Sword of Rome

XXXII

‘Will he do it?’ Serpentius lay back on his bed in the governor’s guest quarters with his hands clasped behind his shaved head.

‘If he were his own man, his instinct would be to come to some sort of accommodation with Otho, but …’ Valerius sighed, exhausted by the confrontation of the previous evening. ‘He is like the driver of a runaway chariot. He has his fists on the reins, but he has long since lost control of his destiny. His lead horses are making the decisions and all he can do is hang on and pray the outcome isn’t fatal.’

The Spaniard grunted acknowledgement. ‘In the kitchens they whisper of him as the Emperor of the dinner table, because the only important decision he ever makes is what he’s going to have to eat on a given day. The real power is Valens. Two months ago, during the Vindex business, he tried to bully Verginius Rufus into making a claim for the throne, but Rufus knew it could be his death warrant. When Galba made Vitellius governor of Germania Inferior, Valens must have felt he was being presented with a bull with a ring through its nose.’

‘You’ve been busy.’

Serpentius grinned. ‘So far, I’m an honoured guest. I’ve been fed and entertained and a plump, pretty slave girl from over the river pumped me for information in a way I didn’t object to at all. She seemed pleased with what I gave her, though it wasn’t information, and in return she told me the lie of the land here.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘Valens persuaded the legions upriver to hail Vitellius as Emperor and the governor had no way out. The way she told it, it was like one of those tarts who wave a perfumed veil in your face. Next thing you know, you’re flat on your back and your purse isn’t where you thought it should be.’

Valerius rose and splashed his face with water from the basin by the window overlooking a courtyard patrolled by Vitellius’s personal guard. ‘Then the answer to your question is no. He will not accept Otho’s offer, because he cannot. Valens and Caecina are the men making the running and Valens won’t stop until he’s handed the seal of the Praetorian prefect, which will as good as put his hands round Vitellius’s throat.’

‘So where does that leave us?’ The Spaniard pulled back the curtain to check no one was listening outside the doorway. ‘If we’re doing no good here, we should get out while there’s still time. My little plump partridge showed me a passage to the slave quarters and I hear that not every soldier on the Rhenus likes the way things are going.’

A weary smile flickered across Valerius’s scarred features. ‘You may go with my blessing, but this is a game of power; the kind of game I used to play on campaign with Corbulo. Otho already has very few pieces on the board and it would be against my oath to deprive him of even one. I think there may still some good to be achieved here. What was that you said about soldiers?’

Serpentius scowled, disgusted that Valerius would even suggest he might desert him. ‘About two dozen men and four centurions of the Twenty-second up at Moguntiacum objected when the young pup Caecina ordered them to pull down Galba’s statues. They’re being held in chains and the word is that their tent mates aren’t too happy about it.’

Valerius nodded thoughtfully. ‘That might be useful to know …’

A servant’s face appeared in the doorway. ‘Gaius Valerius Varens, the Emperor wishes you to join him to break your fast.’

Vitellius was in the room they had occupied the previous night, already feasting on an array of fruits and meats and spooning honeyed porridge from a wide bowl. His eyes were puffy, but whether that was from the wine he’d consumed or lack of sleep wasn’t apparent. He looked up when Valerius entered.

‘Forgive me, Valerius, but I find that thinking gives a man an appetite.’ He waved ringed fingers in an invitation to begin and returned to his plate. Valerius picked at the food, knowing he should eat more — who knew how this day would end? — but his stomach was churning as in the moments before an attack. When Vitellius was done, the household slaves cleared the bowls from the table.

In the long silence that followed, the German Emperor played with a great jewelled ring on the middle finger of his right hand while he contemplated Valerius with baleful grey eyes that contained no hint of his thoughts. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head.

‘You have caused me a deal of trouble, Gaius Valerius Verrens.’

‘Only because I wished to save you from more, and worse.’

Vitellius nodded slowly, the great jowls wobbling in rhythm with his movements. ‘I apologize for my harsh words of yesterday. It says much for our friendship that you and your Spanish wolf were prepared to come here, even if your mission was a misdirected one.’ Valerius started to protest, but the other man raised a hand. ‘Hear me out, before you say what you must. Last night I mentioned that other lives were at stake, and that is true. I have set events in motion … no, let us be entirely truthful … the gods have set events in motion, of which they have placed me at the heart, and over which I have no power and little control. You were right to bring me word of what has taken place in my name. It is an unworthy Emperor who begins his reign with massacre and rapine, and I will do what I can to make amends for what has happened and to ensure such things do not occur again.’ Vitellius paused and Valerius saw what might have been a hint of regret in the deep-set eyes. He remembered a time in Africa when this man had wept over the bodies of starving children and wondered how it had come to this. Vitellius nodded as if he too was remembering those times, but both men knew there was no going back now.

‘Marcus Salvius Otho’s terms are generous, and you may thank him for me. I have a message for him in return, but first I must explain to an old friend why I cannot accept them. Yesterday we spoke of honesty and loyalty. Most men look at Aulus Vitellius and see a fat man whose only ambition is to get fatter. When they look at Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Imperator, Emperor of Rome, they will see a fat man whose only ambition is to get rich. But you know better, Valerius. When I said our ambitions for Rome were the same, I spoke the truth. A strong Rome, a prosperous Rome, a Rome untainted by the stain of corruption.’ A shadow crossed his eyes and Valerius knew he was thinking of his two lieutenants, but it quickly passed. ‘I hope and pray that you see your own honour and loyalty mirrored in the fat man who stands before you.’ His lips twitched in a sad half-smile. ‘You see, I become poetic in my emotion. Seneca would never have approved. Still,’ he levered his enormous frame to its feet, ‘I will stand. I owe my loyalty to the men who hailed me Imperator on the field outside Moguntiacum. The men who now march on Rome in my name. In all honour, I could never desert them. There was never any possibility that I would turn back, even if I could. I hope you see that now.’

Valerius nodded, unable to speak for the duck egg that seemed to have lodged in his throat. Vitellius waddled to a cabinet set by the wall and stooped awkwardly to open it, and Valerius’s heart sank at the sight of the polished rosewood box. Vitellius smiled when he saw his guest’s reaction. ‘Yes, Divine Caesar’s sword. A sword unsullied and untarnished. A symbol, if you like, of the Rome we both wish to see. In a month five cohorts of the Twentieth Valeria Victrix will arrive from Britannia to join me. One of Rome’s most feared legions, I hope you will agree?’ Of course Valerius agreed; how could he not? He had served in the Twentieth as a beardless tribune. It had been the men of the Twentieth who formed the fearsome wedges which smashed into the great mass of Boudicca’s army, and the men of the Twentieth who led the slaughter that followed. Their reputation was well earned, and Valerius had watched them earn it from Suetonius Paulinus’s side. He didn’t realize that Vitellius was still speaking until he heard his own name mentioned. He looked up to find the other man’s eyes on him and his hand on the hilt of Julius Caesar’s sword.

‘I said that, unfortunately, the Twentieth’s commander’s loyalties are less certain than his men’s. He has decided to stay in Deva to await events. Since those events are likely to be fatal to his career, the Twentieth will soon be in need of a new legate. I can think of no better man to lead them than Gaius Valerius Verrens, Hero of Rome.’ For a moment Valerius’s head seemed to be filled with thunder. He saw an eagle glittering proudly above an avenue of polished helmets. His eagle. Glory and fame awaited the man who led the Twentieth. It was already a formidable instrument of war; how much greater an instrument could it be in his hands. A gladius at the heart of Rome’s enemies. Her shield against those who would harm her. The spear point of her military power.

‘I cannot.’ The words almost stuck in his throat, but they had to be said.

Vitellius continued as if they hadn’t been spoken. ‘All you need to do to make it so is to place your hand over mine and make the oath to Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Imperator.’

Valerius looked down at the plump fingers on the jewelled hilt and remembered another man’s hand on another sword. That man had died because he refused to visit all this on Rome, and had he still lived Aulus Vitellius would never have dared lift a sword against his Emperor. A Corbulo does not have the luxury of choice … only duty.

‘I cannot,’ he repeated. It was said with regret, even sorrow, but there was also a savage conviction in the younger man’s voice that made Vitellius blink. ‘I have already given my oath to one Emperor. As long as he lives, I will abide by it.’

Vitellius’s eyes half closed and in that second Valerius thought he detected a hint of unsheathed iron in the hidden depths, but it was gone before he could be certain. An expression of pained regret twisted the German Emperor’s features and he withdrew his hand from Caesar’s sword.

‘A pity.’ He sighed. ‘With you at my side it would all have been different.’

The hurt was painful to witness and for the first time Valerius realized how much Vitellius had invested in his offer. With a true soldier like Valerius at his side, he could have cast off the chains forged by Valens and Caecina. With an ally he could trust and a legion in capable hands, he would have had the power to rule Rome as it should be ruled. Valerius felt like a man tied between two horses being whipped in opposite directions. Had he placed pride and honour above his duty to Rome? He had given his oath to a man who had taken Rome by force; a man so degraded he had allowed his wife to be used by Nero to ensure his political advancement. Did that man deserve to be Emperor? He felt Vitellius’s eyes on him. All he had to do was place his hand on the sword and repeat the words and he would have his legion. Their time in Africa had proved that Vitellius was a good administrator and a good man. Given the right support, he could be a good Emperor. His hand edged towards the spun gold of the sword hilt. But he could not free himself of Corbulo’s reproving stare and now it was Otho’s words that rang in his head. An honest man, who is sometimes too honest for his own good. A man whose loyalty to his Emperor is not in question.

No.

He stood up. ‘I am sorry.’

Vitellius cast off his disappointment with a shrug and replaced it with a mask of geniality. ‘Very well.’ He nodded. ‘It is your right. I will provide you and your servant with horses and a pass that will allow you transit through my armies without hindrance. I said I had a message for Otho, and you can do me a service by delivering it. Tell him I must regretfully decline his offer, but I will make him one of my own. There is only one rightful Emperor of Rome. If he relinquishes his claim to the purple, gives up command of the Praetorian Guard and hands over the keys of state to the representatives of Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Imperator, he may retire to Sardinia and live the rest of his life without fear.’ He reached across the table and in a show of genuine affection took Valerius’s left hand in both of his. ‘I must ask you to leave without delay, Valerius, for once it becomes known that you have been here it could place us both in danger. We must say goodbye now, but know this. Whatever has happened, and whatever will happen, does not affect our relationship. You will always be able to call Aulus Vitellius friend.’

The words, so unexpected and so welcome, made something grow in Valerius’s chest. He drew himself up to his full height and rapped his walnut fist to his left breast in a salute fit for an Emperor of Rome. As he walked from the room he felt a wellspring of pity for his old friend and wondered if he would ever see him alive again.

If he had stayed, he would have seen Vitellius ring a small bell to summon Asiaticus. While he waited, he picked up the ornate gladius. Divine Caesar had never shirked difficult decisions. A shuffle of feet announced the former slave’s arrival, but Vitellius didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

‘Send me Claudius Victor.’