Authors: Robert Fabbri
‘I did, Divine God of the Sea,’ Vespasian replied, using the form of address that Clemens had recommended on account of the Emperor’s recently stated ambition of usurping
Neptune’s place in the Roman pantheon. ‘But I had to break into the mausoleum, steal it and replace it with a replica without it being noticed.’
‘Ooh, that sounds like fun.’ Caligula emerged, with some difficulty, from the impluvium and struggled to walk in the tight skirt of scaly fish skin that adorned his lower body.
‘Was it a jolly caper?’
‘It had its moments.’
‘I should have come too; I could do with some distraction from all the demands made upon me, both by gods and men.’
‘I’m sure that it would have gone much more smoothly had you been with us, Divine God of the Sea.’
‘What?’ Caligula looked momentarily confused and then glanced down at his dripping fish-skirt. ‘Oh yes, of course, it must be confusing for you; I’m no longer in the
water so I’m back to being the Divine Gaius. Now show me the breastplate.’
Vespasian reached into his bag.
‘Clemens!’ Caligula screamed, suddenly forcing the points of his trident hard against Vespasian’s chest, piercing his toga.
Vespasian froze as Clemens came pushing through the ragged queue that had come to an abrupt halt at the Emperor’s scream.
‘Is he trying to kill me?’ Caligula blurted out, glaring at Vespasian with his dark-rimmed sunken eyes. A stain of blood surrounded each trident point.
‘No, Divine Gaius,’ Clemens assured him as he took the bag, ‘I checked it for weapons myself; it only contains the breastplate.’
‘Show me!’
Clemens slowly put his hand into the bag; Caligula jerked his trident from Vespasian’s chest to Clemens’ throat. Keeping his chin high and looking down the trident’s shaft at
his Emperor, Clemens gradually pulled out the breastplate.
‘You’re right.’ Caligula breathed deeply. ‘It’s just the breastplate; hold this.’ He handed the trident to Clemens, oblivious to the fact that he had just
given him the means to murder him, and took the breastplate. He rubbed a hand over it and looked up at Vespasian, smiling wildly. ‘That’s it, my friend, you haven’t tried to cheat
me, this really is it, I remember the stain. I remember asking my father why the priests hadn’t been crucified for allowing something to soil Alexander.’ He held it to his chest.
‘How do I look?’
‘Like the great Alexander, only more divine,’ Vespasian replied solemnly, thinking that he looked like a man draped in fish skin wearing a breastplate that did not fit him.
‘Excellent! You will dine with me and my friends tonight. Your brother has finally come back from his province so he’ll be here – as will my horse.’
Vespasian wondered if he had heard correctly. ‘I look forward to seeing them both, Divine Gaius.’
‘Yes, Incitatus will be particularly pleased to see you, he’s so looking forward to pulling me across my bridge in a chariot; we can do that now.’ He looked with genuine
pleasure at the breastplate. ‘I must show this to my sisters, if they’re not too busy servicing the poor.’ He turned and, forced to take ridiculously small steps, waddled off.
Vespasian wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘Servicing the poor?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Clemens replied, examining the trident and considering what to do with it. ‘Since Drusilla died he’s become increasingly suspicious of everyone,
especially his other two sisters, so he’s decided to punish them for whatever he imagines that they’ve been plotting by making them fuck every receiver of the grain dole in Rome. In his
twisted mind he also thinks that it compensates the people for the shortages caused by his bridge. They’ve been at it for three days now and were up to over two thousand at the last
count.’
‘That’ll kill them like it did Drusilla.’
‘More than likely, but then he’s going to kill us all so what difference does it make? It’s got to the stage now that I just don’t care; I stay loyal to him to protect my
family for as long as I can.’ Clemens looked at Vespasian with tired eyes. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can stomach it. I’ll see you at dinner.’ Handing the trident
to Vespasian, Clemens walked back over to the queue to continue his distasteful task of supervising the mass rape of two of Germanicus’ children.
Vespasian looked at the trident and then at the blood stains on his toga as the urban poor continued to shuffle past. He threw the trident back into the impluvium in disgust and, contemplating
the options open to him and his family, turned and made his way, with a heavy heart, towards his uncle’s house.
‘Don’t even think about it, dear boy,’ Gaius warned Vespasian, helping himself to another honey and almond cake, ‘it would be suicide.’
‘Not if we succeed, Uncle,’ Vespasian argued.
A cooling breeze blew through Gaius’ shaded courtyard garden providing some relief from the mid-afternoon heat. The fish pond heaved with lampreys enjoying their daytime feed.
‘Even if you could kill Caligula and manage to avoid being cut down by his extremely loyal German Bodyguards, you would be dead within two days.’
Vespasian threw another fish fillet into the pond. ‘Why?’
‘The next Emperor would see to it, of course. Granted, he would be very grateful to you for leaving the position vacant for him to fill but then he’d have to have you executed
because it wouldn’t do for people to see that someone outside the imperial family can assassinate an emperor, however depraved, and live. It would be an invitation for anyone with a grievance
to murder him, surely you can see that? And don’t go giving me any naïve nonsense about restoring the Republic – the Praetorian Guard would never stand for that; the Emperor is
their reason to exist.’
‘But something must be done, Uncle, before it’s too late.’
‘It’s already too late. There are too many people with vested interests in Caligula staying emperor. Only when he completely runs out of money and can’t pay them any more will
they begin to look elsewhere; but I doubt that’ll ever happen because when his treasury is empty he’ll just start taking money from the rich.’
‘So what do you recommend?’
‘Two things: firstly, do not deposit that gold that you’ve brought back with you in a bank, because Caligula will hear of it. Keep it hidden here so that when he does start culling
the wealthy you won’t be a target. Secondly, humour him, praise him, support him, worship him, laugh at his jokes, do whatever it takes to stay alive and wait for someone else to be foolish
enough to try and kill an emperor.’
‘But what if everyone reasons the same way as you? He could remain emperor for years.’
‘Caligula’s bound to offend someone in such a way that their sense of honour will overrule their judgement, and then we just have to pray that they’re successful.’
‘Yes,’ Vespasian agreed gloomily, flicking another fillet into the pond and watching the feeding frenzy. ‘Just imagine what Caligula’s retribution would be like on the
guilty and innocent alike if a plot against him failed.’
‘All the more reason to stay in his favour, dear boy. Take Livius Geminius, for example: he swore an oath that at Drusilla’s funeral he saw her spirit ascending into the heavens to
commune with the gods. Complete rubbish, of course, but he was handsomely rewarded for it.’
The tinkling of the door bell floating through from the atrium interrupted them.
‘Ah, that’ll be Magnus and Ziri,’ Vespasian said, getting up. ‘They’ve, er…they’ve brought Flavia with them.’
Gaius looked at him quizzically. ‘Flavia? Is she some relation of yours, a cousin or something?’
‘She must be distantly related; but anyway, I intend to marry her.’
Gaius looked suitably pleased. ‘It’s about time you took that step, dear boy.’
‘Exactly; and with my father’s business keeping him away in Aventicum I need you to negotiate the marriage terms.’
‘I’d be delighted. What’s her father’s name and where does he live?’
‘North of Rome in Ferentium. Flavia’s travelling there tomorrow so she could take your letter to him; apparently you know him, his name is Marcus Flavius Liberalis.’
Gaius frowned. ‘I do know him, he was one of the clerks when I was a quaestor in Africa; he was having trouble proving he was a full citizen and not just the possessor of Latin
Rights.’
Vespasian shrugged. ‘He’s certainly a full citizen now; he’s done well enough for himself to have been enrolled into the equestrian order recently.’
‘But what about Flavia? She was born before he sorted out his legal status – I remember her as a child.’
‘She claims full citizenship; I wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise.’
‘It would be as well to check, dear boy, you don’t want your offspring to have legal problems.’
‘Vespasian, my dear,’ Flavia said, walking with breathtaking elegance into the garden as if she owned it, ‘this must be your uncle. Won’t you please reintroduce
us?’
‘There’s no need, Flavia,’ Gaius said, gently squeezing the fingers of her proffered right hand, ‘even though it was twenty years ago I remember you perfectly as a little
girl of six or so. Did you stay in Africa long?’
‘My father left five years ago, but I stayed on; I was attached, shall we say.’
‘Indeed. Your father was having some trouble with his citizenship status while I was there, as I recall.’
Flavia looked blank. ‘If he was, he never told me about it.’
‘No, why should he have? You were only a child; besides it must be all right now, Vespasian tells me that he’s become an equestrian.’
‘Yes, and I hope that he will settle a large dowry on me so that Vespasian and I can enjoy the finer things in life.’
‘I’m sure he will and I’m equally sure that Vespasian will enjoy spending it on luxurious frivolities.’ Gaius raised a surreptitious, plucked eyebrow at his nephew.
Vespasian thought it best not to express his opinion on the subject and contemplated the fertile ground for many a marital disagreement in the future.
Flavia indicated that the men should be seated. ‘Shall we sit down and call for some wine?’
‘By all means,’ Gaius agreed, visibly surprised by Flavia’s virtual assumption of the role of hostess in his domain.
Vespasian helped Flavia to a chair. ‘I’m afraid that I must leave you, I have to dine with the Emperor.’
Flavia’s eyes widened with delight. ‘How exciting; should I come, do you think?’
‘It would be best to stay here, Flavia,’ Gaius assured her, ‘the Emperor’s liable to take fearful liberties with his female guests. You won’t have that problem with
me, I can promise you that.’
Vespasian leant down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back so don’t wait up for me. Where’s Magnus?’
‘Oh, I left him and Ziri to help my maids put my bags into my room.’
‘And he didn’t object?’
‘Why should he? I asked him so nicely.’
Vespasian raised his eyebrows and turned to go to find Magnus, wondering whether his friend had been right about Flavia.
‘All I’m saying, sir,’ Magnus concluded as they reached the summit of the Palatine, ‘is that just because Flavia’s come back with you to Rome
that’s not a reason for you to have to go through with the marriage. You’d be mad to – she’ll make your life a misery. Granted she showed good spirit in Alexandria, and yes,
she would have formidable sons, but you should have seen her at the port once you’d gone; just because you’d been summoned by the Emperor she started ordering everyone around and
shouting at people who weren’t even slaves. She’s using you, which is fair enough, but what are you going to get in return, eh? You can’t even bear the thought of buying and
feeding just one slave; how are you going to feel when she demands that you purchase a whole household? You’re going to find yourself having blazing rows about how many hairdressers she has
because a woman like that is going to want more than two, as sure as a new recruit wants to go home to his mother.’
‘Two?’
‘More than two.’
Vespasian grimaced, acknowledging that Magnus had a point. He had realised that Flavia was going to be expensive but had only thought in terms of dresses and jewellery and not all the things
that accompanied them. One of them – and he felt sure that it would not be her – would have to change if the marriage were to work. But then, he reflected, what other woman would be
happy to become his wife knowing that he would have a lifelong mistress? And if he were to find another, would she get his blood racing in the way that Flavia did by his just thinking of her? She
was making a sacrifice, Caenis was making a sacrifice, therefore, he reasoned, he could bear to buy a few slaves for the sake of some sort of harmony in his domestic arrangements.
‘No, my mind’s made up, Magnus, I will marry her and try to accommodate her wishes; after all, what’s the worst that could happen?’
‘She could spend all your money and you could be expelled from the Senate,’ Magnus informed him as they reached Augustus’ House. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you here, sir,
I sent Ziri straight over to the crossroads, so the brothers know I’m back; they should have a decent party prepared for me when I get there. I’ll be willing to bet that it’ll be
a fuck sight more civilised than what you’re going to get in there.’
‘That may well be true,’ Vespasian said softly, looking at a steady stream of senators arriving with nervous-looking wives and wondering whether Magnus might be right on both
counts.
Watching his friend disappear back down the hill he had a moment of self-doubt but then, shaking his head and dismissing it, he turned to follow the senators in. As he did so a familiar voice
drawled in his ear. ‘I hear that you’ve been lowering yourself to petty theft now.’
‘Piss off, Sabinus,’ Vespasian said, spinning around to face his brother.
‘That seems to be your standard greeting to me these days, brother.’
‘If you started by thanking me for sending your things on to you in Bithynia and supervising the completion of your house then you might have got something more cordial.’
‘Fair enough; thank you.’
‘Where’s Clementina? I hope you’re not bringing her here.’
‘Not a chance. Caligula seems to have forgotten about her, he hasn’t mentioned her once since I got back. I’ve left her at Aquae Cutillae.’