Incitatus out; he’ll be greatly offended if I didn’t.’ He kissed the horse on the lips. ‘Isn’t he beautiful? Perhaps I should make him a consul; he would be a fine colleague for me next year, much more suitable than the horse-faced idiot I’ve already chosen.’ With another fond kiss he led his special guest off.

‘What was it about the Phoenix prophecy that made you ask that question?’ Sabinus asked once Caligula was out of earshot.

Vespasian looked at his brother with an amused grin. ‘According to that old charlatan, Thrasyllus, I’ve narrowly missed being the founder of the next imperial dynasty.’

‘You said that you didn’t see the Phoenix.’

‘I didn’t in Alexandria but almost four years ago in Cyrenaica I did; I witnessed its rebirth. But Cyrenaica’s not Egypt so the prophecy can’t apply to me.’

‘It used to be a part of the Egyptian Empire, I remember someone telling me that in Judaea.’

‘A province of Egypt, not a part of the kingdom itself. Even so, I was in Siwa, which is an oasis out on its own in the middle of nowhere.’

Sabinus looked at Vespasian intently. ‘When Alexander conquered Egypt he went to the Oracle of Amun in Siwa, it was a part of the kingdom then. It’s only us who have put it in Cyrenaica for administrative reasons; historically, it has always been a part of Egypt.’

Vespasian’s eyes opened wide and then he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. ‘No, no. I was taken to the Oracle of Amun after I saw the Phoenix. The Oracle spoke to me and it didn’t tell me that I was going to start an imperial dynasty; it didn’t tell me anything really, it just said that I had come too soon and that next time I should bring a gift to match the sword that Alexander had left there.’

‘What sort of gift?’

‘That’s what I asked, but it’s for you to decide.’

‘Me? Why me?’

‘Because, Sabinus, the Oracle said that a brother will understand and, whether we like it or not, we will always be brothers.’

Caligula’s growing excitement at the prospect of setting off on the progress to the Bay of Neapolis caused him to curtail the dinner shortly after dark, announcing that he wished to spend the rest of the night settling his feud with Neptune so that he would not send a storm to destroy his bridge. The guests departed with obvious relief at being able to leave with their lives, limbs and virtues intact.

Vespasian left Sabinus to make his own way home to the Aventine and, despite the lateness of the hour, set off to make a call that he was dreading but knew he could not put off.

Apart from a couple of crossroads brothers on watch at the corner, Caenis’ street was empty. Vespasian nodded his regards to the lads and walked purposefully to her door.

The huge Nubian answered his knock within moments and he was quickly and silently admitted.

‘I knew you’d come,’ Caenis said gently as he walked into the dimly lit atrium, ‘I’ve been waiting up for you.’ She walked over to him and, looping her arms around his neck, kissed him on the lips.

Vespasian closed his eyes and responded in full, drinking in her intoxicating scent and caressing the curve of her back with his hands. ‘How did you know I was back in Rome?’ he asked as they finally broke off.

She looked up at him with moist eyes and a smile. ‘Occasionally, as you know, to relieve the boredom I go to your uncle’s house; I went there this evening.’

Vespasian sucked in his breath. ‘So you’ve…’

‘Met Flavia? Yes, my love, I have. She’s very beautiful.’

Vespasian swallowed and wondered how that might have gone. ‘I wanted to tell you about her first.’

‘That’s why I knew you’d come tonight. But you don’t need to tell me about her, she’s done that already and in great detail; if you wish to marry her you do so with my blessing.’

‘You will always be first and foremost, my love.’

‘I know that, that’s why I’m happy to let you go; it’s my own private victory over her. I may be second in line when it comes to receiving your attention and can never bear your children, but I will always be first when it comes to your love and I’ll settle for that.’

He held her shoulders and looked down at her, smiling, and then kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Should I stay?’

‘I’d never forgive you if you didn’t.’

A short chorus of bucinae echoed around the Forum Romanum, followed by the mass barking of centurions bringing five cohorts of the Praetorian Guard to simultaneous attention with a single crack of hobnails on stone. Along the crowd-lined Via Sacra trotted two alae of Praetorian cavalry, keeping pace with the star of the spectacle, Caligula, fifty feet above them and a hundred paces to their left, as he traversed his bridge from the Palatine to the Capitoline Hill riding Incitatus and dressed as Vulcan: a single-shouldered tunic, a pileus and brandishing a smith’s hammer in one hand and a large clamshell in the other. Behind him followed ten naked women painted gold, representing the slave girls whom Vulcan had forged out of the precious metal to serve him.

All around the vicinity of the Forum bonfires burned into which people threw live fish or small animals — rats, mice, puppies and kittens — as a sacrifice to the god of fire in the hope that he would spare the city from burning during the hot, dry summer. In their capacity as the city’s fire fighters the Vigiles kept a close eye on every bonfire.

From the steps of the Curia, Vespasian and the rest of the Senate watched Caligula progress onto the Capitoline, dismount and then descend the Gemonian Stairs past the Temple of Concordia and stop before the Volcanal, the sacred precinct to Vulcan, and one of the oldest shrines in Rome. Here, before the altar, shaded by a cypress tree, there waited a red calf and a red boar ready to be sacrificed to the god whose festival it was that day.

‘Having made his peace with Neptune I suppose that our Emperor is now ensuring that Vulcan doesn’t burn the city down in his absence,’ Vespasian observed as the sacrificial knife flashed in Caligula’s hand despatching the calf.

‘Or send fire out from his smithy under Vesuvius to burn his bridge,’ Sabinus muttered.