Rome's Executioner (47 page)

‘Why tell me this?’

Sejanus gave him a mirthless smile and shook his head. ‘Now put an end to it; come, Strabo, my son, we face the river together.’

‘I do so gladly in your company, Father.’

Sejanus took Strabo’s hand and they knelt on the floor; he pushed his head forward whilst his son remained upright.

‘It’s not the sword, Father.’

‘No, it’s the twister,’ Spurius said, coming forward with one of his mates. Both brandished a garrotte.

‘Lucius Aelius Sejanus and Lucius Aelius Strabo,’ Vespasian said, ‘the Senate has sentenced you both to death by strangulation; do you have anything to say?’

‘I’ve already said it,’ Sejanus said as nooses of rope were placed around his and his son’s necks.

Strabo shook his head.

‘Spurius, do your duty,’ Vespasian commanded.

The two gaolers each placed a short oaken rod into the rope nooses at the back of their victim’s necks and then twisted them around until the slack had been taken out of the ropes and they were tight, biting into their skin.

Spurius looked at his mate and nodded. Slowly and methodically they twisted the rods around, each turn tightening the garrottes. Hand in hand Sejanus and Strabo submitted to this slow death. First their eyes started to bulge and a strained gurgling sound emanated from their throats. Then their tongues protruded, waggling unnaturally far out of their drooling mouths and a pool of urine appeared about their knees. Their faces became almost purple, their heads went back with bulging eyes staring maniacally at the ceiling and lips curled up over their teeth; but they still clasped hands, their knuckles whitening. The gurgling stopped and the smell of fresh faeces filled the air. With a look of straining agony contorting their faces their hands fell away from each other, their heads lolled to one side and their bodies slumped forward, held up by the bloody garrottes now embedded in their throats. The executioners let go of the rods and the bodies fell into the pool of their own waste.

Vespasian looked down at the man who had come so close to breaking the Julio-Claudian grip on power. Their final conversation echoed around his head; why had he told him these things? How would he ever be in a position to sieze power? Then the last line from the prophecy of Amphiaraos came unbidden into his mind: ‘So to gain from the Fourth the west on the morrow.’ Was he the one who would gain? He shook his head and tore his eyes away from the man who had failed to gain the west. ‘Throw the bodies on to the stairs, Spurius,’ He turned and walked to the door.

Outside, the Vigiles, along with Magnus and his mates, were having trouble holding back the crowd from the prison door. Vespasian and the two Praetorians joined the security cordon and helped them push back the surging mob enough for Spurius and his colleagues to drag the bodies of Sejanus and Strabo unceremoniously out of the Tullianum and fling them in a contorted heap on to the Gemonium Stairs before beating a hasty retreat back into their cheerless domain.

At the sight of Sejanus’ and Strabo’s lifeless bodies the citizens of Rome roared out their pleasure and rushed towards them, each eager to be the first to desecrate the corpses. The entrance to the Tullianum was left clear.

‘I think it really is time for dinner now, sir,’ Magnus suggested again.

‘I think that you may be right, Magnus,’ Vespasian replied, breaking into a run.

They made it to the relative safety of the Senate House steps and looked back into the Forum. In amongst the chaos, elements of the ever-growing crowd had now turned their attentions to the cohort of Praetorians, with Macro at their head, who were trying to make their way out of the Forum and back to their camp. Pieces of broken statues, sticks and stones and other improvised missiles were being hurled into their ranks, felling a few of their number as the crowd vented their anger on the men who had maintained Sejanus in power for so long.

At a roared order from Macro the cohort stopped and drew their swords from beneath their togas. Macro bellowed another order and they turned outwards to face the mob on both sides of them.

Then they charged.

Showing no mercy for their fellow citizens, they cut down those nearest to them and stepped over their bodies to get at those behind. The howls of hatred and abuse from the crowd swiftly became screams of terror and pain as the mob turned and fled in all directions, with the pursuing Praetorians pitilessly cutting down those not swift enough to avoid their blades.

On the steps of the Temple of Concordia those senators brave enough to emerge watched helplessly as the massacre progressed, seeping out of the Forum Romanum into the Forum Boarium and on into the surrounding streets.

Vespasian looked over to the Gemonium Stairs, now deserted apart from the two broken bodies and a woman, Apicata, tearing at her hair and rending her clothes in furious mourning.

From beyond the House of the Vestals at the far end of the Forum came a massive roar and the sound of thousands of hobnailed sandals pounding on stone tore Vespasian’s eyes away from Apicata. A quick look at the source was enough to make him turn and run.

‘Definitely time to go,’ Magnus shouted as he and his brothers pelted after Vespasian down the steps in the direction of the Quirinal Hill.

Behind them the rest of the Praetorian Guard spilled into the Forum and fanned out across the city to exact their vengeance on and reassert their authority over the citizens of Rome.

‘H
OW’S THE HOUSE
coming along?’ Vespasian asked Sabinus as they took some afternoon refreshment of chilled wine and honeyed cakes in Gaius’ courtyard garden.

‘We should be able to move in very soon,’ Sabinus replied. ‘The sooner the better, in fact, as Clementina is pregnant again.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thank you, brother. I want her to be settled as soon as possible; you know how stressed women get when they move house.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Vespasian lied.

‘I’ve been waiting for things to quieten down, though. Now that the Senate is finally meeting again today we should see a degree of law and order return.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Vespasian replied, thinking of the violence that had recently engulfed the city.

For two days and nights Macro had allowed his men to loot and pillage Rome, before recalling them to their camp outside the city’s walls, leaving its citizens poorer and subdued but in no doubt as to who was the real power within the city.

It had taken half a dozen more days for life to get back to normal, although there had been sporadic outbursts of violence, aimed mainly at Sejanus’ supporters, whether real or imaginary. After a few more days the Senate had managed to reconvene, most of the senators having fled Rome for the safety of their country estates during the Praetorian Guard’s occupation of the city.

‘Did you get on the list of prospective quaestors for next year?’ Vespasian asked, changing the subject; he had only enquired after Sabinus’ new house out of politeness and was still in fact deeply disapproving of the way that his brother was financing it.

‘Yes, I did,’ Sabinus replied gloomily, ‘but there seems to be a candidate from every patrician family on it this time. Plebeians like us don’t stand a chance. I’ve a nasty feeling that I’m going to fail for a third time.’

They were interrupted by Gaius bursting into the garden accompanied by Aenor, who was trying to relieve him of his toga.

‘I sometimes think that my fellow senators are a bunch of brainless sheep,’ he boomed furiously. ‘Aenor, bring me a cup.’

The young German boy scurried off; Gaius plonked his ample behind down on a bench next to Sabinus and reached for a calming honeyed cake.

The brothers waited whilst their uncle devoured the tasty morsel and was served a cup of unwatered wine.

‘The idiots were debating whether to censure Macro for letting the Guard loose in the city,’ Gaius continued, thumping his half-empty cup down on the table and spilling a lot of its contents, ‘when Aulus Plautius stands up and says that rather than censuring Macro, we should be praising him for managing to restore order in such a short period of time. Short period of time, my flabby arse! Two days we were barricaded in here with murder and mayhem going on out in the streets.’ He swilled down the remainder of his wine and held his cup out for Aenor to refill whilst reaching for another cake. ‘So he proposes a motion that Macro should be voted the rank of an ex-praetor even though he is not a member of the Senate, which everybody jumps at as being an excellent idea; the house then divides and the motion is carried unanimously.’

‘Unanimously, Uncle?’ Vespasian queried as Gaius took a large bite of his cake. ‘Didn’t you vote against it seeing as it’s so infuriated you?’

‘Of course not,’ Gaius replied testily, spraying crumbs all over the table. ‘I didn’t want to be seen as the only person opposing it – that would hardly have been wise!’

‘If everyone thinks like that then it’s no surprise if the Senate votes for outrageous motions.’

‘Well, that wasn’t the most outrageous motion today,’ Gaius said. ‘I’m afraid the retribution has started and, in order to deflect attention away from himself, it’s being led by Aulus Plautius. He had three of Sejanus’ closest supporters in the Senate condemned to be thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, and as if that wasn’t bad enough he had them dragged up there immediately and threw them off personally. I’m afraid that you are going to be quite busy over the next few days, dear boy.’

Five days later Vespasian stood on the steps of the Senate House, in the warm mid-morning sun, awaiting the latest senatorial decree in the ongoing purge of Sejanus’ supporters. He and his fellow triumviri capitales had indeed been busy, as Gaius had predicted; in the last couple of days they had overseen half a dozen beheadings, four garrottings and one more unfortunate senator being hurled from the Tarpeian Rock. Over a dozen more had managed tocommit suicide before the executioners had got their hands on them, thus preventing their estates from being seized as well. None, however, had had the benefit of a proper trial in the Forum; their executions had been sanctioned by an executive order from the Senate at either the written request of the Emperor or after a motion put to the house by Aulus Plautius.

That morning another long letter from Tiberius had been read out by Regulus; Vespasian had not bothered listening at the Senate House’s open doors as he was bored with the frequent diatribes against Sejanus’ supporters with which Tiberius had been haranguing the Senate.

The noise of the ongoing debate floating out of the doors subsided and Vespasian guessed that the House was dividing. He smiled to himself at the use of that word; during the recent debates the Senate had never been divided, it had always voted unanimously for death. There were a few moments of silence then he heard Regulus pronounce the motion carried and a huge roar of agreement from the Senate.

Vespasian braced himself ready to do his duty and wondered which hapless senator Paetus would be escorting out to him and what form of execution had been decreed. To his shock and consternation Paetus came rushing out with Gaius.

‘Surely not you, Uncle?’ he called, running up the steps to meet them. How could he possibly oversee his own uncle’s execution?

‘What?’ Gaius replied momentarily confused. ‘Oh! No, dear boy, not me,’ he laughed. ‘Tiberius has just snared his biggest prey yet: Livilla.’

‘Livilla? How?’

‘The Emperor’s had proven what most people have long suspected: that Livilla poisoned her own husband, Tiberius’ son Drusus, to clear the way for Sejanus to marry her. Her physician and one of Drusus’ body slaves, who are both freedmen now, were tracked down and confirmed it under torture. I’ve been charged by the Senate to inform the Lady Antonia of her daughter’s sentence. I can’t say that I’m looking forward to the conversation.’

‘I’ve got to oversee the execution of a woman?’ Vespasian asked, not liking the idea in the slightest despite Livilla’s bloodthirsty reputation.

‘No, no, old chap, the Senate hasn’t pronounced a sentence,’ Paetus informed him cheerily, ‘you and I have just got to secure her. Out of respect for Antonia, Tiberius asked that Livilla be handed over to her; he felt it proper for the mother of the woman who murdered his son to decide the manner of her daughter’s punishment. Personally, I think that he’s been too lenient; what mother would order the execution of her own child?’

Four centuries of the Urban Cohort had surrounded Livilla’s property on the Palatine to prevent her escape, although as far as Vespasian knew news of the Senate’s decision had not yet come to her ears. He and Paetus walked up the grand set of steps leading to her front door accompanied by an Urban Cohort centurion; behind them the century that was covering the front of the house formed up. Paetus pulled a chain and a bell sounded inside.

The viewing slot opened.

‘Quaestor Publius Junius Caesennius Paetus, here to see the Lady Livilla at the request of the Emperor and the Senate,’ he said slowly and clearly.

The slot closed but the door remained shut.

‘It seems that the good lady is not too keen on seeing us,’ Paetus observed after a few moments. ‘Can’t say that I blame her. Centurion, break it down.’

‘Sir!’

At a barked order from the centurion four men came rushing forward with a small battering ram. After a half a dozen resounding thumps the door burst open; Vespasian and Paetus walked through the vestibule, followed by the centurion, into a lavish atrium. Vespasian had never seen so many gold and silver ornaments. Vases, statuettes, candelabras and bowls, all of differing sizes, were placed around on low, polished marble tables with ornate legs, again of either silver or gold; chairs and couches, upholstered in deep reds and golds, punctuated the room and echoed the colours of the frescoes that adorned its walls, depicting the bloody wars of the Titans in the days before the coming of man. Four towering black marble columns, streaked with grey, supported the ceiling at the four corners of the impluvium, in the centre of which was a huge bronze statue of Saturn castrating his father, Caelus, with a sickle.