Emperor of Rome Read online

  Vespasian saw the implication. ‘Therefore if you try to escape, you are going against God and the only punishment for that in their eyes is death.’

  Yosef raised a dismissive hand, chain chinking. ‘The punishment for most things they consider to be a sin is death.’

  ‘Yes, it seems to be that way.’ Vespasian turned to Mucianus. ‘Governor, how is our border with Parthia? Have they taken advantage of our having three legions and their auxiliaries fully occupied here in Judaea?’

  Mucianus pouted slightly as he phrased his reply in his mind. Gone was the athletic military tribune that Vespasian had known from his time in the II Augusta; the man whose actions had helped to save the legion the night that Caratacus had surprised it as it formed up. It was a different man who now sat at the conference table: elegantly coiffured and stylishly dressed in eastern fabrics, he was a man who exuded a love of pleasure and a desire for power; he was a man whom Vespasian had once trusted with his life and been rewarded by his trust, but could he still do so now, he wondered?

  ‘There has been very little incident on our border,’ Mucianus said, his voice silky, his expression serene. ‘Vologases is happy with the settlement in Armenia and his attention is now turned to the East where there are a couple of troublesome satraps who used the Armenian war to try to assert their independence from the Great King. I believe that one of the satraps died wishing that he could assert his independence from the stake up his arse and the other one has fled to India; Vologases won’t be looking this way again until he has finished his settlement of the East, next spring at the earliest.’

  ‘Then that gives us our timeframe,’ Vespasian said. ‘We begin the blockade now and keep it up throughout the winter before moving to a full siege on the weakened city at the beginning of the campaigning season, which we will try to conclude in two months, before Parthia sniffs an opportunity.’ He looked around the table but no one made to argue against him.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Titus asked, ‘what do you have planned for the army?’

  ‘Apart from enforcing the blockade, just the usual: punishment raids, garrison duty and generally keeping our presence noted amongst the locals. Why?’

  ‘There is an issue that has developed in the last few days and has just been reported to me this morning. Another group of fanatics called the Sicarii, after the curved knives they use to kill all who don’t agree with them, have taken advantage of the Idumaeans coming to Jerusalem; they’ve taken the mountain fortress of Masada and occupied it with at least a thousand men as well as their women and children. My spies report that they’ve raided all the surrounding villages and taken all the supplies they could. By stripping the country dry, they now have enough to hold out for at least a year up there.’

  ‘What harm can they do sitting up on the top of a mountain?’

  ‘Nothing; but they’re going to have to be dealt with sooner or later, so why not sooner?’

  Vespasian was dubious. ‘I’ve seen Masada, and it is almost impregnable. The only way an army could take it is to build a ramp up to the top; think how much earth would need to be moved and how many slaves you would need to move it. No, we wait until after we have Jerusalem and use the captives that we get there to deal with Masada. Meanwhile we let them sit on their mountain.’

  ‘Do we blockade it like Jerusalem?’

  Vespasian shook his head. ‘What’s the point? It would be a waste of effort: let them have as much food as they like up there as, when we build the ramp, we will take the fort in less time than they already have supplies for. So their bellies are going to be full when we kill them anyway.’

  Caenis walked into the room, carrying a scroll and cutting off the discussion. ‘I’m sorry to disturb your council, gentlemen, but a ship has just arrived from Rome bringing news that I deemed could not wait.’

  All eyes were on Caenis; Vespasian signalled for her to speak and she indicated to Yosef.

  ‘Leave the room,’ Vespasian ordered.

  As the door closed and the clinking of Yosef’s fetters diminished, Caenis unrolled the scroll and looked at Vespasian. ‘It’s a letter from your brother; he says that Nymphidius, one of the prefects of the Praetorian Guard, has persuaded the Guard to swear allegiance to Galba who, since Vindex’s failed revolt, has been titling himself as legate of the Senate. This emboldened the Senate to declare Nero an enemy of the state.’ She paused and looked around the room; all were holding their breath. ‘Nero has committed suicide.’

  There was a mass exhalation as all took in the enormity of the consequences of Nero’s death without a male heir.

  Caenis’ eyes delved into Vespasian’s; excitement burned within them. ‘It’s started, my love. Servius Sulpicius Galba has claimed the Purple and is marching on Rome. The Senate have confirmed him in his title; Galba is the new Emperor of Rome.’

  CHAPTER VIII

  SILENCE PERVADED AS all calculated and contemplated their positions. The vendors’ cries from the fish market, mixed with the hustle and bustle of port activity, both military and civilian, continued to rise through the windows as the life of the common people went on, unaffected by such momentous news – the price of fish was hardly likely to be influenced by an old man, whom few had heard of, becoming emperor. Vespasian envied them their certainty of life whatever way the political wind blew, as he took a few moments to assess what he must do to keep both himself and his family safe.

  ‘Do we know anything else?’ Vespasian asked Caenis, breaking the silence.

  ‘Marcus Salvius Otho, the Governor of Lusitania, has joined forces with Galba; not that he has any soldiers, but his long association with Nero, before they fell out over Poppaea Sabina, does give a degree more legitimacy to Galba’s claim.’

  Vespasian looked across at Mucianus. ‘What do you make of that?’

  ‘I would have thought that it was obvious,’ Mucianus said, a smile flickering on his lips. ‘Galba is childless and seventy-two; Otho is a very well-connected member of the aristocracy and aged only thirty-six, young enough to be his son …’ Mucianus left the rest of the thought unspoken.

  ‘That’s how I saw it.’ Vespasian cast his eyes around the table. ‘So, gentlemen, where does this leave us?’

  Herod Agrippa pushed back his chair and rose. ‘I have no doubt where I stand. I’m leaving for Rome immediately to congratulate the new Emperor and swear loyalty to him in person.’ Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room.

  Vespasian allowed himself a thin smile. ‘No doubt he hopes that by prompt sycophancy he can persuade Galba to grant him more lands. Well, Herod has his own agenda, as does each one of us here. However, gentlemen,’ he looked up at Caenis and indicated that she should sit in Herod’s vacated chair, ‘and lady, we represent the real power in Rome’s eastern provinces. My assessment would be that a combined reaction from us would be far better for all our positions than if we act individually.’

  ‘What makes you so sure of that?’ Traianus asked.

  It was Caenis who, with a glance to Vespasian who nodded his agreement, replied: ‘Because, legate, Galba is going to want to split up the four main concentrations of power outside Rome: the Rhenus frontier, the Danuvius frontier, the Britannic legions and the eastern army. Sabinus also said in his letter that he has heard a rumour that Galba has immediately replaced Rufus, the Governor of Germania Superior, despite the fact that it was him who defeated Vindex. Rufus’s legions hailed him as imperator but he rejected the title. Obviously Galba can’t keep Rufus in position, even though he did refuse the chance of power from the army.’

  ‘Who did he replace him with?’ Mucianus asked.

  ‘That seems to be uncertain at the time Sabinus wrote, which was fourteen days ago. He says that there is rumour and counter-rumour coming out of Galba’s entourage and as the new Emperor has not yet crossed into Italia from Gaul no one knows what to believe. However, he says that Aulus Vitellius was very quick to leave Rome to travel to Galba to swear allegiance to him.’
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  Mucianus examined a well-manicured hand. ‘A fat gourmand with no military experience and an arse as flabby as a sow’s belly: an ideal choice, in Galba’s mind, to entrust to the security of the Rhenus border.’ He carried on examining his fingernails to avoid looking at Caenis as he addressed her. ‘So you would conjecture that if we send a letter with a united greeting and profession of loyalty from us all together then he would think twice before trying to remove anyone of us from our very lucrative posts.’

  ‘Yes, Galba knows that if Syria, Egypt and the army of the East choose to do so, they can name their own candidate for the Purple and so ignite the civil war which has only just been avoided by Rufus’ refusal to accept the accolade; and with control of a major part of Rome’s grain supply in Egypt, that is a position in which he would not like to find himself. Therefore he is far more likely to leave a united East alone to carry on putting down the rebellion and keeping Parthia at bay. A divided response for you, however, gentlemen, will give him the opportunity to pick you off one by one.’

  There was no argument at this assessment by Caenis, as all present knew her for the sharp politician that she was, albeit with only freed status.

  ‘Tiberius Alexander?’ Vespasian said, giving the prefect an opportunity to voice his opinion.

  ‘I agree; one of the first things that he will try to do is remove me and put someone far more to his liking in my place. I can avoid that by an alliance with you, Vespasian, and you, Mucianus. We three must stand as one so that Galba will have little option but to confirm us in our posts. I will return to my province, swear my two legions to the new Emperor and ensure that the grain fleets sail on time whilst we send a combined message to Rome professing our undying loyalty to the new regime and our support for Otho should Galba choose to adopt him as his heir.’

  Mucianus nodded, placing his hands on the table, evidently satisfied with the state of his cuticles. ‘And I shall go back to Antioch and keep sending regular reports on how well it is going for our puppet regime in Armenia; how far away the Great King is in the East and just how well Vespasian is doing in Judaea. The Emperor will be made aware that the East is not a place that he should waste any care over.’

  Vespasian inwardly congratulated himself on writing that conciliatory letter to Mucianus the previous year; a little humility had been a justifiable expense to get Mucianus to the point whereby he could support him without rancour. ‘And for my part,’ Vespasian said, ‘I shall make my army swear the oath of loyalty immediately, so that whoever carries the letter can report to the Emperor that they have seen it with their own eyes, and then carry on containing the rebellion.’ Vespasian grinned. ‘So, “business as usual” is what we shall say to Galba in our joint letter. The question is: who is of sufficient status to deliver it to him?’

  Titus caught his father’s eye. ‘It obviously can’t be you, Father; nor could it be either Mucianus or Tiberius Alexander—’

  ‘No, you are not going,’ Vespasian interrupted. ‘I need you here. Besides, I won’t risk putting you in Galba’s power so that he can use you as a hostage to my behaviour; he could force me to accept him recalling me by threatening your life.’

  Titus frowned. ‘I wasn’t going to suggest me, Father; I was about to say that the three legionary legates, one being me, cannot be spared with the state of the rebellion as it is, therefore we have to look elsewhere. We could give the letter to Herod Agrippa but I imagine that he would try to make out that he personally was delivering the East into Galba’s hands and should be greatly rewarded for it.’

  ‘I agree,’ Caenis put in. ‘He cannot be trusted to be anything other than slippery; he’ll make political gain out of the mission for himself whilst implying that perhaps things aren’t all as they seem in the East and Galba would be wise to give him more say in the governance of the area.’

  ‘And if he comes back with extended territory then he could make trouble for all of us,’ Vespasian observed.

  ‘Exactly,’ Titus said. ‘So I propose that we ask King Malichus here to deliver the letter.’

  Vespasian looked across at the Nabataean king in his white flowing robes and could not imagine anyone less Roman-looking; Malichus looked delighted at the idea.

  Titus read the confusion on his father’s face. ‘He’s perfect, Father. He’s a Roman citizen of equestrian rank. He’s a king, in his own right, of a people who are loyal to us and we would want to keep it that way as the kingdom is a good buffer between us and Parthia. And, furthermore, he would be very happy to bear the letter because it would associate him with us and make it far more likely that Galba would confirm him in his kingdom.’ Titus fixed Malichus with a stare. ‘But, unlike Herod Agrippa, he won’t play selfish politics with the task that we give him because he can see that his best interests lie alongside ours.’

  Malichus rose and bowed his head with one hand across his breast. ‘It would be an honour to bear the letter for you, gentlemen; I shall be most anxious that the new Emperor confirms Damascus upon me again, even though it would be the fifth time that I have received the same gift. Me delivering your letter to him will put him in a far more generous frame of mind towards me, I am sure; especially as Herod Agrippa is likely to make as much mischief as possible.’

  Vespasian looked first at Mucianus and then at Tiberius Alexander.

  ‘An elegant solution,’ Mucianus said.

  Tiberius Alexander nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  Vespasian put both his palms flat on the table. ‘Well, I think that concludes matters for the time being, gentlemen.’ He looked at the military officers. ‘I’ll be issuing orders concerning the blockade of Jerusalem in the morning. Dismissed.’

  The three legates and six auxiliary prefects stood and saluted, before making their way from the room.

  Vespasian turned to Malichus. ‘If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the reception room whilst we three compose our letter.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure, general,’ the king said, again bowing his head. ‘I shall leave for Rome as soon as you have finished.’

  ‘Why didn’t you want Titus to go?’ Caenis asked as she, Vespasian and Magnus sat on a terrace on the third floor of the palace, drinking chilled wine and watching the golden reflection of the sun lengthen on a slow-moving sea. A flotilla of small, night-fishing boats, escorted by cawing gulls and preceded by a larger, well-manned vessel, made their way through the harbour mouth, silhouetted by the westering light and putting Vespasian in mind of ducklings following their mother across a pond. Public slaves cleared away the tables and swept clean the detritus of the fish market as its traders sailed out to restock.

  ‘For exactly the reason I said: I didn’t want to offer Galba a hostage.’

  ‘Galba has already got a hostage, two in fact: Sabinus and Domitian. You know that perfectly well. That’s not the reason you wouldn’t countenance Titus going.’

  Vespasian raised his cup from the oval marble table around which they sat. ‘He didn’t even suggest that he should.’

  ‘Don’t try to avoid the question that way. It was you who said that he couldn’t go without anybody suggesting it in the first place. He would have been a very good option because it would have shown Galba that you are so loyal as to not worry about sending him a third hostage; that would have impressed the Emperor far more than sending a Nabataean king. So tell me: why didn’t you want Titus to go?’

  Vespasian hesitated to respond, taking a sip of wine and enjoying the way the rich light reflected off the sea and played on the fishing boats’ sails as they caught the breeze outside of the harbour walls. ‘It wouldn’t have been safe for him,’ he muttered eventually.

  ‘Bollocks,’ Magnus growled, ‘and you know perfectly well it is; so give us the truth or I’ll do it for you.’

  Vespasian looked at his friend, surprised at his sudden vehemence. ‘Well then, I think you’d better do it for me seeing as you evidently have such a deep insight into my motives.’

  ‘You’re scared.’
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  ‘Scared?’

  ‘Yes, scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘You’re scared that you may end up in conflict with your son.’

  Vespasian grunted and turned his attention back to the boats.

  Caenis shook her head as Vespasian studiously avoided her gaze. ‘He’s right, isn’t he? Of course; I should have seen that. It’s a different sort of hostage that you meant, isn’t it?’

  Vespasian still could not meet her eye. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes; it’s a move that would make Galba’s position much safer for he would guarantee the support of the whole eastern Empire. Otho may have been close to Nero and of as high birth as Galba, but he brings nothing with him other than that. No army and no power; whereas Titus, well, Titus would be a far more attractive prospect as Galba’s heir: Galba promises to make him emperor, and his father, you, my love, suddenly finds himself having to support the new Emperor because it would guarantee his family’s rise to the very top.’

  ‘And that’s just the point,’ Magnus said, ‘his family’s rise and not his rise. You don’t think that I can’t see through you, sir? You know that this is the beginning of a series of events that may just give you the chance you’ve been wondering about for a long time. Go on, say it! Say what you’ve been mulling over.’

  Vespasian said nothing and continued staring at the boats as the sun deepened from golden into shades of red.

  ‘Emperor! Say it, sir. You’ve started to believe that you could be Emperor of Rome and, frankly, I do too; and I’m sure Caenis feels the same way.’

  ‘I do,’ Caenis said in response to Magnus’ questioning look.

  ‘But if Galba adopts Titus,’ Vespasian said, his tone quiet, ‘then that becomes very unlikely. I will still be the founder of the next dynasty as Thrasyllus predicted any senator witnessing the rebirth of the Phoenix in Egypt would be, but it would be my son who would be emperor, I would just be the Emperor’s father.’