There was no real shortage of things. It was just that no one wanted to sell his goods at unnaturally forced prices, but preferred to be idle or lock up their stores. If, for instance, one needed new sandals for formal occasions, or a good tunic, or even a buckle, one had to beg and plead with a merchant to bring what one was asking for out from under the counter and then break the law by paying the right price for it.
For all these reasons, the Pisonian conspiracy spread like wildfire when it became known that a few resolute men within the Order of Knights were prepared to seize power and overthrow Nero, as soon as they could decide how the power would be shared and who should replace the Emperor. The economic crisis made the conspiracy seem Rome’s only salvation and everyone rushed to join it. Even Nero’s closest friends thought it safe to give their support to it, since it seemed evident that the conspiracy would succeed as discontent was rife both in Rome and in the provinces and there was more than enough money to pay the bonuses to the Praetorians.
Fenius Rufus, who was still in charge of the grain stores in addition to holding his Prefect’s office since no other honest man could be found, unhesitatingly joined the conspiracy. Due to the artificial lowering of the price of corn, he had suffered great losses and was deeply in debt. Nero refused to consider the State’s making up the difference between the true price of grain and its forced price. Nor would the growers in Egypt and Africa sell their grain at this price, but either stored it or did not even sow their fields.
Apart from Rufus, the Praetorian tribunes and the centurions were quite openly involved in the conspiracy, the Praetorians naturally being bitter that their pay was in the new coinage and with no increase. The conspirators were so certain they would succeed that they sought to keep the whole enterprise inside Rome, save for a few strategically important Italian cities. They therefore refused help from powerful men in the provinces and in this way offended many important people.
In my view, their greatest fault lay in that they thought they did not need the support of the legions, which they could have got quite easily in Germany and Britain. Corbulo in the East would hardly have become involved in it since he was completely absorbed by his Parthian war, and was also quite without political ambitions. I think he was one of the few people who never even heard the rumors about the plan.
As I had put my affairs in order, perhaps I did not think sufficiently about the needs of the people. On my part I was seized with a kind of spring enchantment. I was thirty-five years old, past bothering with immature girls except possibly as a passing pleasure, but at an age when a man is ripe for true passion and wishes for an experienced Woman of equal birth as a companion.
I still find it difficult to write openly about these things. Perhaps it will suffice to say that, avoiding any unnecessary publicity, I began to visit Antonia’s house quite often. We had so much to talk to each other about that sometimes I could not leave her handsome house on Palatine until dawn. She was a daughter of Claudius and thus had some of Marcus Antonius’ tainted blood in her. And she was an Aelius on her mother’s side as well. Her mother was the adoptive sister of Sejanus. That should be sufficient explanation for anyone who knows.
Your mother was also Claudius’ daughter, and I must admit that after bearing you and after her former hard life, she had calmed down considerably. She no longer shared my bed. Indeed, I seemed to suffer from a kind of deficiency disease in this respect until my friendship with Antonia cured me.
It was at dawn one spring morning, when the birds had just begun to sing and the flowers were fragrant in Antonia’s beautiful garden, from which all traces of the fire had now been erased by new bushes and whole trees, that I first heard about Piso’s conspiracy from Antonia. Exhausted from the joy and friendship, I was standing hand in hand with her, leaning against one of the slender pillars in her summer house, unable to drag myself away from her, although we had begun to say farewell to each other at least two hours earlier.
“Minutus, my dearest,” she said. Perhaps I am wrong to repeat her confession word for word, but on the other hand I have written things in connection with Sabina which might make an ignoramus doubt my manhood. “Oh, my dearest,” she said then. “No man has ever been so tender and good to me and known how to take me in his arms so wonderfully as you have. So I know I shall love you now, always and eternally. I should like us to meet after death as shades in the Elysian fields.”
“Why do you talk of Elysium?” I asked, thrusting out my chest. ‘We are happy now. Indeed I am happier than I have ever been before. Don’t let us think of Charon, although I’m willing to have a gold piece put in my mouth when I die to pay him in a way which is worthy of you.”
She squeezed my hand in her slim fingers.
“Minutus,” she said, “I can no longer hide anything from you, nor do I want to. And I do not know which of us is nearer to death, you or I. Nero’s time is running out. I should not want you to fall with him.”
I was dumbfounded. Then Antonia related in swift whispers all that she knew about the conspiracy and its leaders. She admitted that she had promised, when the moment was ripe and Nero was dead, as Claudius’ daughter, to go with the new Emperor to the Praetorian camp and put in a good word for him with the veterans. Naturally a gift of money would convince them even more than a few modest words from the noblest lady in Rome.
“In fact I fear not so much for my own life as for yours, my dearest,” said Antonia. “You are known as one of Nero’s friends and you have done little to make useful connections for the future. For understandable reasons, the people will demand blood when Nero is dead. And public security will demand a certain amount of bloodshed to strengthen law and order. I shouldn’t want you to lose your dear head or a crowd to trample you to death in the forum according to the secret instructions which must be given to the people when we go to the Praetorian camp.”
When I remained dumb, my head spinning and my knees weak, Antonia grew impatient and stamped her lovely foot.
“Don’t you see?” she said. “The conspiracy is so widespread and discontent so general that the plan can be put into action any day now. Every sensible man is trying to join for his own advantage. It is sheer bluff that they are still pretending to discuss how, where and when Nero could best be murdered. That can be done anytime. Several of his best friends are with us and have taken the oath. Of your own friends I shall name only Senecio, Petronius and Lucanus. The fleet in Misenum is with us. Epicharis, whom you must know from hearsay, has seduced Volucius Proculus, just as Octavia in her time tried to seduce Anicetus.”
“I know Proculus,” I said shortly.
“Of course you do,” said Antonia with sudden insight. “He was involved in my stepmother’s murder. Don’t worry, dearest. I had no feelings for Agrippina. On the contrary, she treated me even more badly, if that is possible, than Britannicus and Octavia. It was only from a sense of propriety that I did not want to take part in the thank-offerings after her death. You mustn’t be afraid of that old story. I suggest that you join the conspiracy as soon as possible and save your life. If you delay too long, then I cannot help you.”
To tell the truth, my first thought was of course to rush straight to Nero and tell him of the danger threatening him. Then I would be certain of his favor for the rest of my life. However, Antonia was sufficiently experienced to be able to read the hesitation in my face. She stroked the tips of her fingers along my lips, and, with her head on one side and her gown slipping from her firm bosom, she spoke again.