As Claudius passed, wreathed in a mist of wine fumes, Vespasian’s eye caught that of Narcissus as he followed his patron up the steps next to Pallas. The Greek showed a rare hint of surprise as he registered that the man whom he had sent out East to investigate his suspicions about the Parthian embassy was indeed back in Rome and had failed to inform him of the fact.
‘Senator?’ Narcissus crooned as he paused next to Vespasian. ‘You will, of course, come and see me at your earliest convenience?’
‘Of course, imperial secretary,’ Vespasian replied, unable to envisage a time of any convenience.
Narcissus nodded and then hobbled on after Claudius as the senators crowded up the steps in his wake, talking loudly of their eagerness to hear the Emperor’s speech while thinking quietly about how they were going to stay awake during what was normally an hour or two of eye-wateringly pedantic tedium.
‘The auspices from the sacrifice are good for the business of Rome. The Senate calls on our beloved Emperor, Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, to address the House,’ the Junior Consul, Marcus Asinius Marcellus, declaimed, standing next to the seated Claudius; behind him, in what was an outrage that had now become so commonplace that nobody remarked on it any more, sat Pallas and Narcissus.
‘I’m g-g-grateful, Conshul,’ Claudius said, remaining in his curule chair and unrolling what looked to be an unusually thick scroll; even the most ardent sycophants’ morale plummeted at the sight of it, for a long, stuttering speech from Claudius was not for the faint-hearted, especially when he was so obviously drunk. ‘C-c-consh-script Fathers, I am here t-t-t-to speak t-t-t-to you on the shub-b-bject of inheritansh.’
Vespasian kept his most attentive expression activated as his mind began to filter out the stream of legal precedent, rambling pedantry and patronisingly self-satisfied references to the ways of the ancestors, punctuated only by brief pauses for dabbing at the excess drool issuing from both corners of his mouth and the constant stream of slimy mucus oozing from his left nostril.
Vespasian’s eyes roved the four rows of senators, sitting on their folding stools on the opposite side of the Curia. There were more than a few new faces as a result of Claudius’ perpetual tinkering with the senatorial rolls but there were many whom he recognised: Sabinus’ son-in-law, Lucius Junius Paetus, was seated next to Vespasian’s former thick-stripe military tribune in the II Augusta, Gaius Licinius Mucianus; both men inclined their heads towards him as they became aware of his gaze. That they should be sitting together was no surprise to Vespasian; what was surprising was who was sitting on Paetus’ other side: Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus, the brother of the late Empress Messalina. Corvinus assiduously kept his eyes away from Vespasian; his old enemy was still keeping his promise to conduct himself as a dead man in Vespasian’s presence in return for Vespasian saving his life during the downfall of his sister. Vespasian, murmuring agreement and nodding in time with the rest of the Senate as they endured Claudius’ speech, wondered what could have possibly brought two senators, both indebted to him, so close to his sworn enemy. One thing was sure: a man was judged by whom he sat next to in the Senate. As he contemplated the question his eye wandered to another unlikely threesome: Servius Sulpicius Galba seated between the two Vitellius brothers, Lucius and Aulus. Aulus acknowledged Vespasian with studied noncommittal written on his face; their paths had first crossed on Capreae when Aulus’ father had pandered his son to Tiberius who much prized him for his oral favours. There was no sign of the svelte young teenager now; Aulus had run to fat in the last few years, as had his brother Lucius. Galba just stared straight ahead into the middle distance, his gaunt, patrician face struggling to conceal the disgust that he evidently felt at the ancient institution of the Senate being addressed by a stuttering and slavering fool.
Any thoughts about what Galba was doing seated with the Vitellii were pushed from Vespasian’s mind a moment later when his gaze alighted on the man responsible for his two-year exclusion from the human race: Paelignus. The runt of a procurator almost yelped in surprise as their eyes met; Paelignus evidently had no idea that Vespasian was alive, let alone back in Rome, and the way his eyes flicked around the chamber, as if looking for the nearest exit, brought a smile to Vespasian’s face. He nodded at him politely, the smile becoming toothy, and wagged his forefinger at him a couple of times, as if admonishing a naughty child. He was going to enjoy this, Vespasian decided; he would make him suffer before he killed him.
A communal gasp of shock jerked Vespasian back to the matter of Claudius’ speech. Claudius had paused and the few in his audience who had been paying some sort of attention were staring at him with unbelieving countenances while the majority of the Senate were trying to ascertain from neighbours the cause of the astonishment.
Vespasian turned to Gaius, next to him. ‘What did he say, Uncle?’
‘I’ve no idea, dear boy, but one look at the expressions of Pallas and Narcissus should be enough to tell you who has gained from whatever it was.’
Narcissus had the closest Vespasian had ever seen to a smirk on one corner of his mouth, whereas Pallas’ right eye was twitching irregularly.
‘However, I shall g-g-g-go further than that,’ Claudius went on. ‘I p-p-publicly thank my adopted son, Nero, for being pr-pr-prepared to shoulder the responshibilities of my office had I been called to the F-f-f-ferryman; but now ash my natural son, Britannicush, approaches the time when he shall take the toga virilish, Nero has no need to worry himself about taking on the onerous tasks of the Pr-pr-pr-princeps. I release him from that duty with my gratitude and I know that as my adopted son and son-in-law he will support Britannicus when the time comes and be a shoulder of strength for him to lean on.’
Claudius paused again, no doubt thinking that there should be some acknowledgement of the fair and just sentiments that he had expressed. However, there was nothing but a low mumbling as men checked with their neighbours that they had heard correctly.
‘I think the time is coming very, very soon,’ Gaius muttered.
Vespasian just stared at the fool on the curule chair as he continued to hasten his own death by an ill-judged, drunken speech; Gaius had not exaggerated Claudius’ mental decline.
‘That b-b-b-being the case, I feel that it would be right of me to d-divorce my wife, Agrippina, and replace her with someone lessh partial to also act as a guide for Britannicus after I am gone, so I would ask you, C-c-c-consh-script Fathers, to put your minds to thinking of a suitable candidate; someone of high birth, with intelligence, feminine skills and b-b-beauty would pleashe me.’
‘I can almost hear the sound of Agrippina mixing her potions,’ Vespasian whispered.
‘This must be the longest suicide note in history,’ Gaius ventured, staring with barely concealed incredulity at Claudius.
‘I would also ask you, C-c-conscript Fathers, to conshider what rewards should be voted Nero and Agrippina for their service to the Empire; b-b-bronze statues in the Forum, perhaps? Or maybe a gift of land in one of the provinces; perhaps both. I leave it to you. In the meantime, until Britannicush’s fourteenth birthday, you should treat Nero as my heir and honour him as you would honour me. Conscript Fathers, I thank you all for your k-k-kind attention and look forward to hearing the results of your d-deliberations.’ With that he rolled up his scroll and looked around the Senate as if he was expecting thunderous applause for one of the most dexterous and far-sighted pieces of politics ever announced in the ancient chamber.
All that met him was utter and silent astonishment.
And then one senator, less dumbfounded than all the rest, slowly began to clap and then stopped suddenly, realising that to show support for Claudius’ announcement was to invite a death sentence from Nero who would now surely be emperor, if not in a matter of hours then certainly within the next couple of days.