“It’s the new magistrate that vexes you,” Edeline stated, rather than asked. “What is he going to do to our people?”
“I don’t know,” Tabbo replied. “What I do know is that it will not be what King Adel envisioned when he agreed to the treaty proposed by Drusus Nero all those years ago. This man, Olennius, is evil. He wants to hurt our people, I can see it in his face. He is filled with nothing but contempt. I would pity him if not for the suffering I know he will bring. And for what? To line his own pockets, no doubt!”
His wife closed her eyes and held onto his shoulders. She was afraid, and Tabbo felt guilty for upsetting her.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he said as he took her hand in his. “I should not let one pompous fool unnerve me so. After all, he is just a minor magistrate and we are an allied province to Rome. What is the worst he can do?”
Chapter VIII: The House of Pontius Pilate
The Praetorian Guard Headquarters, Rome
May, 26 A.D.
It had been more than five years since Pontius Pilate had left the Rhine legions. Aside from a year-long stint in the east with the Twelfth Legion, he had spent his entire time in Rome with the Praetorians. It had been a good assignment, though he felt many of the Emperor’s guard were rather stuffy and full of themselves. He had much to get done this day and most of it involved tedious paperwork. He sat back in his chair and sighed. Damn but he missed his life with the legions!
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.
“Come!” he called, pretending to be working once more. It was one of his aides. In truth, Pilate liked the young man, even if he was an upper-class snob. But then, that is what the Praetorians had become. What had once been considered the elite of the Roman army and a place for well deserving legionaries, political appointments and personal favors by Senators had left but a fraction of the Praetorians as coming from the ranks. Still, the young man who worked for him was very effective. He seemed to know what Pilate was thinking most of the time and was able to organize tasks by priorities, which the Deputy Prefect would think well.
“Sir, there are a few pieces of mail from the post for you,” the Praetorian said as he sifted through the bag he carried. “A few personal letters…oh and this order from the Emperor regarding his vacation to Capri.” The young man paused as he held the scroll, whose wax seal bore the mark of the Julio-Claudians.
“What is it?” Pilate asked, reading the consternation on the Praetorian’s face.
“I’ve just been wondering about this little trip we are taking the Emperor on…I mean, there are rumors and such…”
“Such as?” Pilate folded his arms across his chest as his aide looked at the floor briefly. He hated it when rumors started floating about. They were usually wrong, and even the ones that were true caused unnecessary disruption amongst the troops. He had lambasted the Cohort Commanders already about this several times before.
“Well, sir…is it true that this is not just a mere holiday for the Emperor? Is it true that he may not be coming back to Rome at all?”
The slight twitch of Pilate’s face gave the young man his answer, though the Deputy Prefect’s official answer was more vague.
“That is not for us to decide,” Pilate replied curtly. “The Emperor’s business is his own. We simply provide a safe and secure environment for him to rule the Empire from.” He then stood and took the letters from the Praetorian, whose face suddenly brightened up.
“Oh, there was one more thing, sir,” he said quickly, reaching into his belt pouch. “Got this from your soon to be father-in-law. I didn’t stick it in with the rest of the post, lest it get lost. He told me he wants to hear from you by this evening.”
Pilate took the short note, paused, and nodded. The Praetorian gave a quick salute and abruptly left.
Though the order from the Emperor was of much greater importance, Pilate set it unopened on the table with the rest of the post, sighed, and broke the seal on the note from Proculeius. No doubt he wanted to discuss Claudia’s dowry. Pilate had been avoiding the topic for some time. The Proculeius family were indeed very wealthy, though not well connected politically, hence the value of the match for Claudia’s father. He owned two enormous mansions on Palatine Hill and no doubt wanted to use one of them as the dowry. This was fine by Pilate, except for the fact that his father-in-law would be his next door neighbor and a constant burden on him. He sat down and started to read when the door swung open and Sejanus strolled in.
“Pilate, old man!” the Praetorian Prefect said in his usually loud voice. “I stopped by to see if certain dispatches had arrived yet…ah, here we go!” He recognized the imperial seal on the one scroll and reached for it. “What’s this? It’s still sealed! You haven’t even read the order from the Emperor yet?”
“I’m sorry, Sejanus,” Pilate replied. He had been taken so completely aback at the interruption by his superior and patron, that he found his mind racing. “The post just arrived a few minutes ago, and I got a bit distracted.”
“Nonsense!” Sejanus retorted. “Nothing takes priority over a message from the divine Tiberius Caesar. What’s this then?” He snatched the note from Pilate, his face breaking into a broad grin. “Oh yes! I forgot that my deputy is getting married in the near future. Well, no harm then. Hmm, it is late in the day, and I think you should probably run along and see Proculeius.”
“What of our dispatches and other work?” Pilate asked, but Sejanus waved it away.
“I’ll take care of these. Besides, you’ve been buried in paperwork for days now. You’re working too much. One would think you didn’t care to see the sun anymore! Anyway, get the hell out of here. Report back by first watch tomorrow. We will have much to do regarding the Emperor’s relocation then.”
As soon as Pilate left, Sejanus’ face turned dark, his cheerful demeanor disappearing. He already knew what the Emperor’s order stated, so he tossed it aside as he went through the rest of the post. The nice thing about the Imperial Post was that the Praetorians got to sift through every piece of mail that came through it. Whatever did not need to go before the Emperor’s eyes, or anyone else’s for that matter, was properly disposed of. The people were fooled into thinking they had freedom of speech and thought. Only Sejanus and a few others knew that it was all a charade. Censorship was alive and well within the Roman Empire, and the beauty was that no one even realized it.
It was late when Pilate finished with Proculeius. He had convinced the old man to sell his vacant house, and instead, purchase a villa on the outskirts of the city. This would be a more than sufficient dowry for Claudia. In return, Pilate offered to make certain his connections in the imperial court were persuaded to show a bit of favoritism to his in-laws and their endeavors. Claudia had two brothers who their father wanted to get into politics, and what better a patron could they get than the man who was deputy to the Emperor’s right hand? It was too simple, really. Pilate had a friend who was a Quaestor that supervised the imperial treasury. All he had to do was send the man a letter with the names of Claudia’s brothers, and his friend would find them an appropriate place within the political conglomerate.
Servants opened the door to his house, bearing lanterns to guide their master. Pilate was completely exhausted and had not even taken off his ceremonial Praetorian armor since before dawn that morning. He needed a bath and directed a slave to draw one for him. Claudia was waiting for him, too. As was a common custom, she already lived with her betrothed in the small Tribune’s house the Praetorians had provided him. It was a decent enough house, and more than enough for just the two of them. Still, he knew that wealth equated to power in Rome, and moving into a larger villa would give an impression of such wealth.