‘An excellent suggestion. I will see that it is done.’
Vitellius nodded his dismissal and Valens rose to his feet. He bowed and was making his way to the door when he appeared to have an afterthought.
‘We agreed that I could be candid. You have a lineage as distinguished as any man in Rome. As governor of Germania Inferior, four legions are at your disposal; probably the most powerful unified command in the Empire. Those legions have no taste for our new Emperor and that is unlikely to change. The three legions of Germania Superior are of a similar mind. None of these legions have yet sworn an oath to Servius Sulpicius Galba. They are the keys to Rome for any man with the courage to grasp them.’
With a curt nod the legate marched from the room. Despite the chill air, Vitellius felt the sweat running from his hairline and down his cheeks. Candid, indeed, and no afterthought. Valens had thought through each and every word. He had sought no response, thank the gods. This was just a planting of a seed. What to do? Have one of his legates arrested within a week of arriving in Colonia? It was unthinkable that Valens would not have foreseen the possibility, and the man who had hacked the head from Fonteius Capito would have no hesitation in doing the same to Aulus Vitellius. On the other hand, Valens would not have made the approach unless he had the support, or at least the approval, of the other legates in Germania Inferior, and perhaps those at Moguntiacum.
Was it possible?
Galba was old and weak. Would his soldiers even fight for him? In any case, the legions of the Rhenus frontier outnumbered those in Italia by at least two to one. It was possible. But only if a man had the courage to take what was offered. He reached for the polished rosewood box that held Julius Caesar’s sword, but it was as if his hands refused to obey his mind. His fingers came within an inch of wood, but they would go no further.
A sign?
He took a step back and drew in a huge breath to calm his racing heart.
To accept was to risk everything. To refuse was unthinkable.
Very well. He would do what Aulus Vitellius did best.
He would do nothing.
XV
Rome
Valerius watched the predictions Otho had made about Galba in the aftermath of the Milvian massacre come true one by one. Not content with repudiating the thirty thousand sesterces a man Nymphidius had promised to the Praetorian Guard if they delivered Rome, the Emperor decided he no longer had need of the German cavalry of the Imperial Guard. The Batavians and Tungrians were paid off and sent home humiliated, where their tales of Galba’s perfidy would further inflame the Rhenus legions against him. The Guard accepted the loss of a fortune with a lack of protest that made Valerius uneasy, but Galba decided was a vindication of his unyielding rule. In the Senate, Nero’s former favourites had no choice but to accept their impoverishment in the knowledge that the alternative was the loss of their lives and those of their families.
‘In his own way he is as mad as Nero,’ Otho’s lips twisted into a bitter half-smile. ‘He will listen to no one but Titus Vinius and Cornelius Laco. He has handed the consulship to Vinius, and Laco is to command the Praetorians. The two most worthless creatures in the Empire are made the most powerful.’
Valerius had never seen him so disheartened. Since he had arrived in Rome, the former governor of Lusitania had worked tirelessly to extend his influence and rebuild relationships with the senators he had offended during his time as Nero’s companion in dissipation and debauchery. Serpentius, who had ways of finding out things he had no right to know, said there were rumours of tens of thousands of sesterces changing hands.
‘They say he has pushed himself to the financial limit to reward his new friends,’ the Spaniard said. ‘And that he has many friends. When he dined with the Emperor last week, they were attended by a double century of Praetorians and it was Otho who gave them a gift of a hundred sesterces each.’
‘The Emperor still keeps you close,’ Valerius pointed out to Otho. ‘He has given Vinius and Laco the power they have because he knows they will do nothing to stand in his way. He will not make a degenerate and a known thief his heir, or a man who cannot make up his mind whether or not to rise in the morning. If not you, who?’
‘A hundred others.’ Otho’s voice betrayed his frustration. ‘Power and position for all … all except Marcus Salvius Otho. He keeps me close because he does not trust me and so he can lecture me on morals. Apparently, the stories he has heard about my time with Nero offend him. He invites me to deny them, but what is the point when his spies can confirm them, along with a dozen others? Was the man never young?’
Valerius smiled. ‘You are wrong, Marcus. All of Rome talks of you as the next Emperor. He will name his heir soon and that heir will be you.’