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CHAPTER 1
It was better not to get too close to the two severed heads that hung from the rostrum in the middle of the Forum.
By now, they were no more than lumps of decomposed, rotten flesh peeling from skulls, the orbs of the eyes empty, the remaining tufts of matted hair plastered to the cranium and the lips stretched out in a grim rictus of death.
A shiver of disgust went through Gaius Cilnius Maecenas as he contemplated the awful things.
He was surprised by the small crowd that had gathered around what was left of Brutus and Cassius, two assassins of Julius Caesar who had been killed at Philippi just over a month ago. It was extraordinary that people continued to go to the forum to watch them rot after they had already been there for a week.
He turned to Octavian. "Why do you think they are attracted to these two disgusting trophies?" he asked. As he spoke, he felt a throb of pain in his side: it happened every time he spoke since he had been injured in Macedonia – and by a friend, not by the enemy.
"I was just wondering myself whether they come here on a pilgrimage out of some kind of veneration for the murderers of Caesar or whether they do it to express their contempt ..." replied Octavian, who was also unwell and still weakened by the disease that had prevented him fighting in the first battle of Philippi. Yet, he had more than made up for that in the second, fighting on the front line despite not yet having fully recovered, but the effort of it had cost him dearly over the following weeks, and he had been taken ill while they were aboard the ship returning to Italy.
"Probably both, I would imagine," remarked Agrippa, pointing to the heap of rubbish at the base of the Rostra beneath the two heads. "This stench isn't the smell of decomposition. They come here to throw stuff at them ..."
"Especially when they see that there are members of the triumvirate present," added Salvidienus Quintus Rufus, the fourth member of the brotherhood that the young heir of Caesar had been assembling for the last two years with the aim of avenging his adoptive father and succeeding him in power. Rufus indicated a plebeian who threw a stone at the two heads, then looked round at them for approval. Soon afterwards a woman with a basket of vegetables hanging from her arm copied him, then smiled at the four men who, surrounded by their bodyguards, stood off to one side observing the scene. Not content, she then began to insult what remained of Brutus and Cassius and those nearby hastened to imitate her.
"It's no coincidence that there are no senators about, then ..." commented Maecenas. "These two are martyrs to freedom, as far as many of them are concerned and they would rather not compromise themselves by coming here. Quite apart from the fact that it would be beneath their dignity to shout insults or throw fruit – if there are actually any of them who hated Brutus and Cassius enough to do so, which I doubt."
"Yes. If any of them have been here, then they've done so in disguise – perhaps dressed as commoners," mused Agrippa. "And certainly not to insult them – to honour them, perhaps ..."
"It remains to be seen just how strong this opposition in the Senate actually is. And what measures we will have to take in that regard," said Rufus, who, as always, went straight to the point. Maecenas was beginning to find it hard to tolerate the man. Just before the Battle of Philippi, the sect of Mars Ultor, which Octavian led with their assistance, had been on the verge of falling apart: rivalries, suspicions, failures and murders had compromised the mission that was the reason for the group's very existence. And then at Philippi things had gone well, mainly, it had to be admitted – in private, at least – thanks to Mark Antony, the unwitting ally of the sect who had led Caesar's armies to victory. It was thanks to that success that Octavian had been able to consolidate the group and resume his role as triumvir. There was still much to do, both in order to build the society that he and the other members of the sect desired and to finish avenging Julius Caesar and the other fallen members of his family.
"We will find that out soon enough," answered Octavian. "I won't be able to completely ignore the wishes of the senators, particularly now that I've started to requisition land to assign to the military veterans. And many of them have clientele where we will be requisitioning that land. I expect protests, but none will dare to react now that we have so clearly defeated the murderers of Caesar, though Sextus Pompey's blockade of supplies to Italy might cause some unrest. Anyway, we'll have to wait and see what Lepidus does when he discovers that the triumvirate is now only nominal and that he will have to settle for Africa. By the way, Rufus – I want you to leave right away for Spain and to install yourself there as the new proconsul before Lepidus thinks of some way of keeping it for himself."
"Spain? Now?" said Rufus resentfully. "That's hardly somewhere where I can hope to conquer anything – apart from some rebellious tribe up in the north, perhaps. I want to stay here and fight Sextus Pompey or go to some eastern province to expand our borders ... We've always said that we wanted to push forward Rome's frontiers!"
Maecenas grew angry. Rufus had had his chance against Sextus Pompey and he had thrown it away, allowing his fleet to be defeated by the son of Pompey the Great and he was certain that Octavian would not give him another chance. He decided to intervene before Caesar's heir did.
"You're an imbecile, Rufus! The expansion of our borders must be preceded by the consolidation of our power!" he snapped. "Does it really look to you as though we are firmly in control of things? There's Lepidus to deal with and several of Caesar's murderers still need to be eliminated, Sextus Pompey to stop, and Mark Antony, who thanks to the victory at Philippi is currently the most powerful man in the world. And even if he has gone off to the East, he still enjoys undisputed prestige and he is watching us closely. And you are already thinking about new conquests?"
Octavian put a hand on Maecenas's arm to restrain him.
"All in good time, Rufus," he said in a more conciliatory tone. "Spain is a land where Sextus Pompey has many supporters and I need a man I trust there to prevent him from obtaining recruits for his fleets. We have to isolate him until we are ready to tackle him again face to face. Have you forgotten what happened the last time we tried?" he concluded, a subtle reminder of Rufus's failure which provoked a shiver of gratification in Maecenas.
But Rufus showed no embarrassment. He never did, in fact. "Yes, except that now I know how to face him and to defeat him. But you want to give that opportunity to Agrippa, don't you? You always hoped that I would fail just so that you could give the job to him," he complained. "It's no coincidence that you're keeping him by your side while you're sending me away, is it?"
The Etruscan looked at Agrippa, wondering if he would intervene but the embarrassed expression on the face of Octavian's young friend confirmed what he already knew: the man was too noble of mind to rub in Rufus's defeat in the battle that Octavian had initially assigned to him. All Agrippa said in a quiet voice was, "Don't be stupid, Rufus. You are the one who has the task of greatest responsibility of all of us now."
Octavian, however, was much less delicate. "Stop constantly challenging my decisions, Rufus!" he declared loudly, attracting the attention of the nearest plebeians. "You are going to Spain and that's an end to the matter as far as you're concerned."
Rufus was about to react when a slave who was attempting to push his way through the cordon of bodyguards around three other members of the sect – the centurion Popilius Laenas, the latest addition to the Mars Ultor cult, and the two Germans Ortwin and Veleda, old lieutenants of Julius Caesar – asked loudly if he could speak to the triumvir. Octavian seemed to recognise him and waved him over.
"Caesar!" said the man, reaching out to him, "The domina Octavia asks that you go to her house! Senator Marcellus has tried to kill himself!"
The young man looked at his friends and then raised his eyes to the sky in annoyance.
"And now here is another problem which we must remedy immediately!" he said, before heading off briskly towards the home of his sister.
*
Octavian barged into the home of Octavia and Marcellus without even giving the caretaker time to announce him. He didn't know whether he should be angry or frightened. Marcellus mustn't dare die: it would be too easy an end for that traitor. No, he couldn't just die and leave them all up to their necks in problems, not after two members of Octavian's family – his fifth cousin Pedius, a member of the sect, and his mother Atia – had already met untimely ends within a few months of one another. If yet another one died, people might start suspecting that he was vulnerable and abandon him. Or they might wonder if he was particularly unfavoured and unloved by the gods, with the same result.
Marcellus had to live so he could atone for his guilt by making himself useful to Octavian and to the sect.
The guilt of having caused the death of Atia, the mother of Octavian.
He was told that his sister was in her husband's chamber, so Octavian hurried in and saw them, she beside the bed, he laying upon it, with a doctor applying a bandage to his naked abdomen.
"Will he live?" Octavian asked the doctor brusquely, neither deigning to look at Marcellus nor to speak to Octavia.
"Yes, triumvir, he will," was the reply. "It's nothing serious. The tip of the dagger has only scratched the flesh, but he has lost quite a lot of blood. All he needs is a bit of rest."
"He started screaming as soon as the knife cut his skin," said Octavia, getting to her feet, "and when I heard him I rushed in and stopped him, with the help of the slaves."
"Get out!" snapped Octavian to the doctor.
The man gave him a hesitant look and then obeyed: these days, it wasn't a good idea to ignore the orders of a triumvir.
"Why did you do it?" Octavian asked Marcellus as soon as the doctor had left.
The senator kept his eyes lowered, just as he had done since his wife's brother had entered the room.
"To avoid you doing it for me," he said eventually.
"And what makes you think that I was going to?" replied Octavian, leaning closer to him.
"It's obvious that you can't wait to get your revenge and punish me for having caused the death of your mother. I expected you to act as soon as I got back to Rome, but then I realised you wanted me to cook in my own juice for a bit, and ... and I couldn't take it any longer."
"I can vouch for what he is saying," said a glacial Octavia. "He's been living in fear even of his own shadow. The slightest noise makes him jump. He is expecting you to send an assassin any moment."
Octavian looked at them both. Yes, he would like to have Marcellus killed, or perhaps even kill him with his own hands, but he had not thought about it much since returning to Rome: as head of the triumvirate and the sect of Mars Ultor he had other priorities.
"Do you want him dead?" he asked his sister.
Octavia did not answer, but her expression remained emotionless. There was no pity in her face, no trace of the fearful, naive woman she had been before joining the sect. Her expression was eloquent: she deferred to her brother's will.
"You will live, then, Marcellus," he said finally.
Both the senator and Octavia peered at him uncomprehendingly.
"Yes, I need you alive," the young man explained, "so don't you dare die. And not simply because I don't wish to be thought of as the triumvir chosen by fate to watch all his relatives die. The harmony between you and my sister must serve as an example and an incentive so that peace may reign between the factions in Rome. Everyone knows, Marcellus, that you were not in favour of Caesar and that since his death you have been a covert supporter of his murderers. Well, if they see that you continue to be a contented part of our family, people will say that I favour peace between the various factions. And that it is possible for those who loved Caesar and those who hated him to get along."
"So you're ... you're not going to kill me?" asked Marcellus incredulously.
"Quite the contrary. I am relying on you to provide me with nephews. I cannot touch my own wife. If I were to have a child with her that would make it more difficult for me to take on Antony when our interests eventually clash once more, and I have no intention of putting up with the man forever, so when his stepdaughter is no longer of any use to me, I will rid myself of her. But I have to make sure that the family line continues and so I want you to have a child. In fact, I want you to have at least two. And I will tell you again – you must show that the most absolute harmony reigns between you."
This time it was Octavia's turn to look at him in shock.
"Are ... Are you joking? Have you forgotten that this man had our mother murdered?"
"The needs of the state require that we put the past behind us," said Octavian. "We are not ordinary people and each of us has a role to play. Yours is that of continuing our family's line."
"No. I could never do that," said Octavia, standing up and making to leave the room.
Her brother seized her by the arm.
"I said that you have to do it," he ordered with a fierce glare, enjoying the shocked, terrified expression on his sister's face. "And I want to make sure that you actually try. Do it. Now. In front of me."
*
Agrippa throbbed with the desire to make love to Fulvia. What with the war against Sextus Pompey – where he had been kept busy in Apulia while Rufus had been in Sicily – and the subsequent battle of Philippi against the murderers of Julius Caesar, it had been many months since he had indulged in those wonderful sessions of lovemaking with her. And he had missed them immensely. He had once been in love with Octavia's handmaid Etain, but Etain had left him when she had learned of his frolics with Fulvia. It had been no use trying to explain that he had only done it on Octavian's orders because she was the wife of Mark Antony and a valuable source of information. Etain hadn't fallen for that – she had understood that what he had been doing went far beyond the simple call of duty.
And now the girl was dead, killed by Quintus Labienus, who he was still hunting, and in the end Agrippa had invested all the passion that he had hitherto divided between the two women into Fulvia alone. Was it love? That was a question Agrippa often asked himself, without knowing the answer. He was aware that she was a dissolute, fierce, dangerous woman, and that his feelings were influenced by the overwhelming desire he had for her and her skills in the art of love. But since he had got used to being with the woman in private, he could no longer take pleasure with anyone else, and he had actually been bored when he had tried to give vent to his impulses during the campaign in Greece. If it was not love, then, it was certainly something much like it. He knew that she was the wife of the most powerful man in the world and that she was a woman fourteen years older than himself, but he couldn't help thinking about himself with her. Even out of bed, at this point.
Octavian had encouraged him to pursue the relationship in the past. Indeed, he had commanded him to do so, in order to be able to extract information from her – information which had, in fact, proved useful on more than one occasion. But now his friend didn't want him to see her again. He was finally on good terms with Antony and didn't want to do anything that might annoy him, therefore Agrippa had been forced to ignore her since his return and he hadn't even written to her before that.
But he couldn't take it any longer. He had to see her, touch her, smell her heady scent: Octavian would understand. Or maybe he wouldn't: his friend never seemed to feel those cravings and had even managed not to actually touch Clodia Pulchra – Fulvia's daughter, the beautiful young wife who loved him – because he needed to keep her pure.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Emperor"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Andrew Frediani.
Excerpted by permission of Andrew Frediani.
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