The Titus Conspiracy: Murder in Ancient Rome

By Lorraine Blundell

Cacat! Domitian needed something to get him through the frustration of dealing with Titus. Dragging the container closer, he extracted another fly. Holding it steady, he pierced its body with a long needle. Then he watched it squirm.

70 A.D. Emperor Vespasian rules Rome after a period of great turmoil. His eldest son, Titus, returns in triumph after the siege of Jerusalem, as his younger brother Domitian seethes with jealousy. Mentally unstable and corrupt, he conspires to overthrow Titus after Vespasians death.

Celadus, a young Gaul, is sold into slavery to fight in Romes arenas. He falls in love with the beautiful daughter of Flavius, commander of the Praetorian Guard. Their lives become intertwined with those of the conspirators as Titus fights for survival.

Set against plague and fire in Rome and the devastation of Pompeii, brother plots against brother in a battle to the death for the ultimate prize, - control of the Roman Empire, - and a forbidden love struggles to survive, as fate plays its hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467880244

Lorraine Blundell

Lorraine Blundell (Dance), a gold award winning author, was born in Brisbane, Australia. She lives in Melbourne and has a daughter, Jenni, and a son, Steve. Lorraine graduated from the University of Queensland with a Bachelor of Arts Degree majoring in English and History. She holds a teaching qualification in Drama from Trinity College, London. She trained as a classical singer at the Queensland State Conservatorium of Music, Brisbane. During that period, she sang professionally on television as a solo vocalist, regularly performing for six years on channels BTQ7 and QTQ9 Brisbane as well as nationally on HSV7 Melbourne. She is an experienced performer in musical theatre productions. Her interests are singing, ancient history and archaeology.

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© 2012 Lorraine Blundell. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 2/13/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8023-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8024-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

The Titus Conspiracy

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Characters

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Epilogue

After Titus

Author’s Afterthought

Author’s Notes

Glossary

Recommended Reading

The Titus Conspiracy

Lorraine Blundell (Parsons) was born in Brisbane, Australia in 1946. She lives in Melbourne and has a son, Steve, and a daughter, Jenni. Lorraine graduated from the University of Queensland with a Bachelor of Arts Degree majoring in English and History. She also holds a teaching qualification in Drama from Trinity College, London.

From 1960 to 1966 Lorraine trained in singing at the Queensland State Conservatorium of Music. Spanning that period onwards, she sang professionally as a solo vocalist on numerous State and National television entertainment and variety programs. She regularly performed on television channels BTQ 7 Brisbane, QTQ 9 Brisbane and HSV 7 Melbourne. She is an experienced performer on stage in amateur musical theatre productions.

Lorraine’s passions are singing, ancient history and archaeology.

Dedication

Veronica

My childhood friend and the ‘sister’ who knew me better than I knew myself. A woman of immense courage, compassion and common sense. You left us far too soon.

Acknowledgements

Thank you once more to Jenni, Steve and Lauren for your unfailing support in the writing of my novels. A special thanks to Jenni for helping yet again with computer input and other suggestions. I am grateful to the talented ladies of ‘The Waverley Singers’ for their generous good wishes and encouragement. Maheshini, such a lovely name as yours deserves to belong to a character in a novel, and now it does.

Seeking additional insights, as Celadus did, into the character of Domitian, I asked a friend, Andrea Stoltenberg, to carry out research on the BaZi chart of an unknown male, giving her only his place and date of birth. The results were astounding, confirming historical writings. Andrea, I hope you like the chapter on the seer.

The book has been wonderfully enhanced by the contributions of two very talented women. Once again, Susan Shorter has given me a stunning front cover illustration. Calligrapher Marg Schmidt from ‘Inviting Ideas’ created the impressive part number pages.

It’s amazing what a difference good coffee, a genuine welcome and a cosy corner can make. Thank you to Brendan and his friendly staff at my favourite local coffee bistro, The Coco Lounge in Glen Waverley, for allowing me to sit as long as I liked as I wrote my chapters.

I would like to express my gratitude to Barcin Taran, Istanbul. Your guiding through the site of the magnificent city of Ephesus, opened up the wonders of Turkey’s ancient sites to me.

Characters

Rome

Titus Flavius Caesar Vespasianus Augustus, (Vespasian)

Emperor of Rome

Titus Flavius Vespasianus, (Titus)

(Emperor of Rome following Vespasian)

Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus, (Domitian)

(Emperor of Rome following Titus)

Domitia

Domitian’s wife

Julia

Titus’ daughter, mistress of Domitian

Carisa

Daughter of Camilla and Flavius Latinius

Celadus

Slave from Gaul. Freedman, ex – gladiator, imperial spy

Flavius Latinius

Commander, Praetorian Guard, Carisa’s father, Camilla’s husband

Camilla

Wife of Flavius, mother of Carisa and Justinus

Gaius Petronius

Roman senator, Carisa’s first husband

Thiron

Gladiator, friend to Celadus

Aurora

Carisa’s best friend

Aquila

Aurora’s older brother

Giulietta

Aquila’s future wife

Paris

Famous Egyptian and Roman pantomimus (actor)

Antonius

Innkeeper’s son (Tibur)

Aulus and Livia

Giulietta’s parents (Tibur)

Publius Tertius

General, Castra Praetoria, friend to Flavius

Marcus Vellius

General, Fourth Flavian legion

Octavus

Lanista, owner of the gladiator school Ludus Magnus

Senators and their wives, legionaries, slaves, prostitutes, officials and minor characters

Pompeii

Priest of Isis, artist, artist’s model, shopkeepers, innkeepers, citizens

Anatolia ( Ephesus, Priene, Miletus.)

Tarek Massri

Egyptian merchant, chief religious investigator and interrogator at the temple of Edfu

Gabinius Macer

Acting Roman governor of Anatolia, based in Ephesus

Stephanus Septimius

Imperial Roman spy based in Priene

Gracchus Clemens

Roman senator, conspirator against Titus

Maheshini

Clemens’slave

Plautus Geminus

Roman senator, conspirator against Titus

Marcus Vettius

Roman citizen, conspirator against Titus

Quintus

Imperial Roman spy based in Ephesus

Priests, priestesses, slaves, innkeepers, slave traders, citizens and others

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, … it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…’

‘A Tale of Two Cities.’

Charles Dickens

Prologue

…all ladies and damsels before their betrothal yielded themselves to men; for in Cyprus above all lands men are by nature most luxurious. For the soil of Cyprus…if a man sleep thereon, of its own self, will all the night through, provoke a man to lust.

Ludolf of Suchen

Cyprus

Paphos

The Temple of Aphrodite

69 A.D.

The silence was total.

Flaming torches assaulted the darkness throwing light merging into shadow.The cloying smell of incense was everywhere, pervasive and unrelenting.

A low, rhythmical chanting began. The temple appeared deserted except for a central figure, its whiteness catching snatches of light from the torches. The marble statue of the goddess, - it was Aphrodite, goddess of love and fertility, - stood semi- naked, her form sensual, inviting. The chanting increased in intensity until it reached a frenzy. As eyes became accustomed to the temple’s interior dimness, three couples could be seen lying among a scattering of silver coins thrown haphazardly onto the floor.

The naked male and female of each couple clung together, intricately coiled around each other, luscious curves meeting angularity. The intensity of their love- making reached a crescendo, until finally, it was complete. The custom had once more been fulfilled. The virginity of newly betrothed maidens had been claimed by unknown lovers in the name of Aphrodite, for a tribute of coins.

Titus stood outside the temple door waiting for the ceremony to end. Finally a priest ushered him inside, where he was directed towards the high priest, standing beside the statue of Aphrodite. Told to kneel he did so, as the priest began to speak, his voice echoing throughout the empty temple. When he had finished Titus left, after making an offering. Pondering, he walked slowly away towards the clifftop.

Had Sostratus, Aphrodite’s priest really spoken the truth? Titus had searched the lined face of the old priest for any sign of deception, but saw none. He stood some minutes later, on top of the craggy cliff where the oracle’s famed temple overlooked the sea. His cloak billowed around him giving him the appearance of some giant, mythical bird of prey. He had come seeking answers. What would his future be? Would the gods smile on him? The temple audience had been brief, but undeniably compelling.

Many visitors travelling from all parts of the Empire came to hear the oracle’s verdict on their futures. The oracle had never been known to lie. The goddess Aphrodite’s advice was faithfully passed on to supplicants by her priest. Titus looked on as the wind howled ferociously, smashing frothing waves against the rocks below. He considered the oracle’s words and heard the priest’s voice once more. ‘Your enterprises will be successful. You will wear the royal purple.’ He wondered. He could see no way that such predictions could be realised.

Peacocks002.pdf

Chapter 1

…an ancient superstition was current in the East;

that out of Judaea at this time would come the rulers of the world. This prediction, as the event later proved, referred to

a Roman Emperor, but the rebellious Jews…read it as referring

to themselves.

‘The Twelve Caesars’

Suetonius

Jerusalem

July 70 A.D.

‘You now have control of this campaign. I cannot rule the Empire from Jerusalem!’ Vespasian placed his hand on his son Titus’ shoulder.

‘I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I need more time!’ Titus looked as uneasy as he felt.

‘I believe you are. I will leave my chief of staff, Tiberius Alexander with you. His experience will be crucial. Listen to him and you will prosper. These people are a strange mix of freedom fighter and religious fanatics. They are a boil on the backside of the Empire. We must make them bend to Rome’s will!’ Vespasian shook his fist.

‘I will try not to fail you, father.’

‘You won’t fail. Son, I will see you back in Rome!’

Vespasian embraced Titus and departed, leaving him with the most daunting challenge he had ever faced. He must find a way to conquer Jerusalem, - an unenviable task. After Nero’s death Vespasian, uncertain, had waited in the wings, watching. The period’s political turmoil between rivals for control of Rome raged before his eyes, then unfolded to its inevitable end. For some time there was no certainty as to who would win the ultimate prize. Galba held power a short seven months, Otho committed suicide and Vitellius was assassinated by the military. Finally, when the time was right and his rivals had disappeared Vespasian stepped into contention. He was enthusiastically proclaimed Emperor of Rome by the legions.

Titus found a way to win and tasted victory, as Jerusalem succumbed to the ferocity of his forces. Intense heat spread over him as flames lurched skywards, hungrily devouring Jerusalem’s great Temple. His face took on the colour of burnished parchment as he watched the futile efforts being made to salvage the remnants of the structure. The fire had been a mistake. He had not given the order to burn the Temple. As legionaries frantically looted it searching for gold, a torch had carelessly been dropped. Now the flames reached in protest towards the gods. Fortunately, most of the golden artifacts had been dragged down the entry steps before the flames had really taken hold. There would be little left for scavangers from the Temple’s ashes.

‘Imperator! Imperator!’

Titus raised his arms in victory as a cheer went up from soldiers sure of their share of rich booty from the spoils. The siege of Jerusalem had taken the lives of a million Jews, leaving others in captivity, many to be sold as slaves. Sweating, blood-stained, exhausted but ecstatic from the heat of battle, Titus clasped Tiberius Alexander’s hand in triumph. The Jews would no longer be any real problem for their Roman masters.

‘So far, the oracle has been right.’ Titus shook his head in wonderment. ‘My enterprise has been successful and my father is Emperor of Rome.’

Alexander, a grizzled, veteran campaigner slapped him on the back. ‘Congratulations, Titus! I wish you well. You’re a talented leader. There’s no doubt you have certainly won the loyalty of your men. I’ll watch your future with interest.’ His experienced eyes had missed nothing as he watched and counselled the young successor to Vespasian. Unless he was very wrong, and he doubted that, this man was a force to be reckoned with and one day would rule Rome.

‘The loyalty of my men is everything. Without that there is nothing else.’ Titus interrupted Alexander’s thoughts, his face serious. He looked around at the city he had just conquered. The Temple inferno may not have been planned, but certainly the firing of the city’s houses was intentional.

‘I imagine the men are enjoying their rewards.’ He nodded contentedly, watching the pillaging going on around him.

‘The whole city has been razed to the ground and anything of any value taken by our men. They deserve it, they fought hard,’ Alexander responded.

‘Have the Jewish fighters been executed?’

‘Those remaining are being crucified as we speak. We were beginning to run out of space, but now all of the walls are down we can continue well out of the city area.’

‘Leave none of them alive,’ Titus ordered. ‘This must be an end to the matter.’ Titus’face beneath the grime and perspiration was stony. He was determined on uncompromising revenge for the numerous Roman lives lost attempting to take the city. He was quickly toughening up to the life of a Roman general, and had no intention of having to return to fight this battle again. The lines of crucified Jews grew ever longer.

*   *   *   *

Rome

The Forum Romanum

After visiting Alexandria, Titus sailed for Rhegium and hurried on to Rome to greet Vespasian, to share with him the Judaean Triumphal parade through Rome. The long procession began at the Campus Martius making its way past the Circus Maximus and the Palatine. Gathered along the route, in places four and five deep, Rome’s citizens raucously cheered the victors.

As they reached the start of the Via Sacra, Titus glanced across at Vespasian and their eyes met. Titus gave a grin of sheer delight, matched by his father’s, as they surveyed the scene in front of them. This was the dream of every Roman general, and today, it belonged to them. For them the senators in their pristine togas were gathered at the far end by the senate house, accompanied by the priests, Vestals, family and friends. The blast of the trumpets led them onwards past the screaming, foul - breathed plebs of Rome, hanging from every vantage point and packed into every inch of space in the Forum. Gleaming and opulent, on this day, it was the centre of the world.

The massive mounds of gold and other plunder from the fall of Jerusalem trundled through. The carts were so heavily laden they creaked and struggled to make their way up the Sacred Way into the Forum. The amount of wealth was almost obscene. Slaves in bondage added even more to the final tally as they marched in the rear, - a pathetic, filthy and conquered people. This day was one Titus would never forget. Domitian, riding alone behind his father and older brother, would also, never forget.

As the days passed, for Titus, there was one major problem. He had brought back with him to Rome as his mistress, the Jewish Queen, Berenice, with whom he had fallen passionately in love. The daughter of King Herod Agrippa, Berenice had ardently supported Vespasian with her wealth during his campaign to become emperor. She had already been married several times, and was eleven years older than Titus. During her time in Rome she openly lived with him in the royal palace as if she was his wife, - not his mistress.

Titus was to find as time went by and the probability that he would rule became more likely, that even with his popularity, Berenice was one step too far for the average Roman. The image of the hated foreign queen, Cleopatra, had not yet faded sufficiently from memory. It was inevitable that he finally had no option but to send her back to where she had come from. Their last moments together were amongst the worst of his life. This was but the first of many sacrifices he would make for Rome.

Berenice looked as beautiful as Titus had ever seen her on that last day. She was tall and curvaceous with silky, black hair and eyes the colour of jet. Her hair flowed loosely onto her shoulders spilling over the golden shawl that covered them. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She had not expected the intense animosity with which the Roman people had responded to her. As Titus explained, - she was paying not only for her own perceived ambitions but those of another earlier queen, one far more hated.

‘You know I love you,’ he told her, his face strained and anxious as she left the palace to enter her waiting litter.

‘Send for me when you rule Rome,’ she pleaded with him as she departed for Judaea.

‘You know I will.’

Time would prove him wrong. But for now, Titus had no reason to doubt the predictions of the oracle of Paphos. He guided his father, accepting the title of prefect of the Praetorian Guards, and prepared himself to eventually become emperor. Events were moving swiftly and that pattern seemed set to continue.

Chapter 2

Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus (Domitian).

Born 24 October 51AD

Pomegranate Street, Rome

The Royal Palace

71 A.D.

The flies lay dead, or some, still twitching, buzzed limply on the marble desktop. Live flies, oblivious to their fate, spent their last few minutes blindly flying into the sides of a nearby container. Domitian smiled. It was some time since he had last experienced the thrill of killing. He found he also had other ways, these days, of achieving the same ‘high’.

This morning, however, there was another of those boring, interminable meetings to go through with his sanctimonious, older brother. Cacat! Domitian needed something to get him through the frustration of dealing with Titus. Dragging the container closer, he extracted another fly. Holding it steady, he pierced its body with a long needle. Then he watched it squirm.

One Hour Later

‘I can’t marry her I tell you. I won’t marry her!’ Domitian’s ruddy complexion flushed a darker red with anger.

‘Why?’ Titus demanded.

‘You know why.’ Domitian’s voice rose with agitation.

‘Don’t you recognise a suitable marriage when it’s staring you in the face?’ Titus was close to losing his temper.

‘I want a marriage I can get something out of,’ Domitian whined petulantly.

Titus raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed with frustration. ‘Have you ever considered giving, rather than taking?’

‘Are you joking? I aim to get whatever I can out of life. If others don’t like it, — well, let’s just say, there’s always a way of fixing things.’

‘You’re naturally immoral and corrupt, brother, that’s something unfortunately, that has become obvious. My daughter, Julia, is neither poor nor plain. Father is also very much in agreement with such a marriage. It wouldn’t hurt you to consider it.’

Domitian helped himself to an apple from the Egyptian glass fruit dish. He polished its flush of red to a shine on his fine linen tunic.

‘I don’t care what he wants. He’s not going to run my personal life the way he runs the Empire,’ Domitian snapped. He thinks he can just treat me like I’m some sort of second class member of this family and push me into the background. Well this time it’s not going to work. This time I will have my own way!’

‘You always want your own way.’

‘What! And you don’t?’ Domitian retorted.

Titus stared into the angry, weak eyes of his volatile brother, and shook his head. ‘I’ve asked you before. I won’t ask again. Marry Julia or I will marry her to someone else!’

‘Go ahead then,’ Domitian snarled nastily. ‘I’ve told you before, I only want Domitia. You know she’s the one I want and I will marry her!

‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.’ Titus clenched his fists.

‘I won’t be pushed into marriage with Julia or anyone else. She’s not that good a catch anyway!’ Domitian hurled a parting insult at Titus, as he stalked out.

‘She’s far too good for you!’ Titus yelled furiously at his brother’s retreating back.

Titus was well aware that their father, Vespasian, would be most unhappy when he heard the outcome of this conversation. Domitia was already married to Aelius Lamia. There was nothing more Titus could do, however, to coerce his brother into a different marriage which they had hoped might stabilise him.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing, now he came to think about it, that his daughter would not end up involved in a marriage with Domitian. He was inherently mentally unstable and corrupt. With more at stake than his daughter’s happiness, however, Titus was at least willing to try to bring his brother into line, using Julia’s influence. It had to be conceded, though, he reflected, that now even she was possibly not likely to just fall into line. Nor was her influence as unsullied as it used to be.

‘Good morning, father.’ His daughter, seeing the door open, strolled casually into the room.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Titus enquired. The frown on his face disappeared, to be replaced with a smile.

‘Yes, thank you. I always sleep well,’ Julia replied pleasantly.

He looked more searchingly at her. She was a passably attractive girl with short, black curls framing her face, and longer hair worn back on her neck. Her body was trim and feminine. When younger, Julia had been both docile and quiet by nature, more interested in home and family, than in political or intellectual pursuits. Titus had recently honoured her by erecting a statue of her on Tiber Island.

Lately, however, she had changed, and not for the better. Her behaviour had become something of a problem. Julia had been caught attempting to seduce several of the palace guards, not of all of whom had proven oblivious to her charms. She gave Titus a hug and he smiled indulgently. He decided to tell her about Domitian’s decision.

‘Come, sit beside me here.’ He led her to an ornately gilded couch and patted the space beside him. ‘You know I was speaking with Domitian about a possible marriage between the two of you?’

‘Yes, father. What happened?’

‘He has declined,’ Titus answered. ‘So I intend to marry you to man of suitable wealth and importance as soon as possible. You need a husband.’

Julia grimaced. ‘I don’t think I do!’ she snapped, her mood altering abruptly.

‘You’re now of marriageable age,’ Titus reminded her. ‘You do need a husband.’

Julia pouted. ‘Am I supposed to be happy about it? Any freedom I’ve got will disappear so fast I may as well become a priestess. Maybe that’s what you want!’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

‘You don’t think that just might be a slight exaggeration?’ Titus suggested gently. ‘Anything less likely than you becoming a priestess I couldn’t imagine.’

She turned to face him. ‘Why would I want to be under someone else’s control? It’s a perfectly reasonable question.’

‘Is that how you see marriage?’ Titus said, surprised. ‘It’s not a matter of being under control. It’s a matter of doing what your husband requires so that you please him. Surely you can see that?’

She was silent for a few moments. Then she simply answered, ‘No, I don’t.’

‘No? It’s not difficult to understand, surely?’ Titus looked puzzled.

‘That’s not the way I see it. I wish to make my own decisions. But If I do have to be under someone’s control, I would certainly rather it wasn’t Domitian,’ Julia replied sourly and rising, walked towards the door.

‘Goodbye, father.’

She left, closing it gently behind her.

For the second time that morning, Titus found himself alone, having made absolutely no impression promoting what he considered to be perfectly logical views. He shook his head. The whole world had gone crazy. Why did life have to be so complicated?

He was tired. The previous couple of years had been exhausting even though successful. He had expected Rome to be a welcome relief, but found himself facing a torrent of problems, - all of them caused by other people. The worst of it was that they were members of his own family. His father, although he loved him dearly, was now older and needed his support, as well as, to be honest, his oversight. Domitian and Julia were a nightmare, especially his brother.

He slumped onto a couch and ran a weary hand across his eyes. He had achieved so much, yet still seemed to be embroiled in one hell of a mess.

Chapter 3

A Roman divorced from his wife was highly blamed by his friends who demanded, ‘Was she not chaste? Was she not fair? Was she not fruitful?’ Holding out his shoe he asked them was it not new and well made. ‘Yet,’ he added, ‘none of you can tell where it pinches me.’

Plutarch

Several Months Later

Rome was humming with the news! A royal marriage had been announced. The city was awash with interest. Any sort of a celebration was welcome to ease the drudgery of everyday living. Such an important marriage meant celebrations and spectacles, - entertainment to brighten up the nights and days ahead! In days to come the wedding was discussed by matrons visiting their friends, as well as ‘down and outs’ lounging waiting for hand-outs on the steps of the public buildings, and senators enjoying leisurely lunches. All of the inns were bursting with gossip.

‘Do you think she’s pregnant with Domitian’s child?’ Claudia, one of the bar girls said what she suspected, - savouring the possibility. A few of the women stood together at the bar waiting for the day’s first customers to appear.

‘Of course. What other reason could there be? There are plenty of unmarried, good looking senators’ daughters to choose from,’ Lucilla, one of the other girls chimed in. ‘Why go to the trouble of going after one that’s married?’

‘The marriage does seem very sudden, and they’re not even denying that the divorce has been forced on that ex- husband of hers.’ Atia, another of the scraggy girls who regularly hung around the bar looking for work considered the situation. She adjusted her tattered, grimy wool tunic, worn thin with age. Her words were simply what many throughout Rome were also thinking.

‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised, either.’ Atia gave a rough laugh. ‘Lamia’s a spineless piece of work.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Still, it’s not like he could have stood up to Domitian,’ Atia continued. ‘How do you refuse the son of the Emperor?’

‘The same way that you refuse any other man,’ Claudia replied. ‘Trouble is none of them know the meaning of the word.’ She continued twisting her dull, brown hair into a bun placed low onto the nape of her neck.

Atia nodded. She had a sudden thought. ‘Maybe they could have the wedding celebration here!’ They sniggered at the thought.

‘Wouldn’t that be something to see!’ Claudia laughed.

They all accepted the realities of life. Living so far removed from the lives of the rich and politically powerful, the whole situation was a world away from their own existence. The very inn they stood in, dinghy and foul smelling, was a brutal reminder of their poverty, and the irrelevance of their lives to anyone but themselves.

‘Don’t you lot have anything else to do but stand gossiping all day?’ the innkeeper growled irritably.

‘Did you get up out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?’ Lucilla gave him a look which would have silenced many a lesser man. ‘And, no, - at the moment I don’t have anything better to do, - or haven’t you noticed there are no customers in here yet?’ She flounced over to sit at a nearby table.

He grumbled something inaudible under his breath. Women! –

Domitia Longina was Domitian’s choice as a marriage partner. It was unfortunate, but in his view necessary, that he remove her from her husband so that she could become his wife. Still, what needed to be done, had to be done. Lamia hadn’t put up much of a fight. As far as Domitian was concerned that had definitely been a positive.

At the royal palace, Vespasian and Titus seethed in the background. After the official announcement, father and son met in private to discuss the situation. The ultimate outcome could not be changed, but how best to handle it?

‘I have absolutely no idea why Domitian has turned out the way he is.’ Vespasian frowned. ‘He has been cruel and violent by nature from the time he was born. That’s bad enough, but he has no respect either for me, or the position I hold.’ He could barely contain his anger.

‘Well he’s not going to change,’ Titus said dejectedly.

‘I know.’

‘What can we do about him?’ The son looked towards his father, seeking a solution.

‘I stopped him torturing animals when he was a child,’ Vespasian reminisced. ‘Now he’s an adult, I can’t watch him day and night. He has enough influence because of his position in this family, I’m afraid, to cause real havoc.’ He eased himself into a chair.

‘I agree. It’s a pity you can’t exile him.’

‘I could. But in the end, - he’s family,’ Vespasian sighed.

‘Not that the marriage to Domitia, in itself, is dangerous,’ Titus conceded thoughtfully. ‘Politically, it’s actually quite acceptable. It doesn’t, however, give us the additional family control over the marriage we would have had with Julia. Let’s face it we need every bit of control over Domitian we can get!’

‘How do we control him? And will this marriage work?’ Vespasian pondered the answers to questions only the future could provide.

‘Those are questions only time and destiny can answer,’ Titus shrugged. ‘We have no idea what Domitia’s reaction will be, either, when she discovers the depths of Domitian’s vices. From what I hear, though, she’s not exactly a model of virtue herself, so that may not be an issue.’

‘Probably not.’

The two men sat in silence, thinking. Vespasian put his hand on Titus’ shoulder. ‘The one consolation I have,’ he said affectionately, ‘is that Domitian will not be emperor when I die.’

Titus covered his father’s hand with his own. ‘The gods willing, that is some time away,’ he responded. ‘One problem we may have, though, is how the forced divorce with Lamia is seen by the people. It’s a dirty little situation.’ Frowning, he moved to stand looking out on the sweeping lawns outside the window.

‘Let’s hope they are too entertained to think too much about it!’ Vespasian answered. ‘Arrange for additional bread and some sort of marriage gift of a few sesterces to be given out to each person to celebrate the event. That should be enough, combined with free entertainment, to keep everyone happy. All we can do now is to outwardly accept this marriage and quickly move on.’

‘Do you want me to arrange to have gladiatorial games held?’ Titus queried.

‘No. Let’s just see how the treasury coffers are going first before we make a decision. Do you know what position the treasury is in at the moment?’

‘I’m told it’s flush with money,’ Titus smiled, pleased. ‘Despite the outlays on the amphitheatre, we’ve made a fortune from selling Jewish captives in the slave markets.’

‘We’ll wait and see if it looks like there will be any backlash from the divorce before deciding.’ Vespasian had no intention of wasting money.

Bawdy songs began to sweep the city, and were even sung by the legionaries. They ridiculed the hapless Lamia as a cuckold, and depicted Domitia not as a victim caught between two men, but as a shrew and an ambitious harpy. As for Domitian, he was the subject of many derogatory rhymes directed at ‘the prince who couldn’t get his own woman, so had to steal another’s.’

Domitian married Domitia. Despite their sneers and jibes, the people really cared little for details. Any cause for celebration that could force