Robert Fabbri: Rome's executioner

Vespasian skipped behind the column to find Caenis ready with a wax tablet and bronze stylus in hand, but looking worried.

‘Are you all right, Caenis?’

‘I can’t see the slave that I’m meant to hand the first list to,’ she replied, scanning the crowd.

‘Keep looking, I’m sure he’ll turn up,’ Vespasian assured her as Sejanus’ party mounted the steps; when they reached the top Sejanus stopped.

‘Friends,’ he said, addressing the senators around him, ‘go on in and reserve a place of honour for me; I’ll stay out here a while until everyone is in and then I shall enter last, for maximum effect.’

His supporters cheered him and then began to make their way inside.

Vespasian peered out from behind the column and caught a glimpse of Sejanus; he did not look like a man confident of high honour. His square-jawed face seemed strained and he wore a heavy frown; his hands were fidgeting. He turned suddenly, feeling that someone close by was watching him, and caught sight of Vespasian as he ducked back behind the column.

‘You there, what are you doing?’ he shouted, moving towards Vespasian’s and Caenis’ position.

‘Prefect!’ A voice called from the bottom of the steps, stopping Sejanus in his tracks.

‘Macro, thank the gods,’ Sejanus exclaimed with relief in his voice. ‘Has there been a message from the Emperor? I’ve heard nothing from him for eight days now; I don’t want to go into the meeting unless I’m absolutely sure that he is favouring me and this isn’t a trap.’

‘There has been, sir,’ Macro replied, taking the steps two by two, and taking a sealed scroll from the fold in his toga.

‘Give it to me,’ Sejanus ordered.

‘It’s for the Senate,’ Macro stated, ‘the seal is only to be broken by the senior Consul at the Emperor’s express orders.’

‘Who delivered it?’

‘I did.’

‘You’ve been with the Emperor,’ Sejanus exclaimed incredulously. ‘By whose authority?’

‘The Emperor himself summoned me to Capreae two days ago. I saw him yesterday morning and travelled back overnight using our horse-relay service.’

‘What? Why you and not me?’ Sejanus asked with low menace in his voice.

‘Because, sir,’ Macro replied calmly, ‘the Emperor felt that it would be inappropriate for you to carry this message to the Senate.’

‘Do you know the contents, Macro?’

‘I do, sir; let me be the first to congratulate you.’ Macro clapped Sejanus on the arm. ‘It’s what we have hoped for: Tiberius is asking the Senate to vote you what you deserve for the services that you’ve rendered both to him and to Rome.’

‘Tribunician power! Has he made me his heir?’

‘The Emperor said to tell you that this letter contains almost everything that you deserve.’

‘Almost everything?’

‘Almost.’

‘Then I shall be content with that for the present,’ Sejanus said with relief in his voice. ‘Come, my friend, let us enter together.’

‘I’ll only deliver the letter to the Senior Consul; then I’ll go back to the Praetorian Camp to prepare the men for your welcome.’

‘Do that, my friend,’ Sejanus said as they entered the temple, ‘you will not find me ungrateful.’

Applause burst out as they stepped through the doors.

Vespasian looked at Caenis with concern. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think that we have to wait to know for sure one-’

‘Way or another?’ he cut in, smiling at her.

‘Yes, my love,’ she said, squeezing his hand.

‘Vespasian, sir, sir!’ a familiar voice shouted from the crowd.

Vespasian looked round and saw Magnus with two of his crossroads brothers, Sextus and Marius, at the bottom of the steps. He quickly went down to them and, as one of the Vigintiviri, authorised them through the Praetorians.

‘Antonia sent us, sir,’ Magnus puffed as they went up the steps, ‘something about a message to take to her.’

‘You’re just in time,’ Vespasian said, seeing Gaius slipping out of the temple.

‘The Consuls have just taken the auspices and pronounced the day as good for the business of Rome,’ Gaius said as he approached Vespasian. ‘It’s quite an eye-opener in there; six new faces sitting with Sejanus including three ex-praetors and two ex-Consuls, Aulus Plautius and Silius Nervus. I’ll call you in when it starts to get really interesting.’

He bustled off to give the names to Caenis.

‘So why did Antonia send you?’ Vespasian asked Magnus.

‘She said that she was worried a slave would be intercepted and she thought that a bit of muscle was called for. Why, I don’t know, but she’s anxious about something — I can tell.’

‘Getting to know her moods now, you old goat?’

Magnus frowned. ‘Very funny, I’m sure,’ he said as Caenis handed him the wax tablet with the names written on it. ‘We’d best be going, sir. I’ll see you in the Forum later.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know; I just do what I’m told and that’s what Antonia told me to do: go to the Forum with all my brothers and wait for you.’

‘Well, it’s always best to obey the last order. I’ll see you there, I suppose.’

Vespasian watched Magnus and his brothers going back down the steps, with the growing feeling that he was a very small piece in a large and intricate game that he had little understanding of, and that he could just as easily be sacrificed as be used to make the winning move.

The sound of footsteps behind him made him turn; he came face to face with Macro.

‘What are you doing here?’ Macro snarled with barely concealed contempt.

‘I’m here in my capacity of triumvir capitalis, awaiting the Senate’s orders,’ Vespasian replied. He was determined not to be intimidated.

Macro laughed. ‘Pray to the gods then that it’s not your execution that you’ll be overseeing.’ He pushed past Vespasian and stood at the top of the steps, withdrew a further scroll from his toga fold and waved it in the air. ‘Men of the Praetorian Guard, you know me, I am Tribune Naevius Sutorius Macro; I have here a warrant from your Emperor.’ He unrolled the scroll with a flourish. ‘He requires you to go back to your camp where I will read a personal message from him to all the members of the Guard concerning the events of this day; I can, however, tell you that it contains a promise of a largesse to every man.’

The Guards cheered and waved the loose ends of their togas in the air. Macro signalled to someone at the back of the evergrowing mob of spectators.

‘The Senate will remain guarded,’ he continued as a group of men started to push their way forward through the crowd, ‘have no fear of that. Now follow me.’ He walked down the steps and led the century away.

As the last Praetorian left the front of the temple a new body of men took their place: the Vigiles were now guarding the Senate.

Half an hour had gone by and the sun was now well above the hills to the east, casting a soft light over the rooftops of the city. The crowd was getting restless as no news of what was happening inside the temple had filtered out; a few late-arriving senators had gone in but no one as yet had left and the doors remained half-closed.

Vespasian sat with Caenis on a bench in the shade of the portico; he could hear the voice of the Senior Consul, Regulus, reading aloud, but his words were indistinct. Vespasian had started to become concerned about the outcome of the letter; if Tiberius was going to damn Sejanus after praising him, as Pallas had said he would, then he was taking his time over it. He was on the verge of sharing his worries with Caenis when one of the public slaves, used by the senators to run messages, stepped out of the door and approached him with a bow.