THIS HISTORICAL FICTION is based upon the writings of Tacitus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio.
We do not know any details of the latter part of Vespasian’s four years in Britannia other than he subdued two tribes, fought thirty battles, captured twenty hill-forts as well as the Island of Vectis, as Suetonius tells us. Tacitus’ account is lost and Cassius Dio has a reference to Vespasian being hemmed in by barbarians and being saved by his son, Titus, which is obviously a mistake seeing as Titus was only six or seven at the time! However, we can assume from Suetonius that he was very busy and the excavations of various hill-forts in the southwest of England attest to the long and methodical advance west that the II Augusta must have made. The battles, therefore, are fictitious as is Caratacus and the druids’ attempt to lure Vespasian into a trap using his brother as bait.
As to the druids, we just do not know as they left no record of themselves. The best book on the subject that I have found is The Druids by Stuart Piggott; his conclusion is that you can have druids as imagined or druids as wished for, but never druids as really were. My druids are totally imaginary but backed up by five references. Tacitus gives us an interesting insight when he describes them as lifting their arms to the heavens and showering imprecations that struck the Roman soldiers invading Anglesey with such awe at first that their limbs were paralysed and they left their bodies open to wounds without attempting to move. I have taken this quite literally. Pliny tells us that they wore white robes and Cicero in his On Divination implies that they practised human sacrifice as they were keen on reading the intestines of humans; Diodorus Siculus confirms this by saying that they sacrificed their victims with a dagger in the chest. Caesar tells us that victims were also sacrificed by burning in a wicker man; he also tells us of the druids’ belief in the transmigration of the soul, which is what gave me the idea of an immortal Myrddin. Their keeping alive the rites of the old gods of Britannia that were worshipped before the coming of the Celts is, of course, fiction; but I’ve often wondered what gods inspired the building of so great a monument as Stonehenge, which was already ancient by Vespasian’s time.
Having Tintagel as a smaller version of the druids’ main stronghold of Anglesey is my fiction.
The Cornovii were a tribe in the northwest of Britannia, but there must have been a sub-tribe in the area of Tintagel as implied by the name of the settlement, Durocornavis or ‘fortress of the Cornovii’.
Legend has it that Yosef of Arimathea came to Britain and founded a church on Glastonbury Tor, bringing with him either the Spear of Destiny or the Holy Grail or both. Legend also has it that Jesus’ children – or at least his son of the same name – accompanied him; this may have given rise to the belief that Jesus himself walked on our green and pleasant land and caused William Blake to write Jerusalem. Having already been, rather sadly, accused of ‘heresy’ for similar offences I have felt free to incorporate the legend into this fiction.
I am indebted again to John Peddie who suggests, in his Roman Invasion of Britain, that the portage way between the Axe and the Parrett would have been important to the invaders because it would have been a lot safer and quicker than sailing around the peninsula with its contrary tides and winds. Given the manpower at their disposal the Romans would not have blanched at the prospect of dragging ships overland.
Tacitus mentions Hormus as being Vespasian’s freedman in The Histories so I thought it appropriate that he should be the first slave that Vespasian purchases.
Messalina did covet Asiaticus’ Gardens of Lucullus and forced his suicide in order to get hold of them. Asiaticus’ private hearing before Claudius and Messalina is recounted by Tacitus and happened pretty much as described apart from Vespasian’s intervention. Asiaticus did have his pyre moved so that it would not damage his gardens before eating with friends and then bleeding to death in his bath. The gardens were on the Pincian Hill; however, the hill was not known as that until the fifth century when it took its name from a family that lived there. I have used the name to avoid confusion.
The Dying Gaul and the Gaul Killing Himself and His Wife were both rediscovered at the Gardens of Sallust just close by in the early seventeenth century; it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that they may have been in the Gardens of Lucullus in Vespasian’s time.
Messalina’s excesses are a matter of record in all three of the primary sources; the question is why did she go so far and marry Silius? Even the normally unshockable Tacitus feels that his readers would find it hard to comprehend. Silius was consul-designate in AD 48 according to Tacitus – but not Wikipedia! At the time of writing, that is – maybe that could explain it and perhaps I’m not that far from the truth; perhaps, though, it was just madness. The details of their wedding, the orgiastic behaviour, the tubs of grapes, Messalina’s thyrsus, Silius’ boots, wreath and head-tossing and Vettius Valens climbing the tree and seeing a storm over Ostia, all come from Tacitus. He also tells us that it was two prostitutes, Cleopatra and Calpurnia, who brought the news to Claudius in Ostia.
Narcissus did keep Claudius distracted with documents to prevent him noticing Messalina’s attempt to see him as he returned to Rome and Vitellius did remain ambiguous in his criticism of the villainy.
Vibidia, the chief Vestal, did intercede on Messalina’s behalf causing Claudius to say that he would call for his wife in the morning and allow her to plead her case. It was Narcissus who ordered her execution having been given command of the Guard for one day because the prefects’ loyalties were suspect.
Vespasian’s part in Messalina’s death is my fiction as is Burrus being the tribune who finished her – but more of him in later volumes. She did die, with her mother in attendance, in the Gardens of Lucullus, the seeming justice of which both Tacitus and Cassius Dio make much of.
Lucius Vipstanus Messalla Poplicola and his brother Gaius Vipstanus Messalla Gallus did become consuls with the Vitellius brothers that year; they being cousins of Messalina is my fiction but I enjoyed the coincidence of their name.
Corvinus betraying his sister is fiction but I felt justified in doing it as he not only survived her downfall but also went on to become consul a few years later. I am indebted to Ridley Scott’s fine film The Duellists for the idea of Corvinus conducting himself as a dead man.
Sabinus, Vespasian and Galba’s part in changing the law to enable Claudius to marry his niece is fiction; however, the law was changed and the Senate, at Lucius Vitellius’ instigation, begged Claudius to accept the match – a match that Pallas had proposed.
Tacitus tells us that Agrippina used the niece’s privilege of sitting on her uncle’s lap and kissing him – isn’t it strange how the definition of privilege has changed?
Agrippina’s second husband, Passienus, did die in AD 47 – perhaps poisoned by his wife – and left everything to her son Lucius. That the inheritance included an estate next to the Flavians at Aquae Cutillae is fictitious. Claudius did introduce three new letters into the alphabet but they fell out of use after his death; he also wrote a book on dice and was an inveterate gambler. He also did some constructive arithmetic that allowed him to hold the Secular Games.
Finally, Claudius did adopt Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus – who became known as Nero – which was as good as signing his own son’s death warrant. Sometimes you just can’t make it up!
Once again my thanks go to all the people who support me through the writing process: my agent, Ian Drury, at Shiel Land Associates and Gaia Banks and Marika Lysandrou in the foreign rights department – although sometimes I think it should be renamed the foreign writs department. Those publishers know who they are and shame on them for their dishonesty.
Thanks to Sara O’Keeffe, Toby Mundy, Anna Hogarty and everyone at Corvus/Atlantic for their constant enthusiasm for the Vespasian series; I’m very grateful. Farewell and good luck to Corinna Zifko in her new job.
As always, much gratitude and respect goes to my editor, Richenda Todd, for such a thorough structural edit, which improved the manuscript considerably, and also for correcting my O-level grade D Latin. Thanks also to Tamsin Shelton for the copy-edit, picking up so well on all the minute mistakes that I could stare at all day and never notice.
Finally, my love and thanks to my wife, Anja Müller, for listening to me read my work aloud and supplying so many great ideas.
Vespasian’s story will continue in Rome’s Lost Son.