Vitellius' greed and his terror. He knows – he must know – that if he breaks this agreement, then his life will be forfeit. While if he keeps it he may live out his days in comfort and prosperity. Moreover if, as you suggest, I had kept him captive, or put him to death, consider the anger of those troops still, as you say, loyal to him. As it is, I have given peace a chance; and that was my first purpose. There has been too much blood spilled in Rome this year.'
Nevertheless, knowing how precarious peace was, Flavius Sabinus collected those soldiers who were loyal to him, and who now took the oath to Vespasian, after he had read them the document of abdication.
Meanwhile word had spread, and Sabinus was now visited by Senators and equestrians, all of whom had hitherto feared to declare themselves enemies of Vitellius, all of whom now assured him of their undying loyalty to Vespasian, whose cause they had always supported.
But even while they were doing so, news came which altered the situation.
I believe that Vitellius had intended to abide by his word; for I have no doubt that, in his heart, he was relieved to be free of the burden of Empire.
But when he went into the Forum and mounted the rostra to declare that he had abdicated, and intended to lay aside the emblems of Empire in the Temple of Concord, the protests of the crowd who anticipated his words, for rumour had preceded him, restrained him. Then finding his way blocked by the throng he returned to the palace.
All was now confusion. Nobody knew whether Vitellius was still to be considered Emperor or not; he cannot have known himself. It was a miserably cold day, snow threatening. Yet the streets and the Forum were thronged with citizens, each relaying, believing or disbelieving, every fresh rumour. Some of the Senators and equestrians who had come to pay court to Flavius Sabinus had second thoughts and melted away, afraid that they had already compromised themselves. Others remained, because they in their turn feared that they had committed themselves too deeply to be able safely to withdraw.
Then we heard of the enthusiasm which a section of the mob -none knew how large – had displayed for Vitellius. It was reported, too, that certain cohorts of the German legions which had remained based in the city had obeyed commands to arrest Flavius Sabinus and the other leaders of our party.
Domitian now displayed an energy I had never seen in him before. His face was flushed, his voice loud. He roundly told his uncle that, since strife within the city was now certain, he must get his retaliation in first. Those were his exact words: 'Get our retaliation in first.' 'What do you mean?'
'You must seize Vitellius – you should never have let him walk free – and, then, attack and disarm those forces which remain loyal to him.' Flavius Sabinus sighed.
'It's been my endeavour to prevent blood from being shed in the city,' he said. 'Now you urge me to let loose unimaginable horrors. No, we shall continue to play the game coolly. Vitellius will think of what he has to lose and may yet retain.'
Domitian's discontent was obvious, but he was powerless to change his uncle's mind; and, though I agreed with his judgement, yet I could not but be pleased to see Flavius Sabinus constant in his determination to do all he could to avert an outbreak of violence and killing in Rome. But his efforts were vain. Some of our men came under attack from the adherents of Vitellius, who were more numerous, and so scattered ours, killing several. It was clear that the chance of a peaceful settlement was now remote. Accordingly, Flavius Sabinus gathered his troops and followers, and we withdrew to the Capitol, as the part of the city most easily defended.
Night fell, and there was no attack. But apprehension held us fast. It snowed, and the visibility was so poor that we were afraid that the enemy might come upon us unawares. But the storm which made us anxious, for the snow was accompanied by high winds, deterred them. No doubt their commanders, in as much as there was any direction of their forces, feared that to attack in such conditions would result only in confusion.
Flavius Sabinus had no sleep. Nor had any of those among us who could be said to have constituted his staff. All night we debated our position, interrupted only by reports from the sentries who had been posted, and who more then once gave the alarm which indicated that an attack was being prepared, evidence of their own nervous state and of the difficulty in discerning what was happening, on account of the snow which fell steadily till just before dawn.
Flavius Sabinus resolved to make a last appeal to Vitellius which might avert hostilities. His letter went through more than a few drafts. Eventually, it read more or less as follows. (You will understand, Tacitus, that I quote from memory, but, since I was one of the chief authors of the final draft, you may suppose that I remember it well.)
'Vitellius: there has, it would seem, been no more than a show and pretence of abdicating the Empire. If not, why, when you left the rostra, did you go (as we are informed) to your brother's house, which overlooks the Forum, and where your presence was certain to enflame the mob, rather than retire to your wife's family house on the Aventine? That would have been in accordance with the terms of our agreement. But then you withdrew to the palace, and soon after a body of troops appeared on the streets, armed and proclaiming their loyalty to you. I myself, in the person of my soldiers, came under attack. That is why I have now established myself on the Capitol, which is however surrounded by your men. If you now repent of your agreement, it is not against me, whom you have so treacherously deceived, that you must contend, nor against my nephew Domitian, who is still only a youth. What would you gain by killing us? Rather, you should put yourself at the head of your legions, and fight my brother's army for the Empire. That would determine the fate of Rome.'
A senior centurion, Cornelius Martialis, was deputed to carry the letter to Vitellius. I volunteered to accompany him. He smiled at that. 'Shows you're young, sir, if you don't mind my saying so. When you're my age, you'll know that volunteering's best left to others.' Still he was pleased to have my company, and respected the courage of my decision.
Taking advantage of the half-light of the winter dawn and a renewed flurry of snow, we slipped out of the Capitol by the hundred steps that lead down the flank of the Tarpeian Rock. Our outposts had seen no sign of enemy forces for several hours, but could give no assurance as to our safe return. As we made our way off the hill, using such shelter as the trees and bushes could provide, we could see soldiers crouched round braziers or lying by them wrapped in their military cloaks. 'Dozy buggers,' Cornelius said. 'But not many'll be eager to die for Vitellius, that's a comfort.' We crossed the Forum, and made for the Palatine.
We're too early. Vitellius'll never be up yet. We've time for a wet and a bite to eat.'
Though I doubted whether Vitellius would even have gone to bed, and was certain he would not have slept, I allowed myself to be persuaded, and we turned into a wine-shop – of the kind that serves night-workers – for a mug of wine and a hunk of bread, 'to put heart into us'.
Approaching the palace, I was conscious of the extent to which Vitellius' control of the State was ebbing. Though a number of soldiers were to be seen, it was impossible to tell whether they were on duty. There was no regular guard, only a doorkeeper who was half-drunk. When we offered to present our credentials, he gave a vast yawn, and thumbed us past him. In the atrium all was confusion. People were hurrying to and fro, but more as if they thought it wiser to be seen to be on the move, than for any purpose. Four slaves passed by us; they were carrying trunks out of the palace. There appeared to be nobody in charge or on duty. Then I recognised a stout soft wheezy fellow with an olive complexion; this was Asiaticus, the former slave, catamite, and pimp. I called out his name, and he responded in a manner that contrived to be both obsequious and insolent.
'The Emperor? I'm not sure he knows whether he's that or not, poor dear man. You've a message for him? You want to see him? Well, much good may it do you, ducky.'
Cornelius Martialis drew his sword and jabbed it under the creature's jaw. A little gout of blood stood out on his neck. 'Take us to him, or I'll ram this through your throat.' Asiaticus put up his hand and pushed the blade aside.
'Not very diplomatic, are you, ducks. 'Course I'll take you to the poor man. Just don't expect too much.'
Vitellius was in his dressing-gown. Asiaticus greeted him with a repulsive familiarity, which brought a smile to the pseudo-emperor's flabby lips. Cornelius presented him with Flavius Sabinus' letter. He read it, or rather let his eyes wander over it, and then tossed it aside.
'Have you no answer?' the centurion demanded. 'Am I to tell the general you received his letter with contempt?'
'The question is, sir,' I said, 'whether you intend to stand by the agreement that you made, an agreement that ensures your own safety and well-being as nothing else can, or whether you have torn it up, and choose to trust to the fortunes of a war you cannot win, which will bring ruin on all your family.'
