Valerius knew of many governors who would cheerfully have watched their people starve, and profited from it by raising the price of what little wheat was left. Instead, Vitellius had purchased grain from Rome at exorbitant prices and had it shipped over to Africa at his own expense. It had made him hugely popular among his citizenry, who had petitioned Nero to recompense him, but a laughing stock in the Imperial capital. He was still waiting for his money. ‘And now you have an Emperor’s confidence again.’
Vitellius gave him a shrewd look. ‘Perhaps you know more than I do. I have my appointment and an opportunity, that is true, but who is to say why it has been offered.’ He raised the silver cup and drank deeply, wiping his lips with the back of a plump hand. ‘My predecessor, Capito, despite his mistimed and fatal hesitation, was a man of action, which I, let us be quite open, am not. He was also a man of means, which I,’ his moon face split into a grin, ‘notwithstanding some recent good fortune, am patently not. Therefore, by our new Emperor, I am seen as harmless, perhaps ineffectual; a man more likely to shout “Bring us more wine, you lazy bastard”’ – the tavern owner laughed and added another three jugs to the table – ‘than “Let us march on Gaul”. Yet he may have mistaken me. I am not without ambition.’ He gestured to one of the aides and the man disappeared outside to return a moment later with a polished rosewood box, three feet in length and five inches across. Serpentius appeared watchfully behind him, a threatening, whip-thin presence with a curled lip who drew uneasy glances from the young aristocrats who served Vitellius. The governor laughed at their discomfiture. ‘I see you still have your Spanish wolf, Valerius. A wise decision in these uncertain times.’ He stared at the former gladiator, seeking some sign of acknowledgement, before his eyes registered recognition. ‘Didn’t you win me money when you butchered Caladus the Thracian at the old Taurus arena?’
Serpentius’s eyes narrowed and he took his time before replying. ‘If I did, you were fortunate indeed, because Caladus fought again twelve times under the name Rodan. Not every gladiator who spills his blood on the sand is a dead gladiator.’
Vitellius’s plump features twitched first to understanding, then to outrage, before he spluttered with laughter. ‘Fortunate indeed. I will remember that the next time I make a wager.’
He waved away the young aide and flipped the wooden box open. Inside was a sword that took Valerius’s breath away. The gladius was like no other he’d seen, the hilt wonderfully worked in spun gold, with precious stones decorating the scabbard and a miniature legion’s eagle on the pommel. ‘Divine Julius himself carried this sword.’ Vitellius slipped it free from the scabbard and Valerius saw the blade had been worked so skilfully that a pattern like silver smoke ran its length. ‘I have borrowed it from the Temple of Mars Ultor, where my brother is high priest. Rome has need of it, Valerius. Aulus Vitellius has need of it.’
At another time, Valerius might have smiled at this foolishness, but he could see that Vitellius was in earnest. ‘You are going to war, my friend?’
The other man shook his head. ‘No. But there is a name to be made by the man who defends the Rhenus, and perhaps takes the battle beyond it in the manner of Germanicus. If that man carries the sword of Julius Caesar, his other deficiencies might be overlooked. Leave us, please,’ he ordered the young men, ‘and make sure the cart is well provisioned.’ The aides shuffled out and Valerius nodded to Serpentius to join them. Vitellius lowered his voice. ‘Who knows,’ he said carefully. ‘If the next Emperor is an old man and it is such an onerous position, he may feel two years, perhaps three, is enough before handing the reins of power to a younger, more energetic candidate.’
Valerius stared at him. Vitellius had commanded a legion on the Danuvius and as governor of his province, but his conceit in thinking that he could follow Galba to the purple was astonishing. Yes, he was of the proper patrician stock, but if Galba dismissed men like Marcus Salvius Otho and Titus Vespasian, how likely was he to appoint as his heir a fat man who thought stealing Caesar’s sword made him a great general? But now was not the time to disabuse his friend of his ambitions.
‘Then may Fortuna favour you.’ He raised his cup. ‘What news do you have?’
A lifetime in politics had taught Vitellius the value of having a long list of contacts throughout the Empire, and now they were proving their worth. ‘You have just come from Rome, so you know of the unrest among the naval militia?’