Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] Read Online Free PDF

unofficial capacity? Neither could Valerius forget it had been the Emperor who had reinstated hisaward of the Gold Crown of Valour, the honour bestowed by Nero. Valerius had always thought of the Corona Aurea as a gaudy bauble, but he’d been strangely moved when Domitian, Vespasian’s younger son, had ordered it taken from him. Domitian had been jealous of Valerius’s relationship with Domitia Longina Corbulo and falsely accused him of charges of treason that had left him facing a death sentence. Only Domitia’s intervention had saved his life, but that intervention had lost her to him for ever.
    Would it be Syria, Parthia or the Danuvius frontier, all areas where he had previously fought and survived? Germania was another festering sore, still volatile in the aftermath of the Batavian revolt that had seen two legions wiped out and another four humiliated. Sporadic outbursts of rebellion meant eight legions had to be stationed there that could have been of greater use elsewhere.
    ‘This way.’ Mauricus led him through double doors into the familiar receiving room, with its raised golden throne and the great marble statue of Laocoon and his sons. The last time Valerius had been in this room, the then Emperor Galba had ordered him on a mission to negotiate peace with Aulus Vitellius. Before he could set out, the Praetorian Guard had butchered Galba and it was in his successor Marcus Salvius Otho’s name that Valerius eventually rode north.
    Vespasian could have no illusions about how precarious his seat on that golden throne might be. Yes, he had the support of the eastern legions, and the army Vitellius had led from Germania had been vanquished, but he still had to win over the vast majority. The Emperor had appointed Titus prefect of the Praetorian Guard, and replaced its cohorts of legionaries from Germania loyal to Vitellius with his own men. Yet there were many in the Senate with long memories and fine bloodlines who resented the rise of a man they called the Muleteer: Vespasian having been forced to sell those animals in a period of financial distress.
    ‘Gaius Valerius Verrens, Caesar.’ Mauricus announced him in a strong voice that echoed from the bare walls.
    The throne was empty and it took a moment before Valerius realizedthe Emperor was standing over a table close to the balcony that overlooked the Forum. A wooden model of central Rome covered the table top. Valerius had seen it once before, when Nero had outlined his plan to build his great Golden House on the ashes of thousands of houses in the Third and Fourth districts. The normal, unadorned toga Vespasian wore and his lack of regalia told Valerius this was to be an informal audience.
    ‘Ah, Verrens. A welcome face in a day that has not been filled with them.’
    ‘Caesar,’ Valerius bowed. Vespasian would be in his sixty-third year; stout, balding and more careworn than Valerius remembered, but still outwardly unaffected by his lofty status. He could be hard on those he considered fools, but he had been the same as a general. He could also be generous and forgiving to those he liked.
    ‘Come,’ the older man smiled. ‘We do not stand on ceremony among friends. Mauricus? Send for my son.’ The blue eyes twinkled. ‘My
elder
son.’ Vespasian was perfectly aware of the enmity between Valerius and his son Domitian. ‘While we are waiting perhaps you would like to see this.’ He beckoned Valerius over to the table. ‘You recognize it?’
    ‘Of course, Caesar.’
    ‘Cities develop.’ The Emperor nodded absently. ‘Sometimes naturally, sometimes steered by the hand of man. My predecessor Nero, for instance, before the great fire, gave orders for any street requiring rebuilding to be created around an open square to combat just such a cataclysm. In that respect, at least, he left Rome the better for his reign. The Domus Aurea, however,’ he picked up a substantial building in the centre of the model, ‘I view differently. Some would say the