“Th…th…thank you for inviting me to d…dinner, Grandmother,” Claudius struggled to say. A slave handed him an oversized chalice of wine, which he immediately drank heavily from. It was embarrassing that he was so nervous around her, but then Livia reckoned she had never been very kind to him, often berating him as a fool and an embarrassment to the family.
By the time he made his way to his couch he had already emptied the chalice and was asking for more. Livia grinned inside, for the wine she had supplied was very potent and would loosen his tongue. She needed to see if her intuition about his exaggerated afflictions was true before she let him know her intentions.
“I’m glad you made it,” Livia said after allowing for a slightly awkward silence.
“Y…y…yes,” he started to say when Livia cut him off.
“Oh stop it!” she snapped. “I know that you can speak properly, so lay off the charade already.”
“S…sorry, Grandmother. I will try to speak better.”
“I know more about you than you realize,” Livia said, leaning forward slightly. This caused Claudius to wince. “You didn’t think you could hide under the guise of a fool forever, did you?”
“N…no, Grandmother, I suppose not.” Claudius took another long pull of wine and tried to relax a bit. There was no point in playing the fool with Livia any longer.
“I wanted to also say that I know this is a trying time for you right now,” the Empress said, causing Claudius to lower his head and take another long drink of wine. “I, too, understand what it is like to lose a child.” Claudius’ son, also named Claudius, had been in his teens and was, in fact, betrothed to the daughter of the Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus, when he succumbed to a mysterious death by asphyxiation. Though the circumstances were suspicious, murder had been ruled out.
“H…he was a good lad,” Claudius replied quietly. The death of his son was but one of the trials he had been facing of late.
“Doubtless his marriage to Junilla would have been good for you as well,” Livia added. “Oh, don’t think I’m heartless. I just know that your son marrying the daughter of Sejanus would have placed you in a good position politically since my husband, as well as your uncle, has denied you in this regard.”
“Augustus did not care for my history of the civil wars that I wrote all those years ago,” Claudius said, leaning back on his couch and sampling some figs. “He apologized to me for having it disposed of, although this was many years later.”
“Your timing was terrible,” Livia replied. “While Augustus always appreciated candor, it was too soon after the civil war against Antony that you wrote possibly the most critical work ever written about him. It also served as a stark reminder to him that you are Marc Antony’s grandson. He knew your popularity with the Senate, as well as the common people, and he could not allow the possibility of them becoming sentimental and longing for the Republic to return. Most had forgotten that Antony was a traitor who had abandoned Rome in the first place.”
“I assure you, Grandmother, that my sentiments have nothing to do with my lineage,” Claudius stated.
“No, I understand you are still infatuated with that archaic system of government known as the Republic,” Livia countered. “It is all well and good. Your father was a republican at heart, as was his father. I suspect even Augustus himself longed for the days when the Senate could rule on its own. But those days are no more. Like it or not, Claudius, Rome needs a strong emperor. The Empire is too large for that squabbling mass of panderers and politicians to run effectively. I swear most of them cannot even agree on what to serve for lunch, let alone make important decisions affecting Syria or Hispania.”
“There are still good men in the Senate,” Claudius replied, allowing himself to get a touch defensive. “Last summer when my house burned down, it was Caecina Severus who demanded that the public pay for its rebuild.”
“I will grant you that Severus is among the good ones,” Livia conceded, “though he is a rare breed. He’s always had a soft spot for our family after he served with your brother in Germania.” Claudius smiled briefly at the mention of Germanicus.
“Severus’ ties run deep with our family,” the Empress continued. “He served with and mentored both your father and your uncle, back when they were young soldiers bloodying their swords for the first time.” Livia took a drink of her own wine as she let Claudius contemplate where she was leading this discussion. She then thought about her grandson. How old was he now; thirty-five perhaps? She realized that she had said more words to him in the previous hour than in all those years combined. She just hoped that her present reassessment of the lad was correct.
The awkward silence drew out until the servants brought their dinner. Claudius’ eyes brightened as he saw a large platter of spiced mushrooms placed on the table. Ignoring the bland broths and gruel his grandmother preferred, he helped himself to a huge bowl of the delectable mushrooms.
“Really, Claudius,” Livia chastised, “must you make a swine of yourself? The way you are gobbling those mushrooms will be the death of you, I’m sure.”
“Grandmother,” he said slowly, trying not to let the wine disable his thoughts. “You did not invite me over just to discuss my republican sympathies, or my eating preferences.” It was a bold statement, one which brought a smile to Livia’s face. She then produced a pair of scrolls, one of which she handed to her grandson.
“This is a prophecy, given to me by my son’s astrologer, Thrasyllus,” Livia explained. “That obnoxious rat of a man is annoyingly accurate in his predictions sometimes.”
“All this says is that a son of Germanicus will follow Tiberius to the imperial throne,” Claudius said after reading a few lines of the scroll. “There is no surprise there. After all, my nephews, Drusus and Nero, were adopted by my uncle.”
“Keep reading,” Livia replied, taking another drink from her chalice. Claudius’ eyes grew wide as he finished reading.
“But this can only refer to the youngest, Gaius Caligula!”
“Yes, vile little monster that he is,” Livia agreed. Germanicus’ youngest son, Gaius, who was known as Caligula due to his mother dressing him in legionary caligae sandals as a child, was just shy of his thirteenth birthday and already displaying his terrible qualities. His mother, Agrippina, spoiled and refused to discipline him, much to the chagrin of Claudius and all of their family friends. Claudius feared that the child was not just a mischievous brat; he felt that there was something much darker to him.
“What did my uncle say when he saw this?” Claudius asked, holding the scroll up.
“He doesn’t know,” Livia replied. “I paid Thrasyllus to keep quiet, and he knows not to cross me.” Claudius contemplated what he was reading before responding.
“But if this holds true, then my uncle still has a number of years left in power,” he said after drinking some water and trying to clear his mind. “If by then you’re dead, what difference does it make to you?”
“Because I still serve Rome,” Livia stated with an air of power in her voice. “Don’t think that because I am extremely old, and a woman, that I can’t still influence what happens in the Empire. I confess there is another reason. You know I spent the majority of my life married to Augustus. I divorced your grandfather and married him back when he was still known as Gaius Octavian and long before he came to power. He spent more than forty years as Emperor of the Roman Empire, and was deified by the Senate.