Robert Fabbri: False God of Rome

Between the three of them they managed to propel Gaius to the surface; as they drew explosive breaths Gaius remained still, his lips pale and his eyes closed.

‘Get him ashore quick,’ Vespasian yelled at his companions.

The old man and his grandson came to their aid and with their strong strokes they dragged Gaius the twenty paces or so to the causeway as fast as they could.

There were many willing hands to help lift the heavy body out of the water as behind them Caligula continued to terrorise the pleasure craft.

Once Gaius had been hauled onto the road, Vespasian turned him onto his stomach letting his head loll down over the edge; water seeped from his mouth. ‘Magnus, remember what you said when we were dealing with Poppaeus? You have to wait a while before you get the water out of their lungs because they can come back to life.’

Magnus’ face lit up. ‘You’re right, sir,’ he said, getting astride Gaius’ waist and placing his hands on the back of his ribcage.

Vespasian and Sabinus knelt on either side.

‘Ready?’ Magnus said. ‘Now!’ Six hands squeezed the chest in unison. ‘Now!’ Then again. ‘Now!’ And again.

For half a dozen pumps they carried on until a gush of water erupted from Gaius’ mouth; after another couple of pumps came a second, greater, spurt followed by a choking gasp. A single pump more resulted in a lesser expulsion but the ensuing rasping breath caused Gaius’ eyes to open. With a massive spasm he heaved out the contents of his sea-water-filled stomach and then took a series of congested gasps as the last of the water sprayed from his lungs. Magnus gave him a couple more pumps and then got off him.

After a few moments Gaius was able to breathe quickly and shallowly but with difficulty. He looked back up at Vespasian uncomprehendingly. ‘I drowned, I remember.’

‘Well, you’re alive again now, Uncle. Perhaps Neptune was worried about how much of his dinner he would have to share with you.’

A look of dismay spread over Gaius’ face. ‘My boys?’

Vespasian shook his head slowly then looked out towards the harbour to where, just next to their capsized boat, two small bodies floated, face down, in the sea.

Whether Caligula tired of providing dinner guests for his brother god or whether he became concerned that if he provided many more his victory feast would be sparsely attended was uncertain, but soon after Gaius’ recovery he came ashore and ordered everyone to repair to the huge triclinium erected on a peninsula to the north of the bridge.

He was in a cheerful mood as he and Incitatus walked down the causeway, playfully pushing back into the water the occasional senator trying to clamber out of a boat; but, flanked as he was by his Germans, no one dared touch him. The brooding presence of the Praetorian Guard, still formed up on the bridge, doubly ensured his safety. The Emperor was the only reason they existed, so the rank and file owed him absolute loyalty and any attempt to assassinate him in such an exposed area would be met with swift and calamitous vengeance: the Senate would be completely annihilated. And they knew it; as did Caligula.

In recognition of this fact, Caligula delivered a long speech of congratulations to his loyal troops on their stunning victory over the town of Puteoli and promised them a bounty of a year’s wages when they returned safely to Rome. There was no question of them not ensuring his safety after that.

By mid-afternoon Caligula was leading the Senate down the isthmus to the victory feast. Vespasian and Sabinus walked close behind him with Gaius, still weak from his ordeal and grief but not daring to leave, limping along, supported by Magnus.

‘Ah, Sabinus,’ Caligula called back, pausing to wait for the Flavians to catch up. ‘I think that the time for your surprise is upon us.’

Sabinus kept his face rigid. ‘You honour me, Divine Gaius.’

‘I know. But I need men I can trust for my year of conquest; I can’t do everything myself, you know.’

‘If you say so, Divine Gaius.’

‘I do. I will need the Ninth Hispana for my expedition to Germania next year so I’m getting rid of the timid imbecile who’s currently commanding and appointing you as its legate; you served with it as a tribune, I believe.’

Sabinus looked at his Emperor with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude.

Caligula burst into cold laughter. ‘The relief of being honoured and not abused; I knew that I’d enjoy the look on your face after days of apprehension.’

‘I never doubted you, Divine Gaius. How can I repay you?’

Caligula slapped a hand on Sabinus’ shoulder as they approached the high wooden doors of the triclinium. ‘I didn’t know that until yesterday. Now I believe a way will present itself; perhaps sooner than you think.’

Chaerea was waiting to report to Caligula as the doors were swung open by a couple of slaves.

‘The watchword, Chaerea,’ Caligula said, pushing him aside, ‘is “Eunuch”.’

Vespasian saw the same hatred burn in the Praetorian tribune’s eyes as he passed into the interior but that was soon forgotten as he gazed around and suddenly realised that, although the day had been chaotic and haphazard, run according to Caligula’s whim, this part had been timed to absolute perfection. The chamber was as vast as it was magnificent; constructed in the same fashion as the temple with painted wooden columns supporting the roof, it had a feeling of space and airiness. At its far end were doors leading to further rooms; in front of these, a group of musicians plucked on lyres and blew soaring notes on pipes. All around its marble floor, scores of tables surrounded by couches were set at regular intervals; but what made it so breathtaking was that cut into the ceiling above each table were small square holes, so positioned that only at this exact time of day would the sun shine down and perfectly hit each table, illuminating only them and not the couches that surrounded them.

‘Perfect!’ Caligula cried to Callistus who stood, next to Narcissus, with his head bowed just inside the door. ‘Callistus, you’ve done well; I’m minded to reward you with your freedom.’

Callistus raised his head; his face showed no sign of gratitude at his impending manumission. ‘As you wish, Divine master.’

‘Everything is as I wish.’ Caligula turned to Narcissus. ‘I wish you to see to the comfort of our principal guests, the rest can just recline where they like.’

‘Of course, Divine Gaius,’ the Greek crooned as Caligula brushed past him towards a group of ladies, one holding a baby, waiting by the table of honour at the far end of the room to greet him. They were escorted by Clemens, Claudius and, of all people, Corvinus.

Narcissus caught Vespasian by the arm as he passed and whispered in his ear. ‘Congratulations on acquiring your new wealth. I haven’t told the Emperor yet; we’ll keep it just between the two of us for now, shall we?’ He patted him on the shoulder and went off to supervise the senators flooding in through the doors.

‘What did that oily freedman want?’ Sabinus asked, still visibly glowing with pride at his promotion, as they followed Caligula across the floor.

‘Nothing much; just a veiled threat implying that my life is in his hands should Caligula start running out of money.’

‘A distinct possibility should we have another day like this, dear boy,’ Gaius said weakly.

Vespasian looked at the golden platters piled high with exquisite delicacies that slaves had begun to set on the tables as the senators and their wives began to take their places. ‘Someone has to stop this.’

Gaius slumped down on a couch. ‘I have to admit that if I felt stronger I would do it myself.’

‘Don’t worry, sir,’ Magnus assured him, ‘that feeling will soon pass and your self-preservatory instincts will take over again.’