‘The People would join us,’ Lentulus retorted.
Plautius’ lip curled disdainfully. ‘The People! And what would they use to fight against the élite force of Rome? Eating knives and meat cleavers with baking trays for shields and stale bread for sling shots? Pah! Forget the People. Conscript Fathers, however much it offends your dignitas to hear this, I put it to you that, pragmatically, the matter is out of your hands.’
Vespasian looked around from his position at the rear of the gathering to see that the unpalatable truth in Plautius’ words was sinking in.
Plautius’ eyes hardened as he too saw that his argument had traction. ‘This is what I suggest, Conscript Fathers: that we send a delegation to the Praetorian camp to meet with Claudius. We need to ascertain whether he really wants to be our Emperor and, if he does, how he intends to rule? If he doesn’t, and he can be persuaded to refuse the Guard’s offer, whom would they accept in his stead? Because I can tell you this for sure: the Guard will not accept a return to the Republic.’
The senators were silent as the last word echoed around the chamber until it was finally lost, like the vague memory of a pleasant dream that disappears upon waking to the reality of daily existence.
‘We should leave immediately,’ Vespasian whispered in Gaius’ ear, ‘and present ourselves to Claudius.’
‘And what if the Senate persuade Claudius to step down? Where would we be then? It’s too soon to make a decision; we stay with the flock.’
Vespasian frowned, doubt clouding his thoughts. ‘At this point whatever we do is dangerous; we should take a gamble on the most likely course of events.’
‘Would you gamble with the lives of your wife and child?’
Vespasian did not need to think about the answer. ‘No.’
‘Then stay anonymous; don’t make a decision until you have all the information.’
The Senior Consul stepped forward, his demeanour now subdued. ‘I am forced to agree with the ex-Consul and suggest that we nominate a deputation representing the full dignity of this House; all Consuls and praetors, past and present, should go.’
There was a murmur of assent.
‘Very good, Consul,’ Plautius jeered, ‘and who should head this delegation?’
‘Naturally as Senior-’
‘No, not naturally at all; you’ll just be seen as a prospective candidate for the job and not impartial. This has to be led by someone who, although he has senatorial rank, is not eligible to be emperor or even consul. It must be someone whom Claudius considers to be a friend so that he won’t feel that he’s being bullied or manoeuvred. In short it cannot be anyone here present.’
Secundus looked puzzled. ‘Who then?’
‘King Herod Agrippa.’
Night had fallen by the time the Judaean King had been found and summoned before the Senate. Torches and sconces had been lit in the temple making its polished marble interior a place of dancing light, far brighter than during the day. The sedentary statue of Rome’s guardian god watched over the deliberations. If Jupiter’s stern face had been able to register emotions it might have taken on a look of contempt as it looked down on the depleted gathering. Over the last couple of hours, now that it was apparent that the Guard had the upper hand, many of the senators who had openly supported a restoration of the Republic had suddenly remembered urgent reasons to hurry to their country estates outside Rome. Vespasian and Gaius had stayed, safe in the knowledge that they had, as yet, expressed no opinion.
Herod Agrippa’s dark eyes glinted with amusement as they looked around the remaining senators from either side of a beaklike nose. ‘I’m very happy to head your delegation, Conscript Fathers; you honour me by your invitation. However, I fail to see what it can achieve.’
‘We wish to know Claudius’ mind,’ Pomponius Secundus replied testily. ‘Perhaps he would be willing to refuse the Guard’s offer of making him emperor.’
‘He tried to do that but has been persuaded otherwise.’
‘By the Guard at the points of their swords?’
‘No, Secundus, by me.’
‘You!’ Pomponius Secundus almost choked and had to slap his chest as he stared with disbelief at Herod Agrippa sitting serenely before him in his gold-embroidered, purple robe and kingly golden diadem.
‘Well, someone had to.’
‘Someone did not have to,’ the Senior Consul exploded, ‘especially you; a greasy little, eastern client king who can’t even bring himself to eat pork like any self-respecting Roman should.’
‘I think that was the final bit of information that I needed to make a decision, Uncle,’ Vespasian said out of the corner of his mouth.
Gaius nodded his head sagely. ‘I’ve just become an ardent supporter of Claudius. I always thought that he was the best man for the job, a natural leader.’
Herod Agrippa remained unruffled by this outburst. ‘This greasy little, eastern client king — who, by the way, enjoys pork very much — took it into his own hands today to save your idiotic necks because I could see that the outcome was inevitable; unlike some people. I followed Claudius to the Praetorian camp and I was there when the Guard proclaimed Claudius emperor. However, Claudius thought it unconstitutional for the Guard to elevate him to the Purple-’
Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus jumped to his feet, bursting with latent Republican indignation. ‘It’s absolutely unconstitutional, only the Senate can do that!’
Herod Agrippa smiled placidly. ‘Yes, that was Claudius’ view, even though the Guard proved otherwise by killing one emperor and replacing him with another. Claudius was very keen — insistent even — that the Senate should proclaim him emperor immediately he was taken to the camp; he wanted his elevation to have at least the appearance of it being requested by this House. He waited for hours but heard nothing from you. Instead you sat up here on treasury strongboxes, scheming and plotting — what about, he could only guess. However, he knew that one thing was for sure: the fact that you hesitated to make him emperor meant that you didn’t want him.’
‘We never said that,’ Pomponius Secundus stated flatly.
‘Don’t demean yourself by lying to me. Every word of what has been discussed up here has recently been reported to Claudius by a few senators, including one of the praetors, anxious to stress that it was nothing to do with them but, strangely, begging for his forgiveness anyway.
‘From my understanding of it the only one of you who has come out of this reasonably well is Aulus Plautius.’ Herod smiled thinly at the gathering as each man tried to remember exactly what positions he had held in the debates that afternoon. ‘Once your silence had deafened him for a few hours, Claudius decided that it might be best, for his own safety, to step down before things started to escalate into an armed confrontation. I persuaded him not to, arguing that that would be akin to signing his and all your death warrants; his freedmen agreed. So he accepted the Guard’s acclamation and showed his thanks by promising a donative of one hundred and fifty gold aurei per man.’ There were soft whistles of incredulity. ‘He now feels very safe and intends to stay as emperor. Face it, gentlemen, by your failure to take the initiative and quickly accept the inevitable you have allowed the Guard and Claudius to create a very nasty precedent: from now on the Guard can make emperors and the emperors will pay handsomely for them to do so. You’ve just lost what little power remained to you.’
Cossus Cornelius Lentulus, the Urban prefect, got to his feet. ‘I’ve heard enough, I’m taking the cohorts to swear loyalty to Claudius.’