Nero 34

By Pueros

Chapter XXXIV – Exiles

(Imperial palace, Rome, summer DCCCIII A.V.C., in the 9th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [summer, AD 50])

‘Otium sine litteris mors est et hominis vivi sepultra.’

(‘Leisure without literature is death, or rather the burial of a living man.’)

- Seneca the Younger

“Does the formal adoption of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus by my father as his son mean that I’m no longer heir?” Britannicus sadly asked of Apollinus, once they were alone together again.

“I think that we’ll have to become accustomed to calling your stepbrother ‘Nero’ from now on,” Apollinus at first replied, whilst an arm maintained a tight comforting hold on his beautiful young princely charge. “In response to your question,” Britannicus’ slave then continued, “I understand from my palace sources that the answer is definitely ‘No!’ Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus is four years older than you. He has therefore been adopted by Claudius only on the basis that, if he’s achieved manhood and you haven’t by the time that your father is summoned by the gods to join them, he’ll act as a guardian until you’re old enough to assume the Principate. The idea is designed to secure the succession for not only the Julio-Claudians but also particularly your father’s male bloodline, which only you represent.”

“I believe,” Apollinus advised, “that the concept was proposed by Agrippina, at the suggestion of Seneca, to facilitate your ultimate safe accession to the purple. I understand that your father only agreed to the suggestion on the condition that both the Empress and her son swore to the gods to protect your rights to succeed to the Principate. As you know, no true Romans would dare to anger the deities by subsequently sacrilegiously profaning such oaths.”

Britannicus was comforted by this news, particularly as he appreciated who comprised his slave’s normally very reliable principal ‘sources’. These, of course, comprised Helius, erstwhile assistant to the Imperial secretary, and me, main eunuch food-taster of Claudius himself. Apollinus’ brother and I were usually impeccable providers of accurate information about palace goings-on. We became aware of many happenings as a result of our work, which brought us very close to the centre of Imperial power, sadly nearer than the 9 year-old prince himself, who was now just a marginal figure, rarely seen by the Emperor or anyone else of real importance.

Shortly afterwards, feeling somewhat cheered by Apollinus’ reassurance about his future, Britannicus was further comforted by the arrival of his best friend, Titus, for the day’s tutorials. The young prince was then surprised to be visited by three tutors, all appointed to their posts by the former exile, Seneca. The latter was rapidly, albeit still somewhat diplomatically privately, proving himself to be one of the greatest thinkers, commentators and writers of his era.

Corntus normally conducted on his own most of Britannicus’ classes, which were shared by Titus and a few other similarly-aged friends of the prince. The busy Palaemon only replaced his most able employee one day per week, when the educational topics comprised the favourites of the renowned teacher, namely philosophy and rhetoric.

Normally, 9 year-olds would only have been given instruction in elementary matters, principally reading, writing and arithmetic. However, everyone considered it prudent to try to accelerate the education of someone who should be the next Emperor. Accordingly, tuition at the Imperial school was not confined to the traditional basic subjects for boys so young. Such practice was happily made much easier by the abundant capabilities of the central pupil and his best friend.

Britannicus, of course, already knew all of the arriving tutors, having met Petronius in the course of the adventure to entrap Titus Vinius and save me from a fate worse than death on an Imperial galley. However, today, Palaemon formally introduced the ‘elegentiae arbiter’ as the prince’s new teacher of creative writing.

“It is nice to meet you again, sir,” Britannicus politely welcomed Petronius, with his usual disarming smile. The ‘elegentiae arbiter’ provided a similar response, appreciating, as he looked as the lovely young boy before him, that the reunion was indeed immensely pleasant.

Meanwhile, Apollinus, observing the re-introduction from nearby, smiled at the sight of his lover joining the other adult sentinels of Britannicus’ education and welfare.

(Banks of the River Baetis, near Corduba, Baetica, southern Hispania, same time)

‘Exiles feed on hope.’

- Æschylus

The suddenly tearful and terrified Persius, Quintilianus and Lucan felt like condemned Roman exiles, awaiting their imminent awful fate, in a literally provincial backwater, at the hands of soldiers sent by a distant Emperor. However, all three boys appreciated that the narrow, blunt penile weapons about to be used against them were not to be fatal, just extremely distasteful, humiliating and probably painful. They therefore all hoped against hope for rescue.

The ugly bearded leader of the auxiliaries decided to deflower the anal virgin first and had aimed his large hirsute exposed erection at Lucanus’ tight pink sphincter. The crying 11 year-old nude had been splayed face-down on the grass, his limbs held in position by two other soldiers, who were eagerly awaiting their own turns to impregnate the boy’s rear orifice. Meanwhile, nearby, the protestations of Persius and Quintilianus had been stifled by the threat of unsheathed swords, as well as the unsheathed penises they had been forced to suck.

The leader of the auxiliaries had deemed the molestation of the boys safe, despite their obvious upper-class status, because he presumed that they would not reveal the crime to anyone. Not only would announcing that they had been victims of male rape probably be unacceptably humiliating but also what they had originally been indulging on the riverbank would be equally shameful to explain. However, military intent was now confounded by civilian intervention.

“I think that you should leave the boys alone,” decreed a brave voice from nearby. The leader of the auxiliaries, cock hovering just above Lucanus’ vulnerable virgin rectum, ready to plunge, with one vicious downward movement, deep into the boy’s innards, looked up to identify the untimely arrival. He saw a young, immaculately dressed 20 year-old patrician on a horse.

“Who do you think you are,” the leader of the auxiliaries enquired, “to try to stop us having fun?”

“My name is Marcus Ulpius Traianus,” the young man announced.

(Imperial palace, Rome, same time)

‘Rerum omnium magister usus.’

(‘Experience is teacher of all things.’)

- Julius Caesar (‘Gallic Wars’)

Seneca was starting his daily tuition of the young, freshly renamed Nero. Amongst the small select class of fellow pupils, present to provide the 12 year-old prince with company, was a newcomer, who was almost a year older.

Suffuscus liked the idea of having Seneca as his tutor, being well aware of the former exile’s prodigious intellect and teaching abilities, but did not welcome joining Nero’s group of sycophantic patrician classmates. The boy had only agreed to his adoptive father’s request to transfer his education to the Imperial palace out of regard for his kind, loving parent, who had been pressured by the Emperor himself to send his son to the select school.

Claudius, in turn, had been coerced by Agrippina to try to secure similarly aged genuine friends for her son and, to the Emperor, the older, adopted, son of Aulus Plautius seemed an ideal candidate. The brown haired and eyed 13 year-old beauty always seemed to be very pleasant, polite and gregarious, and therefore possibly someone who could nurture a truly amicable relationship with the problematical Imperial stepson.

The fact that Seneca had expressed a similar opinion had encouraged Claudius to approach his old friend, Aulus Plautius, to secure the recruitment of Suffuscus. The renowned general, successful conqueror of southern Britannia, had felt obliged to ask his older son to comply with the Imperial request, despite knowing, from private conversations with the boy, that the 13 year-old strongly disliked the former Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, after spending time with the obnoxious 12 year-old at places like the gladiatorial games.

Suffuscus appreciated that his father had made his solicitation very reluctantly but also realised the awkward situation in which the renowned general found himself. The boy recognised that his adoptive parent would not normally ask him to commit himself to anything that he did not want to do unless duty was involved, and that denial of a favour for the Emperor could lead to a deterioration in relationships with the Imperial family. The latter could make life very awkward for his own happy familial group. The 13 year-old therefore reluctantly agreed to become a fellow pupil of Nero, although he was resolutely determined not to become another fawning appendage to Seneca’s classes.

Suffuscus’ resolution not to be another sycophant of Nero was exemplified very early by an incident that occurred on his arrival for his first day of tuition in the Imperial palace. The former Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus had welcomed the older newcomer with the customary disparaging contempt he afforded to his classmates. The result was a well-delivered punch to the princely nose, causing the deeply shocked and anguished recipient of the blow to collapse crying to the floor, with blood dripping from his nostrils.

Seneca observed the incident. However, instead of punishing Suffuscus for harming the young Imperial person, he admonished Nero for being so clumsy in accidentally falling over and hurting himself. When the former Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus protested that he had been attacked by the newcomer, he received two strokes of his tutor’s cane across his right palm for allegedly telling lies, much to the amusement of his fellow pupils.

As Seneca subsequently attempted to instruct his class in the works of Aristotle, the physically, if not mentally, recovered Nero glanced furtively at Suffuscus. As the young prince did so, a strange mixture of emotions, relating to the earlier, acutely personally embarrassing incident, seared through his mind. These included intense humiliation, fury, hatred and a desire for revenge. However, there were also unusual additions, namely grudging admiration and respect.

(Banks of the River Baetis, near Corduba, Baetica, southern Hispania, same time)

‘One good turn deserves another.’

-Petronius (‘Satyricon’)

“I’m travelling to Corduba,” Marcus Ulpius Traianus continued, “where my father is currently the house guest of the provincial governor. After arriving, I’d be happy to advise our host about how some of his soldiers treat young upper class citizens, unless, of course, you decide that you’ve already had your fun. In which case, I’d be happy to remain quiet about this incident.”

The frustrated leader of the auxiliaries momentarily considered ordering some of his men to run the impertinent young patrician through with their swords so that they could continue their molestation of the delectable boys. However, he realised that he would then have to kill the young rape victims afterwards because they would have witnessed the murder of the impudent intruder.

The leader of the auxiliaries then began to appreciate that getting away with such a high-profile crime, against four members of the upper classes, might not be easy. One of his own soldiers might even inform on him, in return for personal amnesty and the large reward that would undoubtedly be offered for the arrest of the murderers by the victims’ families. He therefore reluctantly but undoubtedly wisely decided that discretion was likely to be better than valour on this occasion, and that he and his men would just have to satisfy their sexual ardours in the brothels of Coduba.

“We meant no real harm,” the leader of the auxiliaries meekly suggested, as he stood up and tucked his rapidly softening frustrated cock back into his loincloth undergarment, whilst quietly signalling to two of his fellow soldiers that their enjoyment of fellatio should simultaneously terminate unsatisfactorily. “We just wanted to teach the boys a lesson,” the man continued, in a forlorn untruthful effort to excuse the attempted rapes, “that they shouldn’t play sex games in such surrounds if they don’t want others to intrude.”

Later, as ten very disappointed auxiliary cavalrymen rode away from the secluded scene, a smiling Marcus Ulpius Traianus advised the very grateful Persius, Quintilianus and Lucanus “If you’ve had enough of playing on the riverbank, and care to dress, I’d be happy to escort you to the safety of Corduba.” After the recent traumatic shock of their encounter with the auxiliaries, P, Q and L, still visibly quaking with fright, were happy to accept the 20 year-old’s kind offer.

The redressed Persius, Quintilianus and Lucanus subsequently walked alongside their rescuer’s horse, having regained the pathway that follows the valley of the River Baetis from Corduba to the city of Italica, about 70 Roman miles to the southwest. “Where do you come from,” P asked of Marcus Ulpius Traianus, “and is your father really a house guest of the provincial governor?”

“My family, the Ulpii, live in Italica, here in Hispanian Baetica,” Marcus Ulpius Traianus answered, “although our ancestors originally came from Umbria in Italia.” A wicked smile then engulfed the young man’s handsome face when he continued “I’m afraid that I exaggerated the status of our host in Corduba for the sake of extracting you from the clutches of those lecherous auxiliaries. My parent is instead actually currently staying with a much less important patrician, at least as far as the administration of the province is concerned. However, the man is nevertheless likely to be significant in my life, because he is my prospective father-in-law.”

“You see,” Marcus Ulpius Traianus continued, “my father has been negotiating my marriage. The talks have been successfully concluded and so I’m on my way to meet the lucky girl for the first time.” As arranged martial unions were normal for the patrician classes of Rome, none of the young man’s audience questioned the reason for his trip to Corduba.

Persius later asked Marcus Ulpius Traianus whether he had ever been to Rome. “Not yet,” the young man answered, “although I wouldn’t mind sometime ending the self-imposed voluntary exile of my family here in Hispania to seek my fame and fortune in our capital. However, my family isn’t wealthy and we don’t really know anyone who could support me there until I can properly fend for myself.” “Well,” P responded, “perhaps, between the three of us, we might be able to help you one day fulfil your ambition.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Marcus Ulpius Traianus replied, whilst not actually considering that this chance meeting with three handsome boys would produce such an outcome. The young man even believed that it was probable that he would never see the delightful trio again after he had delivered them safely to Corduba. His thoughts were to prove a misjudgement of the beholden Persius, Quintilianus and Lucanus.

Although delayed, the subsequent actions of Persius, Quintilianus and Lucanus were to have major repercussions for not only Marcus Ulpius Traianus but also Rome. However, the person who was to advance most because of the chance encounter on the banks of the River Baetis was not to be the young man himself.

Marcus Ulpius Traianus was to benefit greatly. However, the first product of his imminent marriage, still three years distant from arriving in this world, was to achieve even more.

I was one day to be become very well acquainted with Marcus Ulpius Traianus’ yet-to-be-born eponymous son.

(Imperial palace, Rome, later that day)

‘Rerum concordia discors.’

(‘The concord of things through discord.’)

- Horace (‘Epistles’)

Only Seneca was not surprised when, after his class had finished for the morning and his pupils went off to eat luncheon, he noticed Nero approach Suffuscus. The young prince then amazed the other boys when he said to the newcomer, in an unprecedented contrite manner, “I’m sorry that your arrival in my class began with me upsetting you. I deserved the punch because I can be intolerable at times. However, despite the unfortunate beginning, I hope that you and I can become friends!”

Suffuscus appreciated that Nero’s public words had entailed much swallowing of personal pride. The 13 year-old also saw the clear pleading in the 12 year-old prince’s eyes, evident of someone desperate for his entreaty to work.

Suffuscus’ beautiful face produced a broad smile, as he replied “Of course we can be friends!” The two boys then walked off to enjoy lunch together, whilst now chatting amicably. Seneca’s own grin matched that of his new 13 year-old pupil. The perceptive former exile had always possessed the ability to recognise the early blossoming of a close friendship, which, in this case, could have profound benefits for the still-developing character of the younger partner, and thereby Rome itself.

(Nemea, Argolis, Greece, same time)

‘Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.’

(‘Whatever this may be, I fear the Greeks even when they’re bringing gifts.’)

- Virgil (the priest warning of the priest, Laokoon, on seeing the Trojan horse, in the ‘Aeneid’)

My beloved Gaius’ cock, entertained only by his own right hand of late, was hard. The unruly member, happily hidden under the light summer tunic he currently preferred, beneath the hot overhead sun, to his toga virilis, had become excited whilst observing, amidst large crowds, the famous and beautiful Athenodoros for the first time.

The naked Athenodoros was currently indulging in some final preparations for the imminent stade race on the busy practice running track close to Nemea’s apodyterion, under the close supervision of Melankomas. Gaius later kindly told me that the young 17 year-old athlete’s wondrous blonde, blue-eyed body reminded him of my own, as he termed it, “impeccable form”.

Gaius, with the ever-present Hylas at his side, was about to depart the locale, in order to secure a position in the nearby stadium to watch the afternoon’s athletics, when he saw someone, apparently with careful furtiveness, exchange a small amphora, presumably containing water, for the one that seemingly belonged to Athenodoros. No-one else at the busy scene, including the owner of the temporarily unguarded corked jar, or his trainer, appeared to notice the proficient switch except for my lover.

Gaius at first thought little of what he had just observed and began walking away from the environs of the practice track towards the stadium. However, as he did so, he felt something hit his arm from above and then heard laughter from 8 year-old Hylas.

“You’ve displeased Zeus,” Hylas subsequently suggested between giggles, whilst pointing into the cloudless sky, “because an eagle’s just defecated on you!” A less than pleased Gaius, now feeling and noticing the smelly off-white semi-liquid deposit on his arm, followed his young slave’s uplifted arm to the sight of the offending aquiline creature in the blueness above.

As Gaius tried to wipe the ornithological excrement from him, he suddenly began to feel uneasy. However, his disquiet did not stem from the unpleasantness of his current chore.

Gaius was not usually one to believe in the gods, let alone omens, but he nevertheless now experienced a strange sense that he was trying to leave the locality with important business still unfulfilled. The beautiful young man from Volsinii then remembered Athenodoros’ water jar.

Gaius attempted to persuade himself that the thought was silly and, having successfully concluded his remedial cleaning, began to resume his journey towards the stadium. He also tried to exhibit his famous sense of humour by joining in Hylas’ laughter at the recent aerial bombardment. However, the concerns now pervading his mind would not let him progress far and the 20 year-old soon found himself marching back, at a rapid pace, to the practice track.

Gaius arrived to discover Athenodoros picking up his discarded amphora to enjoy a much-needed drink on conclusion of his final practice. “Excuse me,” the young man from Volsinii politely addressed the beautiful naked young Aigionian for the first time, “but did you know that that jar isn’t the one you originally brought?”

The surprised Athenodoros at first said nothing, instead occupying his sensuous blue eyes with a close examination of the amphora. However, Melankomas was speedier in recognising the possible implications and politely asked his lover if he too could inspect the jar.

When Melankomas had the container in his hands, he immediately removed the cork stopper and smelt the liquid inside. The trainer took a while to detect the slight odour but, as soon as his nostrils became more sensitive to the discovery, recognition dawned. “I think,” the 21 year-old advised his 17 year-old charge, as he poured the water in the amphora onto the ground, “that, if you drank any of this, you’d be too ill to participate in this afternoon’s stade!”

Melankomas then turned to Gaius, thanked the young man from Volsinii for his intervention and went on to describe the features of another trainer. “Yes,” responded my own lover, “that fits the description of the person I saw perfectly.”

“Kallikles’ coach!” Melankomas then announced to Athenodoros, with clear anger evident in both his voice and eyes.

(Imperial palace, Rome, same time)

‘Pacta sunt servanda.’

(‘Agreements are to be kept.’)

- Cicero (‘Philippicae Orationes’)

Seneca’s motive for advising Agrippina to seek the formal adoption of her son by Claudius was genuinely not to promote the interests of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus above those of Britannicus. Instead, the intent of the Imperial advisor and tutor was to try to safeguard Rome after the eventual death of the Emperor. The Princeps was now 60 and visibly ageing fast. The former exile was therefore keen to help facilitate a smooth succession, which would prevent the Empire from plunging into internecine civil war.

Nero could be considered a man, and therefore old enough to inherit the purple, four years earlier than Britannicus. Accordingly, Seneca believed that, in order to avoid damaging unrest, the older prince should be allowed to succeed to the Principate if Claudius’ eventual death came at a time when the former Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus had entered formal manhood but Britannicus was still regarded as a boy.

If such a scenario materialised, Seneca hoped that both Nero and Agrippina would respect their oaths to allow Claudius’ son to become Emperor when he too became a man. Nevertheless, the Imperial advisor and tutor was not so naïve that he considered such an outcome likely, once those he served had acquired and tasted power. However, the former exile was also not too concerned should the current Empress and her son ultimately renege on their sacred promise, as long as both Rome and Britannicus remained safe. He also believed that the present Princeps probably secretly shared his thoughts and views.

Given such perceptions, Seneca considered that his personal prime duty in life should now be to mould Nero’s character into one appropriate for an Emperor. As he observed the young prince return from luncheon, now smiling and chatting happily with the very pleasant Suffuscus, the tutor began to believe that his task might be becoming easier.

(Nemea, Argolis, Greece, that night)

‘We secure our friends not by accepting favours but by doing them.’

- Thucydides (‘Peloponnesian War’)

“So what brings you to Greece,” the grinning Melankomas asked of Gaius, “the ‘tour’ or exile for perfidy in Rome?” “At times,” the young man from Volsinii replied, “I feel as if I am a penitent exile, because I’ve left behind someone who’s very precious to me.”

Melankomas reached out his hand to hold, quite openly, that of Athenodoros. “I can appreciate your feelings,” the trainer responded with genuine sympathy.

Athenodoros and Melankomas had postponed their lovemaking to honour Gaius for his timely help by sharing cena with him and his young slave, in the company of their own, now largely, Aigionian entourage. All present were very happy because the gorgeous 17 year-old athlete present wore a wreath of celery on his sublime head.

(Britannia, same time)

‘Pro patria, pro liberis, pro aris atque focis suis certare.’

(‘For the country, for freedom, for house and hearth is our fight.’)

- Sallust (‘Bellum Catilinae’)

Following crushing defeat in pitched battle and the loss of his respected elder brother, Togodumnus, Caratacus had abandoned his tribal homelands, which centred round the recently built Roman fortress of Camulodunum, and fled the southeast of Britannia. He removed his family and retinue to the west where he initially allied with the Silures, Demetae, Ordovices and Deceangli tribes.

Operating from lands of the Silures, Caratacus carried out well-timed attacks deep into the Roman-held territories until the new governor, Publius Ostorius Scapula, managed to restore order and push the chieftain’s forces back. The general also appreciated the urgent need to eliminate permanently the threat from the renegade king in the west and to halt any advance northwards.

As a prelude to his campaigns against Caratacus, Scapula moved the XX Legion, the ‘Valeria’, from its recently built fortress at Camulodunum to a new one at Glevum. A colonia of veteran troops was left behind as a reserve force, occupying the abandoned fortifications. The II Legion, the ‘Augusta’, was then used to strike deep into the Silurian heartlands.

In response, Caratacus moved his centre of operations from Silurian territory northwards to the lands of the Ordovices. Scapula reacted by building another fortress at Viroconium, re-grouping the XIV Legion, or the ‘Gemina’, there as a second base of operations.

The hilly and wooded local terrain had initially helped Caratacus with his guerrilla tactics, which had successfully hampered the Roman advance. However, the establishment of the Viroconium base enabled Scapula to trap the chieftain’s forces in a two-pronged attack, using the II Legion from the south and the XIV from the north.

Caratacus’ forces, atop a steep slope, were finally beaten by a frontal assault by the Roman legions. However, as described in the last chapter of my saga, the chieftain had managed to flee north into the lands of the Brigantes. Meanwhile, his defeated army melted back into the western hills from which it had been raised.

The local monarchs of the Brigantes, each responsible for their own sections of territory, King Venutius and Queen Cartimandua, welcomed Caratacus with fulsome hospitality. However, they had both recently been recognised as clients of Rome, and Scapula despatched emissaries requesting that they give their guest up to him.

King Venutius and Queen Cartimandua were caught in a dilemma. Which should they honour more: the ancient traditions of Britannian hospitality or the treaty with the Romans? As the monarchs entered into lengthy furtive debate about the issue, from diametrically opposed viewpoints, Scapula now chose to wait patiently for the decision rather than commit further forces to try to influence the outcome.

After all, although the Emperor had specifically ordered Scapula to capture Caratacus alive to send him to exile in chains to Rome, Claudius had laid down no time-scale for success. The Princeps was apparently also happy to wait patiently, to welcome the stubborn and annoying chieftain in his capital, where he would undoubtedly parade the captive through the streets before agonisingly putting him to death.

Naturally, such an event would inaugurate an acutely difficult clash of loyalties for me, because Caratacus was my King, whereas Claudius, whom I now both served and liked, was my Emperor.

(To be continued in chapter XXXV – ‘Loyalties’)

Erratum II:-

Chapter XXXIII (33 – ‘Adoptions’)

The age of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus (aka Nero) was given as 13, whereas he was still 12. The age gap between him and Rubellius Plautus was therefore 5 years.

Athenodoros was an Aigionian not an Aigion, which was the actual name of his home city.

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