Masters of Rome

EPILOGUE

Agrippina gazed up at the slobbering fool that she took for husband; her eyes filled with a love that Vespasian knew did not exist. ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.’

Claudius recited the formulaic words with excruciating difficulty as the guests all hid their feelings behind their happiest faces. Vespasian knew that the only people truly happy at the ceremony were the bride herself, her son, Lucius, and their surreptitious supporter, Pallas. But it had been Agrippina’s triumph and it had shown on her face as she revelled in the executions that morning of the men condemned for associating too closely with Messalina and Silius. Juncus Vergilianus, Vettius Valens and a dozen others had all been executed, although Suillius Caesoninus was spared because he only ever took the passive role in Messalina’s extravagances; Plautius Lateranus had also been spared as a mark of respect for the conduct of his uncle, Aulus Plautius, in the invasion of Britannia.

And now as Claudius eventually concluded the ceremony Agrippina’s triumph was complete; she was the Empress. She took Claudius’ hands and smiled with such innocence that all who beheld her would be tempted into thinking that here was the most honest and unselfish person in Rome. ‘Come, dear husband, we should consummate our love.’

Claudius gibbered something to the affirmative.

‘But before we do you should complete our family; I will not be able to relax and be truly comfortable with you until we do.’

Claudius’ head jerked to the left a couple of times in alarm. ‘W-w-what w-w-would you have me do, little bird?’

‘I am your wife, so my son should be your son.’

‘B-b-b-but of course he is.’

‘Then give him your name.’ The steel in her voice was palpable; no one present moved.

Claudius had a blinking fit that was rounded off by a couple more jerks of his head. ‘Of course, little bird, I shall do that; he shall have my name, your father’s name and your elder brother’s name. He shall b-b-be, he s-s-shall be: Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus.’

‘And when will you adopt him?’

Narcissus stepped forward. ‘Princeps, is that a wise course-’

Claudius did not turn to face him. ‘Silence! You’ve overstepped your limit once in my family’s business, Narcissus, do not do it again. I may have given you the rank of quaestor with the right to sit in the Senate but I can no longer trust you completely, especially as you wanted me to marry someone whom I’ve already d-d-divorced once. In future when I want your advice, I sh-sh-shall ask for it.’

Vespasian could guess what the once all-powerful imperial secretary would think about being given the rank of a mere quaestor. Narcissus retreated with haste, back to where Callistus stood looking forlorn having never returned to favour after the disaster for him of Asiaticus’ hearing.

Agrippina stared at her husband’s out-of-favour freedman with cold contempt before turning to Pallas. ‘What do you think, Pallas? Is the Emperor embarking on a wise course by adopting my son?’

Pallas inclined his head a fraction. ‘Indeed, domina, all the Emperor’s decisions are wise; like his decision to marry you, for example.’

Agrippina raised her carefully plucked eyebrows. ‘But that was your idea.’

Claudius started. ‘I thought that it was Sabinus’ idea.’

‘No, my sweetest husband, Sabinus was acting under Pallas’ instructions; we have him to thank for our happiness.’

Claudius put an imperial hand on his freedman’s shoulder. ‘I am grateful indeed, Pallas, that you should have understood what would make me happy. You shall escort me to the bridal chamber once my little bird has prepared herself.’

‘An unimagined honour, Princeps.’

‘Before I do that, husband, I have one more favour to ask.’

‘Anything on your wedding day, little bird.’

‘Seeing as Lucius is to be the Emperor’s son, should he not have the best tutor that money can buy?’

‘Of course he should.’

‘Then recall Lucius Annaeus Seneca whom that bitch, Messalina, in her spite, persuaded you to banish to Corsica; only he has the intellect to educate the son of an emperor.’

‘As s-s-soon as we are man and wife in body as well as in spirit, it shall be done.’

Agrippina went up onto her toes and, leaning forward, gave her drooling new husband a passionate kiss.

Vespasian looked around the gathering of Rome’s élite; from his family only Sabinus was missing, having left for Moesia two months previously to drown his grief in work.

‘Come, Lucius, my baby darling, or Nero as I shall now call you,’ Agrippina purred to a ginger-haired boy of ten escorted by a dark-haired youth in his early teens. ‘You and Otho should escort me to the marriage chamber; I would rather a pair of lovers such as you do that for me.’

‘Mother my love, we would be delighted,’ Nero almost squealed with pleasure. ‘Will we help you undress?’

‘But of course; and then you shall both help me prepare my body.’

‘She’s breaking taboos before she’s even been married an hour,’ Gaius whispered to Vespasian. ‘I wonder if she’ll know where to stop?’

Vespasian looked over to Pallas now standing well in front of a broken-looking Narcissus and a cringing Callistus. ‘I wonder if he’ll be able to stop her.’

Gaius shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think so; and her husband certainly won’t be able to.’

Vespasian looked around the guests again and wondered if there would be anyone who would be able to curb Agrippina. Claudius shuffled at her side giving her sidelong lecherous glances; he would do anything she told him to. Nero preceded her holding Otho’s hand; when he grew up would he exert influence over her or would he always be in her thrall? Vespasian caught sight of Corvinus, who studiously ignored him, keeping up his promise to conduct himself as a dead man in his presence. Next to him stood Galba and Lucius Vitellius with his sons, young Lucius and Aulus Vitellius; would the ancient families of Rome stand for such a woman? Of course they would, she was the daughter of Germanicus, the man who should have succeeded Augustus.

Vespasian’s face tensed as he thought of the future; he put his arms on his son, Titus’, shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. At Titus’ side stood Britannicus, watching his father remarry with tears in his eyes. As Agrippina came close, Vespasian saw behind the smile she offered her new stepson a cold hatred that would not be satisfied by anything less than the child’s death. Britannicus felt it too for he grabbed Titus’ hand and tried to pull his friend close.

Vespasian held onto his son, drawing him away. To allow Titus to continue being intimate with Britannicus would mean that he too would die at the hands of Agrippina.

And that, Vespasian would not allow to happen.