Rome's Lost Son(129)

‘What the fuck are you finding so funny?’ Magnus asked.

Vespasian pointed at the tomb and read the inscription. ‘Valerius Messalla.’

‘So?’

‘Even from beyond the grave that harpy still gets her revenge on Narcissus for ordering her execution. Agrippina wouldn’t allow her to be buried in Augustus’ mausoleum so she was put in her family tomb. Narcissus was executed next to the last resting place of Messalina.’

Magnus blew through his teeth. ‘Sometimes you have to give the gods credit for their sense of humour.’

‘I suppose this is Pallas’ way of doing for Nero what he and Narcissus did for Claudius with the invasion of Britannia, dear boy,’ Gaius concluded as they watched the deputation from Armenia approach the raised tribunal in the Forum Romanum where the Emperor waited, seated on his curule chair, to give his first public judgement of his reign; Pallas, Seneca and Burrus all stood next to the tribunal ready to offer advice to their charge. ‘A proper invasion of Armenia, rather than the half-hearted ones we’ve had so far.’

‘It’s what Tryphaena planned,’ Vespasian agreed. ‘Except that I doubt that her nephew Radamistus has managed to cling on to power if Vologases has done what he intended.’

As the delegation of ten bearded and betrousered Armenians approached Nero, bearing rich gifts, there was a stirring in the crowd. From the opposite end of the Forum, surrounded by Vestal Virgins, came Agrippina. There was a gasp from all who could see her. Her hair was piled high upon her head and flashed and sparkled with jewels; her purple stola flowed down to her ankles and shimmered as if made of silk. But it was not these details that caused the shocked intake of breath: her palla was pure white, chalked white, and had a broad purple stripe, in imitation of a senatorial toga, and in her right hand she held a scroll as if she was about to give a speech. Behind her walked a slave with a curule chair.

‘She’s going to place herself next to the Emperor and receive the delegation as if she were a man,’ Vespasian said as the magnitude of Agrippina’s ambition became apparent.

‘Oh dear, dear boy, oh dear.’ Gaius’ jowls and chins wobbled in outrage at the thought of a woman being so forward. ‘That would be the end: women making decisions in public; unthinkable.’

Seneca and Burrus evidently held the same opinion; they called up advice to Nero as Agrippina came nearer and nearer. Pallas then joined the two advisors, giving what appeared to be a contrary opinion and, after what seemed to be a short but heated debate, he was rebuffed by the Emperor, who rose from his seat and inclined his head to Seneca and Burrus.

As Agrippina approached the tribunal, Nero descended the few steps and met her at the bottom. ‘Mother! How good of you to come and support me.’ He embraced and kissed her, making a great show of filial affection to warm the hearts of the crowd. ‘Over here would be the best place for you to watch from.’ He held her elbow in a firm grip and steered her away from the steps as Seneca indicated to the slave with the chair to place it down by him, next to the tribunal. Agrippina, with a fixed smile on her face, allowed herself to be seated with much courtesy by Burrus as Pallas stepped back, disassociating himself from the struggle for precedence. Agrippina’s eyes flashed first at her son, as he remounted the tribunal, and then at Seneca and Burrus.

‘I think Agrippina has just declared war on her son and his two advisors,’ Vespasian observed to his uncle.

‘I saw the look too, dear boy, and that’s a struggle that a woman cannot win; not even that one. I think Pallas’ days are numbered.’

Vespasian nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it really is Seneca’s time now.’

‘I’m pleased that we have finally got the chance to meet,’ a voice said as Vespasian contemplated the best way to approach Seneca.

He turned and saw a huge man now standing next to him. ‘Caratacus!’

‘I have not presumed to invite you for dinner, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, being ranked only as a mere praetor and you of consular rank.’

Vespasian took his old adversary’s proffered arm and grasped it firmly; it was as if he was clutching an oak branch. ‘I must apologise to you, Tiberius Claudius Caratacus, for neglecting to pay my respects but as I’m sure you’re aware …’

‘You have only been back for a few days and they have been eventful. It’s a sad time for us all.’

Vespasian was surprised by the statement; he could not tell whether Caratacus was referring to Claudius’ death or Nero’s ascension and decided not to respond one way or the other. ‘I’m sure we have much to talk about concerning the conquest of Britannia.’