The Art of War

Chapter 69

Rome, 20 December AD 69

Geminus

The burning of the temple was bad enough. We were all heart-sick at the sight of the blaze on the hill, smelling smoke in the air, tasting ash on everything we ate, wondering if the empire was coming to an end because of it.

Then Juvens came back in the dark time before dawn and brought with him news of Sabinus’ appalling death and it seemed an omen too far: if the prefect of Rome could be slaughtered by a group of Guards running out of control, against the explicit order of their commanding officer, then truly the world had changed beyond all understanding.

I waited until after Vitellius had broken his fast to tell him.

He took it badly, as you’d expect. He also understood the extent to which his own life was even more precarious now: no chance of abdicating when his men had just slaughtered his rival’s brother.

‘We need to stop Antonius Primus.’ He was pacing up and down the small audience room that had become his study, his dining room and his conference chamber, although he only conferred with me, Juvens and Drusus now. ‘We need to take the heat out of this, for the sake of Rome. Who can we send to Antonius Primus? Who will he listen to? Not you,’ he said to me and Juvens before we could answer. ‘I need you here.’

‘The Vestals?’ I offered. ‘No one will touch them, and it would not be the first time they’ve sued for peace in the name of Rome.’

He stared at me, frowning, with a look unnervingly like one Lucius might have given. Then he broke into a broad smile.

‘Brilliant!’ He clapped my shoulder. ‘Arrange it in my name.’

He was direct now, succinct; the man he could have been if his mother and brother had not spent fifty years telling him how weak he was. ‘And find Vespasian’s kin; Caenis and the boy, Domitian. They’ll be in the city somewhere, I feel it in my water. With Sabinus gone, they’re our best chance of getting out of here alive.’