Authors: Douglas Jackson
‘Sir,’ Mucianus stepped forward urgently, ‘may I respectfully advise …’
‘You may not,’ Domitianus snapped. ‘I will have his life.’
Mucianus continued to whisper to Vespasian’s son, and Primus attempted to join the conversation, but Domitianus waved him away.
Strong hands pushed Valerius to his knees and he raised his head to see the bull-shouldered executioner walking towards him, a long cavalry
spatha
twirling expertly in his right hand. He recognized the brick-red peasant face of the man who had been within a heartbeat of removing his head four months earlier in a grassy Pannonian field. The soldier’s face split in a wry grin and he shook his head. ‘You should have run, son, and just kept running,’ he whispered.
‘Just make it quick,’ Valerius said.
‘You know the drill, lad. Head up and keep it still. Makes it easier on both of us.’
Valerius did as he was instructed, the wall of faces on the far side of the Forum a flesh-coloured blur. As a hush fell over the sacred space he took a final breath.
In the pause before the blow fell he was distracted by a slight movement at the corner of his eye. A wall of white entered his vision, moving from left to right, and his astonished eyes registered a procession of Vestal Virgins from the Temple of Vesta a few dozen paces up the Via Sacra. One face stood out at the centre of the little group and his heart stopped as he realized he was looking at Domitia Longina Corbulo. Domitia stared directly ahead, acknowledging neither the crowd nor the man kneeling in the centre of the square. Suddenly he knew.
‘Strike,’ he hissed at the legionary. He tensed for the stroke, but it never came.
‘Strike,’ he repeated, loud enough for every man to hear.
But the executioner was looking to Titus Flavius Domitianus for the signal, and Domitianus only had eyes for Domitia Longina Corbulo, who detached herself from the procession and serenely approached the platform, where a space miraculously appeared at his side. Their heads bowed together and Valerius watched in despair as a one-sided discussion took place. Eventually, Domitianus nodded gravely and stood, his face a picture of bewilderment.
‘I have taken the advice of my generals. The sentence is commuted to exile.’ He blinked and his eyes focused on Valerius. ‘You will leave Rome within twelve hours and never set foot on the soil of Italia again … on pain of death.’
Valerius bowed his head and understood for the first time that there were worse fates than death.
‘You should not have come here.’
The bitterness in Valerius’s voice was like a knife through Domitia’s heart, but to betray it would only have increased the pain for them both. Somehow, she managed to remain composed and apparently unmoved. ‘Do not judge me, Valerius. I did what had to be done.’
‘Your duty?’ He spat the word as if it were a curse. She had arrived at the room where he had stayed before his capture as he was packing a leather bag for a journey that did not yet have a destination. Curtains covered the windows and the darkness was like a cloak between them, which was a blessing because it meant they did not have to look into each other’s eyes.
‘Not my duty,’ she said without bitterness. ‘What was right. Would you deny me the right to make a sacrifice to save the man I loved?’
Now it was his turn to feel the sting of the blade and she heard the agony of it in his voice. ‘I would rather have died.’
‘Yes,’ she said carefully. ‘I understand that, but ask yourself how Domitia Longina Corbulo could have lived if she had left you to your fate when she had the means to alter it.’
‘I should kill him.’
‘And have my sacrifice mean nothing?’ She shook her head at his naivety. When she had made her decision it had felt like a death sentence, but once it was taken she realized she had the capacity to live with it. How many women of her class had the luxury of choice? ‘Have I misjudged you so, Valerius? The man I love is brave and honourable and kind. He is not a fool who voluntarily throws himself to the wolf for no purpose. It is what Domitianus wants you to do, and you would die for nothing. I have given him my vow, and I will not break my word. You have often said I am my father’s daughter. Would you expect me to dishonour his shade?’
Valerius fought for words, but he knew nothing he said would change what was. When the silence became unbearable, it was Domitia who spoke.
‘Where will you go?’
‘I don’t …’ He swallowed. ‘To Titus, I think, if he will have me. If he does not want me, or if my presence threatens his position, then east; a sword for hire.’
‘Better with Titus,’ she nodded. ‘I will send Serpentius after you when he has recovered.’
At first he thought he’d misheard her. ‘Serpentius?’
‘He was hit by a club from behind as he tried to save little Lucius.’ Her eyes misted over as she remembered the moment, her heart in her mouth for Serpentius, the awful flood of blood from the pale flesh of the child’s throat. His mother’s screams. ‘Serpentius is not invincible after all, Valerius. Neither are you. You may find him …’ she searched for the proper word, ‘changed. Since he woke it is as if he sees the world differently.’
Valerius sighed. Of course, the boy’s fate had been certain from the moment Vitellius had named him his heir. But Serpentius? ‘I thought he was dead.’ His voice sounded very tired. ‘Better then to send him back to his homeland. The gods know there is no more honour in riding with Gaius Valerius Verrens, enemy of Rome. If you could find a way to …’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I will ensure he has the means, and more. It is the least I owe him.’ Valerius finished packing the bag and straightened, meeting her eyes for the first time. She realized that Serpentius was not the only one who had changed. ‘I will try to make sure that your property passes to Olivia,’ she continued, ‘and that the villa is rebuilt.’ She saw his bemusement. ‘It was burned. Deserters from one army or the other. She is safe, but a few of your people were killed.’
A bell tolled somewhere nearby.
‘I will …’
‘You should …’
Their words emerged simultaneously and faded in the same instant. She stepped forward into his arms and he held her, breathing in the fresh sweetness of her hair, trying to imprint every nuance of it on his memory. He felt dampness on his unshaven cheek and tasted salt on his lips. For a time it seemed neither could find the will to break the embrace, but eventually Domitia pushed herself away.
‘You must go.’ She turned away to the window.
He nodded. What else was there to say? He picked up the bag and walked to the doorway, hesitating as she spoke again. ‘He has pledged to leave you in peace, but he will send them after you.’
Them. Assassins: backstabbers and poisoners.
‘I will be ready for them.’
A soft current of air brushed the back of her neck.
‘Valerius …’ She turned back, not ready to let him go despite her entreaty. But where he’d stood was only darkness.
The downfall of Otho at First Bedriacum in
AD
69 would have marked the end of the civil war known as the Year of the Four Emperors, but for the ambition of Titus Flavius Vespasian, proconsul of Egypt and commander of the eastern legions. How long Aulus Vitellius would have lasted as Emperor is anyone’s guess given his own character and that of his two foremost generals, Fabius Valens and Aulus Caecina Alienus, both of whom probably had their eyes on the purple. It’s possible he would have survived thanks to the unswerving loyalty of the German legions who had placed him in power, but Vespasian’s intervention ensured the question never arose.
Like his predecessor, Vitellius’s short time in office seems to disprove his reputation. Suetonius represents him as a slothful glutton, but Tacitus, who was more contemporary, is a little more reasoned in his criticism. Revealingly, he says that Vitellius’s most important edicts, the curbing of centurions’ abuses of power and the expansion of the major Imperial offices beyond a small pool of privileged freedmen, were adopted by successive emperors. The Emperor also managed to keep the population happy and fed at a time when Vespasian had halted grain shipments from Egypt and Africa.
But one thing is clear; Vitellius was no general. When Vespasian’s Moesian and Pannonian legions advanced on Italy he stayed in Rome or in one of his villas nearby, leaving the conduct of the fighting to Valens and Caecina. It was a big mistake. Caecina betrayed him at the first opportunity and would have gifted his legions to Vespasian but for the loyalty of his senior officers to their Emperor. Valens, sick and apparently having lost his appetite for the fight, wandered aimlessly until he was scooped up by Vespasian’s loyalists.
Vespasian also avoided the front line, preferring to stay in Egypt, but for different reasons. It’s suggested that he wanted the bloodshed kept to a minimum so that he could enter Rome in triumph as a protector as well as victor, and he might well have done so if Marcus Antonius Primus, commander of the Balkan legions, had obeyed orders and waited for reinforcements. But Primus was a man in a hurry. He’d been exiled for fraud under Nero and now he had the opportunity to resurrect his political career and wipe out the stain on his character. Instead of waiting for reinforcements from the Syrian legions he decided to attack Italy and moved on Cremona over the same ground that had been saturated in blood nine months earlier. Barely able to control his men and drawn into a battle he didn’t want, he was forced to fight a night action which could have ended in disaster. Fortunately for Primus, without Valens and Caecina the Vitellian legions were more or less leaderless and he was able to fight his way through and take Cremona. However, the city paid the price for its support of the enemy in an orgy of blood, rapine and fire that probably cost Primus any chances of future advancement under the wrathful Vespasian.
Vitellius, now without an army, was still in Rome as the legions approached. It’s clear he wanted to give up the purple and save the lives of himself and his family, but his Praetorian Guard of German veterans thwarted an attempt to broker a peace with Vespasian’s brother Sabinus, who was still in the city. Sabinus attempted to take refuge on the Capitol with his nephew, the future Emperor Domitian, and a group of allies, but the Praetorians flushed them out and the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus burned to the ground. Domitian survived, but when Vespasian’s vengeful soldiers marched into Rome Vitellius was dragged from the Domus Aurea and butchered. Vespasian was Emperor and the Flavian dynasty had begun.
But what of Gaius Valerius Verrens? Disgraced and hunted, he must seek out the only friend he has left, the Emperor’s elder son, Titus, and attempt to regain his honour against the Judaean rebels who are determined to be the Scourge of Rome.