James Mace - Soldier of Rome - Heir to Rebellion

Sejanus’ face beamed as he gazed at Livilla. All had gone according to plan, and with Drusus gone there was no one to stand in his way. Livilla grabbed him and kissed him passionately.

“My darling,” she whispered into his ear.

“All is going well,” he whispered back. “The old bastard is at last in my sole control. He trusts no one but me now. The Roman Empire is mine!”

“When shall we marry?” Livilla asked her voice giddy. Sejanus slowly pushed himself away from her.

“Patience, my love,” he replied. “Your daft husband is scarcely on his final journey and you already talk of marriage. Tiberius may have complete trust in me, but I cannot do anything that would jeopardize that. As soon as you’ve had proper time to mourn I will approach him.”

“Well don’t take too long,” Livilla pouted as she turned and folded her arms across her chest. “I did not damn myself with unholy sin so that I could sit back and still be nothing more than your concubine!” Sejanus grabbed her gruffly by the shoulders and spun her around so that she faced him once more. She had to admit that his brutish nature was part of what aroused her.

“Damn it woman, be sensible!” he growled. “Do you think I would have done the things that I did if I did not intend to take you as mine? I could have found other ways to bring down your beloved husband.” Livilla’s face contorted in a sly grin.

“Alright my dear,” she said. “But I want you for my own and I want to be shown proper respect as Empress of Rome!”

“In due time, my love.”

As she walked the dark, lonely corridors of the Imperial Palace, Livia wondered if this was what her family had come to; leaving its legacy to a Praetorian of questionable moral character. Sejanus cared not for the Empire and its people; he cared only about pursuing his own ambitions. Already he had concentrated the Praetorian Cohorts into a single barracks outside the Viminal Gate. Such a move had created fear and havoc amongst the Senators, who now felt as if they were living in the shadow of Sejanus and the Praetorians. Their fear of him was very real indeed, for he had the Emperor’s confidence and could bring down any one of them if he chose to do so.

Livia then pondered the state of her own family, or what remained of it. Drusus had left behind two young children, Julia Livia and Tiberius Gemellus, whose twin brother had died soon after birth. Gemellus would be the next obvious choice, were he not but a child of four years. Rome had not submitted to the folly of many of the eastern provinces and their child monarchs. Germanicus had left behind six children, to include three sons; Drusus, Nero, and Gaius Caligula. However, with Agrippina having made herself such a hateful enemy of the Emperor, Livia foresaw that her children would be lucky to escape banishment or worse in the future. Any hope of the Julio-Claudian line continuing through the heirs of Germanicus was highly unlikely.

Besides Drusus’ widow Livilla, Livia’s only remaining grandchild was Livilla and Germanicus’ brother; that fool Claudius. Livia only remembered the young man as an afterthought. She snorted at the thought of the wretch. Had he been born in a different age, he would have been exposed at birth and left to perish before he could become an embarrassment to his family. His club foot caused him to limp, his head twitched, and his speech impediment made Livia wish she could cut out his tongue. He appeared to be terrified by her, stuttering and twitching like he was having an epileptic fit. Livia then cocked her head to one side as she further pondered her remaining grandson. She remembered passing by the gardens one night, not long before Drusus’ death, and overheard him talking to the Imperial Prince. She had paid it no mind at the time, but she now recalled Claudius lecturing Drusus in depth on his duties as the son of the Emperor. He had spoken articulately, with no trace of a stutter. She had not stopped to watch, so she was uncertain if his head still twitched or not. She suspected that it had not, at least not like she had seen it.

A smile then crossed her face. Claudius was no fool; everyone who took him for a fool was! All these years he had been playing them; performing a far better play than the finest actors in the theater. Oh there was no doubt that his afflictions were real; but Livia now realized that his stutter and twitching were deliberately exaggerated. While the whole of the Empire viewed him as the harmless fool, he watched and learned. Livia then gave a short laugh. Her grandson might prove useful after all.

Tiberius was now sixty-four years old, and though still in excellent health he could not deny the passage of time. Therefore a few days later he addressed the Senate once more. He had implored the Consuls to bring before him the sons of Germanicus. Many hoped that this would allay their worst suspicions regarding the imperial succession. Many nobles lived in fear of the Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus, and were terrified that the Emperor would defy Roman law by naming him his successor. Sejanus had even gone so far as to have agents plant such thoughts in the minds of the senators to stoke the fires of rumor. With Tiberius’ grandson being but a child, the Senate now saw hope in that the Emperor would turn to the sons of Germanicus.

The Consuls entered the chamber, each guiding Germanicus’ sons Nero and Drusus to where Tiberius sat. Absent was their brother, Gaius Caligula, still little more than a child himself. Now seventeen and sixteen years of age respectively, the lads were ready to take their place in the Roman world. Surely the Emperor would see the qualities of their father despite his hatred for their mother! Taking each by the hand he addressed the assembly:

“Senators, when these boys lost their father, I committed them to their uncle, and begged him, though he had children of his own, to cherish and rear them as his own offspring, and train them for himself and for posterity. Drusus is now lost to us, and I turn my prayers to you, and before heaven and your country I adjure you to receive into your care and guidance the great-grandsons of Augustus, descendants of a most noble ancestry. So fulfill your duty and mine. To you, Nero and Drusus, these senators are as fathers. Such is your birth that your prosperity and adversity must alike affect the State.”2

In a rare showing of solidarity with their Emperor, the Senate broke into an ovation fraught with much emotion. Tears of joy and relief came to many an eye. It was as if a nightmare would soon be over. The sons of Germanicus would restore dignity to the Julio-Claudians. Some Senators even dared to hope that perhaps they would even go so far as to restore Republican rule to the Empire once Tiberius was gone.

A week following his return to Cologne, Artorius was helping Rufio sort through letters and dispatches while waiting for a group of recruits to arrive at the Century headquarters. He had been feeling better as of late. Magnus had been right. Though he would never forget Diana, he could now allow his memories to be fond ones, rather than those that gave him the pain of loss. He had assimilated well into his post as Optio, as Macro had told him he would. Competition in sports, like his new-found passion of Pankration, as well as his continued violating of any young beauty that felt up to the challenge, kept him conditioned and eased the fire that burned inside him.

Legionary Felix was still on light duty and was assigned as his aid for the week. The young man looked to be much recovered from his terrible wound. Color had returned to his face, though he had lost a lot of weight; a far cry from when he had been an overweight recruit three years before.

“I’ve got the post for you sir,” the legionary said as he set a satchel on the table. “I already sorted out all of the personal mail by section. This is mostly official stuff for the Centurion, though there’s a couple of letters addressed to you.”