‘Princeps, I have a favour to ask of you,’ Vespasian said, hoping that the approaching climax — in many ways — of Caligula’s favourite act would put him in the mood for granting requests.
‘Vespasian, my good friend, name it.’
‘I have some family business that needs to be taken care of in Egypt. Would you grant me permission to go?’
‘And lose my companion for four or five months? What would I do without you? Get someone else to do it for you, but not a senator as it’s still not safe; apparently the Phoenix has been reborn but hasn’t yet flown east.’
‘I have to go in person, and besides I couldn’t go until my term as aedile has expired at the end of this year,’ Vespasian pointed out, wondering what the Phoenix flying east had to do with senators travelling to Egypt in safety.
‘Well, we shall see, perhaps I’ll have tired of you by then and the Phoenix will have gone. Callistus!’ Caligula’s short and wiry steward, whom Vespasian recognised from his visit to Misenum, came scurrying in. ‘Once my dwarves have finished, call for Clemens and get us some dirty tunics and hooded cloaks.’ Caligula turned back to watch the inevitable, rather messy, finale. ‘I want to go drinking and whoring in the city. We could get Magnus to show us some interesting places; I want to hear what the common people, the honest people, are saying about me.’
‘It won’t be the best you’ve ever drunk here, Magnus,’ the portly tavern-keeper said, thumping down a full jug of wine onto the grimy, wine-stained table, ‘but neither will it be the worst.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be up to your normal standard of gut-rotter, Balbus,’ Magnus replied with a grin as he filled the chipped cups of his three companions.
‘Who’re yer mates? I don’t think I’ve seen them before; not that I can really see their faces.’
‘Associates from out of the city come to see the new Emperor.’
Balbus kissed his thumbnail. ‘Jupiter hold his hands over our shining star, he’s the new hope of Rome. I saw him today and he looked like a young god.’
‘Perhaps he is,’ Caligula suggested from beneath his hood.
‘He may well be, Augustus was…is. Well, you’re welcome, lads, but we prefer hoods to be down in here, if it’s all the same to you.’
Vespasian and Clemens both pulled back their hoods but Caligula made no attempt to remove his; instead he pulled a gold aureus from his purse and handed it to Balbus. ‘This should see us supplied with wine and women for a while.’
Balbus bit the coin; his eyes lit up as he realised that it was genuine. ‘Anything you want, lads, you can even have me for that and I wouldn’t care that I couldn’t see your faces and the love in your eyes.’
The rumour of gold flew around the large, low-ceilinged tavern fogged with the fumes from a cooking fire behind the amphorae-lined bar; within moments all four of them had a plump, stale-sweat-fragranced whore sitting on their lap while others hovered close by hoping to be next in line should one of the lucky first-arrivals be rejected. All around the dimly lit room there were mutterings and dark looks from men on other tables who had been deprived of their female company as they gravitated across the wine-sticky flagstone floor towards the table with money.
‘I’m not sure that flashing gold in here was a good thing, Gaius,’ Magnus observed, struggling to take a sip of wine amid the enthusiastic attentions of his new companion. They were all under strict instructions to use Caligula’s first name.
Caligula adjusted his position to allow his partner access up his tunic. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it, Magnus.’
‘And you’ve certainly got it, my lovely,’ the woman said, working her hand up his leg. ‘And in more ways than one,’ she added in surprise and admiration. ‘Venus help me! Sisters have a feel of this one; I’ve never come across the like of it.’
Caligula sat revelling in the attention that his huge erection was receiving as the women took it in turns to stroke its almost one-foot length and grasp its impressive girth, simpering at its magnitude.
‘That’s worthy of Jupiter himself,’ Vespasian’s whore exclaimed as she took her turn, ‘I can’t even close my fingers around it.’
Vespasian took the opportunity to ease the woman off his lap and look around the room; many of the already angry customers were leaving their seats and gathering in a knot, looking with malicious intent towards their table. ‘I’m not too sure that we’re going to be very welcome here for much longer,’ he muttered to Clemens next to him, nodding his head towards the menace.
Clemens looked around and then leant over to whisper in Caligula’s ear while loosening in its scabbard the gladius concealed under his cloak. Brushing away a collection of groping female hands, Caligula stood up, keeping his hood still covering his head. ‘Balbus,’ he shouted, not bothering to adjust his hitched-up tunic, ‘wine and food for everyone in the tavern.’ He reached into his purse and pulled out another couple of gold coins. ‘We will drink to the health of our new Emperor.’
A ragged cheer went up as a beaming Balbus took the coins and signalled to his slaves, who took amphorae from their holders behind the bar and began filling jugs of wine, which they placed, along with plates of bread and cooked pork, on the counter. All but a hard core of the threatening group made to help themselves, mollified, for the present, by the offer of free victuals and drink.
‘Fill my cup, Magnus,’ Caligula said, stroking the hair of a couple of the cluster of women now kneeling at his feet.
With his cup refilled, Caligula waded through the women before him and addressed the room. ‘The son of Germanicus and descendant of the god Augustus has returned to Rome as emperor! Praise him!’ Caligula downed his wine in one as cries of ‘Caligula! Our shining star!’ filled the room.
Vespasian stood and joined in the acclamation with an outward enthusiasm that concealed his inner anxiety: if Caligula remained beloved of the mob then he would be free to do whatever he pleased, and Vespasian knew only too well what pleased him.
‘You see, my friend,’ Caligula said, turning to him, his eyes, just visible under his hood, burning with pride, ‘honest people love me.’
Caligula’s gold had kept the wine flowing and Vespasian felt bleary. The tavern was now full to bursting as news of free drink filtered through the neighbourhood and scuffles had broken out as petty arguments, fuelled by excessive alcohol, ballooned into matters of great import. Knives had been drawn on a couple of occasions and bloodied victims had been thrown out into the street to fend for themselves as best they could.
Caligula had spent the time drinking steadily but that had not affected his prowess and he had satisfied numerous women as they took it in turns to ride up and down in his lap. His stamina had been impressive and Vespasian, who had allowed himself to be pleasured a couple of times, could but marvel at his ability to keep going.
Clemens had stayed alert, drinking little and refusing women, but Magnus had drunk and whored himself to a snoring heap, head slumped in a plate of cold pork with wine-stained saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth and the contents of an overturned cup dripping into his lap.
‘We should go,’ Caligula announced as another whore pulled herself off him panting deeply, ‘I’m tiring of this place.’
Relieved that the evening was finally over, Vespasian leant over the table and shook Magnus from his slumber.
‘Are we off home, then?’ Magnus asked sleepily, peeling off a slice of pork that had stuck to his cheek and taking a bite.
‘No, I’m just tired of this place,’ Caligula said, ‘take me somewhere else.’
Magnus got wearily to his feet. ‘Somewhere with a little more variety, if you take my meaning?’
‘Variety? Yes, that’s what I need.’ Caligula pushed his way into the crowd.
‘Hey lads, our goldmine’s leaving,’ an unpleasantly drunk, thuggish-looking man slurred, ‘let’s make sure he leaves us his money.’ His two mates jumped at Caligula, grabbing his arms and knocking back his hood while the drunk went for his purse.