Harry Sidebottom: Blood and Steel

IN ROME

Vitalianus: The Praetorian Prefect in Rome, and Sabinus, Prefect of the City, officers of Maximinus

Menophilus and Valeria: Envoys of the Gordiani

Pupienus: Sometime Prefect of the City

Pupienus Maximus: His elder son

Pupienus Africanus: His younger son

Gallicanus: A Senator of Cynic views

Maecenas: His intimate friend

Balbinus: A patrician of dissolute ways

Timesitheus: The ambitious Prefect of the Grain Supply

Tranquillina: His even more ambitious wife

Maecia Faustina: Daughter of Gordian the Elder, sister of Gordian the Younger

Marcus Junius Balbus: Her young son

The die-cutter: A workman in the Mint

Castricius: His young and disreputable neighbour

Caenis: A prostitute visited by both

IN AFRICA

Gordian the Elder: Formerly governor of Africa Proconsularis, now proclaimed Emperor

Gordian the Younger: His son and legate, also now proclaimed Emperor

Arrianand Sabinianus: Their supporters

Capelianus: Governor of Numidia, and enemy of Gordian

IN THE NORTH

Maximinus Thrax: The Emperor

Caecilia Paulina: His deceased wife

Verus Maximus: His son and heir

Iunia Fadilla: Wife of Verus Maximus

Apsines of Gadara: Secretary to Maximinus

Flavius Vopiscus: Senatorial governor of Pannonia Superior

Honoratus: Senatorial governor of Moesia Inferior

Anullinus: Senior Praetorian Prefect

Volo: The commander of the frumentarii

Domitius: The Prefect of the Camp

Julius Capitolinus: Equestrian commander of 2nd legion Parthica

Sabinus Modestus: Commander of the heavy cavalry, cousin of Timesitheus

IN THE WEST

Decius: Governor of Hispania Tarraconensis, loyalist of Maximinus

IN THE EAST

Priscus: Equestrian governor of Mesopotamia

Philip: His brother

Otacilius Severianus: Governor of Syria Palestina, brother-in-law of Priscus and Philip

Catius Clemens: Governor of Cappadocia, longtime supporter of Maximinus

Ardashir: Sassanid King of Kings

Rome

The Palatine Hill,

The Day before the Nones of March, AD238

It was still dark. The Praetorian Prefect liked to walk in the imperial gardens before dawn. No attendants were with him, and he carried no torch. It was a moment of calm and solitude, a time for reflection, before the duties of the day, the duties that always seemed to stretch away like a vexatious journey with no evident ending.

Vitalianus often thought about retirement, about living quietly in the country with his wife and daughters. He pictured the house in Etruria. The Via Aurelia and the busy market town of Telamon were only a couple of miles away over the hill, but they might have belonged in a different country or another age. The villa lay between the shore and the terraced slopes, looking out over the sea. It had been built by his grandfather. Vitalianus had added two new wings and a bath house. The estate now extended inland along both banks of the Umbro. It was ideal for retirement, for reading and writing, appreciating the views, for passing time with his wife, and enjoying the company of his daughters in the last few years before they married. No place was better suited for a man to lay down the cares of office.

Certainly Vitalianus had earned a time of leisure. His career had been long — commander of an auxiliary cohort in Britain, legionary tribune with the 3rd Augustan in Africa, Prefect of a cavalry unit in Germania, Procurator of imperial finances in Cyrenaica, four years with the Moorish cavalry, leading them through the eastern campaign and then to the Rhine — decades of service, across the breadth of the empire. He was no longer young: past fifty, and needed to rest. But duty still called, and the additions and improvements to his patrimony had not come cheap. The stipend and other profits of another three, perhaps four years as Praetorian Prefect, and he could call it a day.

The white marble borders of the paths shone in the darkness. The cunningly sculpted box hedges and the fruit trees were indistinct black shapes, the plane trees and the ivy that linked them a solid black wall. It was quiet in the Hippodrome, just the rill of water in the fountains; almost hard to believe he stood in the centre of a city with a million inhabitants. Vitalianus was glad he had removed the previous Emperor’s aviaries. The murmuring and shifting of the doves — had there really been twenty thousand of them? — had disturbed his morning walks. It was typical of Alexander that he had occupied his time issuing imperial pronouncements about the birds, sanctimoniously boasting how the sale of eggs financed his collection, even produced a modest income, while his mother had stolen fortunes from the treasury, and great swathes of the east were overrun by the Persians, and German tribes put the northern provinces to the torch. Vitalianus had not been party to the plot, but Alexander was better off dead.

Stopping by a marble nymph, Vitalianus absentmindedly ran a hand over her smooth thigh. He could find his way around these twisting walks blindfold. His thoughts took their own course. Risen from the ranks, Maximinus might be uncultured, even crude and violent, but he was a better Emperor than his predecessor. At least the Thracian could fight; for the last three years he had done nothing but campaign beyond the Rhine and Danube. Vitalianus had done well out of the regime; promoted first to governor of Mauretania Caesariensis, then to deputy Praetorian Prefect. It was a remarkable achievement for an equestrian from a backwater of Italy, a man with few significant backers. A member of the second order should legitimately aspire to nothing higher. And Vitalianus continued to serve the regime diligently. The endless court cases that awaited him today and almost every day were only the start.