the Senate was rounded up and crucified, order had been restored, and those who remained would think twice before ever crossing Caligula, especially with his devoutly loyal Sacred Band by his side.
Finally, where the patrician families of Rome suffered, its lower classes prospered. After the siege, Caligula ordered immense grain supplies to be imported to the city from neighboring towns. Each were completely willing and happy to help. Some plebian families even found their way into new found wealth and power. Those who had rallied against Claudius during the siege were commended, and some offered vacant Senate seats, and with it, the honor of citizenship.
To further benefit the people of Rome, Caligula had proposed plans to erect a stadium of epic proportions, one that could hold immense gladiatorial fights, races, and naval battles, all for the viewing spectacle of the people. It had been an idea whispered in his ear by Vincent, along with a suggested location, right in the vicinity of my current home. Caligula thought it was a good idea, and promised those residents they would be moved to better homes, and recruited a young, upstart architect to begin planning its design, with a start construction date in a year. The original Colosseum’s architect was lost to history, so for all I knew, Caligula’s chosen man may very well have been the actual designer, recruited decades earlier.
Vincent would never learn.
So that was that.
Rome was under control and with its rightful ruler popularly and sanely in place. The rest of the empire’s knowledge of the incident was reduced to mere rumors spread by traveling citizens. Santino and I had accepted Caligula’s offer to remain as bodyguards for him, as did Helena, who would join us when she recovered. It wasn’t so much a bodyguard position, but as agents he could call on for “special” assignments.
It was the best posting I’d ever had because Caligula hasn’t asked us to do anything yet, except for the occasional appearance in the Curia, dressed in our full military gear. The rules of the pomerium were restricted to swords, spears, and shields, so our rifles fell through a loop hole that allowed us to carry them.
Caligula was also sympathetic to my desires to care for Helena, and knew three would be better than two on any assignment he sent us on. With that in mind, he told Helena, on one of his occasional visits, to take her time healing. Other bonuses included our housing assignment, an income that easily put us in the equestrian class, those wealthy Roman businessmen who weren’t part of the patrician senatorial class, and invitations to numerous dinner parties, most of which Caligula himself invited us to.
Which is where we were headed now, only this one wasn’t hosted by Caligula, but by his sister.
Agrippina.
I hadn’t told anyone about what I saw that day Santino and I were captured. About how she had possibly set us up, and how she had been present at the moment we were captured. The evidence was circumstantial, as Claudius could have been lying about sending her as a messenger just to get a rise out of me, and I still couldn’t be sure it had actually been her smooching him after I had been hit over the head.
Besides. Who would I tell? Caligula wouldn’t believe me. He seemed completely secure in the notion that Agrippina was a sweet little angel, and now a mother to boot. If I told Helena, she would have crawled out of bed, dragged herself to Agrippina’s home, and ripped her throat out with her bare hands. While the latter outcome was somewhat appealing, I couldn’t condemn someone on circumstantial evidence alone.
So, arm in arm, the three of us slowly made our way to the Domus Augusti, where Agrippina had taken up residence with her brother. Passing through the familiar gate, and two familiar Praetorians now back in their traditional white togas, we made our way into the house of Augustus.
While, it was no longer the same house Augustus had built after Bordeaux had destroyed much of it; Caligula kept its original name, a tribute to his great grandfather. While the exterior had been reconstructed beautifully by Claudius, Caligula removed every piece of callous art he had adorned it with. The end result was the same kind of austere, yet beautiful home it had originally been. Met at the door by a house slave, something I’d never get used to but could do little to change, we were escorted through the house and into the dining room.
The room was devoid of any modern semblance of formal dining accoutrements or ware. Instead of chairs, there were low couches arranged in a U, with tables laid out in front of them. Lying on couches while eating dinner was every lazy man’s dream, and after experiencing it a few times, I never wanted to go back. All the Romans needed was a television with some Monday Night Football, and life would be complete.
We mingled with increasingly familiar people. I chatted with Varus while Helena and Santino struck up a conversation with an off duty Quintilius and his wife. We didn’t have too much time for small talk as Caligula and Agrippina arrived only a few minutes later. Once they were announced, we made our way to the dining tables and got comfortable.
Agrippina seated herself at the head of the table with Caligula and her young son, Nero. Santino, Helena, and I were seated at their right, a place of honor, Varus and Quintilius directly across from us to their left, with the rest of the guests scattered throughout the couches. As soon as everyone was settled, house slaves began bringing out dozens of various steaming dishes.
The dinner had been delicious, and the evening fun. Chicken, beef, vegetables of all kinds, grains, and fruits for dessert, it was a feast fit for kings, and I wondered how these Romans stayed in such good shape eating so much all the time. I already felt my waistline beginning to tighten and I had to ptomise Helena that I’d hit up the Campus Martius next week for a workout.
With dinner completed, the evening slowed down to alcohol induced conversation. I found myself pretty drunk, lounging on my back, and munching on fruit Helena was playfully lowering into my mouth. She told me to close my eyes while she found something new to feed me, and as a result I felt a syrupy liquid spill down my chin. I opened my eyes to see Helena pouring honey from a cup. I laughed and knocked the cup away, gently pushing her into Santino. He was talking to a young, pretty, Roman woman and glared at me when Helena interrupted his conversation. I couldn’t help but laugh again as I rolled onto my back, and Helena moved to lie next to me, her head on my stomach.
I stared up at the ceiling feeling drunk, glutinous, and happy for the first time in years. The world I had left had been filled with nothing but war, one that had no end in sight. Albert Einstein once said, “I know not what weapons World War III will be fought with, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones”. He was probably right, and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone started the chain reaction that would end it all. Ancient Rome, however, I knew had a future, and maybe with my help, a better one. We’d done too much to the timeline as it was, so there was no sense resting on our laurels now and not trying to help.
A future aside, it was also the first time since I was a kid I could honestly admit I had everything. With Helena at my side, my best friend Santino at my back, and the emperor of Rome as my employer, I couldn’t find much to complain about. I sighed, laid back, and drank in the moment.
It wasn’t until I heard the innocent giggle of a small child that I remembered life was never perfect. Out of the corner of my eye I saw young Nero on the ground in a corner. I also saw a dozen attendants playing with and spoiling him right in front of me. It gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Friends and family,” Caligula suddenly announced, struggling to sit up on his couch, arms spread at his sides to maintain his balance. “I am so very glad you could join my sister and I for dinner tonight, and a wonderful dinner it was, I might add.”
Many of the guests offered their own positive sentiments to Agrippina, as though she had anything to do with the actual cooking of the meal.
“I, myself, am not quite finished,” Caligula announced, slurring his words drunkenly, still munching on part of his entree, “but I have an announcement to make. A very important one that will affect the continuation of my imperial reign.”
I glanced over at Santino and Helena, the latter’s expression looking confused, while the former was still trying to cop a feel. I gave her a shrug. I was beyond making predictions based on historical precedence at this point.
“My lovely sister and I have been discussing events at great length, and I have come to a decision. I hereby announce that due to my lack of children, as of this afternoon and recorded in my living will, Agrippina’s son, Nero, will succeed me as Caesar in the circumstances of my death. Should that happen before he reaches the age of fourteen, Agrippina shall rule in regency till the day he is.”
There was a chorus of applause and adulation from the guests present. As for me, my jaw practically hit the floor. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After all we’ve gone though and all we’ve changed, establishing
