Robert Fabbri - Tribune of Rome

‘You’re making them sound like they’re a good thing, Father, a nice bunch of religious boys with nothing but the community’s best interests at heart and supported by the great and the good.’

‘Well, in a way yes, they are,’ Titus said as they turned off the main road and started to make their way up the Quirinal Hill. ‘However, they do have a very nasty habit of pursuing vendettas with rival gangs; and they’re also prone to fighting other factions at the circus who support a different colour team to them.’

As they climbed the hill the insulae disappeared and were replaced by single-storey houses with no windows to the front, just a doorway. Narrow alleys separated them from each other, so that the effect was like one long wall with lots of doors in it. There were fewer people on the road up here, and those they did pass wore much finer clothing; even the slaves were well dressed. Already they could detect a difference in the air quality; the light breeze was blowing away the fumes of the city below whose hubbub had now been reduced to a faint murmur.

They had made a few turns left and right when Magnus stopped outside a yellow-painted house. ‘This is the house of the senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo, good sirs,’ he said, pulling on the bell chain. ‘I’ll leave you here. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, to make up for that unfortunate misunderstanding, please feel free to ask.’

He made to help a grim-looking Vespasia down from her litter, but she slapped his face. He bowed his apologies to her, wished them all a good day and left with his two companions, leaving his erstwhile charges waiting for the door to open.

‘I shall be speaking to my brother about that ghastly man, Titus,’ Vespasia said as she joined her husband. ‘How dare such a low-life threaten people so far above him?’

‘I don’t think they care about the social standing of their intended victims, unless it is to judge how much they can extort from them, my dear,’ Titus replied. Vespasia scowled at her husband aware he was mocking her, but was prevented from retorting by the door opening, revealing a man so old and frail that he was almost bent double. He peered at them with moist, bloodshot eyes.

‘Who may I say is calling?’ he asked in a reedy voice.

‘Titus Flavius Sabinus and his wife Vespasia Polla and his two sons Sabinus and Vespasian,’ Titus replied.

‘Ah, yes, I have been told to expect you. Please come in and wait in the atrium. I shall announce you to my master,’ the ancient retainer wheezed, bowing even lower as they filed past him. Vespasian was worried that he wouldn’t be able to right himself again, but with the aid of a stick he heaved himself up, closed the door and hobbled off to find the senator at a speed that made it inevitable that they would be waiting for some time.

Vespasian looked around the room. It was almost twice the size of their atrium at home and decorated far more lavishly. Brightly coloured frescoes of naked young men hunting and wrestling, amongst other less noble activities, adorned the walls. Statues of well-formed gods, leaving nothing to the imagination, painted to look lifelike, inhabited niches between the frescoes. The floor was covered with the most beautifully executed mosaic showing a superbly muscled Achilles despatching a doe-eyed Hector, both also mysteriously without clothes. Vespasian noticed his mother grimace as she took in the surroundings and realised that she was the only feminine thing in the whole room.

‘I am not sure that I approve of my brother’s taste in decor,’ she whispered to Titus. ‘It’s very vulgar and most unsuitable for our young lads. Why didn’t you tell me, Titus? You have, after all, been here before.’

‘So has Sabinus, don’t forget, and it didn’t seem to affect him adversely,’ Titus pointed out, also sotto voce, slapping his eldest son on the shoulder. ‘Besides, what would you have done had you known? Changed our plans? You’ve always been aware of your brother’s foibles, so this can’t come as too much of a surprise. Anyway, we’re here now and cannot leave without causing great offence.’

‘Foibles?’ Vespasia snorted. ‘Is that what you call them?’

Sabinus caught Vespasian’s eye. ‘Keep your back to the wall when Uncle Gaius is around, little brother.’

‘That will do, Sabinus,’ Titus hissed. ‘Remember your uncle is to be honoured and respected.’

‘But not submitted to,’ Vespasian mumbled under his breath, unable to resist a smile, which was greeted by a fierce look from his mother.

‘Whatever else my brother may be, he’s very influential, so do as your father says and keep your thoughts to yourself.’

Vespasian nodded his assent and tried not to stare at the frescoes.

‘Vespasia! How lovely to see you again,’ boomed a deep voice in an accent that Vespasian recognised as being very close to his own. ‘And, Titus, my friend, what a pleasure.’

Vespasian looked up to see a hugely fat man waddle into the room. He was dressed in a white tunic with a thick purple stripe down the front that struggled to cover his bulk; any belt that he may have been wearing had disappeared in the rolls of fat that wobbled as he walked. His round face showed signs of make-up, rouge on the cheeks and kohl around the eyes. It was framed by a series of carefully tonged brown curls that covered his ears and forehead. On his feet, which seemed far too small for his body, he wore a delicate little pair of red leather slippers. Vespasian had never seen anyone so outlandish in his life and had to fight to suppress a gasp.

Gaius came forward and embraced his sister. Despite her distaste for his lifestyle and obvious surprise at his size, she seemed genuinely pleased to see her brother and submitted to his affectionate greeting.

‘Gaius, it has been too long,’ she said as he released her from the folds of his body. ‘I trust that we find you well.’

‘Never better, never better,’ he replied, taking Titus’ arm in a firm grip. ‘You’re looking well, my friend; the country air must suit you. Is that why you don’t come to Rome more often? Well, you’re here now and it will be my pleasure to offer you all hospitality. Now, Sabinus, it’s been four years since you were here and it must be ten years since I last saw Vespasian.’

The brothers stepped forward and bowed their heads to their uncle, who put a hand on each of their shoulders and looked them up and down. ‘Fine boys, Titus, fine boys, you must be very proud. Sabinus, I look forward to hearing about your military service. I’m sure that it was the making of you.’

‘Indeed it was, Uncle,’ Sabinus replied. ‘And now I wish for a junior magistrate’s position.’

‘Of course you do, and you shall have it, my boy, you shall.’ Gaius turned to Vespasian. ‘And what does the younger brother want, eh?’

‘To try to serve Rome and my family,’ he replied.

‘Well said, my boy, you’ll go far with that attitude.’ Gaius squeezed Vespasian’s arm. ‘But in what capacity first, eh? The army?’

‘Yes, Uncle, like Sabinus, as a military tribune.’

‘Excellent. I’m sure that can be arranged, I still have connections with the two legions in which I served.’ Gaius saw Vespasian’s eyes widen in disbelief, and laughed. ‘Oh, dear boy, do you think that I was this size all my life?’

Vespasian reddened, mortified that his thoughts had been read.

‘No, I was once as fit as you two, as your mother will confirm. I choose to be this way now; or rather I choose the good life that makes me this way. Rome now has an emperor who tolerates lifestyles like mine, unlike his predecessor, the divine Augustus, who was a prude who led an austere life and expected everyone else to do so too. The gods bless Tiberius for allowing me to indulge myself and to be fat and happy.’ He smiled at Vespasian. ‘Well, let us hope that I can be of service in promoting your careers in this fine city of ours. That is after all what you are here for, eh, boys?’ Gaius chuckled.