The Art of War

Chapter 57

Rome, 18 December AD 69

Geminus

On rising that morning, I had made an oath to myself that I would remain by Vitellius’ side for as long as it took to secure his right to the throne.

I had no part in the fiasco at the forum that saw Sabinus besieged; that was a group of men who were entirely out of control of any officers, but once it had happened we had to make the best of it.

I sent orders to keep the hill only lightly secured (there was no harm in finding out who would commit to Vespasian, and allowing out those who were having second thoughts), while at the same time locking down the gates so that nobody might leave the city without our knowing it. Above all, I didn’t want either Sabinus or Domitian to reach Antonius’ troops and give them a figurehead to fight for.

I could have gone out to arrange this myself, but I was, as I’ve said, not happy to leave Vitellius’ side and he wanted to keep me close as much as I wanted to be there; Juvens, too. The pair of us flanked him wherever he went, to eat, to drink, to the latrines: we were with him at every step, every squat, every arcing stream of urine.

When, in mid-afternoon, the messenger came with details confirming Lucius’ victory over the rebels at Tarracina, we shared a moment’s celebration: a jug of wine, some small pastries warm from the oven that melted away on my tongue and left lingering bursts of anchovies and citrus. The emperor might have sent his wife and son to safety elsewhere in the city, but his cooks had stayed in the palace and were keen to prove their undying loyalty.

My Guardsmen, too, were enthusiastic in their devotion. In spite of truly filthy weather, they kept Sabinus neatly penned on the top of the Capitol. The fact that nine tenths of the senate had remained with him throughout the day was unfortunate, but not irredeemable.

Vespasian had been naming new senators month on month from his safe perch in Alexandria: in my opinion, Vitellius could just as easily do the same. In fact, he should have done so in the summer, and saved all the anguish now.

I said as much, as our celebration became our evening meal and the anchovy tarts were replaced by others tasting of syrupy peaches with a dusting of powdered almonds.

‘Lord, we must prepare for a long siege of the Capitol. Rome requires that men of valour and loyalty serve her. It might be that you list the names of men whom you trust, who could take on the burden of the senate, and-’

‘Lord!’ Drusus dragged in some bedraggled wretch by the wrist and looked likely to snap the arm to which it was attached. Actually, he looked as if he’d like to rip the boy’s head off and eat it.

Whatever instructions Lucius had left with the giant German, the events of the past days had seen this man cleave ever closer to Vitellius; his loyalty outshone the rest of the household combined.

He stopped just inside the doorway. ‘This one demands to see you. He brings this.’

He thrust his hand forward. Gold glimmered on the heft of his palm and it looked like Lucius’ ring, which wasn’t an auspicious start.

I caught Juvens’ eye, and we stepped close to Vitellius, one on either side, ready to support him if this heralded news of his brother’s death.

Given what he had brought us, I took a closer look at Drusus’ victim, who was, in fact, rather older than he had at first appeared, if not yet old enough to carry the responsibility of such a message.

Tousled blond hair framed a filthy face and eyes that didn’t quite see in the same line. His lopsided gaze fixed as best it could on Vitellius’ face and then swivelled from Juvens to me, in evident confusion. Here, where the emperor eschewed the obvious trappings of state, it was not immediately obvious who ranked over whom.

Sighing, I said, ‘Speak your business. If it is to our benefit, the emperor will hear you.’ I nodded to my left and Vitellius, reading his cue, took half a step forward. Good man. That settled the question of identity.

The youth was pressed to his knees, his head forced down. Muffled, his voice reached us. ‘I was coming north up the Appian Way when I came upon a man who had been set upon and left for dead. He begged me to bring his lord a message.’

‘Let him up.’ In the back of my mind, I had been expecting this. ‘What, exactly, did the messenger tell you to say?’

The youth rose. His face was blotched white and red with pain, his breathing fast as he rubbed his wrist. Drusus’ fingers had left bruises all round it that would be purple by nightfall.

‘I am first to show you the ring and say that a brother’s love is unsurpassed. Then I am to wait to see if you will hear the rest.’

The ring passed from the youth to Drusus to me. Beneath a patina of dried blood, it was authentic: there was no question but that this was Lucius’ ring, down to the notch in the setting that held the largest of the emeralds. I knew its weight, its look on a hand, the wounds it left on a man’s face when he was struck by it, hard, back-handed.

And the watchword was correct; Vitellius acknowledged that with a brief nod.

I caught Juvens’ eye again and we stepped away, leaving our emperor to speak to the youth with the greater authority of a man who stands alone.

Vitellius said, mildly, ‘We will hear the rest of what our brother sent to us.’

The boy closed his eyes, the better to remember his message, and like that, with his face screwed tight, said, ‘I am to tell you that, following his resounding victory at dawn in Tarracina, the lord Lucius has heard news of rebels massing at the port of Misene who wish harm upon your reign. With your permission and blessing, he goes there now, to suppress this fresh revolt.’

It had the ring of Lucius, the ostentation, the arrogance, the overly flowery language.

With a sigh, Vitellius asked, ‘Does my brother seek my permission? Or is he going anyway?’

‘My lord…?’ The youth’s eyes snapped open. One of them looked at me, one at Juvens. It was really most distracting.

He was at a loss. ‘I can say only what I was told, and that from the mouth of a dying man. He could barely speak. I heard what I could, but if it is wrong I can only-’

‘Don’t gabble, man. You did well, and shall be rewarded.’

Vitellius pulled one of his own rings from the thumb of his left hand. With that, even now, a man could have bought a fast horse, a sword, put down rent on a house and live without further work for a year.

‘Take this in gratitude… What is your name?’

‘Felix, lord. A freedman of Ostorius who owns the Inn of Five Hands.’

I had never heard of that inn, but made a mental note to track it down and talk to the landlord.

Vitellius, who was not prone to suspicion, and liked to be kind, nodded gravely, as if he knew it well. ‘Then, Felix, you are now a freedman of the emperor. If you will fight for us in the coming days, we may bring you into our service. We have use for loyal men. Or-’ A thought came to him. ‘Have you a good horse?’

Warily: ‘He is not bad, lord. He carried me here with all speed, but he belongs to-’

‘Your master. Of course. And he will be tired. Then you must apply to the stables for a fresh mount in our name. We have need of a royal messenger and you have proved yourself already. You will carry our reply to our brother at Misene in the stead of the man who died in your arms. We shall summon a scribe and have it written. In that time, Drusus will find you a new tunic in our colours, and ensure you have the best horse.’