Free Vespasian: Tribune of Rome by Robert Fabbri Page A

to imposing villas with magnificent views on the slopes above. The road itself was busier than he could have imagined; every imaginable form of transport passed them heading back up the Via Salaria, and overturned carts with broken axles, spilt loads and slow-moving columns of shackled captives meant that they found progress was quicker just to the side of it, and easier on the hoofs of their mounts.
    Their party was made up of Vespasian, his brother and father all riding horses; next came Vespasia in a four-wheeled, mule-drawn, covered carriage, a
raeda
. She sat on deep cushions under the awning being fussed over by two maidservants as the cumbersome vehicle rattled and jolted its way down from the hills. Behind the raeda came a cart with their luggage, driven by two household slaves. Finally came three more household slaves, the men’s body servants, riding mules. As guards, Titus had hired three mountedex-legionaries, who had so far proved to be forbidding enough to ensure a trouble-free journey.
    Progress down the Via Salaria had not been quick, owing mainly to the painfully slow speed of the raeda. This had had its advantages in that they had spent two nights on the road rather than one, staying with families with whom they had ties of hospitality. At dinner the families had traded favours to their mutual advantage. Titus offered promises of his brother-in-law Gaius, the ex-praetor, interceding in a court case or a civic matter in return for a letter of introduction to a magistrate or a member of the imperial household. Titus had been happy to trade on the name of his brother-in-law as Vespasia had assured him that all reasonable promises would be honoured, at a price – naturally – to himself some day in the future. For Vespasian it had been interesting to see at first hand the heads of two families supporting each other for common benefit one day, knowing that they could become arch-rivals the next.
    As the small party drew closer to their destination Vespasian contemplated how he would advance himself in this highly competitive society that he was being forced into, where the only permanent loyalties were to Rome, one’s family and one’s personal honour and dignity. He looked up at the brown cloud in the distance as his horse pressed on up a hill and wondered whether he would be suited to, or even wanted, such a competitive life. The road ignored the steep incline as it forged ahead and before he had arrived at any firm conclusion it reached the summit.
    Vespasian stopped and gasped. Forgetting all else he stared in disbelief at the most magnificent sight that he had ever seen. Five or so miles before him, crowned with a thick brown halo formed from the smoke of half a million cooking fires and the discharge of countless forges and tanneries, its seven hills encircled by huge red-brick walls punctuated by mighty towers, stood the heart of the most powerful empire in the world: Rome.
    ‘I remember stopping and marvelling in this very place forty years ago when my mother brought me here at your age,’ Titus said, pulling up next to him. ‘When a man sees Rome for the first time and feels her power and his own insignificance in the face of it, he realises that he has but two choices: serve her or perish under her, for there is no ignoring her.’
    Vespasian looked at his father. ‘In that case there is no choice,’ he said in a quiet voice. Titus smiled and stroked the smooth neck of his mount whilst he contemplated the scale of the city below them.
    ‘If that sight overwhelms us so, imagine how some hairy-arsed barbarian from the forests of Germania or Gaul must feel when faced with such might. Is it any wonder that their chieftains are now falling over themselves to become citizens? Like our Latin allies over a hundred years ago, who fought a war against Rome for their right to citizenship, they too want to serve her rather than perish under her. Rome sucks you in, son, just take care that she doesn’t