two days after the Senate proclaimed Galba that I returned from the baths to find a dozen legionaries at my studio. ‘What do they want ?’ I thought to myself. ‘Is it taxes ? No, it can’t be ! Platua has taken care of that. All our taxes are paid. She showed me the receipts herself.’
Pallas pointed me out to their centurion. “Are you Quintus Saturnus, the mason ?” he asked. “Yes” I replied with some fear I can tell you [for it is] not every day a man has legionaries on his doorstep.
Platula appeared and, expecting the worst, rushed over, threw her arms around me begging me to forgive her trespasses against me, which were very few.
The centurion laughed. “There’s no need for that. You are to come with us. There is work for you at the Palace.”
“Work ?” I asked politely.
“You’re a slow one” he replied, grinning. “Don’t you know ? We have a new emperor. He needs a mason. Get you men and come with us. There is no time to lose.”
I hastily collected some clay and assembled three of my best men. The legionaries escorted us to the Palace. We were taken to a chamber inside. There, Galba sat with other men, reading things and talking quietly. We entered, bowing respectfully. Galba’s secretary saw us approach and the Emperor gestured for the others to leave.
“Where do you want me ?” the emperor asked. I said where he was seated was fine. ‘How long is all this going to take ? he demanded. I assured him only an hour or so. He grunted and fidgeted anxiously with his pen, but otherwise sat still as I finished my rough cast and my freemen their sketches.
We bowed as we left. It was only then the emperor’s secretary informed us the terms of our commission. “You are to make three busts for the emperor to choose from. If he likes one of them, you are to carve 20 copies in marble. You are offered your usual rates. Is that satisfactory ?”
“When am I to be paid ?” I asked. “On delivery” he snapped. “You have three days. Need I say how much work you will have if the Emperor grants you his patronage ?’ Anxious for the work, I agreed. We rushed back to my studio. Working day and night, we soon had three busts ready.
Now it must [be said] Galba was not a handsome man. He was no Apollo ! He, I could tell, had been an ox of a man, but had gone to fat. He had several chins and a huge, hooked nose like an eagles’ beak. My first effort was lifelike – down to the lump on his chin. The second, worked up by one my one of my freemen, had the new emperor with his eyes piously raised to the Gods. The third, which I also carved, was the standard imperial pose: dignified, looking straight ahead. No lumps anywhere.
I sent Pallas to the secretary with a message that the work was complete. Several of his men returned with him and took the busts. He sent back a message that Galba had chosen the third bust - and that he had kept the first, life-like one in his private room !
We got to work on the copies. I sent an urgent order for more stone to my brother-in-law. When he heard my news, he personally walked the quarry to select what I needed and escorted it to Rome. He had not even had time to bathe, arriving covered in marble dust !
IV
For a week we carved without rest. Then, on the day appointed for delivery, I assembled my freemen and slaves and we each took up one of the twenty busts and carried it to the Palace. It was a sight to see ! A line of mean, each carrying a gleaming white image of the new emperor. The Palace guards cheered as we filed past. I almost burst with pride.
But pride comes before the fall, they say. I had been promised cash on delivery. But there was no-one around to pay me. For weeks, I chased up payment. The imperial secretary ignored me. His men, who I got to know well when I started coming to the Palace daily, urged me to be patient. Platua berated me for my foolishness. “When are we to be paid ? You say how good your work is – how much they admired it ! Are we supposed to eat compliments ? How are we to pay my brother ?”
My brother-in law, fortunately, knows how things are in business. I told him all I knew He assures me all will be well. “Don’t worry too much, brother” he whispered “It could be worse - remember all those treason trials ?”
Weeks passed, then months. Nothing ! Platua continued to [sting me] with her words. I rarely lose my temper [but] I went to the Palace again. As I walked through the streets, I noticed people whispering. Some shops were shuttered up, even though it was still morning. The Palace guards, who know me well, seemed pre-occupied. I demanded to be seen and wait.
Eventually, one of the secretary’s men emerged. I demand payment. He laughed, clicked his finger at a nearby centurion and gestured to him to escort me out. I stood my ground. “You laugh at me, an honest workman !’ I yelled at him. “How am I supposed to support my family if the emperor won’t pay me ? Who will offer prayers to such a man ?” I glared at the guard. “You think it’s your sword that keeps us all together ? No! It’s trust. Who will trust a man who doesn’t pay his bills ?” I left before they could throw me out.
V
News of the rebellion against Galba broke the next day. He had promised the Legions more money, but he hadn’t paid them either. They butchered him like a sheep and raised in his place Otho, who many though was a bastard son of Tiberius.
Several days later, while I was in on the latrine, there was loud knocking at the door. Platua opened it to find a centurion – the same one who I saw at the Palace - and his men. He beckoned to me. “Come, mason, there is work for you at the Palace.”
I grew angry. “No, I’m going nowhere.” I gestured to my studio. “This is not a charity !”
“Calm down, mason” he replied “you’ll be paid. Some of us liked your little speech the other day. You’ll find our new man easier to deal with.”
I gathered my men and, once again, we trooped off to the Palace. We were led to a courtyard where Otho sat reading. He looked up. ‘Where do you want me ?’ he asked. I replied where he was seated was fine. He unrolled a scroll and read to himself as I started my rough cast and my freemen their sketches.
Otho was a young man, not an old wreck like Galba. He looked much like the busts of the young Tiberius, which you can still see today. The curls in his hair were neat and regular, like furrows ploughed in a field. I moved closer and saw it was a wig, and a very good one too. I carefully copied its regular curls: they were so much easier to carve than waves of natural hair. After an hour, Otho looked up. ‘Enough ! Even an emperor has to piss !” He got up and left.
We had what we needed and withdrew. The secretary appeared. “You know the deal” he said. “No” I replied “there’s no deal until I’m paid what I’m owed and for this new work. I am an honest man and I only work for honest men.”
Everyone fell silent. The secretary’s face went black - I thought he would strike me. The emperor returned. “You’re finished ? Good.” He turned to the secretary. “Well, Lucius, don’t stand there like a statue, pay the man.”
The secretary gestured to one of his men, who passed me a leather purse. I poured the contents out into my hand - a dozen golden aurei all bearing Otho’s portrait. “Freshly minted !” the emperor boasted. He took one from me. “What do you think of the likeness ?”
It was good work, I answered. The engraver had caught the new emperor perfectly. He handed me back the coin. “If yours as good, there will be more of this.”
I will not tire you, or myself, with the details of our work. It was much the same as last time. Soon I had an order for twenty five busts and down payment on half [of them]. I paid my brother-in-law what I owed him and ordered more stone. He came down with the carts to deliver it. “It’s good you shit marble !” I [greeted him]. “It’s good you piss gold !” he replied.
We congratulated each other too soon. Within weeks, the German legions had declared their support for a general called Vitellius. What happened next is well-known. Otho killed himself [and] Vitellius assumed the purple. He owed me, on Platua’s reckoning, forty aurei.
VI
By now, I was tired of imperial work. I promised by the Gods to Platua [tha
t] I would have no more of it ! But the Gods had other plans – they often do ! As night follows day, the centurion was back at my studio with another summons to the Palace.
We worked as Vitellius ate. It was not a pretty sight. He made Galba look small. He was over-weight - I counted five chins [although] there may have been more under all the jewels he wore around his neck. He was a glutton, who talked as he ate. Often, his belching sent bits of food and drink flying across the room. Several times, he vomited without getting up. He clicked his fingers, a slave brought a bowl and he threw up in front of everyone without shame, like a dog shitting in the street.
The usual promises were made. This time I got 25 aurei – just enough to pay what I owed for the marble. We left and got to work. This time, I made only one bust. I tell you honestly, it was my best work. I turned that pig into a man. I kept the five chins, but gave him the dignity of Augustus. It was accepted without comment.
Again, I delivered my work. Again, there were delays in payment. Barely six months passed before some of the Legions declared for Vespasian, a general out in