Regulus took the floor. ‘Conscript Fathers, it now only remains for the two Consuls to speak before I call a vote. I call Consul Trio.’
Trio rose slowly to his feet and walked unhurriedly into the centre of the Temple. He had the look of a beaten but unbowed man determined to pursue the only course of action left open to him.
‘Conscript Fathers, we have over the centuries witnessed many a man who has for one reason or another exceeded himself.’ His voice was slow and flat; there were angry growls from the senators as they immediately saw that this was the beginning of a filibuster. ‘Coriolanus, Gaius Marius, Sulla, Tarquinius Superbus, Appius Claudius
… ’
The list went on and on and Vespasian, like the senators, began to worry that he would talk until sundown at which time the debate would be talked out and no vote could be taken.
‘It is time to consider what manner of a man is Sejanus,’ Trio continued, having named scores of ambitious historical figures and being forced to raise his voice against the growing clamour of his furious colleagues. ‘Is he the sort of man who-’ A stool hit him full in the face, gashing his right cheek and almost felling him. He stood back erect with blood flowing on to his toga and opened his mouth to speak again; before he could get another word out he went down under a sustained salvo of brutally hurled stools and was forced to crawl from the floor and seek shelter behind his curule chair.
‘Thank you for your opinion, Consul,’ Regulus said, nodding to his bloodied and bruised colleague as if nothing was amiss. ‘I too demand death. The house will now divide, those in favour to my right, those against to my left, on this motion: That this house would condemn Lucius Aelius Sejanus to death by strangulation and that his name be expunged.’
There was almost a stampede as the senators all struggled not to be seen to be the last man standing on the left. Within a few moments the only man not to Regulus’ right was Trio, who was still cowering behind his chair; he gingerly poked his head up and looked around to see that he had been utterly defeated.
‘I declare,’ Regulus called out, ‘that the motion is-’ He stopped mid-sentence with his mouth open, staring through the doors, past Vespasian and out into the Forum.
Vespasian spun around to follow his gaze; fifty paces away, resplendent in blazing white togas, scything through the panicking crowd with ease and heading directly for the Temple of Concordia, marched a cohort of the Praetorian Guard.
CHAPTER XX
‘Me and the lads are down here, sir,’ Magnus’ voice called from the crowd. Vespasian turned to see his friend, at the bottom of the steps to the side of the temple, surrounded by his crossroads brothers, all bearing cudgels and staffs. Behind them the Gemonium Stairs rose up the Capitoline. ‘I think that it may be time for dinner, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian paused and looked with concern towards the central steps; the front rank of the cohort’s first century had just begun to mount them with Macro at their head. Had Macro been unable to persuade the Guard to change allegiances and therefore changed sides himself to save his own life? Vespasian did not know but reckoned he would be safer surrounded by Magnus and the brothers. He turned to withdraw.
‘Triumvir capitalis!’ Macro roared. ‘Come here or I’ll have my men cut you down.’
With no chance of escape Vespasian did as he had been ordered. Macro clamped a massive hand on his shoulder and propelled him forward into the temple.
Inside the senators stood aghast as the Praetorians clattered in and, on a command, came to an abrupt halt.
‘What is the meaning of this, tribune?’ Regulus barked as Macro walked forward, leaving Vespasian next to the front rank of the century.
‘Have you taken your vote, Consul?’ Macro growled.
‘We have.’
‘And what was the outcome?’
‘I was just about to announce it when you so disrespectfully interrupted me.’
‘Well, I suggest that you announce it now, Consul.’
All the senators huddled together fearing that they had just made the wrong decision. Trio came out from behind his chair looking triumphant.
Regulus swallowed. ‘The motion before the house was: that this house would condemn Lucius Aelius Sejanus to death by strangulation and that his name be expunged.’ He paused and looked at Macro nervously. ‘And I declare that the motion is carried,’ he said in a thin voice.
There was silence all around the chamber as the senators awaited Macro’s reaction. No one moved.
Macro slowly clapped his hands together three times. ‘I congratulate you, Conscript Fathers, for once you have made the right decision.’
The senators exhaled with relief.
Trio’s face fell.
‘I’m pleased that you should think so, tribune,’ Regulus said.
‘You will address me as prefect from now on, Consul; I have a warrant from the Emperor appointing me prefect of the Praetorian Guard,’ Macro said, brandishing two scrolls. ‘I also have a request from the Emperor demanding the same punishment that you have voted Sejanus for this man. Bring him forward, centurion.’
The Praetorian centurion pulled a young man out from the middle of the century; his hands were manacled. He held his head high and had a proud, contemptuous look on his square-jawed face.
‘Who is he, prefect?’ Regulus demanded.
‘He is Sejanus’ eldest son, Strabo. The Emperor is sparing the two younger children.’
‘What is the charge?’
‘That he is a traitor’s son.’
‘We can’t just condemn him for his family ties; that would be going back to the excesses of the civil wars.’
‘You will do as the Emperor wishes if you want this matter to rest, Consul. If you don’t I will see to it that the Emperor understands exactly why the Guard was forced to execute Strabo and not the State.’
‘You leave us no choice then,’ Regulus said, drawing himself up. ‘The motion before the senate is: that Strabo, the eldest son of Sejanus, should share his father’s fate. Those in favour stand to the right of me, those against, to the left.’
The senators remained where they were; only Trio moved, realising that he could perhaps regain some favour with the Emperor if he joined the rest of the Senate on Regulus’ right.
‘I declare the motion carried,’ Regulus said sorrowfully.
To Vespasian’s surprise the Praetorian century cheered; the cheers rippled down its ranks and out to the rest of the cohort outside ‘
‘Summon one of the triumviri capitales,’ Regulus called over the growing tumult as the news of the Senate’s decision spread from the Praetorians to the massive crowd in the Forum.
‘I found one lurking outside,’ Macro informed him. ‘Vespasian, step forward.’
Vespasian joined Macro in front of Regulus. ‘I’m Titus Flavius Vespasianus, Consul, one of the triumviri capitales.’
‘I charge you to do the will of the Senate of Rome, triumvir,’ Regulus said formally. ‘Take this man to the Tullianum and oversee his immediate execution by strangulation and that of his father, Lucius Aelius Sejanus. The bodies are to be exposed on the Gemonium Stairs.’
Vespasian led Strabo, guarded by two Praetorians, out through the temple doors and left down the steps. The noise was deafening; the huge crowd had begun angrily tearing down the many statues of Sejanus set about the Forum and the surrounding area. Fights had broken out and blood began to flow as citizens turned on men suspected of being part of Sejanus’ large network of informers and stooges.
Magnus and his brothers shielded Vespasian from the mob as he crossed the Gemonium Stairs towards the entrance of the Tullianum, just the other side, guarded by the Vigiles.
‘Strabo! Strabo, my son,’ a woman’s voice shrieked from close by, ‘what are they doing to you?’
Vespasian turned to see a desperate-looking woman, with tears streaming down her face, holding her arms towards his prisoner in supplication.