Chapter XIX #2
– That is Maecenas’s theory. I sent him packing and haven’t seen him since, for other reasons I’ll tell you in a moment. But he planted the seed and now I can’t rid my mind of the thought. She’s capable of it, you know.
– But surely, even if she poisoned Marcellus, she wouldn’t want to poison you. That would destroy the source of her power.
– True enough. Maybe not Livia, then. But there are plenty of others who would be happy to get rid of me. Do you remember Aulus Murena, Maecenas’s brother-in-law, whom you persuaded to resign as consul elect in favour of Piso?
– I thought he was dead.
– He is. But his younger brother, Lucius, has returned from his legateship in Syria, and is determined on revenge.
And I fear he has found the perfect way to exact it.
My enemies in the Senate are prosecuting the former governor of Macedonia, Marcus Primus, for waging an illegal war against the Odrysians.
Murena has joined forces with that ambitious schemer Fannius Caepio, and is to undertake Primus’s defence.
– And what is his defence?
– He has yet to testify, but I’m told he plans to claim that I ordered him to invade Odrysia.
– And did you?
– No, of course not! I’m only too aware of how sensitive the Senate is about any interference in their provinces.
– Then you are in the clear.
– Unfortunately, it seems to have been some scheme of Marcellus’s, to seize the treasure of the Odrysians, split the proceeds with Primus and pay off his debts.
And apparently he used my name to persuade Primus to go along with it.
So you see I’m bound to be dragged in. I had such hopes for that boy, but I fear he was not as clever as I thought he was.
Anyway, Maecenas is also the brother-in-law of this Murena, and although he swears his loyalty is to me alone, I don’t entirely believe him. What a mess it all is!
There was no apology to me for his misjudgement in putting so much faith in Marcellus.
Nor did I expect one. Contrition was not in his nature.
In all our years together, I never once heard him say sorry.
But here he was, facing a political crisis – suspicious of everyone, even his wife and the man who had been his closest political adviser. For all his power, he was alone.
Of course, I said I would help him.
I was hungry after my journey, so I started to eat. And after watching me for a while, and seeing I was unharmed, Augustus did the same.
At Augustus’s request, I remained with him in the Alban Hills as the trial of Primus opened in the Forum. Each evening, a messenger would arrive from Rome bearing a transcript of the day’s proceedings.
It was a spectacle that by all accounts was drawing huge crowds – senators prosecuting one of their own for treason, before a jury of their peers, and washing all their dirty linen in public.
Officials and soldiers testified to their roles in the military expedition.
The outraged Odrysians gave evidence detailing the statues, artworks, and precious metals that had been stolen, and the taxes levied on their occupied towns.
Primus’s steward was called; he produced his master’s accounts and revealed where the money had gone.
By the time the prosecution had finished laying out its case, Primus’s reputation was in ruins, and there was a general expectation he would flee the city to avoid the verdict.
But then Murena began his defence. He did not bother to cross-examine any of the prosecution’s witnesses. He simply called Primus to the stand and asked him to explain what had led him to start a war against a Roman ally.
Primus replied that he was obeying orders.
– And from whom did these orders come?
– Augustus.
The answer was reported to have produced a gasp of shock among the spectators.
Furious, Augustus tore the transcript into pieces and threw it on the fire.
– This is a conspiracy, pure and simple, organised by the Senate to discredit me. They want a battle? They shall have one. Let us go to Rome and put an end to it.
We left the villa at sunset with a detachment of cavalry and entered the city in darkness so that no one should see his arrival.
We went straight to his house, where Livia was dining with Tiberius and Drusus. She was startled by our arrival, and plainly alarmed by her husband’s enraged demeanour. When she asked what he intended to do, he responded bitterly.
– What does one do with a poisonous snake? One cuts off its head!
I found myself back in my old position, as the organiser of his security. I stayed overnight in his house, summoned a detachment of his Praetorian Guard from their barracks, and the next morning we set off on foot for the tribunal in the Forum where the trial was being held.
His appearance in the street caused a sensation.
A procession formed at our rear as we walked down the hill, and I guess word of his approach must have spread ahead of us, because by the time we erupted into the crowded Forum, proceedings in the court had come to a halt and the jury were on their feet in alarm.
Augustus had no right to speak. He had not been summoned as a witness. But that did not deter him. He strode towards the tribunal.
I had only a vague memory of Murena from years before.
He was a big man, and clearly not without fighting spirit.
He was standing between Primus and his fellow defence advocate, Caepio.
He tugged on Primus’s toga to pull him back into his seat, tilted his chin in defiance and pointed an accusing finger at Augustus.
– By what authority do you disrupt this court?
– By the authority of the people!
There was a wave of applause from the mass of spectators, broken by a few jeers.
Augustus clambered up onto the platform, put his hands on his hips and glowered down at Primus.
– You are a liar, Marcus Primus! Repeat to my face that I ordered you to make war!
Primus quailed, stammered.
– You did not order me in person, but through your nephew Marcellus.
– I gave no such order. I know nothing about it. It’s simply a lie you’ve concocted to save your neck, encouraged by men whose only desire is to cause me damage.
He turned to the senators in the jury.
– It is not Primus alone who is on trial in this court, gentlemen, but my good name. His defence is part of a plot to destroy the settlement that has brought peace to our Republic. Find the wretch guilty and put an end to this malicious nonsense – and to him!
With a final glare at Murena and Caepio and the hapless Primus, he jumped down into the Forum, made his way along the passage that had been cleared for him by his guards and returned home.
The jury was due to deliver its verdict by the end of the day.
We sat and waited for the result. Augustus was confident his dramatic appeal would ensure Primus was found guilty.
And indeed, he was. But when the details of the jury’s secret ballot were brought to him, he discovered that the margin was much narrower than he had expected.
I forget the tally exactly – forty to thirty, or thereabouts.
Almost half had listened to his passionate denial and decided he was lying.
It was the first time in his life that his popularity had been tested in an unrigged ballot. It shook him profoundly. Like many a politician who has been on the receiving end of a poor result, he blamed not himself but the voters.
– I have been far too gentle with these people! I have let them have their Senate and their magistracies and their governorships – and how have they rewarded me? With disloyalty! It is time to remind them where the real power lies.
That evening, I dined with him and Livia.
He had become very cold, and had reverted to the Caesar of earlier days – cruel, vindictive, determined to exact his vengeance on the men who had dared challenge him.
He was convinced this was only the start of their mischief. He toyed with his food and asked me what, if I were Murena and Caepio, I would do next. How would I set about trying to destroy him?
I thought it over for a while, and replied that the days when his enemies could raise an army to make war on him were long gone.
He had far too many legions at his disposal, in Italy and overseas.
His powers as tribune for life meant he could call a public assembly and appeal over the Senate’s heads to the people.
Their only realistic option would be to assassinate him.
– And how would you do that?
– It would be very hard. You are so well guarded, both at home and when you appear in public.
A direct attack would be almost impossible.
The assassin would have to be a traitor, either someone in your household who could administer poison, or more likely one of your Praetorian Guards, who is armed and can get close enough to you without arousing suspicion.
It would be a suicide mission, but it could be done.
If a man is prepared to die, he cannot really be stopped.
– That is what I thought. The question is, could you find me such a man?
I looked from him to Livia and laughed.
– What is this? You want me to arrange your assassination?
I remember very clearly the words of Livia, who spoke next.
– Do you think you could you find one of Augustus’s guards who would be prepared to testify in court that he had been approached by Murena and Caepio and bribed to kill him?
It gives me no pride to record that I went along with their scheme, which I have always suspected was Livia’s brainchild.
I can excuse my actions only on the grounds that Augustus genuinely believed his authority was in peril, that he felt it was necessary for him to make an example of the senators who had openly challenged him, and that – in the words of the old saying – if you strike at the king, you must be sure not to miss.
They had struck. They had missed. And now they had to pay the price.
It is a law of Nature.
So if I feel no pride, I feel no great shame either.