False God of Rome (32 page)

Vespasian had had enough but there was nothing that he could do; he was trapped, as was everyone in Rome, and was obliged to share in this compulsory fun forced upon him by a seemingly deranged
emperor supported by the blades of a loyal, well-rewarded Praetorian Guard.

A soft voice from behind him disturbed his grim thoughts. ‘I thought that I’d find you here.’

He turned to see Caenis in the doorway; her eyes were red and rimmed with tears.

‘Caenis, what’s wrong?’ he asked, walking over to her.

‘My mistress sent me to find you, you must come at once.’

‘Of course. What’s happening?’

‘She wants to say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye? Where’s she going?’

Caenis burst into tears and flung her arms around his neck sobbing. ‘To meet the Ferryman.’

‘I’ve had a succession of people, far more prestigious than you, Vespasian, trying to dissuade me,’ Antonia said, ‘so don’t waste my time or
yours; my mind is made up.’

‘But why, domina?’ Vespasian sat opposite Antonia, across her oaken desk in her private room. The lowering sun filtered through the bay window, a shaft hit her face and he could see
lines of care and trouble etched around her eyes and mouth; for the first time she looked very old.

‘Because I will not sit by and watch impotently while that fool of a grandson of mine bankrupts the Empire and throws away my family’s hold over it. He ignores my advice and
humiliates me in public; I was not even allowed to attend my other grandsons’ interment. I have no control any more. The money is already starting to run out and if he’s to keep buying
the love of the mob then he’ll have to find a new supply; the treason trials will start again and the rich and once-powerful will lose their estates so that the poor can be kept in bread and
circuses. The Senate will tear itself apart as individuals denounce each other in an effort to stay alive, until what’s left of it will realise that unless something changes they will all
die; which is, of course, what Gaius wants. Within three or four years he will be assassinated, and what then? The Guard will choose its own emperor, but who?’

‘Claudius or Tiberius Gemellus, perhaps.’

‘Tiberius Gemellus will be dead before the year is out, Gaius will see to that, but that will be no loss; he has too much of his mother, Livilla, in him. And Claudius, well, who knows?
I’ve left this house and as much of my estate to him as possible – the larger part I have left to Gaius to squander – perhaps the money will help Claudius if he is allowed to
live, and that is part of the reason why I’m taking my own life. Claudius surprised everybody while he was Consul; he knew all the procedures, prayers and forms of words and very rarely
stuttered over them or brought shame on the House; people are looking upon him in a new light. With me alive to support him, Gaius will see him as a threat and will most certainly have him killed,
but with me dead there is a chance that he will carry on regarding him as an object of fun and worth keeping alive just for the amusement of it.

‘My freedmen and -women will naturally transfer their allegiance to Claudius so Caenis will have a patron not a master, as I’ve freed her in my will.’

Vespasian’s eyes widened, the moment for which he had longed for eleven years had finally arrived; yet it had come in such bleak circumstances.

‘This is one reason why I have called you here, Vespasian; Caenis is like a daughter to me and I need to know that she will be safe, you must look after her for me.’

‘Of course, domina, but how can I do that if she’s living under Claudius’ roof?’

‘She won’t be; Claudius isn’t strong enough to resist Caligula if he should send the Guard to fetch her for him. If Caligula asks you about her, tell him that she has gone to
Egypt with Felix to help him with my affairs there. I offered that she should do just that but she wanted to remain here, so I have bought her a house on the Quirinal very close to your
uncle’s; take her there tonight once I am gone. She will be safe enough if she stays inside; only you, Pallas and I know of it.’

‘I will, domina, and thank you, you’re most generous.’

Antonia smiled. ‘It is a gift for Caenis, not for you, although I assume that you will benefit from it. For you I have something else, but first I have a request.’

‘Anything you ask, domina.’

Antonia chuckled wryly, accentuating her care-lines. ‘I would never say that again if I were you, Vespasian, you may find yourself unable to keep your word.’

Vespasian flushed.

The chuckle turned into a laugh. ‘And letting your feelings play on your face like that is something that you need to start controlling. But no more advice, time is short.

‘Gaius has kept his word to Macro and has promised him Egypt but not until next year, once he feels completely secure in Rome. This comes as no surprise as he still seems to be bedding
Ennia as part of his busy sexual schedule. However, even though his new wife died in childbirth in January he’s showing no sign of wanting to make Ennia his empress as he had promised. I
believe that this is because he has become frightened of Macro; he’s realised that just as Macro made him emperor he could easily take it away. You must exploit this fear; play on it anytime
that you can. I have asked Clemens to do the same thing; he has always been loyal to Gaius and I think that Gaius may soon come to realise that he would be much safer with his friend Clemens as his
Praetorian prefect rather than his potential rival Macro. If that could come about, then it would be just a question of convincing Clemens that Gaius is unfit to rule and the Guard should kill
him.’

‘You’re asking me to help bring about your grandson’s death?’

‘Someone’s got to before he goes completely mad and brings down Rome. When that comes to pass Claudius must be made emperor; I have charged Pallas with keeping him out of trouble and
to make sure that he doesn’t dabble in politics and continues playing the fool.’

‘And if he’s not successful, what then?’

‘There will be another civil war.’ Antonia pulled open a drawer and withdrew a sheathed sword, which she looked at fondly. ‘This belonged to my father, Marcus Antonius. Just
before he used it to commit suicide in Alexandria he wrote a letter to Augustus asking that he should return it to me so that I could pass it on to my future son. Augustus granted his erstwhile
brother-in-law and friend’s dying wish and brought it back to Rome for me. When Germanicus came of age I gave it to him and he used it to subdue the Germanic tribes and to push back the
Parthians. After he too died his wife, Agrippina, wanted to pass it onto her eldest son, Nero Caesar. I refused her, saying that I would decide which of my grandsons most deserved it – it
would be the one that I considered would make the best Emperor. For a while I thought that I would give it to Gaius but then as his brothers were killed off I began to see his true nature, so I
withheld it and I’m pleased that I did; he dishonours his great-grandfather’s memory.

‘In a short time I will use this sword to open my veins; when I am dead Caenis will bring it to you. It will be yours. Remember that it was borne by two of the greatest men of our age
– use it well and perhaps you will live up to them.’

‘Thank you, domina.’

‘Now go and wait in the atrium for Caenis while she helps me to leave this world. Pallas will then show you both to her new house; take Magnus with you so that he knows where it is and
after that it’s up to you and him as to whether she lives in safety or in fear. Goodbye, Vespasian, and bear my father’s sword in a manner worthy of him.’

Vespasian took one last look at the most powerful woman in Rome, in awe at the way that she could still try to order matters from even beyond the grave. Yet for all her political adroitness in
life she had been unable to ensure that she went to that grave naturally. The power that she had sought for her family had been concentrated into the one person over whom she had no control: her
grandson Caligula. This sudden departure from life – although, Vespasian reflected, it was no more sudden than any death – was her only chance to wrest that power back and place it into
the hands of the son she had always despised: Claudius. The irony was bitter and Vespasian could tell from her saddened, green eyes that it was not lost on Antonia.

‘Goodbye, domina, and thank you for the favour that you’ve shown me.’ With a nod of his head he turned and left the room.

The day was fading and Vespasian had been waiting for more than an hour when Caenis, Pallas and Felix finally appeared. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they walked towards
him through the atrium whose very air seemed heavy with grief; the whole household had come to a standstill as the mistress had bled to death in her bath.

‘She’s gone,’ Caenis sobbed, offering Vespasian Marcus Antonius’ sword with both hands. ‘This is now yours, my love.’

Vespasian took the sword by its tightly bound red-leather hilt and drew it from its scabbard; the weight was perfect and the balance exact. A blue shimmer ran down the length of the burnished
steeled-iron blade – engraved with its original owner’s name – to the unadorned bronze, oval guard that bore the scars of long-ago parried strokes. The pommel too was of plain
bronze and the scabbard was simple tan buck-leather glued onto the wooden case and strengthened by four evenly spaced bronze bands. Despite his grief at the knowledge that it had recently been used
to open Antonia’s wrists, Vespasian smiled; this was not a parade-ground soldier’s weapon, this belonged to a fighting man and he understood why Antonia had used it to end her life.

He re-sheathed it with a soft rasp. ‘How did she die?’

‘Nobly,’ Pallas replied, ‘and without fear. She signed her will and Caenis’ and Felix’s documents of manumission and then dictated a couple of letters; she went to
her bedroom and prepared herself and then got into the warm pool and…and did it, without hesitation. She lay back with her eyes closed as she bled and then, before she grew too weak to
speak, she cursed Caligula before all the gods and the spirits of her ancestors, calling on them to bring him down and to ease Rome’s suffering.’

‘If they would listen to anyone they would listen to her.’ He looked at Caenis and lifted her chin; tears still glistened around her eyes. ‘Stop crying now, Antonia Caenis, you
are finally freed.’

Caenis smiled through her tears. ‘Yes, I shall always bear her name to remember her by, she who was a mother to me.’

Vespasian pulled her close and kissed her perfumed hair. The sound of footsteps drew his eyes; they widened in surprise as Magnus walked into the room.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, and then realised that he could guess the answer. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Magnus mumbled, looking bashful.

‘We should go, Vespasian,’ Pallas said, not wishing to dwell on the reason for Magnus’ presence for the sake of his late mistress’s dignity.

‘Yes, we should,’ Vespasian agreed, pleased also to change the subject. He turned to leave.

‘Vespasian, before you go,’ Felix said.

Vespasian looked back at Felix. ‘Congratulations on your liberty, Marcus Antonius Felix.’

Felix smiled at being addressed by his new name. ‘My thanks, Vespasian. My mistress has instructed me to go back to Egypt immediately to wind up her affairs there; it’ll take me a
year or so. She also told me that you were trying to get permission to visit; if you’re successful and I can be of service please contact me. The Alabarch will always know where to find
me.’

Vespasian nodded his thanks and, putting a protective arm around Caenis, walked towards the door.

Set in a quiet street just three hundred paces from Gaius’ house, Caenis’ new home was small and unobtrusive. Antonia had chosen well, Vespasian reflected as they
approached the front door, Caenis would be safe from Caligula here.

‘I shall leave you now,’ Pallas said, pulling the bell chain, ‘I have my mistress’s funeral to attend to.’

Caenis kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Pallas.’

‘Most of your things are already here, the rest I’ll have sent over tomorrow.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Magnus said with a grin, ‘I imagine that I’ll be in the way if I stay. I’ll make arrangements to have one of my lads always watching the
street, making sure no one unpleasant is snooping round if you take my meaning?’

The door opened as Magnus and Pallas walked off to reveal the largest Nubian Vespasian had ever seen. ‘Antonia was evidently keen that your door should be well guarded,’ he said,
bending down and putting one arm under her knees and the other under her arms to lift her up. ‘This is the nearest that we’ll ever get to me being able to carry you over the
threshold.’

Caenis giggled and, taking his face in her hands, kissed him long and passionately. The Nubian politely stepped back and, still kissing, Vespasian carried her into the vestibule and then through
to the atrium. A clearing of the throat interrupted them. Vespasian looked up and immediately let go of Caenis’ legs.

‘Good evening, mistress,’ a tall, elderly Egyptian said, bowing low. ‘My name is Menes, I am your steward, and this,’ he indicated to the fifteen slaves in a row behind
him, ‘is your household.’

Blushing furiously, Vespasian and Caenis stared at the line of slaves, then at each other and burst out laughing.

Vespasian watched the pillar of grey smoke begin to rise from the Campus Martius, just over a mile away, as he waited in the audience chamber of Augustus’ House along
with all the elected magistrates and many of the most senior senators. Caligula had already kept them waiting for more than an hour; on purpose, Vespasian guessed. Gaius shuffled uneasily beside
him, trying not to show the vexation that he felt at the sight of the smoke. They had all received a summons, first thing that morning, to attend the Emperor at the third hour and they all knew
that it was no coincidence that Antonia’s funeral was due to begin at that time. In causing the most senior men in Rome to be absent from the ceremony Caligula had radically diminished the
dignity of the occasion in a final insult to his grandmother; not even her son Claudius had been spared his spite.