Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (15 page)

“Enter!”
his father’s voice boomed.

Drusus opened the door and stepped inside to see the Emperor pacing back and forth,
beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“You wanted to see me, Father?”

“Close the door,” Tiberius replied, his calm voice contrasting sharply with his demeanor. He then turned to face Drusus. “I need your help, Son.”

“How can I be of service?” Drusus rubbed his hands nervously behind his back. He knew that when his father spoke calmly, yet appeared disheveled, it was because he was not only deeply enraged, but frighteningly focused as well.

“Keep that bitch Agrippina on a short leash. See to it she causes us no more problems once this trial is over, and afterwards.” Tiberius was not one to mince words. He leaned on his hands standing over the table, his eyes piercing into his son.

Drusus swallowed hard as the Emperor continued.

“Her words to me today were treasonous. I let them be, seeing that this is not the time for dealing with her. However, I will not have her thinking that she has free reign to do as she pleases and talk to me like an undisciplined schoolboy.”

Drusus
forced himself to stop rubbing his hands behind his back while waiting for Tiberius to finish.

“By the gods, do they honestly think I had anything to gain with Germanicus’ death
? 
I am not even allowed to mourn my son!
” There was heartbreaking despair and frustration in his voice.

Drusus knew all too well what else it was that vexed his father.
He gazed over and saw a small medallion sitting on Tiberius’ desk. On it was an engraved image of Vipsania. It was old and well worn, and Drusus was saddened by the thoughts of what had happened between his parents.

“Mother was asking about you the other day,” he said at last.

Tiberius followed his son’s stare to the medallion on his desk.
“She gave me that a long time ago, when you were a small boy,” he said quietly. “She still worries about you, even though it is
her
health that is failing. She never stopped caring about you.”

Tiberius
closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He gazed out the window towards the setting sun.

“She married that bastard Gallus not long after I was forced to divorce her.
He continues to use her, and their sons, to cast a perpetual shadow over me. He mocks me from his place in the Senate. Though I have the reins of ultimate power in the Empire, it is he who possesses the one thing I would have given it all up for, and he knows it. You know they haven’t lived together for years, and yet he will not grant her the freedom of a divorce. Perhaps this is because he knows I would not hesitate to take her back, back to where she belongs. If there ever was a woman who deserved to be Empress of Rome. . .”

Drusus suddenly took great pity on his father.
For him there was no rest, no peace; only cold duty.

T
here was another weighty issue that remained unspoken;  the unrest in Gaul. Many Senators, particularly Gallus, were clamoring for Tiberius to lead a full-scale invasion of the province and crush any signs of rebellion in an effort to show their loyalty to Rome. Tiberius maintained if the Emperor was required to quell every bit of unrest within the Empire, then he would never be found in Rome. Gallus’ disagreements with the Emperor’s foreign policies only served to add fuel to the fire of hate between them.

“I will do what I can to help you,” Drusus said
after a long silence. “I want you to know that no matter what any of my friends or acquaintances may think, I never once implicated you in Germanicus’ death. You have my loyalty, Father. You always have.”

“I don’t care what you say
. That woman is an evil sorceress and Livia is doing everything to protect her!” Agrippina snapped. Her face was flushed with anger, eyes swollen with tears of frustration as she paced around the dining chamber of the house she once shared with her husband. Around the table, reclining in typical Roman fashion, were her friends and relatives, all of whom were helping her to seek justice for Germanicus.

Germanicus’ brother, Claudius, was sipping wine and snacking on dates,
quietly observing everything. Conspicuous by her absence was Germanicus’ sister, Livilla. Few cared for the scheming, conniving woman, so her lack of presence was not missed. Most only tolerated her, not just because of her relationship to Germanicus, but because of her marriage to Drusus. Drusus was present, and desperately trying to calm Agrippina.

“Regardless of what we may think of that witch Plancina, we
must
respect whatever verdict the courts render!” he pleaded. “Nothing good can come of your continual vendetta against the Emperor!”

“The Emperor?”
Agrippina seethed. “He is the man who caused Germanicus’ demise in the first place!”

“What nonsense
, woman!” Antonia snapped. Germanicus’ mother had been sitting quietly, watching the spat between Agrippina and Drusus. Defaming remarks against Tiberius never sat well with her, given she was the widow of the Emperor’s brother. Tiberius had even named his son Drusus in honor of his brother and Antonia always stood by her brother-in-law.

“Your
ridiculous grudge against Tiberius has blinded you!” she continued. “Germanicus was the best soldier and statesman he had. He would have to be the greatest fool to have ever lived to get rid of him! And what would Livia gain protecting the murderer of her grandson?”

“And if you continue to insult and publicly defame the Emperor, it cannot sit well with you and your children,” Drusus added.
“Please, Agrippina, allow justice to prevail and let your quarrels with my father lay to rest.”

“I will rest my quarrel with Tiberius when I see the entire Piso clan burn,” Agrippina replied
haughtily with an air of finality.

Drusus stood outside in the garden, head in his hands when Claudius found him. The other guests had long since gone home. Claudius put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Th…this is not an easy
t-t-time for you, I kno-ow,” he stuttered.

“Between this damned trial, Agrippina’s goading, Mother’s poor health, and now word of unrest in Gaul, nothing is sitting right with either my father or myself.”
He walked over to a bench by the man-made stream and stared morosely into the water.

“Yes, I was s
-sorry to hear about your m-m-m-other,” Claudius offered. Being lame with a stutter, the family assumed he was dim-witted and ignored him, making it possible to overhear much that occurred within the family. He knew all too well Tiberius’ feelings for his long since divorced wife and the awkward position everything put Drusus in. “Is t-t-there nothing that can be done for her?”

“I don’t think so,” Drusus answered, shaking his head.
“It’s sad. She’s not old, and she has always been strong in both mind and body. Sadly, the body seems to be failing. I know once she goes, my father will need me more than ever to get him through everything. I’m afraid I cannot be the son I should be.”

“W
-w-who of us is?” Claudius asked. “All we can do is make the b-b-b-b-b-best,” he struggled pathetically with the word, “of what we ha-have. Your father will n-n-need you to be strong. You are the one hope he has left. I know it cannot be easy, being son of the Emperor. But perhaps it is time that you learned how to b-be one. Know that all of us hope to serve you well one day.”

Drusus smiled at that as he continued to gaze into the stream.
It was the first time anyone had even mentioned what should have been so obvious; that with Germanicus gone, Drusus was now Tiberius’ sole heir.  He didn’t relish the thought. “I had hoped to serve Germanicus well,” he said quietly.  “He would have made a fine Caesar.”

“Yes,” Claudius replied, wiping his eyes.
The loss of his brother was still overwhelming. Germanicus had been the world to Claudius; his affection for his brother unmatched.

As they sat
quietly, contemplating everything that was happening, Herod walked out into the garden. Herod Agrippa was a close friend of both Drusus and Claudius. He was a Jew, grandson of Herod the Great, and partially named after the legendary Marcus Agrippa. He was dressed in traditional Jewish garb of robes and sandals, though his demeanor was anything but Jewish. He had been raised in Rome since he was a child and had been a favorite of the Emperor’s, at least in part, because of his lifelong friendship with Drusus.

“Not interrupting anything
, am I?” he asked gently.

“No,
n-not at all,” Claudius replied.

Herod sat down on the bench, placing his hand on Drusus
’ shoulder.  There were no words, just the gesture meant to comfort.

“
My father said ‘keep that bitch Agrippina on a short leash’,” Drusus said morosely. “I swear the hatred between those two will never end. Agrippina will always blame my father for Germanicus’ demise.”

“Then you had better find yourself a good leash!”
Herod clapped him on the shoulder heartily with his usual good humor. 

Drusus couldn’t help smiling.
This elicited a laugh from all three men.

The Jewish nobleman then took a deep breath, his e
xpression becoming sober. “Seriously,” he continued, sobering, “this is a difficult time for us all.  My contacts down on the Aventine tell me that most of the plebs will only vindicate the Emperor once Piso hangs from the butcher’s hook.  As for my own people, well, most Roman Jews are more apt to demand proof of Tiberius’ involvement than even the indigenous Romans.”

“I’ve n…never understood that,” Claudius said.
“The Jews are among the m-m-most fickle people in the entire Empire. And yet they have a bond with Tiberius.”

“That’s because my father has always had a soft spot for our friend Herod,” Drusus replied.

“It’s true,” Herod replied with a nod. “I’ve spent more time in Rome than in my own country. Tiberius became the father figure that I lacked. While most Judeans may view me more as a Roman than as one of their own, they know it was my influence which guided the Emperor’s policies towards them.”

“S
-s-such as?” Claudius asked.

“Such as we are the only people exempt from Caesar worship.
While Tiberius may have refused any such divinities for himself, he did persuade the Senate to deify Augustus. Rome respects an individual’s right to express his own religious beliefs provided he acknowledges the divinity of the Roman Pantheon, including Augustus. Strangely enough, it actually did not take much persuasion to convince Tiberius to allow Jews to abstain from such practices. Political though his intents may have been, perhaps he holds a certain amount of reverence to the one true god.”

“That’s all well and good that my father blasphemes the entire P
antheon to show respect to the god of the Jews,” Drusus replied with a scowl. “But what good will that do us now? Will your god make Agrippina see reason? Will he bring Piso to justice and grant my father peace?”

“One can only hope,” Herod
replied gently.

Drusus sighed. 
“Agrippina has been my friend for many years. Germanicus was a brother to me, as are you both. I walk a fine line being both Agrippina’s friend, as well as loyal son to the Emperor. I hope that once justice is dispensed, Agrippina will let her hatred for Tiberius pass.”