Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy) (29 page)

Timothy watched these events with a mixture of admiration and dismay. The admiration was for the persistence, the dismay was because nothing seemed to be being built. But as Gaius told him in a tired voice one evening, if there were no solutions to certain problems, there was no point in continuing.

By now the local social elite had ceased sending Gaius invitations to events, and he was gradually becoming an outcast. His explanation was that he did not have the time, but the real reason was he did not enjoy their company. Timothy suggested that he should make peace with Flaccus, and eventually Gaius gave in. He held an evening and he put on entertainment by some Egyptians he had come across. As he expected, this was something of a novelty to some of the Romans. As he remarked bitterly, they would live in a country for years, and they might as well have stayed at home.

"They couldn't conquer everybody if they did that," Timothy remarked.

"That lot didn't conquer anything," Gaius scowled. "Getting out of bed before noon is their challenge for the day!"

"And Flaccus?"

"I was polite, he was curious."

"Curious?" Timothy asked.

"As I expected he has seen the letters with the Imperial seals," Gaius said, then added with a superior grin, "and I don't think any have been addressed to him."

"That would annoy him," Timothy agreed.

"Maybe not," Gaius shrugged. "Caesar is supposed to renew or replace appointments, and from what I gather he is doing that in a number of places, but he seems to have forgotten about Flaccus, which gives Flaccus more time to collect bribes."

"That's encouraging," Timothy muttered.

* * *

After seven months in which little news came from Rome, a further letter came from Claudius. This news was depressing. After six months of relatively benign and even enlightened rule, Little Boots had fallen ill. At first there was polite consternation for the
Princeps
, but as Little Boots became progressively more ill, members of the elite families began discussing what would happen after Little Boots died. This could bring a return to the republic, although Claudius noted with obvious disgust, most of the senators seemed to be more interested in advancing their own cause. In principle, civil war could erupt.

Then, praise the Gods, Little Boots survived. However the man that survived was not filled with joy and good will at having done so. While he was ill, two men had made public pledges. Afranius Potitus had sworn to offer his life if Caesar lived, while Atianus Secundus had offered to fight as a gladiator. Caesar was repelled by such ostentatious displays, so he calmly informed them that their offers were accepted. Potitus was wreathed as if as a sacrifice and was then pitched off the Tarpeian rock. Atianus was forced to fight, and when he won, he had to grovel for his life. Then Caesar became aware of the senatorial discussions. He was livid: there was no need for such discussions, so they must be plotting.

"But Caesar," someone protested, "there has to be someone in charge?"

"And why not Tiberius Gemellus?" Little Boots had spat back.

Now, Little Boots decided that this senator was plotting. The senator had no way of proving that he wasn't, which was hardly surprising because in truth Little Boots was as near enough to being correct as made little difference. The senator had not actually done anything, but that was largely because of sloth and fear. Had he wanted to kill Little Boots, the time to do so was when he was so ill he was not expected to survive.

So, Little Boots decided to absolutely humiliate the senator. In front of his face, some of the guard had their way with his wife, and Little Boots himself deflowered his daughters. Then he told the senator that only a massive amount of gold would save him from a fate worse than death. When he asked how much, the senator was told to guess. The senator paid an immense amount, and then was told that service in Tunisia might be a good idea. The senator went immediately.

Which brought the problem to a head. Nobody had any faith in Tiberius Gemellus, who had concentrated his efforts on some ineffective efforts at administration. At the same time Little Boots had concentrated on securing the services of the Praetorian Prefect Quintus Sutorius Macro to provide the muscle he required to further his own ambitions.

It was during this period that Little Boots invited Tiberius Gemellus for a meal worthy of his being joint
Princeps
. The boy was in poor health, and when he came to dine with Caesar, he took some cough mixture. Caesar was furious, and accused him of taking a poison antidote. Did he not trust Caesar? Caesar obviously did not think so, so he ordered Macro to kill him. Macro did so promptly.

Little Boots' arrogance had increased. His own father-in-law had offered advice on some point, to which Little Boots suggested they go for a journey to sea together. His father-in-law declined because he was a bad sailor and hated the sea, so Little Boots decided that he must have feared he would be killed. If he feared he would be killed, why, he must have a guilty conscience so he would be killed. He ordered him to commit suicide.

Little Boots now began to suspect that everybody was plotting. The problem was, his actions looked like making this true. One day Macro suggested that he . . . Little Boots was furious. How dare he, a mere guardsman, tell the
Princeps
what he should and should not do. Macro was ordered to immediately go and kill his own wife Ennia, then commit suicide. He, Claudius, suspected that this was in part because once Macro began thinking, he may well think that if he could kill one
Princeps
he could kill two. He must have been given a fairly terrible alternative, because that evening both died.

The message was clear: do not give advice to Caesar. That meant, of course, that the combined wisdom of Rome was now unavailable.

Then on top of that, Caesar's sister, Drusilla, who had provided an effective restraining force on Little Boots, had died. Little Boots now became totally distraught, and was now beyond restraint.

* * *

Gaius' social position took an even greater turn for the worse. It had all started when Timothy had been discussing something with a Greek slave. The slave's master appeared and seeing the slave talking, he brought out a whip and lashed out. The slave yelled, and was lashed again. Timothy tried to reason with the man, and was rewarded with a lash across his side. It was at this moment that Gaius came around a corner.

"Put that down, you little pail of shit!" Gaius roared imperiously.

Without thinking, the master turned, saw Gaius dressed in the rather tatty and non-descript clothing he wore when going to visit the foundry, swore something about teaching manners, then he lashed out at Gaius.

Gaius felt the searing pain across his side, then as he saw the whip come back for a repeat, he leaped back. He noticed an older man with a walking staff, so he grabbed it. "I'm just borrowing it," he muttered, then grabbing the staff he advanced on the man with the whip. As the whip came over, he dodged and managed to get the whip to wrap around the staff. Grasping the staff with both hands close to the tangled whip, he pulled with everything he had. The now furious owner lurched forward, and as he did Gaius stepped forward and kicked with everything he had at the man's groin. His kick first glanced the leg, then struck, and the rather large man gave out a dreadful scream, and lay writhing on the ground.

"You don't know who I am," the man rasped. "I'll have you flogged to death for that."

"You probably don't know who I am," Gaius replied coldly, as he drove the staff into the man's midriff, then after smashing it across the man's back he added haughtily, "You may call me Claudius. From your knees!"

There was a sudden stare of fear.

"I see you're starting to understand," Gaius muttered. "You want to flog me, you'll have to do it yourself," he spat, then brought the staff down around his victim's backside. There was a yell of pain, and Gaius struck again and again. He smashed the staff into both arms as the man cowered in terror.

"Please! I'm s sorry!"

"You'd better be!" Gaius leaned over and spat right in the man's eye. "You stay down, and whatever that was all about to start with, the man I saw you strike was also a personal friend of Tiberius. Think very carefully before you do whatever he told you not to."

With that he turned and handed back the staff, then added a couple of denarii. The older man looked at the coins, nodded thanks, and shuffled away.

Eventually the other side of this story spread amongst the Romans present in Alexandria. Beating a known bully did Gaius' reputation no harm, but having been seen dressed as little better than a foundry worker did. Even worse, word got around that Gaius personally used tools, and was behaving almost like a craftsman. This was definitely not the person to be seen with in polite society. One of Flaccus' aides suggested that the bully should appeal to the
Princeps
, and have Gaius put in his place.

As Timothy noted, the ideals of the early republic, where Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus could be taken from his farm work, made absolute dictator of the Roman forces so that he could lead the armies to defeat the enemies of Rome and save a Roman army, then give up all power to return to work on his small farm and be admired by all for it, were gone.

Gaius then refused to have any dealings with the family of that man he had beaten. Some of the other Romans began to more actively ostracise him, so he retaliated. His family was the biggest single shipper of goods to Rome, and they owned the majority of the ships coming to Egypt. By refusing to deal with such people, and by refusing access to the family ships, he made enemies, but he made a point. Oddly, he did not suffer, because there were many Egyptians and Libyans only too pleased to fill the gap.

A letter came with the Imperial seal, which Gaius again opened in anticipation, only to find that the man he had beaten had had sent a complaint to Caesar. Caesar's response was terse: 'When you see this whining piece of shit again, please thrash him more thoroughly this time'. As Gaius remarked later, he did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Another letter also came from Claudius. Little Boots was planning some quite enormous public works, which led to far more bitter disputes with the Senate, in part because the Senate were unimaginative, while Caesar's imagination sometimes seemed to be getting the better of him. In the end, the state of the Treasury tended to persuade Little Boots not to continue.

Caesar's imagination could at times be quite amusing. One day, while walking through the streets, Caesar found his toga stained by something he had encountered. A further cursory inspection suggested that the streets were not being cleaned properly.

Little Boots became furious. The
Aedile
in charge of clean streets was one Titus Flavius Vespasianus, and said Vespasianus was ordered to present himself in his best and cleanest attire at a public square. It was unclear what Vespasianus expected, but it was unlikely he expected what transpired. He was made to stand at attention in the centre of the square, while several guardsmen threw whatever filth had been prepared all over him. At the end, the victim was stinking, dripping and covered with brown. It was rather hilarious, provided you were not the victim.

On the other hand, it was remarkably efficient. Never had Claudius noted such clean streets as after this event. There was clearly method in Caesar's actions.

Chapter 24

The silence from Rome regarding his career became annoying. He had received yet a further message from Claudius to the effect that, apart from dishing out lavish spending on free corn and games to make himself more beloved by the people, Little Boots was making grand plans and few decisions. His opinion seemed to be, if Rome could run itself at the end of Tiberius' principate, there seemed to be little reason why it should not continue to do so. He had better things to think about.

Worse than that, the treasury was becoming empty, and some of the Senators began making moves that could be interpreted as better placing themselves for the period following Caesar. Little Boots' response was unattractive, to say the least: he began openly praising the policies of Tiberius. Not only that, but the copies of Tiberius' papers reappeared. Caesar had accused senators of being "satellites of Sejanus", and had returned to Tiberius' policy of encouraging informers. The trials, executions and confiscations of Tiberius' time had returned.

When Little Boots reintroduced the
prosopopoeia
of Tiberius, the Senate objected, and began to request Caesar to explain himself. The explanation was illuminating, although only to the extent of showing to where Rome had descended. He entered the Senate and, with his usual exceptional command of oratory and logic, he verbally lashed them.

"If Tiberius was in fault, you should not have decreed him honours in his lifetime, or, having done so rightly, you should not, after his death, have annulled them." Gaius gave a superior smile as he watched the Senators squirm, before he continued, "You, it was, Senators, who swelled the pride of Sejanus by your flatteries, and then you destroyed the monster you yourselves had created. You wronged your prince, you murdered his minister." He stared at the now frightened Senators and continued, "I can look for no good in your hands." He stared at the senators, challenging them to say something to his face, and when they cowered in fear, he began naming some of the older and illustrious houses of Rome, and publicly stripped them of their honours. Amongst others, the Torquati had lost the right to wear their golden collars, and the last descendant of Pompeius was forbidden to use the name "Magnus".

Little Boots seemed obsessed by religion, although in a somewhat perverse way. He built an extension of his palace towards the forum, using the temple of Castor and Pollux as a vestibule, and within it he placed a golden statue of himself, which would be dressed according to how he was dressed each day. He then enticed the richest citizens to be priests of his cult, while he accepted the generous donations. He conversed with the statue of Jupiter, apparently once ordering Jupiter to lift him up, or he would lift the statue. He flayed the actor Apelles for hesitating when asked who was the greater, Caesar or Jupiter? On the other hand, he seemed to have concluded that there were no Gods. So, somebody else thought differently? He had heard of one priest who related stories about people who had nearly died, and had seen the bright light of some afterlife. He had promptly put the priest to death by slow bleeding, and he stood over him the whole time, asking whether he saw any sign of the afterlife as he was dying. There was no sign, so there were no Gods.