Prologue VIII Constantine
Prologue VIII
Constantine
The only reason the Pantheon had survived all these centuries was because the pope had turned it into a church.
Everything else had been pillaged and abandoned, the Roman Forum somewhat preserved because of the lake of mud that had submerged it all this time.
That made the Pantheon special, because even the floors were original.
It was almost completely intact—even the bronze doors that still worked to this day.
And that was why the council conducted their meetings there, in the moonlight from the open arch in the ceiling, accompanied by Raphael’s coffin buried under the slate of glass. There were five chairs in the front, occupied by each aristocrat on the council.
The first was the president of Italy, Crow Barsetti.
The second was General Farina, the head of the Italian military.
The third was Chief Romano, the chief of the police force, the fourth was Dr. Conti, the leading archaeologist and historian of ancient Rome.
And the fifth was none other than Pope Zephyrinus—my uncle.
“I’ve submitted my records and proof of my lineage through reputable ancient texts and genetic testing—as confirmed by Dr. Conti.
Emperor Augustus had a daughter named Julia, and if the succession of power hadn’t been grossly misogynistic, she would have had the throne.
I’m the last living descendant of the first emperor of ancient Rome—and therefore, the Roman Empire is mine.
I will serve the people of this country, and I will protect them with my life.
I will work with the president and the pope, and together, we will ensure the prosperity of the Roman Empire. Do you accept?”
After several seconds of silence, they all looked at one another, convening in my presence even though they’d already had their discussions in private.
“What do you seek?” General Farina asked.
“Everything I just said,” I said. “My time in Cosa Nostra and my other unsavory connections have made me a powerhouse in this country. I will police criminal enterprises by my own laws—and I will protect innocent people from their ways. Women and children will be safe. Innocent men will be safe. I would gladly give my life for this country. The crime has become rampant. There’s graffiti on every single building, even the damn obelisks.
The Skull King has poisoned the rivers with his criminality and destroyed this beautiful countryside.
I seek to restore it—to rebuild the empire. ”
“But are your ambitions truly that altruistic?” Pope Zephyrinus asked.
My eyes shifted to my uncle.
“Because there can be no peace in war. With your newfound power, will you use it to destroy the Skull King—your blood nemesis? Or will you put the people and the empire first?”
The men stared at one another before they looked at me once more.
“You must remember, Constantine,” the pope continued, “that the blood of emperors may run in your veins—but so does the corruption. Rome had kings before the republic, and then they had the greediest leader of all—Julius Caesar. The emperors were a chance to turn over a new leaf, but like all men who seek power, they’re easily corrupted.
Can you look us in the eye and prove you’re different? ”
My uncle didn’t care about the same blood that ran through our veins, clearly. “The best way to protect Rome and the country is to eliminate the Skull King. He’s vile, evil, and a parasite to our society.”
“I believe the best way is through peace,” the pope said.
“I believe you’re capable of restoring this city to its previous glory.
I believe you will protect your people from the crime that has infected our veins.
I believe your heart is good. But I also believe that your hatred for Darius has poisoned your good intentions. ”
It’d been two years since my brother had been killed. Two years since I’d had to return to Taormina and give my mother news no mother should ever have to hear.
“I believe you won’t stop until vengeance is yours, Constantine.”
“I will not deny that his death is what my heart truly desires.” I wouldn’t lie for anything—not for a woman, and not for a position.
“He deserves to die for what he’s done to Florence, but more importantly, for what he’s done to me.
” It was easy to argue that my brother deserved what he got, but I would never feel that way.
There was nothing he could ever do to make me turn my back on him.
Alive or dead, he was still my brother, still my family—and I would not stop.
“An outright war with the Skull King would not only be expensive, but deadly,” President Barsetti said.
“The police and military have done everything they can to rid the city of him, but he’s too strong and too well guarded.
He has access to weapons and bombs and has everyone in his pocket .
. . no way to know exactly who. A truce of peace is the only course of action. ”
“Spoken like true cowards.”
“That is our condition, unanimously decided among the five of us,” President Barsetti said. “We’ll instate you as Emperor Constantine II of the Roman Republic—but only under a declaration of peace between you and the Skull King. Italy is no place to have a civil war.”
It fucking disgusted me. These last two years, I’d tried to find a way to destroy Darius.
Cosa Nostra wouldn’t help me. None of his enemies in Florence was willing to openly oppose him.
My only course of action was to seize the power of the emperor and use that to make my move—but even that had been taken from me.
“Upon your word of peace, power will be granted,” President Barsetti said. “And you will serve the Roman Republic.”
It wasn’t what I wanted. But just because it didn’t happen today or this year or next year didn’t mean that it wouldn’t happen someday. That the opportunity wouldn’t present itself and I’d take that shot. “Then I give you my word—I agree to the truce.”
I looked out the enormous window behind his desk that faced Saint Peter’s Square. Stared at all the arches and the statues erected on top, one of the seven wonders of the world—in my humble opinion.
Rome was mine to serve and protect, but that responsibility felt hollow.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, Constantine. God doesn’t always give what you want—but what you need.”
I turned away from the window and looked at Pope Zephyrinus, who stood there with his hands together in his billowing robes, a perpetual warmth to his eyes despite the dark subject of our conversation. “The Skull King harms and murders innocents, and your response is to let him.”
“That is not my response,” he said. “But every war fought is paid in blood, and you don’t know whose blood that will be.
Will it be yours? Will it be your family’s?
Or will it be thousands of innocent people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Wars can be won without guns. Victory can be earned through conversation and diplomacy. ”
I rolled my eyes—at the fucking pope. “The Skull King strikes you as an expert in diplomacy? No offense, Father, but you’re out of your element with this.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But he already took your brother. And if you provoke him, he’ll take everyone else. Are those consequences that you can accept?”
I turned back to the window again. I thought of my mother and my sister . . . of my aunts and uncles and cousins . . . and Isabella. It wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out what she’d meant to me at one point in time.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and then one of the staff poked their head inside. “Father, President Barsetti is here to speak with you.”
“Of course,” he said. “Show him in.”
A moment later, President Barsetti entered the pope’s chambers, in his dark-blue suit with a black tie, his shoes so shiny the sun seemed to reflect off the leather. He greeted Pope Zephyrinus with the type of handshake that remained firm. Then he slid his hands into his pockets and looked at me.
I stared back.
“I know you disagree with our decision, but in your heart, you know we’re right—”
“In my heart, I think you’re a fucking coward, Crow Barsetti.”
The pope remained idle, standing there and blending into the background.
President Barsetti gave no reaction. “I know more about this sort of thing than you realize, Constantine.”
“Really?” I challenged. “From your comfy armchair in your office? With your fancy political science degree from Oxford? Oh, I’m sure you’re the leading expert in kingpins . . .”
He continued to stare at me. “My family has been in Tuscany for several generations, and my roots are not steeped in the vineyards of my grandfather’s estate, but in the blood of the people who have been killed with his arms. My father was a hit man in his day, and a lot of my relatives built their wealth by illegal and sinister means.
I know about the Skull King, and I know his predecessor and his predecessor before that.
Some of them were good, ruled by a code of decency.
But Darius, he’s the vilest man ever to sit upon the throne.
My mother worries for me every single day. ”
I hung on to his words because this was a chapter of his book I hadn’t read.
“I’m not a coward. But the Skull King is more powerful than the rulers who came before him.
There’s never been a Skull King who has usurped power from the police and the military.
And Darius’s reach is further and deeper.
I could organize a hit on his headquarters since he doesn’t exactly hide his location, but he’s threatened the families of so many people that several people would leak the plan before I could even execute it.
It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. ”
“I get it’s complicated, but letting him destroy Florence is not the answer.”
“And I think engaging him in a civil war is not the answer either, Constantine.”