I had made a habit of meeting with Vitellius twice a day to ‘confirm his orders for the defence of the city’, under which fiction I told him what I had done, and why, and the emperor duly issued retrospective orders that gave me the cover of authority.
That morning, a letter had arrived from Trabo telling us of the latest calamities in the north. Yes, I know now that it wasn’t from Trabo, it was some agent of Pantera’s leading us a dance, but then we believed it was him and took everything he wrote at face value.
My consolation is that he was telling us the truth. They had no need to tell us anything false; the gods were against us anyway.
I read the letter aloud to Vitellius, and also to his mother, Augusta Sextilia, who had taken on the role of backbone for Vitellius. From the moment Lucius left, she had been in the audience room, reclining on a couch, listening, asking questions, making sharp, acerbic observations that left Vitellius wilting.
I hated her as much as I did Lucius. She was slight and thin, with her hair pulled tight and high on the top of her head, so that it stretched the skin of her face around her skull and gave her the air of one long dead, who walked under the light of a bloody moon.
Her unpainted eyes were Lucius’ eyes and her mind was Lucius’ mind. I never met her husband, but a son doesn’t grow to be a vicious bastard or a kindly, self-indulgent bumbler without moulding himself on someone and the obvious conclusion is that Lucius took after their mother while Vitellius took after the father. It was hard to know whom to pity the more and safest to show it to neither.
At my most formal, I read aloud from Trabo’s letter.
‘The advanced detachment of Antonius Primus’ force is camped at Carsulae, ten miles north of Juvens’ entrenchments. Already there have been some victories. The general Petilius Cerialis arrived recently and wished to show his devotion. He was tasked with clearing the town of Interamna, five miles to our west, and closer, therefore, to Juvens. He took a company of horse and routed the men loyal to your majesty.
‘I regret to inform you that most of the men capitulated when he offered them terms, and that of those who did not, some were soundly beaten while a small number were allowed to escape and sent in panicked flight to Narnia, where their tales of massed assault reduced morale further amongst their brethren. Interamna is now held in Vespasian’s name.
‘ Following this success, Antonius’ forces caught the scent of victory, and, knowing how close their enemy lay, they demanded the right to assault them forthwith; after all, they were the best, the fittest, the hardest, and what worked in Cremona must work for them again now. On my oath, I believe they would have marched out under their centurions, so fixed were they on victory, so fired by the promise of unrestricted looting, of hostages taken and fat ransoms paid.
‘ Only Antonius Primus himself had the authority to stop them. He gave the speech of his life, saying that no sane man could ever impugn their courage or capability, but they were the future Praetorian Guard, and it fell on them to protect Rome now, as much as they would do later.
‘ The men argued, saying that the enemy had not shown any sign of surrender, but he answered that Juvens’ men were holding out only in the belief that Valens had escaped and was, even now, bringing up legions loyal to Vitellius from Gaul and Britain.
‘ Some of the men asked if this was true: had Valens truly escaped? Antonius Primus said it was not, and that he would prove it, on which Valens himself was brought before them in full command dress, and made to speak aloud his name, and to answer whatever questions they might have, to prove that he was who they claimed.
‘ Thus did Antonius Primus disperse his men and avert calamity. They settled, and waited for the main body of the legions to catch up with them. How he plans similarly to convince Juvens’ men that Valens is in custody without giving them the opportunity to free him and use him as a figurehead for counter-rebellion is not yet clear. But the men are alert, ready for war, and are contemplating the coming Saturnalia with great inventiveness. I am, as ever, the emperor’s servant in all things. Trabo.
‘That’s all.’ I re-rolled the paper. ‘Juvens’ men will hold out. They don’t need Valens to know their duty.’
‘Of course.’
Rising, the emperor reached for the letter and paced the room, reading it inwardly. He was a good reader; his mouth barely moved as he spoke the words to himself. Here, in his chosen audience room, he looked grander than anywhere else.
He was dressed in white, with the imperial purple over his shoulder. The circle of baldness on the crown of his head had expanded from three to four fingers across and the hair at the edges was spread through with white, like a roan horse, with the result that, in certain light, it seemed as if his head was glowing.
By chance, he was standing in this light now, a picture of regal solemnity, haloed in sunlight, when, unheralded, the vast German masseur appeared in the doorway.
Since Lucius’ departure, Drusus had become Vitellius’ de facto steward and personal guard. I suspected he was also Lucius’ personal spy, but dared not say so.
‘Lord?’ He looked agitated. He carried another man’s sword. In his hand, it looked like a toy.
Vitellius regarded him fondly. Who would not feel safer with someone of Drusus’ proportions at his shoulder? ‘Yes?’
‘Lord.’ Drusus bowed. His voice was a deep, chest-churning growl. ‘General Juvens wishes to be admitted with all haste.’
‘ Juvens? Here? Why?’ Even Vitellius, with his infantile understanding of strategy, knew that Juvens would not have been there if his men had won; not, at least, without sending word back to Rome first. ‘What’s happened?’
Behind us, I felt the lady empress Sextilia rise from her couch. It seemed likely she was about to speak. Swiftly, I said, ‘Perhaps we may have Juvens admitted, and ask him ourselves?’
Vitellius flashed me a look of undiluted gratitude. ‘Of course. Send him in.’
Drusus bowed himself out.
And so we saw him, in all his misery. My friend, the bright, cheerful, playboy Juvens, was gone. In his place was this grey-faced officer, who fell to his knees at the emperor’s feet.
‘Juvens, rise, man. You don’t need to kneel here.’
The emperor was a kind man; nobody has ever said otherwise. With his own hand, he raised Juvens up, which was when we all noticed the bag, more of a sack, really, he was holding. A faint sweet-vomit stench of decay hung about it that made my skin crawl.
I said, ‘Tell us quickly. It won’t get better by stepping around it.’
‘Have you a plate? A bowl?’
With no forethought, I swept the olives from a silver dish on the nearby table and thrust it at him.
‘Here.’
A month ago, Juvens would have raised his brow just barely and we’d have shared a private joke about the emperor’s silver olive bowls. The Juvens of now took it without looking, knelt once more, and solemnly opened the neck of his sack.
‘Antonius Primus ordered him killed,’ he said, ‘to prove to my men that he was dead, that he wasn’t coming with legions from Gaul to save them. That was when we lost.’
‘Killed whom?’
For a dizzying moment, I thought Lucius was dead, but Lucius wasn’t in Gaul and nobody had ever thought he might be. Valens, though
… Valens, whom Antonius Primus had paraded before his own troops, but couldn’t parade before the enemy, in case they mounted an attack and freed him…
Juvens nodded, as if I had said the name aloud. ‘They sent us his head while it was still warm. His eyes were still open. We thought he might speak to us.’
His voice was breaking. He rolled the contents of his sack on to the platter, where, by obliging chance, the neck sat in the depths of the bowl and the face stared up at us: Valens. Dead these three days, by the look of him.
Vitellius was sick.
Drusus, the giant German, whipped a vessel of sorts — a vase? I don’t know — in front of his emperor just as Vitellius heaved out a great, rancid arc of vomit. Drusus caught it deftly, and handed his lord a dampened, rose-scented towel with which to wipe his lips, his sweating brow, his hands.