Simon Scarrow: Praetorian

‘It’s funny,’ said Cato. ‘When other men act out of self-interest you call it evil. When we do it, we’re patriots.’

‘That is because our cause is just. Theirs is not.’

‘A difference of perspective.’

‘Don’t dignify our enemies with your philosophical abstractions, Cato. Just ask yourself whose Rome you would prefer to live in. Ours, or theirs?’

Macro clicked his tongue. ‘He has a point.’

‘There!’ Narcissus beamed. ‘Even Centurion Macro can see the sense of what I say.’

Macro frowned and cocked an eyebrow. ‘ Even Centurion Macro … Thanks.’

Narcissus gave a light laugh and topped up Macro’s cup. ‘I meant no offence. Just to say that the right and wrong of it is abundantly clear to a man of action, such as yourself.’

While Macro reflected on this the imperial secretary moved on hastily. ‘In any case, Cato, there is really very little choice in the matter. While I respect your right to express an opinion, however poorly thought through, you have to do as I say, if you and Macro want to advance your careers, and especially if you want to marry that rather nice daughter of Senator Sempronius.’

Cato lowered his head and slowly ran his fingers through the dark curls of his unkempt hair. Narcissus had them exactly where he wanted them. More than anything, he and Macro wanted to return to the army. Cato needed a promotion that would carry with it membership of the equestrian class. Only that would make his marriage into the family of a senator acceptable.

‘Well, lad,’ Macro interrupted his chain of thought. ‘What about it? Anything to get us out of this place. Besides, it can’t be too bad a job. Nothing more dangerous then we’ve faced already, surely?’

Narcissus pursed his lips but did not say anything.

With a weary sigh Cato raised his head and looked directly at the imperial secretary. ‘What do you want us to do?’

Narcissus smiled slowly, with the air of a man accustomed to having his way. ‘I’ll begin by explaining something of the background to the situation.’ He leant back and folded his fingers together. ‘As you already know, the regime was nearly brought down by the conspiracies perpetrated by Messalina. That woman was pure poison. There was no debauchery that was beneath her. The only thing that matched her wanton lack of morals was her ambition. She knew exactly how to wrap Claudius round her finger. Not only him, but many others, including one of the Emperor’s other advisers, Polybius.’

‘I know the name,’ said Cato. ‘Didn’t he commit suicide?’

‘That’s what he was ordered to do. In the Emperor’s name. There wasn’t even time to appeal to Claudius before he was visited by some Praetorian guardsmen who rather pressed the issue.’

‘Murdered?’

‘The line between murder, execution and suicide has become a little blurred in recent years. Death, one way or another, resolves a political difficulty, or a desire for revenge, or simply comes on a whim from those with the authority to order it. Which is why Messallina could not be permitted to remain in a position where she could exert more influence over the Emperor than his closest advisers. So when she decided to use the Emperor’s absence from Rome to divorce him, marry her lover and then seize power, we had to act. Claudius was here in Ostia, to inspect the progress of the harbour development. That’s when the news reached me. I could see the imminent danger clearly enough and spoke to those who were closest to the Emperor, Callistus and Pallas. It took all our powers of persuasion to get Claudius to accept the truth about Messallina. Then he denied it all, saying it couldn’t be true.’ Narcissus visibly trembled at the memory. ‘So we encouraged him to drink some wine to soften the blow. That was when we presented him with a warrant for her arrest and execution, among a handful of other warrants issued for the arrest of her allies.’

‘You dog!’ Macro commented admiringly. ‘What did the Emperor do when he came to his senses?’

‘He grieved for a month. While the three of us disposed of the other members of Messallina’s conspiracy. The point of all this is to make you aware of how easily the Emperor is gulled, and that makes him, and Rome, vulnerable.’

‘So what’s the story with his new wife?’ asked Macro. ‘Agrippina. She’s his niece, if I recall right.’

‘Oh, yes. And that caused a fine scandal when Claudius announced his choice of new bride to the public. I had to battle to get the senate to pass a measure to remove such a marriage from the incest laws. Fortunately one of the leading senators was keen to ingratiate himself with the Emperor. He picked up the job and pushed the new law through. Even then it was no easy feat, I can tell you.’

Cato had been thinking during the exchange. ‘Whose idea was it to suggest Agrippina?’

There was a brief pause before Narcissus replied in a venomous tone, ‘Pallas. He said we’d have a better chance of avoiding a repeat of the Messallina episode if we chose a bride from within the family. Besides, Pallas has some influence over her. We calculated that we would be able to keep her in line and ensure that Claudius continued to take advice from us.’

‘And has it worked? Is the new Empress taking to her role with the required degree of compliance?’

Narcissus tilted his head to one side. ‘She’s not been much trouble. The only problem is that she came to the marriage with some rather awkward baggage.’

‘Baggage?’

‘Her son. Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. At least that is what he used to be called, before she talked the Emperor into adopting him. Now he’s known as Nero Claudius Drusus Germanicus. Claudius’s natural son is not taking to the new arrangement. Britannicus refuses to acknowledge his stepbrother and won’t call him Nero. So there’s no love lost there. Those two are going to be scrambling to succeed Claudius when he goes into the shades, or wherever it is that deified emperors go.’

Macro shook his head. ‘Sounds like there’s going to be a right old carve-up when the time comes.’

Cato thought for a moment before he spoke again. ‘But Britannicus is the Emperor’s heir, so surely he is first in line to succeed?’

‘If only it was that clear cut,’ Narcissus replied. ‘Nero is fourteen, four years older than his stepbrother. Britannicus has the additional disadvantage that his mother was Messallina and that puts him under a bit of a cloud as far as his father is concerned. If he should become Emperor then I fear for the enemies of his mother. He’s the kind of boy who would make a priority of revenge.’

Macro smiled. ‘So, there is some justice in life. That prospect must be causing you a few restless nights.’

Narcissus’s expression suddenly hardened. ‘Centurion, if you knew only a fraction of what burdens my mind I doubt whether you would sleep at all. The Emperor is vulnerable to threats from all sides. His health is starting to fail and I must do everything in my power to protect him and ensure that peace and order endure.’

‘And when the old boy dies? What then?’ Macro asked shrewdly.

‘Then we must ensure that the right successor is chosen.’

‘Who do you have in mind?’ asked Cato.

‘I’m not yet certain. Nero and Britannicus are young and each has his own virtues and flaws. When the time comes I, and the Emperor’s other advisers, will make our choice and point Claudius in the right direction when he names his successor.’

Cato pursed his lips briefly. ‘I don’t see what all this has to do with Macro and me. There’s nothing we can do to influence events.’

‘I told you, I felt it necessary to brief you on the wider picture, so that you understand the full gravity of the situation when I tell you what I must ask you and Macro to do.’