‘Most men verily do believe at this day that Nero is still living.’ This statement by Dio Chrysostom (c. 40-112 AD), underscored a common belief that Nero (37-68 AD) did not die in Rome in 68 AD. Indeed, at the time this remark was made, c.98-112 AD, it was not a particularly far-fetched notion, as a living Nero would have been in his sixties or seventies. Moreover, there were illogical and implausible circumstances associated with Nero’s alleged death in Rome in 68 AD that were complicated by the fact that Nero’s body, or the body used in place of Nero, was cremated without delay by Nero’s long-time mistress, Acte. So, there were sound considerations for Romans throughout the empire to doubt the ‘official’ account of a death that—if it was fabricated—also had fortune on its side in at least one respect. That is, the chaos of the ‘year of the four emperors’ had the effect of putting the distance of time between Nero’s suicide and any real inquiry into the circumstances of his death.
Certainly, it is illogical that Nero with his four companions, who also happened to all be freedmen (Phaon, Neophytus, Epaphroditus, Sporus), would make a dramatic nighttime ride through the middle of Rome to cross to Phaon’s villa only to commit suicide as soon as he arrived. As Gerard Walter says, ‘Could he not have done that just as well at his residence in the Servilian Gardens, where at least he would not have been reduced to breathing his last stretched on this miserable pallet?’ This pointless excursion by Nero, however, makes sense under at least one scenario. That is, he had to quickly get to the place where a look-alike was held, so that a switch could be made. It would also be to a place where Nero and his compatriots could control the narrative away from the Praetorian Guard and other palace retinue.
Assuredly, if Nero feigned his death, it needed to be out of the reach of anyone who could have taken possession of his body and/or realized it was an imposture. Other than an anonymous centurion, which we will discuss shortly, the only person who was not part of Nero’s inner circle but who nevertheless viewed the body was Galba’s freedman, Icelus. As Galba ‘s freedman, he had everything to gain from Nero’s death. As the best bet to be the next emperor after Nero’s death, if and when this happened, Icelus would be able to live in Rome in a favored and potentially lucrative position. And, thus, we see one more hugely important improbability on the night of Nero’s suicide, as Icelus was coincidentally visiting Rome.
The most implausible parts of the events of that night, however, surround the most critical actor in the fable—the unnamed centurion who allegedly tried to staunch Nero’s wound. One reason the centurion is crucial is because he is the only character with no discernable agenda in this drama. Considering the persistent rumors by contemporaries as to Nero’s non-death, this player’s part is the red flag that should have elicited the most scrutiny from critically thinking modern historians, as the improbable and nearly impossible particulars of the centurion’s role are conspicuous: (1) his appearance borders on the miraculous as it is not entirely clear how he would have known that Nero was at Phaon’s villa; (2) his timing is impeccable as he enters precisely at that moment after the throat has been cut or stabbed but Nero, who has not yet expired from a mortal wound to the throat, can still speak; (3) Nero was extremely vain about his singing and an actor’s voice is one of the most important qualities of an actor, yet he chooses to stab his throat rather than fall on his sword; (4) an emperor dies away from his official lodgings, unguarded and surrounded by freedmen, yet the centurion makes no arrests nor does he secure the body; (5) the centurion then disappears into historical obscurity, there is no ‘tradition’ of his name, nor any mention of a later emperor trying to locate said centurion to reward him for his actions or question him about Nero’s alleged death.
To have a centurion, either an invented character or perhaps someone like Nero’s ‘much-beloved’ Aliturius playing a blustery Miles Gloriosus present at this specific moment, would clearly serve many purposes. His quasi-official presence as a military officer would surely be meant to assure those hearing of Nero’s suicide that everything was kosher. A battle-hardened centurion presumably could not be fooled by a non-mortal wound or by a faked death, so this element of the story would have a better chance of being believed. His actions prove him to be a loyal centurion, which provides a more believable alibi for the freedmen, as Nero was both alive and speaking when he arrived. Moreover, if an unwelcome contingent arrived, a boisterous and imposing centurion could serve as crowd control.
If the centurion could not be found later for questioning, this too might not raise eyebrows. The inability to locate who should have been the famous ‘centurion who tried to save Nero’ could be inferred by his having ‘shipped out’ and regrettably meeting his death in a distant land. The Jewish Revolt, after all, had now been raging for two years. Clearly, few other anonymous characters would be a better choice and could lend the type of credibility to the account as a centurion.