Mortuus Virgo (13 page)

‘I am known as Rose, Mistress,’ she said and altered her position to kneel in front of the Priestess, clasping her hands together in the universal gesture of prayer.

Rubria made the dedication to Vesta and marked the sign of the Goddess on the slave’s forehead. Suddenly a voice echoed across the chamber causing Rubria to jump back in fright.

‘
Priestess!’
roared Nero from a balcony, ‘What insult is this? You dishonour me in my own household.’

The slave scrambled to her feet and ran from the chamber in terror while Rubria gathered her wits and prostrated herself before the Emperor.

‘Imperial Majesty,’ she intoned, ‘Forgive me my impudence, I seek only to spread peace and harmony throughout your household.’

‘I decide when there will be peace and harmony,’ he raged, ‘And today is not such a day.

Rubria stood and looked up at her Emperor. He was draped in his Imperial purple robes and wore a golden laurel wreath on his head, albeit tilted to one side. In one hand he clutched an amphora of wine and in the other, he brandished a cane.

‘Guard,’ he shouted, ‘Bring that slave to my quarters.’ He slammed the cane down onto the marble balustrade with a force that made Rubria flinch, ‘She will learn that no-one denies the whim of the Emperor.’

‘If I can be so bold, Your Majesty, it would seem you are a little vexed today,’ ventured Rubria.

‘Hold your council, Priestess,’ he shouted, ‘I am in no mood for your oiled tongue. You will meet me in my chambers immediately and bring a fresh Amphora with you.’ He disappeared out of sight and Rubria made her way to the door that led to his private quarters.

‘My apologies Sire,’ she said and approached the couch, stopping to collect a stool on the way. She placed herself before him, waiting for him to look up. Eventually he met her gaze.

‘Cut the false modesty, Priestess,’ he snapped, ‘You know your gaze is like a drug to me.’ He stood up and walked slowly around the room, expanding on his comparison, ‘Intoxicating to partake,’ he said as he passed besides her, ‘Poisonous in its effect,’ he continued from somewhere behind.

She tensed at the silence that followed before jumping suddenly as his head suddenly appeared on her shoulder.

‘Yet
addictive
in the memory.’ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, absorbing her intoxicating scent.

‘You’re right, I will, but suffice to say tonight you will witness history being made. An event of such devastation, it will elevate me to the ranks of Romulus himself, paving my way to the gates of the Pantheon.’

‘You intrigue me, Sire,’ she said, ‘What act can have such consequences?’

‘All in good time, Priestess,’ he smiled, ‘First of all,’ he walked to a cabinet and retrieved something before spinning around with a flourish, ‘I will entertain you!’

She stared at the Lyre in his hand. The tales of Nero frequenting the taverns of Rome dressed in plain clothing, regaling the masses with song and verse were manifold, but living the life she did meant she was sheltered from such things. He hesitated, scrutinising her reaction.

‘Good,’ he said, his smile matching hers, ‘In that case, you may sit on my couch and relax for you are in the presence of a genius.’

----

Deep in the poorest part of the city a group of figures stood silently in the gloom of a side alley, waiting for instruction. Each was dressed in the manner of a servant and an iron cooking pot lay at their feet. Eventually a seventh figure entered the alleyway and addressed the group.

‘The wind has risen,’ he said, ‘’And blows in the right direction.’

‘At last,’ said one, ‘Three nights I have stayed from the whorehouse. The girls must think I am dead.’ A ripple of laughter was silenced by the leader.

‘Enough,' said the leader, ‘This is serious business. There are piles of rubbish everywhere, make these your targets. The vigils are under instruction to delay their response. Ensure your identity is not revealed and if someone does see through your disguise,’ He pulled his cape to one side revealing his Gladius, ‘Ensure it is the last thing they see!’

A murmur of mirth again rippled around the group.

‘Okay,’ said the disguised officer, ‘Let’s get it done and I will see you back in the barracks before dawn.’

They each picked up an unlit torch from the floor and in turn, placed its oil soaked head into the fire pot. Within a few minutes, seven Praetorian Guard were running through the maze of streets, setting light to anything that would burn. Fanned by the warm night breeze, the flames quickly took hold and soon the fires reached the point of no return. Rome was ablaze.

----.

Rubria clapped her hands in delight, an enchanted grin on her face. The Emperor had just finished another song, this one witty and extolling the virtues of his horse.

Though Nero was indeed skilled, Rubria was worried about his descent into drunkenness and played to his vanity in an effort to better his mood. He had been singing and reciting for over two hours, breaking only to eat and attend to his toilet. Rubria had picked on some fruit and sipped on watered wine, more to appease the Emperor rather than any need but she was getting tired and longed to be gone. She was wondering how to broach the subject of her leaving when the situation took a fateful turn. Outside in the distance someone screamed.

‘Ah, I believe the time is approaching,’ said Nero, ‘Come with me.’ He led Rubria from the room and made his way through the corridors of the palace and up several stairwells. Eventually they reached a round room at the top of a tower. Nero stopped before a pair of drapes and turned to face Rubria.

‘Oh, Priestess,’ he said, ‘How privileged are you to witness what now unfolds.’

Rubria waited patiently until he finally called her forward. She shuddered involuntarily as he placed his arm around her shoulder and led her out to the balcony. What she saw took her breath away. The city sprawled out before her like an embroidered blanket but though she had seen the vista before, this time it was different. The darkness was illuminated by scores of fires across the suburbs, each seemingly competing for size as the breeze fed their hunger. Even as she watched, she could see more and more fires starting and as they did, the screams of those affected became audible.

‘By the gods,’ she gasped eventually, ‘The city is ablaze.’

‘That it is,’ answered Nero, moving behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders, ‘The city is being cleansed of the accumulated filth of generations to make way for a place of greatness, a place where an Emperor can reside alongside the Gods and become immortal.’

‘To scourge the city of what has been and make way for what will be. Across the hills to your front, the places that are presently occupied by the hovels of the poor will be replaced by magnificent gardens and marble palaces of unimaginable opulence. At its centre will be a building the like Rome has never seen before. A palace fit for a God, adorned with gold and bejewelled in stones from across the empire. The words greatest artisans will be brought to Rome to decorate the walls with friezes and mosaics of such breathtaking beauty that scholars and kings will travel from the corners of the earth to weep at their beauty.

‘But I don’t understand, Sire,’ she said, ‘Surely the palace in which you reside is glory enough for one man.nougA

‘Any ordinary man perhaps, but a God? No,’ he said, ‘And besides, how could I expect any woman worthy enough to rein alongside me to settle for anything else?

‘Alongside you, Sire?’ she asked, ‘I don’t understand, are you saying you have plans to marry?’

‘Oh yes, Rubria,’ he said, ‘Plans indeed. Look again to your front and imagine the sweeping hills covered with lush vegetation, interspersed with fountains and streams. Fish will dart in its pools and tiny deer will gambol through the manicured gardens. Bird song will be the only sound to disturb the peace and the tastiest of fruits will make the trees groan under their weight. Oh yes, Priestess, I have plans, and when all this is done you will understand why it was necessary.’

‘But what about people’s homes?’ she asked, ‘Where will they all go?’

‘It concerns me not,’ said the Emperor, ‘They are my subjects and would willingly give up their very lives for my benefit. What matters a few mud bricks and wooden doors? There is room enough on the outskirts for new buildings or even outside the city walls. No, the centre of Rome should reflect the greatness of my glory, or should I say,
Our
glory?’

Rubria’s heart missed a beat and her stomach turned as she realised what he had just said.

‘Our glory, Sire?’ I don’t understand.

‘You and me, Rubria,’ he said, ‘Ruling the world together. A living God alongside the most beautiful woman in the empire. I did it for you, Rubria, all this will be yours. A life of untold privilege and power the like that has never been seen before. All you have to do is consent to be my bride.’

Rubria felt sick. All of a sudden everything made sense. All the times she had been summoned to the palace to the exclusion of all other priestesses, all the compliments he had paid, and all gifts he had lavished upon her, all were simply a means to an end. While she thought he had favoured her for her honesty and council he had only one thing in his mind and that was to entice her into a union that was impossible.

‘Sire,’ she said, still staring over the city, ‘I am flattered but surely you can see this is impossible.’

‘I see no such thing, Rubria he said.’

‘But I am a Priestess of the Temple of Vesta, and am promised to her service. I cannot entertain the company of a man for many years yet. Perhaps when I leave her service it may be possible.’

‘An ordinary man perhaps,’ he said, ‘But I am your Emperor and such trivialities worry me not. When I am immortalised I will swat aside your Goddess’s little whims as I would a fly. I am Nero, and there has never been any such as I.’

‘But Sire,’ she said, breaking free and turning to face him, ‘Surely you understand, this is not a burden imposed on me but a calling I embrace completely.’

‘That will soon pass, Priestess,’ he said, ‘When you sample the glory of my power and the pleasure of my bed, all such thoughts will be like memories in the wind.’