‘Whore boy!’ Sabinus shouted after him.
‘This place does weird things to people,’ Magnus commented as the door slammed.
‘It’s not the place,’ Pallas said, standing over Rhoteces and showing him a knife, which quietened him down, ‘it’s the power. Absolute power will reduce anyone who holds it to a state of depravity if they are weak-willed or morally flawed.’
‘Then may the gods help us if Caligula becomes Emperor,’ Corbulo said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe that I’m helping that eventuality to come about. Perhaps we should return to the Republic where two men shared that power for one year only.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ Vespasian asserted. ‘The wealth of the Empire is concentrated in too few hands; the days of the citizen soldier who fights alongside his neighbour to defend their small plots of land are long gone.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Sabinus asked dismissively. ‘Every man in the legions is a citizen.’
‘Yes, but now it’s upside down: instead of fighting to defend his land in order to return to it after a summer of campaigning, the common legionary is fighting to gain some land after his twenty-five years’ service.’
‘What difference does that make? The army is still the army no matter what the motivation of the common legionary is.’
‘We’ve already seen what a difference it makes during the years of civil wars, from the time that Gaius Marius made the army professional until Augustus created the Empire. Do you want those days to come again?’
‘No, of course not,’ Sabinus conceded grudgingly: he didn’t like being bested by his brother, no matter how much the logic of his argument rang true. ‘So what do you suggest, brother, seeing as you seem to have been thinking about it?’
‘I have been thinking about it a lot actually; all the way down the Via Appia from Rome.’
‘Enlighten us with your wisdom then.’
‘I believe that there is a straight choice: either the Empire is ruled and held together firmly by one man; or it disintegrates as the legions in the provinces declare their support for any general who feels that his dignitas has been violated in return for him providing them with the best land available. If that were to happen then we’d either destroy ourselves completely through civil war and be overrun by Parthia from the East and the barbarian tribes from the North; or the generals would fight each other to a standstill and the Empire would break up into its constituent parts: Italia, Illyria and Greece, for example, then Gaul and Hispania, perhaps Africa, Asia and Egypt and so on — much as what happened to Alexander’s Empire. They’d all be ruled by Romans but, like Alexander’s successors, would always be fighting amongst themselves until they too would be swallowed up, in the same way that we and the Parthians gradually ate away at the Successor States.’
‘How come you know so much about history all of a sudden?’ Sabinus was incredulous.
‘Because recently, brother, instead of spending all my spare time on top of a lovely young wife, I’ve been making use of our grandmother’s and Uncle Gaius’ extensive libraries; it may not be as exhausting but it’s just as stimulating.’
Sabinus grunted.
‘But what happens when the man who’s supposed to be holding the Empire together goes mad?’ Corbulo asked. ‘As Tiberius seems to have done and Caligula almost certainly will if he inherits?’
‘Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about,’ Vespasian replied. ‘If you accept the fact that the Empire needs an Emperor then you have to ask yourself how you choose him. As much as I like Caligula, his conduct last night was disillusioning and unacceptable. His obvious inability to discern appropriate behaviour makes him the worst possible person to hand unfettered power — but he’s in line for it purely because he comes from the imperial family.’
‘So do away with the imperial family?’ Magnus suggested with a grin.
‘Do away with the idea that the Emperor is succeeded by one of his family,’ Corbulo said, nodding.
‘Exactly. Look at the choices there are left to Tiberius from within his family: Caligula, Claudius or Tiberius Gemellus; which one would you want as your master?’
‘None of them,’ Sabinus answered wearily.
‘So the Emperor should choose the best man in Rome to succeed him and adopt him as his son, for the sake of Rome not for the sake of his loyalty to his family. Then the idea of an imperial family — and the dynastic power struggles within it — would disappear for ever and, provided the right choices are made, we would be ruled by a man who can handle absolute power.’
‘That all sounds very worthy, master,’ Pallas observed, ‘but how would you persuade the imperial family to release their grip on power?’
‘That’s the problem, I don’t know,’ Vespasian admitted.
‘There’ll be another war,’ Corbulo said gloomily. ‘Rome won’t take someone like Caligula as Emperor for long.’
‘Well, if there is,’ Vespasian said hopefully, ‘whoever eventually emerges as the victor would do well to follow that policy: forget the idea of forging a dynasty and adopt the most able man as his son and heir.’
‘But what happens, master,’ Pallas asked shrewdly, ‘when by far and away the most able man in Rome is the new Emperor’s own son?’
The door opened before Vespasian could answer and Clemens walked in. ‘The Emperor has summoned you to his study,’ he said almost apologetically. ‘I’m afraid that means your presence here will no longer be secret.’
‘What proof does she have?’ Tiberius, waving Antonia’s letter, demanded the instant they were let into his spacious study by a quizzical-looking German imperial bodyguard. Caligula was sitting on a window seat with his eyes closed, enjoying the warm sun on his face, seemingly without a care in the world.
Pallas took the lead as the door closed behind them. ‘Princeps, that list is in Sejanus’ own handwriting.’
Tiberius picked up the list, looked closely at it and then threw it back down on to the marble-topped desk. ‘It may well be but it’s just a list of names, it’s not proof.’
‘Nuncle, if everyone on that list were dead then who would be Emperor?’ Caligula asked mildly without opening his eyes. ‘No one from our family, that’s for sure.’
‘But Sejanus is going to be one of our family; I gave him permission to become betrothed to Livilla, my daughter-in-law.’
‘I know, Nuncle, and you were so right to do that,’ Caligula said soothingly, ‘but perhaps it was a little bit rash. You told me yourself that you were worried about him; that’s why you sent him away to be Consul.’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ Tiberius gazed at a large pornographic picture adorning the wall between his desk and the window, as if he was reverting to the state that he had been in when he had first looked at Vespasian. ‘But I need to be sure, I need to be sure; he keeps me safe, so safe, and takes so much of the load that I bear off my shoulders.’
‘Princeps, may I speak?’ Sabinus asked nervously.
Tiberius did not respond for a few moments but then turned his rheumy eyes to Sabinus; he suddenly jolted. ‘Titus Flavius Sabinus of the Ninth Hispana, a good man. Yes, yes, speak.’
Sabinus told the Emperor of his discovery of the discrepancy in the mint and how the chests of denarii had ended up in Thracia.
Tiberius did not seem to be listening but as Sabinus petered out to what he feared was a flat ending to his story the Emperor became quite alert again.
‘So who saw this money in Thracia?’ he asked, looking around the room.
‘I did, Princeps,’ Corbulo volunteered.
Tiberius looked shocked for a moment, as if he had not noticed Corbulo before. ‘Who are you?’ he snapped. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo, Princeps,’ Corbulo replied proudly.
‘You were a praetor early on in my reign. Never made Consul, though,’ Tiberius responded.
‘That was my father, Princeps,’ Corbulo said, visibly pleased that the Emperor should know the name.