of my generally friendly relations with my nephew. However his with Piso had deteriorated abruptly. There were faults on both sides. Piso believed that Germanicus was employing his mains imperium in a manner that prejudiced his own authority. Germanicus complained that Piso had reversed orders he had given to divisional commanders. In a fit of pique he ordered him out of Syria, and Piso, though furious, finding his position intolerable, obeyed; he retired to the island of Cos. All this happened abruptly, without consultation with me.
Then Germanicus fell ill, of a fever common in these parts. He seemed to recover, then had a relapse. It was reported that he accused Piso and Plancina of having poisoned him. Agrippina, in no condition to judge anything, was vociferous in accusation. She ordered her slaves to seek evidence of poison and magic; naturally they found what they were required to find, as slaves will. Examination of the floor and walls of his bedroom revealed human bones, signs of spells, curses, and invocations; there were lead tablets inscribed with my nephew's name, charred and bloody ashes, and other 'malignant objects effective to consign souls to the powers of the tomb', as they put it.
According to Marcus Friso, who subsequently made a full report of the circumstances to me, Germanicus then said, 'Even if I were dying a natural death, I should have a legitimate grudge against the gods for parting me from wife, children, country and friends, and for denying me the due rewards of my virtue. But it is not the gods, but rather those demons in human shape, Piso and Plancina, whom I accuse. Tell my father, the emperor, of the vile conspiracy which has brought about my death. You will have the opportunity to protest to the Senate and invoke the law. The chief duty of a friend is not to walk in grief behind a corpse, but rather to remember the dead man's desires and carry out his will. Even strangers will mourn Germanicus. But if it was me you loved, not merely my rank, then I charge you to avenge me.'
A slave wiped his brow with a cool napkin, while Agrippina stood by, dry-eyed and with a harsh expression on her face.
Germanicus raised himself on his elbow and continued: 'Show Rome my wife, the grand-daughter of the divine Augustus. Display the weeping faces of our six children. Sympathy will go to the accusers. Any tale of criminal instructions given to Piso will be hard to believe; but if believed, far harder to forgive.'
This was a remarkable speech from a dying man, or would have been if Friso had actually heard it. In fact, as he made clear, he was repeating only the version sanctioned by Agrippina. The only authentic touch was the contrast between the concerned care of the slave and her dry eyes. Friso added that Agrippina had also told her intimates that Germanicus had advised her to tread warily where I myself was concerned. He died. In his funeral eulogy he was compared to Alexander. No one is on oath on such occasions, but this was absurd. It was said that after defeating the Germans many times, he had not been allowed to complete their subjugation. If he had been in sole control, he would have equalled Alexander in military renown as easily as he surpassed him in decency, self- control and every good quality.
It was easy to see at whom the eulogy was aimed, by whom it had been inspired.
His body lay in state in the main piazza of Antioch. Some of those who examined it found indubitable evidence of poisoning, which must be accounted a medical miracle. Then it was cremated, not embalmed, as one might have thought proper in such circumstances. Agrippina appointed Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus commander of her late husband's legions, and, in effect, Governor of Syria; then she sailed for Italy with her children and the ashes of her husband. I say 'she appointed' because that was actually, as Friso told me, what happened, though of course it was dressed up in a more suitable manner, and it was given out that the decision had been made by senior officials, officers and senators. Sentius then fortified the province against Piso. He also arrested and sent to Rome a woman called Martina who was known to be a friend of Plancina and who was, he reported, a notorious poisoner.
Piso, confident that he was still rightful Governor of Syria, on the strength of his original appointment by me, which I had not had either the occasion or indeed the opportunity to revoke, now attempted to re-enter his province. Sentius resisted him. There was a brief scuffle or passage of arms, and Piso, lacking support even from those legions he had formerly commanded (whose officers had mostly been suspended either by Germanicus or by Sentius), surrendered. He was placed under arrest and despatched to Rome, charged with making war against Roman forces.
This news came in piecemeal as Agrippina journeyed slowly, with many stops, across wintry seas to Italy. I was horrified to learn of Germanicus' death. I mourned him as a young man of infinite promise and the son of my beloved brother Drusus. Yet our emotions are rarely single, and my grief was not unmixed with the sense that the gods had done Rome a favour. I regretted also the disgrace of my old friend Piso, and could not believe the accusations being brought against him. Nevertheless these had to be investigated and if they were proved then I had to confess myself sorely deceived in Piso. I could never forgive the murder of my nephew – if it had been murder. My mind was confused, flickering between darkness and light. It was impossible to know what to do for the best.
Naturally I ordered official mourning for the young man. People fell over themselves to express the depth of their loss, in language which was understandable, if excessive. On such occasions exaggeration becomes the norm. Even sensible people are caught up in the general mood, and imagine that public affairs affect them more nearly than they actually do. It is easy to suppose that one's life is blighted by events which in reality trouble only the imagination.
I sent two battalions of the Praetorian Guard to greet Agrip-pina at Brindisi. I hesitated at first to put my dear Sejanus in charge for I knew the depths of the woman's antipathy towards him. On reflection, however, I decided that it was necessary to have a man there whom I could trust; and there was no one, except Drusus, in whom I reposed more trust than Sejanus. This was just as well, for the public mood was such that even the Guards themselves might have been infected. As it was, a curious incident took place at Brindisi. The alleged poisoner, Martina, arrived there about the same time, in a different ship. The next day, she was found dead, while Agrippina was still in the city. There were no marks of violence, but poison was found in the roots of her hair. Naturally some people said she had killed herself; others that she had been murdered for fear of what she might reveal. Human nature being as it is, the worst possible construction was put on this. Few reflected that the motive for her murder (if she was indeed murdered) might have been the knowledge that the wretch had nothing to reveal.
Agrippina's journey to Rome with her husband's ashes was superbly stage-managed. She held, or was accorded, a reception in every town, and lost no opportunity to win sympathy and applause, and to present herself as a sorely aggrieved woman. Sejanus was powerless to do anything but observe and report. His natural prudence told him that it was impossible to stem the surge of sympathy even though at every step it threatened to boil over into sedition.
Germanicus' own mother, Antonia, was so disgusted by her daughter-in-law's histrionics that she refused to leave her house and greet the arrival of the cortege in Rome. Naturally I did not do so either. For one thing, Sejanus warned me that my presence might provoke disorder. His advice was good, but my absence was criticised. Drusus, however, approved it; his wife, Julia Livilla, though Agrippina's sister-in-law, suggested that the thing to do with the grieving widow was to chuck a bucket of cold water over her. 'Even in the nursery,' she told Drusus, 'she was always acting. And as for her love for my brother, she made his life a perfect misery by her constant nagging and complaining.' Of course the crowds were ignorant of this; they revered Agrippina as the model of what a woman should be.
I myself arranged that Germanicus' ashes should be laid in the mausoleum near those of Augustus. A huge crowd turned out, the Field of Mars was ablaze with torches. Agrippina stimulated the mob to orgies of grief; she had taken care to distribute a quantity of gold, and her paid creatures exerted themselves in eulogies of her virtue and bitter accusations directed against Piso and those who had 'encouraged' him. They had their effect; there were disgraceful riots in the Suburra, Trastevere and the Field of Mars itself. It seemed to me that the situation was getting absurdly out of hand, and I issued the following statement to try to persuade people to return to their senses. Famous Romans have died before, but none has been so ardently mourned. I commend your devotion to the memory of Germanicus, my dear son and nephew. But moderation should be observed. The conduct of ordinary families or communities should not be the model for an imperial people. After the first tears, we should observe calm. Remember with what restrained dignity Julius Caesar mourned his daughter and Augustus his beloved grandsons. Remember how our forefathers courageously endured the loss of armies, the death of generals and the destruction of great families, eschewing the tears and lamentations which are suitable only to women. It is not for Romans to resemble hysterical and effeminate Orientals. Great men die; the country lives for ever. So I request citizens to return to their ordinary occupations, and since the Megalesian Games are due to
