Rome’s Fallen Eagle Read Online Free PDF Page A

lap came as awelcome distraction. Conversations with his wife about money were never enjoyable, especially as they always led on to the subject of his keeping a mistress. He knew it was not that Flavia was sexually jealous of Caenis but rather that she resented what she imagined he was spending on his mistress while she, his legitimate wife, felt that she was deprived of some of life’s comforts; the chief amongst which was her own house in Rome.
    ‘There, what did I tell you?’ Flavia exclaimed. ‘Elpis! Where are you?’
    A comely, middle-aged slave woman bustled into the room. ‘Yes, mistress?’
    ‘The child has been sick on the master; clean it up.’
    Vespasian stood and handed Titus over to his nurse; the lentils slopped to the floor.
    ‘Come here, you young rascal,’ Elpis cooed, taking Titus under the arms. ‘Oh, you’re the image of your father.’
    Vespasian smiled. ‘Yes, the poor little fellow will have a round face and just as large a nose.’
    ‘Let’s hope he’ll have a larger purse,’ Flavia muttered.
    A loud rapping on the front door saved Vespasian from having to respond. The attractive doorkeeper looked through the viewing slot and then immediately pulled the bolt back. Gaius dashed through the vestibule and into the atrium, his body wobbling furiously under his toga; his curls were now lank with sweat, sticking to his forehead and cheeks.
    ‘Clemens has assassinated the monster. Reckless idiot,’ Gaius boomed before pausing to catch his breath.
    Vespasian shook his head regretfully. ‘No, brave idiot; but I suppose that it was inevitable after what Caligula did to his sister. I just thought that after two years his sense of self-preservation would have re-established itself. Thank the gods that Sabinus isn’t in Rome, he would have joined him; I heard them make a pact to do it together and I would have been honour bound to help. Clemens is a dead man.’
    ‘I’m afraid so, not even Claudius would be stupid enough to let him live. He’s been taken to the Praetorian camp.’
    ‘Yes, I saw. After the madman we get the fool; how long can this go on for, Uncle?’
    ‘As long as the blood of the Caesars lasts and, I’m afraid, Claudius has it pumping around his malformed body.’
    ‘The fool was begging for his life, he didn’t realise that they were just keeping him safe until the Senate proclaimed him emperor.’
    ‘Which should be very soon. Get that sick off your tunic, dear boy; the Consuls have summoned a meeting of the Senate in one hour at the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline.’
    Progress up the Gemonian Stairs to the summit of the Capitoline Hill had been slow, clogged as they were not only with members of the Senate answering their Consuls’ call but also teams of slaves heaving many heavy strongboxes, the entire contents of the treasury, for safekeeping up to the Temple of Jupiter, the most sacred building in Rome. At the foot of the stairs, in front of the Temple of Concordia in the Forum, the entire three Urban Cohorts stood to, with orders from Cossus Cornelius Lentulus, the Urban prefect, to guard against any attempt by the Praetorian Guard to retrieve Rome’s wealth. Across from the Forum, on the Palatine, the temporary theatre stood silent, dead bodies still strewn about its empty seats.
    Eventually over four hundred senators were assembled in the dim, cavernous chamber. The business of transferring the strongboxes went on around them as the Consuls sacrificed a ram to their host deity.
    ‘This could turn nasty,’ Gaius whispered to Vespasian as Quintus Pomponius Secundus, the Senior Consul, inspected the auspices, assisted by his junior colleague, Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus. ‘If they’ve brought the treasury up here they must be thinking of defying the Guard.’
    ‘Then we should get out of here, Uncle; Claudius becoming emperor is inevitable.’
    ‘Not necessarily, dear boy; let’s listen to what people have got to say before jumping to any rash and