Germanicus Gone: Tiberius's Treachery or Tragic Accident?

19th October, 19 AD. A date now seared into the collective memory of our mighty Roman Empire. The day we lost our beloved General Germanicus. An event as tragic as it is mysterious, shrouded in a political fog thicker than pea soup in a plebeian's kitchen.

Let me state plainly, right from the start, that the circumstances around Germanicus's death smell fishier than a net full of mackerel. And who, you ask, stands at the epicenter of this odorous situation? None other than our dear emperor, Tiberius. The man who, in my opinion, has never met a plot he didn’t like. And trust me, he likes plots like Bacchus likes wine.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not accusing Emperor Tiberius of anything more than possessing a disposition as warm as a glacial stream in the Alps. But let's face it, the timing is delicate to say the least.

Here we have Germanicus, a bloke more popular than gladiator games and free bread combined, suddenly kicking the bucket while on a diplomatic mission in the East. And who benefits? Tiberius, a man as power-hungry as a lion eying a wounded gazelle. Is it mere coincidence that the emperor gets one giant step closer to absolute power with Germanicus out of the picture? Coincidence? I think not!

Now, the official account tells us that Germanicus died of 'natural causes'. But I ask you, dear Romans, how often do healthy, robust generals in the prime of their lives succumb to a sudden illness? Isn't it peculiar that a man as fit as a fiddle, who could probably wrestle a bull with one hand tied behind his back, suddenly falls ill and dies?

Why, it's almost as unbelievable as the claim that we conquered Britannia! (I jest, my Briton friends, I jest. At least, you do enjoy our roads, don't you?)

So, what's the truth? Did Tiberius have a hand in Germanicus's demise? Or was it merely a tragic accident, as the official account suggests?

Frankly, I don't know. But what I do know is this: Germanicus was a gem, a true Roman's Roman. His loss has left a gaping hole in our Republic, a hole not easily filled. And it's up to us, the people, to keep asking questions, to keep seeking the truth. Because, as they say, the truth has a habit of coming out, even if it's slower than a tortoise on a lazy afternoon.

So, let's keep our eyes open and our wits about us, my fellow Romans. After all, in a city where you can