be voted …’ The Consul began the formula that would free two men from all temporal restraint.
‘And that it be lawful for them to issue orders to all governors of provinces, by right of their overriding military authority, and that it be lawful for them to declare war and peace, and that it be lawful for them to make a treaty with whomsoever they should wish, just as it was lawful for the divine Augustus.’
Pupienus closed his eyes, let the sonorous words flow over him, and considered the tasks that lay ahead. He would go to Ravenna, raise troops there. With its lagoons and marshes, it was a good defensive site. If Aquileia fell, Maximinus would not be able to march on Rome leaving Ravenna behind unconquered. The Adriatic fleet could bring supplies and reinforcements into the town, and, in dire necessity, provide a means of escape.
Balbinus would remain in Rome, empowered to maintain order in the city. Most likely, he would relapse into torpor and vice. Should the patrician venture anything particularly ill-advised or detrimental to the public good, reliable men would be at hand to restrain him, or, at least, give Pupienus timely warning.
Defence alone would not win the war, or eliminate Maximinus. Nothing had been heard from the North. No word from Castricius, the knife-boy discovered by Timesitheus and sent by Menophilus to assassinate the Thracian. Either Castricius had been caught, or he had not made the attempt. If captured, the youth would have died in agony. If he had lost his nerve, the same fate would befall him if he were ever seen in Rome again. Likewise, the Procurator Axius had not yet seized control of the province of Dacia. Another initiative was necessary. Someone must be despatched to attempt to win over the governors along the Danube. Behind enemy lines, in the heartlands of Maximinus’ support, the odds against success were long. There was a Senator called Celsinus. An ex-Praetor, his estates were mortgaged far beyond their value. Celsinus was desperate enough to put everything on one roll of the dice to restore his fortunes.
The East was more promising. Catius Clemens, the governor of Cappadocia, was the key. Clemens had been one of the triumvirate that had put Maximinus on the throne. Pupienus had spent long hours cloistered with Clemens’ younger brother, Celer. The provisional arrangement reached might satisfy the family of the Catii. Young Celer would go from Rome to govern Thrace. While there he would be Consul in absentia. The eldest brother, Priscillianus, would retain Germania Superior for two years, with the province of his choice to follow. Clemens himself would leave Cappadocia. Returning to Rome, he would be enrolled in the Board of Twenty, and be entrusted with the defence of the eternal city.
Pupienus’ close friend Cuspidius had agreed to travel to the East. It was a terrible risk. There was no guarantee that Clemens would not remain loyal to Maximinus, or even aim for the throne himself. In either event, Cuspidius would suffer an awful fate. Pupienus had no desire to be responsible for the torture and death of his friend. But with the throne came terrible decisions.
‘And that whatever is undertaken, carried out, decreed or ordered by the Emperors Pupienus Augustus and Balbinus Augustus, or by anyone according to their command or mandate, they shall be lawful and binding, as if they had been undertaken according to the order of Senate and people of Rome.’
The thing was done. Now, according to tradition, the new Emperors should make offerings to the gods at the altar in front of the temple, then process down to the Forum, and speak to the people of Rome from the Rostra.
As the doors were opened, and the Senators arranged themselves in order of precedence, Balbinus waddled up to Pupienus. They shook hands. It was like grasping a fish.
‘You had better keep your word.’ Balbinus’ breath reeked of wine. ‘I will not be inferior to someone like you in anything. We must both be Pontifex Maximus.’
‘I gave my word.’
The drink had not dulled Balbinus’ covetous nature. The compromises and unworthy innovations required to gain power sickened Pupienus. Never had two men held the office of Pontifex Maximus, never had there been a less fitting intermediary between Rome and the gods than Balbinus. If it should prove possible to remove him, without doubt the gods would applaud. The joint reign should not be long enduring. Kingship was indivisible.
Outside the light was bright. They paused for a moment at the top of the steps.
The plebs – hundreds, if not thousands of them – stood in a wide semi-circle. Nearer at hand, the young equestrians cheered. Few of the plebs joined the acclamation.
At the altar, Balbinus took it on himself to address his new subjects.
‘The Senators, with Jupiter as fellow councillor and guardian of their acts, have vested in me the powers of an Emperor. One man alone cannot rule Rome and crush the bandits who march against us over the Alps. In my care for your safety, I have elevated Marcus Clodius Pupienus Maximus as my colleague. Rejoice, your troubles are at an end!’
The equestrians set up a chant.
Blessed is the judgement of the Senate, happy is Rome in your rule!
The massed ranks of the plebs greeted this with an ominous silence.
What the Senate has given, take gladly!
Obscured by the crush, men pushed through the midst of the crowd. To his left, Pupienus caught the white gleam of a toga, in another place got a glimpse of a slight, hooded figure that he half recognized. Near the latter, a man stepped forward.
‘Only the people have the right to pass law. Only the people can elect an Emperor.’
The man shouting wore a leather apron, high-belted. An innkeeper, one of the lowest of the low.
‘We do not want your cruel old Emperors. Let the people choose!’
Balbinus rounded on some of the equestrians. ‘Arrest that criminal.’
‘Jupiter is our only ruler!’ Others took up the innkeeper’s shout.
Three equestrians grabbed the innkeeper. He struggled.
Jupiter is our only ruler!
The first stone flew, then another.
Jupiter our only ruler!
The third missile hit Balbinus on the shoulder. He bellowed with pain, then screamed at the equestrians: ‘Use your swords, kill them all!’
The mob surged forward, engulfed the innkeeper. The three equestrians were down, being kicked and beaten.
Behind Pupienus the good and the great stampeded back up to the comparative safety of the temple.
‘Kill all the scum!’ Balbinus howled.
Timesitheus was at Pupienus’ elbow. ‘Augustus, retire into the temple.’
With what dignitas he could maintain – stones rattling off the marble – Pupienus went back up the steps. Disappointingly, Balbinus blundered past. For a moment, Pupienus had hoped outraged stupidity might have left Balbinus to be torn apart by the mob.
Pupienus paused at the doors, looked back. Timesitheus and the equestrians, blades in hand, were backing up the steps. The hail of stones had ceased.
In the cella, all the Senators were talking at once, like a flock of frightened birds.
Balbinus
