‘Pallas said that he was meant to be nominating Marcellus to go, not blocking him,’ Vespasian hissed out of the corner of his mouth. ‘What’s he doing?’
‘Building up his part, is my guess,’ Gaius muttered back. ‘He hasn’t had any preferment since you had Pallas save his life after Messalina’s death; Agrippina still can’t forgive him for being the harpy’s brother.’
‘Ah! But if he comes with the request from the Senate she might; is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
Corvinus opened his arms to the House. ‘So whom should we choose, Conscript Fathers?’
As Corvinus shamelessly beseeched the House, Vespasian regarded his old enemy, recounting the wrongs that he had done to him and his family; and then, as the senators began to call on Corvinus to deign to accept the task, one detail, one small memory of what Sabinus had told him about Corvinus, years ago, caught his attention. ‘Quick, Uncle; nominate me.’
Gaius looked at him, surprised.
‘Now!’
With a shrug, Gaius got to his feet. ‘Consul!’
‘Gaius Vespasius Pollo has the floor.’
Gaius waddled out into the middle as Corvinus glared at him. ‘Senator Corvinus has made an excellent point and we should be grateful to him for his perception. However, I do not judge him to be quite the right man for the job. I believe that we have one amongst us who would be ideally suited to such a task. A man who is, unlike Corvinus, of consular rank; but more than that: a man who has not been present in the city for almost three years and so therefore can be said to be removed from all the arguments and politics that have dominated the issue of the succession recently. I propose Titus Flavius Vespasianus.’
As the proposal was seconded by Paetus and a vote was called and passed, almost unanimously, Vespasian felt Corvinus’ eyes boring into him and the malice that they conveyed; he was, most certainly, breaking his oath to conduct himself as a dead man in Vespasian’s presence. However, that did not surprise him as, if he had guessed correctly, it was not the first time that Corvinus had broken that oath.
CHAPTER XX
NERO LEANT ON Otho’s arm, trying to draw breath; he threw his head back, his sunset locks flowing with the motion, as he pinched his temples with the thumb and ring-finger of one hand. Eventually he inhaled, gasping, and Vespasian wondered how much longer the Prince of the Youth would be able to keep up this show of overwhelmed surprise.
Vespasian glanced around the atrium of the Praetorian prefect’s quarters in the Guard’s camp, outside the Viminal Gate. Agrippina, Pallas, Seneca and Burrus waited patiently as if such a ghastly display of overacting, which would put even the most melodramatic actor to shame, was a normal way to react to something totally expected; however, none of them would meet Vespasian’s eye.
‘I must compose my speech.’ Nero’s voice, husky at the best of times, was gravelled with emotion.
Seneca stepped forward and pulled a scroll from the fold of his toga. ‘Princeps, you already have.’
Both Nero’s hands came up, his thumbs touching the tips of his middle fingers, delight now upon his face. ‘Ah! So I have.’
Seneca handed the document over. ‘I’m sure it’s a masterwork, Princeps.’
‘It is, it is,’ Nero affirmed as he read through it.
‘Your skill with words is unsurpassed.’
‘Apart from musical talent; and if I were to put the two together …’ Nero looked up to the ceiling, his eyes wistful, and then returned his attention to the scroll.
All stood in silence as Nero finished perusing the speech. ‘I shall answer the Senate’s call and come at once, Senator Vespasian.’
‘You honour us, Princeps.’
‘But what to wear? What to wear, Mother?’
Agrippina smiled at her son, reaching out and stroking the ginger down on his cheeks. ‘Your steward has a selection of suitable attire ready for your inspection in your rooms.’
‘Mother, you think of everything.’ Nero kissed her on the lips and then grabbed Otho’s arm again. ‘Come, Otho, you shall help me decide; I mustn’t keep the Senate waiting.’
Vespasian watched the chosen Emperor almost skip from the room and wondered just for how long his antics would be tolerated; but he surmised that the innate sycophancy of the senatorial and equestrian classes would mean that his behaviour would have to deteriorate to the levels of Caligula before the whisperings would start. He then got a taste of what was to come as Agrippina turned to Burrus and, with a cold smile on her lips and malice in her dark eyes said, in almost a purr, ‘Send a turma of Praetorian cavalry to bring Narcissus back to Rome.’ As Burrus saluted and turned to go she added, ‘And remove Callistus from his position as secretary to the Law Courts; on a permanent basis.’