Chapter XIX #3
The next morning, I summoned the commander of the guard, swore him to secrecy and told him what Augustus required. He was not at all shocked, but promised to see what he could do. That afternoon, he returned with a centurion named Marcus Castricius.
He was the perfect man for the task, a soldier with twenty years’ service behind him, who had fought at Philippi and who obeyed orders without question.
He did not look like a conspirator, but rather the epitome of an honest and reliable citizen, who might plausibly be horrified at being approached to betray his commander.
I took him to see Livia, now restored to her position as Augustus’s most trusted confidante, and she coached him in what he had to say.
He signed a deposition full of convincing details of meetings and conversations, stating that he had been offered thirty thousand sesterces by Murena and Caepio to murder Augustus. This sum, I believe, was later paid to him by Livia as a reward.
Augustus, using his powers as tribune, promptly issued warrants for both senators on a charge of treason.
The following night, under the cloak of darkness – for we were not sure of the extent of their popularity and wanted to prevent a demonstration – we set out to arrest them.
I had given orders for all the city’s gates to be locked and the sentries forbidden to allow anyone in or out.
The commander of the Praetorian Guard was dispatched to arrest Caepio.
I took twenty men to seize Murena from his house on the Esquiline Hill.
The sky was moonless. We crept through the streets by torchlight and quietly secured the entrances. When everyone was in position, I smashed down the front door and stormed inside at the head of a raiding party.
We went from room to room, searching for Murena, but it was soon clear he was not at home.
I had the household assemble in the atrium and threatened them with torture if they did not reveal their master’s whereabouts.
Terrified, they swore they did not know.
They had not seen him since early in the afternoon, when he had been visited by his sister, Terentia, and had left in a hurry soon afterwards.
I returned to Augustus’s house, where we were quickly joined by the commander of the Praetorians, who had also returned from his mission empty-handed. We later discovered that Caepio had been smuggled out of the city concealed in a pine coffin.
On learning that Terentia must have warned her brother, Augustus sent soldiers to bring her and Maecenas to him, despite the lateness of the hour.
They arrived in a state of some anxiety.
Maecenas confessed at once that he had disclosed the existence of the arrest warrant to Terentia, and after a few unconvincing denials, she finally confirmed she had alerted Murena.
It was some years since she had ceased to be Augustus’s mistress.
Whatever affection he might once have felt for her was long gone.
He informed her that he never wished to see her again.
As for Maecenas, he coldly reprimanded him for his indiscretion and told him to get out of his sight.
For several years thereafter, he lost his access to Augustus, although, being Maecenas, he eventually wheedled his way back into favour.
As for Livia, she could barely conceal her delight.
I suspected at the time that she had deliberately let slip the plan to Maecenas, knowing he could deny his wife nothing and was almost bound to warn her.
In this way Livia both damaged a rival and took her revenge on the woman who had been her husband’s lover.
But naturally I could never prove it, and the truth is lost in time.
Murena and Caepio were tried for treason in absentia.
As a gesture to Livia, Augustus allowed the nineteen-year-old Tiberius to act as one of the senatorial prosecutors.
He put in a competent performance, not that it mattered.
Castricius’s evidence was damning, and the jury had been hand-picked by Augustus.
Both the accused were found guilty and sentenced to death.
A reward was posted, and in due course they were discovered – Murena hiding on his family estate, Caepio trying to board a ship at Ostia – and executed on the spot.
There were no protests from their fellow senators. They had seen the ruthlessness with which Augustus was prepared to act. Although there were to be occasional plots and frequent grumbles against him in the future – for such is politics – he never again faced a serious challenge.
As for me, my loyalty during the crisis drew me closer to Augustus than ever before.
He showed me his will, in which I was named as the man he wished to control his provinces until a successor was chosen.
The bulk of his estate would pass to Tiberius, on the assumption that I would hand over power to him in due course.
Yet he was still not reconciled to the prospect.
– I pity poor Rome being ground between those slow jaws!
But I fear with Marcellus gone, there may be no escaping it – at least as things stand.
I suppose I could divorce Livia and remarry, in the hope of producing a son with a younger wife.
Sadly, I have consulted any number of soothsayers, and my horoscope is always the same.
Like my adopted father, it appears that I am doomed never to have a male heir.
In any case, I am too reliant on Livia to divorce her. Three wives are enough for any man.
He stared at me. I met his gaze. The silence lengthened as we contemplated the problem. Finally I spoke.
– There is always Julia, of course.
– Yes, there is always Julia.
– If she had a boy, he would be your grandson.
He laughed.
– Yes, indeed, I realise that! But then the question arises, who should she marry? My son-in-law, if he became the father of my eventual heir, would be a powerful figure in the state, possibly in time even a rival. I must choose her husband very carefully.
– I am sure you will.
He fiddled with his signet ring, turning it this way and that.
– You have four daughters – perhaps you suffer from the same misfortune as I do.
– It is possible, although I certainly intend to have a son if I can.
– But not with Claudia?
– No. We are not well suited. In fact, since you raise the matter, I would like your permission to divorce her.
– Even though that would weaken your connection with my family? I should not like that. If you are to be accepted as my replacement, it will be necessary at least to maintain the link. Or better still, strengthen it.
Another long silence ensued. Finally I remarked that he would make a most formidable father-in-law.
– And you a son-in-law.
– It would certainly be a curious turn of fate after all these years. Do you think she would find the idea acceptable?
– We can send for her now to ask her, although the final decision is mine, not hers.
And so, without my asking for it, or him offering it, we arrived at the only logical solution – for Augustus, for me and for the stability of the state – which was that I should marry Julia.