Rome's Lost Son (9 page)

Vespasian was used to Corbulo’s snobbishness, having known him for twenty-five years since they served together as military tribunes in the IIII Scythica during the Thracian revolt; but that did not make it any easier to swallow. ‘Yes, it was a surprise seeing as we
are
New Men and at the time our family could only boast one consulship; but it’s even more surprising that, now we can boast two, I don’t get given a province and yet you, whose family is far older than ours and yet has only achieved the consulship once, if I recall, get given a second province.’ Vespasian hid his amusement as Corbulo harrumphed at the dig. ‘But I am pleased for you, Corbulo; although I confess that I’m surprised that you’ve heard about trouble in Armenia. It hasn’t been discussed in the Senate.’

Corbulo took Vespasian’s elbow and pulled him closer, away from the lictors. ‘That’s because officially there isn’t any trouble there and Mithridates, our client king, is still on the throne.’

‘That’s what I’m aware of officially. And unofficially I know that he’s been deposed but I don’t know the details.’

Corbulo’s smug expression reached new heights as he revelled in being in the possession of superior knowledge. ‘Unofficially, three months ago at the beginning of October, Mithridates was defeated by a young upstart with the uncouth name of Radamistus, the son of King Pharasmanes of neighbouring Iberia. Obviously we detect Parthian money behind Radamistus as nothing happens in Armenia without either their or our collusion.’

‘And we wouldn’t depose our own puppet.’

‘Quite, not even … well, I won’t say who is that stupid. Anyway, I’m told that if diplomacy fails then an invasion may be required and my military experience makes me the obvious choice for leading it.’

‘And what would happen if diplomacy failed and, the gods forbid, you didn’t restore Mithridates by military force and Armenia became a Parthian client kingdom?’

Corbulo frowned, unable to comprehend something so outrageously implausible. ‘I won’t fail.’

‘Yes, yes, of course you won’t, Corbulo. But let’s just say, for example, that the Emperor sent someone else, not of your calibre, who did fail, and Armenia came back under Parthian sway for the first time since Tiberius; what then?’

‘Then the Emperor would have to send me out to redress the matter.’ A loud bleating noise erupting from deep in Corbulo’s gorge alerted Vespasian, who recognised the symptoms, to the fact that Corbulo had attempted levity. It soon passed. ‘But seriously; if that were to happen then we would have a very serious situation. Parthia would soon have access to the Euxine and a Parthian fleet in that sea threatening the Bosphorus with the possibility of breaking out into Our Sea is not something that we would wish to contemplate.’

More than that, Vespasian thought as they arrived at the court, they would also have access to the Danuvius and therefore to the heart of Europa. He stopped close to the imperial litter awaiting Claudius and admired Narcissus’ ability to construct a viable narrative out of so few facts and wondered briefly what connection Agrippina could have with Iberia, Armenia and a Parthian embassy to the trans-Danuvius.

‘And as for you, you’re a stupid old fool!’

Vespasian looked up in the direction whence the yelling came to see a lawyer hurl his stylus and wax tablets.

Claudius yelped and ducked as the missiles narrowly missed him.

‘A curse on your idiotic, cruel judgements!’ the lawyer continued with rising venom. ‘How can you admit the evidence of a woman, a common prostitute at that, against a member of the equestrian class?’ He pointed indignantly at the defendant standing in the well of the court; seated beyond him were the fifty jurists, all fellow equestrians, looking in outrage at their Emperor and the overly painted woman, dressed in the masculine toga that symbolised her profession, standing before him.

Vespasian sighed and shook his head, looking at Corbulo. ‘It’s been getting worse in the past couple of years. From all accounts
he drinks himself senseless every evening and it seems to be making him more and more erratic.’

Claudius adjusted his toga in an attempt to restore some dignity but still managed to look shambolic. ‘C-c-curse me if you like, b-b-but keep your hands off!’

‘The trouble is,’ Vespasian continued as he watched Claudius unroll and read a legal document, ‘that because he has such respect for the ways of our ancestors and the law he believes that he should run the courts as if there was still a Republic. He allows all the mud-slinging and insults and generally gets made to look a complete fool and does nothing to punish people who abuse him.’ Claudius rubbed his bloodshot eyes and then squinted at the small script. ‘During the hearings, that is,’ Vespasian added. ‘Outside the courts anyone who mocks him is liable to find themselves on a capital charge and given one more opportunity to mock him in court before being executed.’

With shaking hands, Claudius rolled up the scroll. ‘I w-w-will allow her evid-d-d-dence and I will also pronounce my judgement based upon it.’

The defence layer slammed a fist down on his desk. ‘Her testimony is even less reliable than that of the lowliest citizen, you fool.’ The scores of spectators, mostly ordinary citizens, surrounding the court took umbrage at this slur – as they saw it – on their honesty and began shouting abuse at the lawyer. Claudius again ignored the insult, handed the document to a clerk and then rummaged through a pile of scrolls and wax tablets in front of him.

‘But then he forgets his Republican sentiments,’ Vespasian continued, ‘and decides that his opinion is the only one that counts and makes unilateral decisions bypassing the jury.’

‘I find the d-d-defendant.’ Claudius paused as he scanned another scroll. ‘D-D-Didius Gaetullus, guilty of paying for services in this honest lady’s establishment with forged coinage and I advise the jury to do likewise.’

There was a huge cheer from the spectators who had taken the lawyer’s remark to heart and were now only too pleased to see a man of higher status convicted, whether it be on spurious evidence or not.

‘So whose patronage do you have to thank for this new appointment?’ Vespasian asked while the jury voted.

‘Ah!’ Corbulo looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot and lowered his voice. ‘That is the strange thing and I was hoping that, as the sitting consul, you could help me understand it.’

‘I doubt it, Corbulo, seeing as yesterday was the first time that I’d heard anything about this Armenia problem.’

‘Well, try. All the correspondence has come to me using the imperial relay system. However, even though the despatches bear the imperial seal none has been signed by Claudius or by one of his freedmen in his name, as would be normal. I questioned all the couriers and they insisted that they had received the despatches from the palace but had always been given them by a low-ranking functionary.’

‘That’s not unusual.’

‘I agree; but I’ve never received orders bearing the Emperor’s seal without his signature or one of his freedmen’s on them.’

‘So why did you believe them to be genuine?’

‘I wasn’t sure until my replacement turned up with a mandate from the Emperor.’

‘Guilty!’ the lead juror replied to Claudius’ question.

‘You see,’ Vespasian muttered, ‘they’ll condemn one of their own rather than go against the Emperor’s will; even if the evidence is suspect.’

Corbulo looked at the whore in disgust; the smile on her face was one of pure vindictive pleasure as she glared at the defendant who held his head in his hands. ‘It’s a disgrace taking her word above that of a wealthy man.’

Claudius finished writing the verdict on the relevant scroll and then addressed the court. ‘I shall now pronounce sentence. I—’

‘He’s a forger!’ someone in the crowd shouted. ‘He should have his hands cut off.’

Claudius’ head jerked a couple of times as he tried to locate the source of the suggestion.

‘It’s the way of our ancestors!’ a different voice reminded the Emperor, not untruthfully.

The defendant took his hands from his face, stared at them and then at Claudius in horror as he seemed to consider the unsolicited counsel. The horror on his face then blended with terror as Claudius began to nod, his mind evidently settled on the justice of the punishment. ‘D-D-Didius Gaetullus, I condemn you to a life without hands to prevent you from putting them to ill-use again. S-seize him and s-s-summon the executioner.’

Uproar ensued as the hapless man was secured; the spectators, scenting pain and blood, cheering the Emperor for his wisdom while the jurors made known their rage at the barbarity of the punishment on the man whom they did not have the courage to acquit.

Vespasian turned away, unwilling to watch any more. ‘So you think all this has been done without the Emperor’s knowledge?’

‘I’m not sure what to think, which is why I’ve come straight to the Forum to present myself to him before anyone else has a chance to tell him that I’m here. It’ll be interesting to see his reaction.’

‘More to the point, it’ll be interesting to see the reaction of those surrounding him. I would say that whoever feigns the biggest surprise at the sight of you is your secret patron. And if it’s who I suspect it is then I should watch my step.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s just say that you don’t want to be involved with
her
.’

Corbulo contemplated this as a heavily muscled man carrying a wooden block and a cleaver passed them, heading into the court, followed by two more men with a brazier full of red-hot coals. ‘But surely Agrippina would never dare to meddle so obviously with imperial policy. She may be the Empress but she’s still only a woman.’

‘Perhaps, but yesterday she was seated next to the Emperor on a dais of equal height and then instigated imperial policy by recommending Caratacus’ life be spared.’

‘That’s outrageous; sparing a rebel! If I’d done that in Germania, we wouldn’t receive any tribute and would be in constant fear of invasion across the Rhenus.’

‘For all Claudius’ concern about “the ways of our ancestors” he’s unable to control his wife as they did.’

There was a lull in the commotion coming from the court broken only by the pleading screams of one man.

‘I’ll not be beholden to a woman for my position,’ Corbulo asserted.

‘It’s that or quiet retirement on your estate until she’s gone; that’s the choice we all face.’

The screams abruptly stopped, silenced by the dull thump of honed iron striking solid wood; then followed a howl of agony accompanied by a low gasp of appreciation from the crowd. A few moments later the crowd gasped again but the sound did not mask the desolate wail of a man freshly deprived of both his hands.

Vespasian tried to block the pitiful noise from his mind, standing in silence with a thoughtful Corbulo as the court slowly broke up and the spectators dispersed in search of new amusement, chattering happily together about the outcome.

‘Ah! Th-th-there you are, Consul,’ Claudius called cheerily, lurching behind his lictors as they cleared a path for him towards his litter. ‘We have much to discuss.’

‘Princeps,’ Vespasian replied, acknowledging the Emperor with a slight bow of the head.

‘Princeps,’ Corbulo echoed.

‘C-C-C-Corbulo? Did I summon you too?’

‘You did, Princeps.’

‘All the way from G-G-Germania Inferior?’

‘Indeed, Princeps. You’ve replaced me there and have given me the province of Asia to govern.’

‘H-h-have I now? Well, well, that is fortuitous. Join us; you might as well hear what I have to say to Vespasian as it may well affect you if you are going to Asia. After all, Asia is almost next door to Armenia.’

‘So you see,’ Claudius said, adjusting his position amongst the copious cushions in his litter, ‘it’s of vital importance to our eastern policy and to our dealings with Parthia that Armenia remains in our sphere of influence. Should we lose it, the client kingdom of Pontus would be open to Parthian meddling or even
annexation and our provinces of Asia and Syria would both be under threat.’

He had surprised both Vespasian and Corbulo by the fluency of his speech; he had hardly stuttered at all as he explained the present crisis in the region while they progressed along the Via Sacra. His grip of the detail, however, was not a revelation to them; they were both well aware that this chaotic man had a sharp mind for facts, both legal and historical, having written many books that had been praised for their learning. It was a scholarly inner-self betrayed by the drooling, twitching, limping exterior that was compounded by his feeble wit, his blurted, inappropriate comments, his malleability in the hands of his wife and freedmen and, of course, his increasing drunkenness. Although Claudius could see through a problem, the solution, however, was normally placed in his mind by one of the schemers who parasitically sucked on his power. And this case was no exception.

‘So Pallas has suggested that the best way to counter this is to send an embassy to Armenia and I agree with him, as does the Empress. She also believes that you, Vespasian, are the most suitable man for the job: as my junior colleague in the consulship this year you will still carry much authority when you step down. That should impress these petty easterners. I had been going to give you Africa to govern, but Agrippina persuaded me a couple of days ago that your family perhaps don’t make the best administrators and that your talents would be wasted there and that I should wait to see if something more suitable came along for you. I’m so pleased she did; she must have had divine guidance as Pallas only made his suggestion this morning.’

‘Most fortuitous, Princeps,’ Vespasian lied through gritted teeth. ‘What should I aim to achieve on this embassy?’

‘Pallas is waiting to brief you at the palace.’

Vespasian was admitted without question to the freedman’s apartments on the first floor of the section of the palace built by Augustus. Pallas was waiting for him in his formal reception room: a spacious chamber decorated with statues and frescoes of
Greek mythology and furnished in a plain style with much use of polished wood and a marked absence of lavish upholstery. The sun, westering over the Circus Maximus and Aventine beyond, bathed the room with thin, winter-evening light.