(58 BCE – 29CE)
1. Calling on Livia
I decided to materialise during Livia’s last year on earth. The once beautiful woman, who captivated Octavius and turned him into the great Augustus, had become a decrepit old woman. Still, her commanding eyes retained their glimmer. She was aware that her appointed day was imminent but kept her natural pride and royal airs.
“Are you a gladiator?” she wanted to know. “And why do you bring this tiger with you? Is he tame? Why didn’t you leave him behind, in his cage near the amphitheatre?”
“Tiger’le is my friend,” I explained, “and we are not of your era. I lived two thousand years after your time and was teletransported here by one of your Gods, by Lord Pan.”
“But why? And what induced you to call on me? My days on earth are drawing to their close. And this Tiger, is he dangerous?”
“I am not dangerous, Great Lady. I simply accompanied Peter’le on his mission. I wanted to meet you,” said Tiger.
“I am bewildered; and I am entitled to an explanation.”
It seemed best to explain to her the nature of my mission and predicament: I found it difficult to pinpoint the seven most influential individuals in human history.
“But why did you pick me? What have I achieved?”
“Augustus paved the way for his successors; and his Rome became the cradle of Western civilisation and culture,” I explained.
“In that case why didn’t you opt for Augustus? Why me?”
“In plain language: Augustus ruled Rome, and you were the power behind him.”
For a while, Livia reflected. Then she broke into a warm smile.
“Is this the way I have been remembered by history?”
“It is,” I assured her. “I know you destroyed opponents and that, in the event, you poisoned Augustus. At the same time, I know that you never put your own interests above Rome’s.”
“Who told you this?”
“I read Suetonius’ The Twelve Caesars as well as Tacitus, Dio Cassius and some modern writers. Your place in history was never in doubt.”
“Don’t you flatter me. I knew what I did and have felt satisfied with the outcome! And how shall I address you?”
“Please call me Peter’le. It’s the name by which I am known nowadays. And can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead; but I suspect you know all answers.”
“I know most of them. What is not clear to me is why you divorced your first husband and married Octavian.”
“Didn’t your sources discuss this issue?”
“They did; but I want your confirmation.”
“Very well, then. As you probably know, I was married and quite happily so. And I had given birth to Tiberius. But my eyes saw the horrors of the civil war in Rome, resulting from the factions established after the assassination of Julius Caesar. I knew that my first husband would be guided by his principles and might strive to restore the Republic. I also knew that this would have been misguided. A ship of fools often elects the loudest speaker as captain. Regrettably, that worthy individual is often the chief jackass.”
“A Greek philosopher called Plato takes the same view.”
“I have read him,” she told with a grin, “actually, I am well read; quite an exception in my era. Well, when I met Octavius I sensed that he could be turned into a wise and good ruler. So, I made sure to captivate him.”
“How did you lead him?” asked Tiger and added: “My Tigla made sure she was in charge. On many occasions she was tough, very tough. I did her bidding but, all the same, resented her. Still, after she died, I continued missing her, even her sharp tongue.”
“So that’s why you accompanied your Peter’le on this trip. You wanted to know how I exerted influence.”
“Precisely,” conceded Tiger. “Please, let us know.”
“I ruled with silken gloves. Augustus got used to consulting me and followed my lead willingly. The mercurial Octavius became the stable and great Augustus: the ‘father’ of the nation.”
“You must have enjoyed the harvest, Augusta,” I told her. “Was there any specific moment where you had to steady him?”
“There was indeed: Varus’ defeat. You know about it, don’t you?”
“I do.” I recalled that Augustus had appointed one Varus as governor of Germania, the small part of Germany which had become a Roman colony. Believing the false information about an imminent rebellion, Varus penetrated deeper into Germany, was ambushed and saw his troops being massacred. When he realised that all was lost, he committed suicide. When the information was communicated to Augustus, he was dismayed and felt furious.”
“What did you do?” asked Tiger.
“I had to stop him from leading an army to Germany; and I convinced him to send my son, Tiberius, to safeguard the bridges over the Rhine. Augustus was despondent for months and never overcame his grief.”
“I recall that during your lifetime Germanicus recovered two of the Eagles of the defeated legions. The third was, eventually, taken back during the reign of a later emperor: Claudius.”
“Claudius? Did that imbecile of a grandson of mine take over?”
“He did. And he wasn’t a fool. He succeeded Caligula, who was declared Imperator after your son, Tiberius, died in Capri.”
“I know,” she muttered.
“You paved the way for Tiberius, didn’t you?” I asked assertively.
“I did, rather. Augustus adopted him into his house – the Julian – at my behest. I made sure of this. Tiberius had to pay a price: I made him divorce the wife he loved – Vipsania – and marry Augustus’ daughter by his previous wife. Julia was free with her favours. She held depraved parties all over Rome. When Augustus came to know all about it, he exiled her to some small island. Deep in his heart, Augustus blamed Tiberius, who never hit it off with Julia.”
“Did you inform Augustus about her … behaviour?”
“Shall we say that I saw to it that he got the information,” grinned Livia. “I did not feel sorry for Julia. She was a whore!”
“Dio Cassius tell us that you engineered Tiberus’ succession.”
“I did rather. You see, Augustus’ only other potential heir was Postumus Agrippa. That chap was a lout and made a nuisance of himself. Augustus had no option but to exile him. When I discovered that Augustus made a trip to reconcile with Postumus and that he intended to restore him, I had to act resolutely.”
“Well, what did you do, Exalted Empress?” asked Tiger.
“I had to avoid a situation that could lead to a fresh civil war resulting from conflicting claims by Tiberius and Postumus. I knew that Augustus had become very suspicious about his food and took only figs which he plucked himself from a tree. I poisoned them.”
“Slow acting poison?” I asked.
“Quite so,” she confirmed and, after a short pause, added, “whilst Augustus was getting increasingly ill, I arranged to have Agrippa Postumus killed.”
“I can understand your getting rid of Postumus. But how about Augustus? You were married to him for many years. Didn’t you love him?”
“I was a good wife to him. You know that. But I took all the steps needed for a smooth transition of power. Rome’s peace was a first and paramount priority.”
“Actually, why?” I asked her.
“I grew up during a period of turmoil. I experienced the strife brought about by civil war. I was keen to avoid another one.”
“Couldn’t you influence Augustus and avoid bloodshed?”
“He started to free himself from my influence. In a way, he left me no choice.”
“I am still in the dark,” I told her. “The risk to yourself was minimal, but …”
“You must recall my background. I was born into an aristocratic and influential family.”
“You feared for the clan?” I asked in surprise.
“That too,” she conceded. “My main concern though was for Rome as a whole.”
2. Outlining History
For a while the three of us held our peace. Livia’s glance shifted from me to Tiger and back. I sensed she was a shrewd observer. Her next words confirmed this.
“The two of you are close. Tell me a bit about your life on earth, Peter’le.”
She listened attentively to my narrative. She then wanted to know how I met Tiger.
“Quite a story,” she opined when I concluded. “So, by now Tiger and you have become friends. How do you get on with the other dwellers of your haven?”
“Archie – the nickname assumed by Archimedes Man of Syracuse – can be presumptuous. He tends to get annoyed if he encounters any criticism of his standing as a mathematician and, in addition, venerates Greek culture and language. Moti is his guardian.”
“I have read about Archimedes,” she confirmed. “Isn’t he the fellow who ran naked through the streets of Syracuse yelling ‘Eureka’?”
“Quite so; and Moti looks like a huge elephant. The two of them are as thick as thieves.”
“And Tiger and you formed a separate unit,” she concluded. “But, please, Peter’le tell me what happened to Rome after my days on earth. As you know, I ruled Tiberius at the beginning of his reign; but then he distanced himself from me. I believe he was succeeded by Caligula.”
“Wasn’t he proclaimed emperor whilst you were still around?”
“He was and I suspect he was unsatisfactory.”
“Wasn’t he ever? His reign was one of the worst Rome had experienced. Eventually he was murdered by members of his own bodyguard. The army appointed Claudius as his successor.”
“But did Roman hegemony last?” she wanted to know.
“The empire declined. In due course it was divided into the Western and Eastern Empires. The Western Empire was destroyed by German invaders; the Eastern Empire, ruled from Byzantium, kept shrinking and, eventually, fell in 1543. Roman values and cultural norms lasted for many hundred years thereafter.”
“Were there any other empires?”
“There were; but each had its eclipse. I believe that empires have a cycle: they come and go. Still, Rome’s cycle was the longest and its laws and administration paved the way for future generations. In some respects, Rome spread Greek culture and art, which it had embraced. These guided the Middle Ages and Modern Europe.”
“But how about religion?”
“A religious sect developed in Judea and known as Christianity replaced Greek and Roman paganism.”
“Judea? Wasn’t that a Roman colony?”
“It became a colony after the reign of Herod the Great. However, Judaism – that is, the Jewish monotheistic faith – became the cradle of Western religions.”
“You use the plural,” she let her surprise show. “How many religions were adopted?”
“Basically, Christianity prevailed. However, it split into sections. Some cruel (and in my eyes wanton) wars were carried out by competing sects.”
“I am not surprised,” she concluded sadly. “War and warfare dominated human history right from the start. I know all about the Peloponnesian and Punic Wars.”
“They were not the first ones. As you imply, ‘history’ is the narration of warring states. Peace exists only when one power prevails over all others.”
“I have to agree,” she told me resignedly. “And even when this takes place, you have local rebellions.”
“How very true,” I summed up and spontaneously saluted her. Punching her was, simply, out of question. My feelings for her were a mixture of admiration and adoration. Unlike Eve, Livia was wise and perceptive. To carry out my mission, I touched her nose.