Chapter VIII Trajan
VIII
TRAJAN
Rushing along the walkway toward the senate house entrance, I listened to every word the praeco said not far behind me in the forum.
“This heinous murder was committed by the slave woman known as Lela. If you harbor her in your home, you will be executed. If you find her, you must report her at once. Caesar is also offering a handsome reward for her whereabouts. Five thousand denarii!”
A collective gasp erupted in the crowd, with mutters of excitement. A high price indeed.
I’d received the summons to the senate house early this morning. Robed senators and tribunes filed into the Curia.
“Salve, Trajan,” Appius greeted me, holding open the door. “Shocking news, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, Appius.”
“Terrible thing,” he said rather loudly as other senators entered alongside us. “To be murdered in one’s own bedchamber.”
“Valerius should’ve gotten rid of that woman,” said Flavius, a senator of the Amethystus line who walked up beside us. “She was always trouble for him.”
“Indeed,” I agreed with false enthusiasm, seeking my grandfather as I entered the auditorium.
He was already seated on the first row in the center, facing the two empty consul seats. We shared a knowing look as I ascended the stone steps.
Each magistrate sat in the section of their dragon house.
The three bottom sections, closest to the floor and highest in hierarchy, were the Media Nocte, Ignis, and Sapphirus.
Even so, it was no accident that the Sapphirus house was at the center, directly in front of the two consul seats.
Though the other two were the highest caste in the city of Rome, inside the senate house, the Sapphirus family ranked higher than anyone else.
“Greetings, Tribune,” said one senator then another as I passed, everyone wearing grave expressions.
As long as I’d been alive, a consul hadn’t been removed because he was murdered. Valerius had been appointed to his position when Emperor Igniculus had come to power; his predecessor had died of natural causes. Or so it was reported.
It was more likely that Igniculus had him poisoned so that he could put Valerius in the chair next to Kato, the oldest dragon living and a firm enforcer of Roman power.
But since only a few of us suspected poison and it was publicly stated he died naturally in his sleep, Valerius would be the first consul on record to be murdered.
I settled next to Grandfather while others milled about, chatting in hushed tones.
“Did you disobey me, my boy?” Grandfather whispered, holding my gaze.
He thought it was me who’d actually killed Valerius and covered it up by putting blame on the slave girl.
“I did disobey,” I admitted. “However,” I added quickly at his darkening gaze, “I did not do the deed.”
There was no relief in his expression, except for the slightest relaxing of his shoulders. He was glad I didn’t do it, but was obviously still concerned.
“No matter how it happened, it is done.” He faced forward, nodding hello to another magistrate passing up the aisle. “And it will rouse suspicion.”
“I don’t see how,” I added, watching as Horatius—one of our close allies—entered the senate house and glanced toward us only briefly as he climbed the steps toward the top where the Griseo magistrates sat.
“The slave woman can’t possibly be plotting against Caesar.
It was a crime of passion. Nothing less. ”
“You don’t know Igniculus if you believe that. Anything that upsets the order—his order—is at the very least a bad omen that must be punished. At most, it is a cunning plot to eliminate one of his most powerful allies in the city. Perhaps she was working with someone else. That’s what he’ll think.”
True. Valerius was Caesar’s pawn, and he held ultimate power as a consul, putting forth the laws the emperor demanded and encouraging the rest of the senators to support them. Lest they go against the will of Caesar.
And while Consul Kato was also a staunch supporter of Caesar and Roman rule, he didn’t have the sway with the senators as Valerius did. Everyone knew that Kato had one foot in the grave. Caesar would want to fill this position swiftly and with someone he could trust.
But I had other plans.
The muttering died down as Kato in his long, black robes trod across the senate house floor.
His knotted cane tap, tap, tapped, echoing up to the domed ceiling.
His hair was fully white, cut short to his massive skull—somewhat malformed, as if he’d not been able to mutate entirely back into the man the last time he shifted.
His back bowed with age, and even so, he was easily seven feet tall.
His claws were eternally out, clicking on the wooden cane as he maneuvered it across the floor.
He settled slowly into his throne-like seat, glancing at the empty one, his golden eyes always glowing with his dragon. Though the room was completely silent, he rounded his palm over the bronzed dragon head on the arm of his chair and banged it against the metal plate beneath it.
Three reverberating bangs of the dragon-head gavel then he announced in his craggy, wheezing voice, “This house … is in order.”
No one moved, waiting for what we knew was coming.
“We are all shocked at the brazen actions of a disgruntled, disobedient slave girl, which have brought us to this floor today.” He inhaled a labored breath.
“Caesar has decreed that this senate must fill the noble Valerius’s empty seat at once.
” He hacked a phlegmy cough then added, “The floor is now open for nominations.”
Instantly, Leto stood from off to the right of the auditorium. “I nominate the honorable Quintus Chrysocolla Mentius.”
Someone hissed in disagreement. Other murmurs of discontent echoed in the domed hall. This must be Caesar’s choice. It made sense. He was Valerius’s biggest supporter and lackey. He’d be an easy puppet for the emperor.
Leto glared in the direction it came from then went on.
“Quintus has proven himself both a noble soldier and prefect on the battlefield under General Drussus’s army.
He has also proven his loyalty to Rome and to Caesar by upholding all of the laws that protect the sanctity and might of this noble empire. ”
“Hear, hear!” shouted one then another.
“He has indeed!” yelled someone down below.
“Let us vote,” called another.
Kato banged his dragon-head gavel. “Order!”
When they simmered down, Kato finally spoke. “We have one nomination put forward. Do we have any others?”
Blowing out a calming breath, I rose to stand.
“What are you doing?” muttered Grandfather.
I ignored him as eyes swiveled to me.
“I nominate Gaius Sapphirus Tiberius.”
A whoop of excitement came from someone up high.
“Sit down,” Grandfather ordered.
“My grandfather is the eldest of the Sapphirus house in all of Rome,” I called clearly and loudly, letting my voice carry to all. “He is a direct descendant of the forefathers who founded the senate. And if we are to be honest, he is the most deserving of this seat purely on his ancestry.”
“Hear, hear!” Shouts of agreement went up.
I raised my palm again.
“However, none of those are the true reasons he deserves the seat of consul.”
Grandfather had quieted but I felt his keen gaze on me as I continued.
“Gaius Tiberius has a long record of voting for and supporting the people of Rome—those we are sworn to protect and hold dear in our honorable positions as lawmakers and law keepers of this great city and empire.”
A chorus of cheers went up, but I held up a palm to quiet them.
“No man here can point to a moment where he did not truly vote his conscience. He always has, no matter if it were the popular decision or not. And no one can point to one moment that he has swayed the vote because someone else has lined his pockets with gold.”
A round of hisses and a few chuckles of laughter followed, several senators’ heads turned toward Quintus. It was well-known that Valerius often used bribery—both giving and receiving—to get votes to go his way. And Quintus was the one who typically handled the exchanges.
“Rome needs a leader who thinks of her first. Someone who will not allow corruption to taint this sacred house. Someone whose own blood ancestors built this place stone by stone and law by law.” Locking gazes from one powerful senator to another, I finally added, “We need Gaius Tiberius, a noble consul, to lead our empire into a golden age of Rome.”
The house erupted in cheers, most of them standing and applauding, shouting their support. It took Kato several minutes, banging the gavel, before the shouts died down to a dull murmur.
“Are there any more nominations?” he asked in his gravelly timbre.
I smiled as I took my seat, knowing no one could follow me.
“All in favor of Quintus Mentius as our new consul, say aye.”
Leto and a few others, including most of the Ignis magistrates who were avid devotees to Caesar, shouted, “Aye!”
Kato’s serpentine gaze swept the room. “And all of those in favor of Gaius Tiberius, say aye.”
Three-fourths of the senate house rose to their feet with a booming “Aye!”
Many repeated “Aye” several times before Kato began banging the dragon head yet again, waving his hand for everyone to sit.
“It is decided,” said Kato. “Gaius Tiberius is Rome’s new consul and will take his seat.” He gestured to the empty throne next to him.
The roar of cheers continued as my grandfather stood and embraced me. “What have you done, my boy?”
“What we need.” As the cheers continued, I whispered into his ear, “Now we have a vital key in place for when we turn the lock.” I pulled back, holding his shoulders. “For when the time comes.”
The lines of his regal face were drawn tight, his eyes grave.
We had discussed this before, but Grandfather had never wanted the seat of consul or any higher-ranking magistrate, knowing he’d be forced to work closely with Caesar.
That he’d be coerced to follow Caesar’s wishes in order to keep his head off the Wall of Traitors.
I’d always argued that we needed our people in positions of power before we took the final steps of our plan. Toppling Rome was one thing. Rebuilding it was another entirely.
“It’s time,” I assured him, squeezing his shoulder. “It is now, Grandfather.”
He clamped his jaw and nodded. I could barely remember him agreeing with anything I said or did. He was always the one doing the guiding. Ever since my parents died.
“You’re right,” he murmured before walking past me to the roar and cheers of the senate house.
I knew I was right. I applauded with everyone else as he strode with his head high toward the empty consul seat, raising his hands for the audience to quiet down.
Eventually, they did.
“It is with great humility and honor that I take this seat of consulship. I vow to uphold all of the decrees we hold sacred. I vow to support all that will keep Rome pure and whole.”
More applause erupted as he roved his gaze over the room, nodding to each house.
I finally looked over my shoulder toward the Chrysocolla section where Quintus seethed with anger.
While he stood and applauded like everyone else—lest he be heckled as a sore loser—there was venom in his dragon-slitted eyes.
Facing forward while Grandfather launched into his first speech as the new consul, I knew Quintus would hate me even more so now. If he was in Caesar’s pocket, I’d need to be wary of him.
The emperor might not publicly show his disappointment in the choice for the new consul seat, but he would certainly pay his puppets to keep a keen eye out for betrayal.
According to the whispers, he was already doing that. None of this frightened me. We were nearer to our goal than we’d ever been before. Julian’s actions may have delayed and changed our tactics, but everything was falling into place.
While Grandfather spoke of honor and duty and justice to a captive audience, my mind wandered back home, wondering how Lela was faring.
How was she feeling today after such a violent and life-altering night?
And did she know that her actions allowed me to take this step today in the senate without bringing suspicion on me or Grandfather?
It was the gods’ doing, for certain. They were with us.
As long as no one ever found out she was hiding in my house, we would be safe.