Chapter V Trajan
V
TRAJAN
“Welcome, Trajan.” The deep, booming voice of my grandfather’s first cousin echoed across the entrance hall of his home.
Nobles in fine silks and robes milled and chatted in this room and beyond in the triclinium, where I could hear fluted music.
These soirees where nobles and politicians mingled and indulged in fine food and wine occurred at least once a week at one house or another.
Not all were well attended, and not all were invited.
But my grandfather and I were of the oldest, most respected family of the Sapphirus house.
Every door was open to us. And I used every opportunity that I could to gather information. Besides, Appius was family.
“Salve, Appius.”
I greeted him with a familial kiss to the cheek. He gripped my shoulders and whispered, “Your grandfather is already here and asking about you.”
Appius was the first ally we welcomed into our conclave with Grandfather and Julian. Igniculus had executed Appius’s brother on false grounds of thievery in the treasury. Appius eagerly joined us the second we hinted at our plans.
“Good.”
“Is there news to share?” he asked.
Appius knew that I’d dined at Valerius’s home two nights ago. Along with the others, they’d been waiting for any information that might help our cause.
“A little,” I replied in a low voice.
His lips thinned and he nodded, turning to greet the next guests who entered.
I took a goblet of wine from a passing servant and ambled into the triclinium, where his feasting hall had been turned into a magnificent display of finery. He’d brought in more chaise lounges and cushions surrounding silver platters of delicacies.
Some were already seated and enjoying the provisions, but many senators stood around in smaller groups, certainly engaging in politics as usual.
Publius, one of the quaestors in charge of the treasury, wandered from group to group introducing his daughter, who was wearing a silky violet stola.
Likely looking for a good match among the politicians.
These parties served many purposes. For me, it was all about information.
My grandfather, Gaius Sapphirus Tiberius, stood by himself in a corner surveying the party, his midnight blue toga perfectly draped over his tall, stately frame. I caught his gaze then sauntered toward him.
I passed and nodded greetings to one group of senators.
“But how can so many runaway slaves be kept hidden in the city?” asked one whose name I forgot.
“Perhaps they’re not in the city. Someone could be smuggling them out,” answered another who I’d never formally met.
I’d only attended meetings in the senate house a few times since I’d become tribune. The only regulations we debated were about tax increases to the outer provinces or property ownership to install new aqueducts for the plebs.
So far, I hadn’t been required to veto any new laws. Whenever it came time, senators would petition me for certain. They all knew I had my grandfather’s ear. And he had the ears and loyalty of everyone else.
For an elder, Grandfather was still formidable, his dragon a giant, ferocious beast. When it came time to fight, he would kill many. There would be no way for our coup to be successful without all of us getting bloody.
“Salve, Grandfather.”
“Good to see you, Trajan.”
The tightness around his eyes softened.
“Were you concerned for me?”
“Always.”
He continued watching the room, his own goblet of wine untouched.
He only held it to appear social. Grandfather was a serious man, always watching and calculating.
He would’ve made a grand emperor. He was just, fair, and highly intelligent.
But he was also of the Sapphirus line, and there had only ever been a red or black dragon in the highest power of Rome—direct descendants of Romulus and Remus themselves.
The Media Nocte and Ignis—black and red—houses of dragon held the most power in the hierarchy of patricians.
Our house, the Sapphirus dragons, were third when it came to power, influence, and prestige.
The Amethystus and Chrysocolla—purple and green dragons—were beneath Sapphirus, but not as low as Griseo—the gray dragons.
The other houses all had lineage to the gods, direct descendants of the divine.
But the Griseo had no known connection or direct ancestry.
Though still noble, they were considered the lowest caste.
Then we had the Vicus—the white dragon—an anomaly no one could explain. They were always female, certainly attributes to goddesses of the heavens, and served in the temples as priestesses.
History told us there was once the line of Chrysos—the golden dragons—descended from the king of gods, Jupiter himself.
They had extraordinary firepower, and were feared by the Houses of Ignis and Media Nocte, who wanted to knock the Chrysos from the top of the hierarchy where they’d climbed.
So they hunted and killed them to extinction.
“Did you think I would try to murder Valerius at his small house party?” I asked Grandfather, taking a sip of my wine.
“I would’ve heard if you had by now,” he said. “But there are other whispers about.”
“Oh?” I surveyed the room, noting that Fausta had just entered the gathering.
“Caesar is employing his own spies to determine who else was in league with Marcus and Phillius.”
These two senators had been our allies and were caught returning to the city after our last covert meeting at Grandfather’s house in Vulsinii.
Their brutal and public execution was Caesar’s warning of what he’d do to any other traitors he discovered.
It was a stake to the heart every time I saw their decaying heads on the Wall of Traitors, as I did every time I stepped into the forum.
“Who has he employed?” I snapped, keeping my voice low.
The only nobles close to us were an elderly trio of senators who only bothered coming to parties for the wine and food. They weren’t listening to us.
“They wouldn’t be very good spies if I knew, now would they?” he answered.
“You know everything, Grandfather.”
“That is why this makes me nervous. No one is talking. Or no one knows. Neither of which is good for us.” He lifted his glass in greeting to a passing senator. “We need to stop recruitment. We simply can’t trust anyone we haven’t already vetted.”
“I spoke to Agrippa yesterday in the forum. His son, Marcellus, has many in his command he believes will ally with us.”
“No. We can’t afford to take the chance. I’ll speak to Agrippa. He should be here tonight.”
“But we need the numbers, Grandfather,” I added insistently. “We need an army of our own, actually.”
He finally turned his ice-blue gaze on me. “That strategy isn’t possible now without certain death. We must return to our original plan.”
“Without Julian? We have no one who can get close to the emperor now.”
“Unfortunately for us. We must figure out how. Without Julian.”
I ground my teeth together, biting back the curse burning in my throat.
I understood that Julian saw no other choice when he killed Ciprian to save Malina.
But our original plan was for a mass execution of Caesar and his most loyal generals and praetorians on the same day, within the same hour.
Julian was the one to execute his own uncle.
Now that Igniculus was more paranoid than ever, I didn’t see this plan working anymore.
Grandfather was cautious, and obstinate.
The original plan simply wouldn’t work now.
“What of your dinner with Valerius?” he asked.
“I have confirmation that he is indeed the foulest, most repulsive Roman in the city besides Caesar.”
“Speak lower. And I was already aware of that. What else?”
“He had news that Drussus has surrounded the band of Germanic warriors we encountered in Moesia.”
He turned to meet my gaze. “The ones you and Julian thought to approach.”
“Yes. And the praeco confirmed that Drussus is nearing a victory over them. That plan may be all for naught as well.”
Just then, Valerius stepped through the archway into the triclinium with Quintus at his side. He held his arrogant head high as he entered. Several senators flocked to his side with deferential bows and greetings. Fawning like the fucking sycophants they were.
“Stop that,” muttered Grandfather.
I jerked my attention to him. “What?”
“Your beast is here. Press him back.”
That’s when I realized a deep rumble vibrated in my chest. Loud enough for the wife of a senator to turn and eye me warily. She stepped closer to her husband.
Exhaling a deep breath, I managed to gain control. I hadn’t even known my dragon was close, stirring to full wakefulness when that piece of filth Valerius stepped into the room.
“That one needs to die soon, Grandfather. It can’t wait much longer.”
“You sound like Julian. It can wait. It must wait. Do not deviate from the plan.”
“As of now, we don’t really have one, do we?”
He made a chastising grunt in his throat. “Don’t be rash, my son. We must be patient.”
Valerius spotted me and made an obvious line directly toward me, Quintus breaking off toward the sofas and feasting tables.
“Salve, Trajan.”
He should’ve greeted me by my title of tribune, not my given name, as if we were friends. We weren’t fucking friends.
“Consul,” I said evenly, noting that though he was a tall dragon, I still had several inches on him. And more than a few stones of muscle.
Though I’d spent more time in the senate house than on a battlefield as of late, my body was fit and well. I also understood that my fixation on our physical differences meant my dragon was guiding my thoughts. He was likely shining bright in my eyes.
Valerius grinned in that superior way of his. “I heard you ran into my slave Lela. That you had private words with her.”
I ignored the side glance from my grandfather.
“I did.” I kept my expression blank, my voice cavalier. “I’m surprised you let her outside of her cage.”