Rome 64 AD
Rubria was sat at the sacred hearth when she was unexpectedly summoned to the Emperor’s palace for the last time. She went out to the courtyard where the High Priestess was waiting. Dragus and the high Priestess were talking in hushed whispers and were obviously agitated over something.
‘Holy Mother,’ she said as she approached, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Child,’ she said, ‘Calm yourself. Nero has summoned you to his presence and Dragus worries for your person.’
‘Dragus it is nice to see you again,’ said Rubria, ‘Your posting here ended six months ago, how come we are honoured by your presence?’
‘My comrade has been dispatched on duties elsewhere this evening and Nero saw fit to send me instead,’ he explained.
‘Tell me, what news is so concerning that it warrants lowering the Holy Mother’s brow with worry?’
‘Sister Rubria,’ said Dragus, ‘The Emperor is agitated and lashes out against all around him. I only ask that perhaps you don’t attend until his mood calms.’
‘How can I deny my Emperor?’
‘You could say you were ill.’
‘Dragus,’ interrupted the High Priestess, ‘Ours is a service of truth. There are issues here that you don’t understand. Rubria represents Vesta herself and enjoys her protection. If I thought there was any risk to her safety I would not let her go and gladly suffer the consequences.’
‘Holy Mother,’ said Dragus, ‘I understand but something vexes him. There are things afoot that he keeps to himself. I think something terrible is about to happen and don’t want any of you at risk. Even the Senate fear for their safety.’
‘Dragus,’ she said gently as her hand rested gently on his arm, ‘Fret not. I enjoy the Emperor’s trust and over the past year have become his confidante. Yes, his mood swings wildly and I have seen him lash out on several occasions but never has he given me cause to worry about my safety. On the contrary, I believe my presence inspires a calming effect on his troubled mind. If my Emperor needs me then I am duty bound to comply. His majesty is second only to the Great Goddess. Give me a moment, I would cleanse myself and return shortly.’
The Centurion nodded in reluctant acceptance and watched her glide across the courtyard to disappear into the atrium.
‘I hope you know what your doing, Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘Nero’s excesses knows no limits.’
‘I have no choice, Dragus,’ said the High Priestess, ‘The very Temple is at risk. At least this way we may have some advance warning.’ She stared at him for a long while. ‘Dragus, we are honoured by your concern but when you gaze upon Sister Rubria I see a look in your eyes that extends beyond the love of the Goddess.’
Dragus looked down in shame.
‘You are truly wise, Mother,’ he said, ‘It is true that I am entranced by Rubria’s beauty and elegance, but I assure you I respect the Goddess and all who serve her. My intentions are honourable and I seek only to ensure her safety.’
‘I know,’ said the high Priestess kindly ‘And your patronage is greatly welcomed, but beware the tendrils of lust, Dragus. This is an affection that can never be returned.’
‘I am aware of this Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘And accept that this is a lifetime’s burden that I have to bear.’
‘The Goddess will support you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Will you join with me in a glass of warm wine while we wait?’
Forty five minutes later, Rubria’s litter once again rested inside the outer courtyard of the Emperor’s palace. She stood for a moment straightening out her attire before walking towards the doors. Dragus caught up with her and walked at her side.
‘If you feel threatened at any time, Rubria, you must leave immediately. Do not hesitate or take any chances. I will be waiting outside these doors for you.’
‘I don’t know how long I will be.’
‘It matters not. I will be here.’
She stopped and took his hand in hers, setting his pulse racing as she pierced his soul with her gaze.
‘I am touched, Dragus,’ she said, ‘But worry not for my safety, the Goddess is with me.’
‘I hope you are right, Rubria,’ he said and watched her disappear for the second time that night.
Rubria knew at once something was wrong. The whole atmosphere of the palace was different and as she walked through its marble halls, the lack of servants was disturbing. She made her way through the audience chamber and into the corridor that led to the Emperor’s private quarters. Eventually she stood before the double doors flanked by two Praetorian Guards.
‘I am Rubria of the Temple of Vesta,’ she said.
‘You are expected,’ responded one of the guards and opened the door. She walked into Nero’s reception area and waited for the doors to close behind her. As soon as they slammed shut she made her way nervously towards his quarters. Suddenly a female slave burst out through a door and ran past her sobbing as she went. Her clothes were torn and her face bloody.
‘Wait!’ shouted Rubria, suddenly self conscious that she had raised her voice to someone less fortunate than herself.
The girl collapsed to the floor and waited for the admonition that would surely follow. Rubria approached and squatted next to her, gently brushing the girl’s hair back revealing her bruised face. ‘Please,’ she added quietly, ‘You seem to be hurt, let me help you.’
The girl looked up nervously, surprised yet dubious at the sound of a kind voice in a world of harshness.
‘Are you a Goddess,’ she murmured staring into Rubria’s beautiful face.
‘No,’ smiled Rubria, ‘Though I do indeed serve one. I too am a servant, though the Mistress I serve is Vesta.’
‘You are a Holy Virgin?’ gasped the girl in astonishment
‘I am!’ confirmed Rubria, ‘And I need to bathe your injuries.’
The girl threw her arms around the priestess.
‘Mistress, Holy Virgin of the great Goddess,’ she pleaded, ‘Please honour me with your blessing.’
Rubria glanced around. She knew that the blessing of slaves was frowned upon in the higher levels of Roman society.
‘What is your name, child?’ she asked.
‘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.
A few minutes she stood before the drapes to his bed chamber, alongside a pair of slaves.
‘Enter!’ roared a voice and one slave pulled back a curtain while the other handed her the obligatory container of wine.
She walked into the inner chamber and stared at the dishevelled figure of the Emperor sat on his couch, staring at the floor.
‘You are late,’ he snarled.
‘I came as soon as I could, Sire,’ she said.
‘Not soon enough!’ he snapped, ‘Am I not your Emperor? All tasks should be cast aside to meet my demands.’
‘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.
‘Your eyes pierce me like an assassin’s blade Priestess,’ he said.
‘You have said as much on many occasions, Sire,’ she said.
‘Yet still I catch my breath every time you attend.’
‘If my appearance offends then I can only apologise.’
‘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.
Rubria stood up nervously and took a few paces away from him.
‘Priestess,’ he said, throwing his arms wide, ‘It is I, your glorious Emperor. Surely you do not fear me?’
‘I only worry for you Sire,’ she said nervously, ‘I have not seen you like this before.’
‘Like what Priestess?’ he asked, ‘Intoxicated?’ Lyrical?’ he paused and leaned forward as he sneered, ‘Scary?’
‘All three, Sire,’ she said.
He stared at her again before seeming to come back to his senses.
‘Fear not, Priestess,’ he sighed, ‘My reasons for summoning you here are entirely honourable.’
‘I did not fear otherwise,’ Sire.
‘Good, so I guess you want to know why you are here?’
‘I’m sure you will tell me in your own time, Sire.’
‘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.
‘This concerns you?’ he queried.
Her face broke into a beautiful smile.
‘On the contrary, Sire,’ she said, ‘I think it is a delightful idea.’
‘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.
‘Wonderful Sire,’ she laughed, ‘Though I’m not sure the Senate would appreciate the implied similarities.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Nero, ‘There are those who would doubt my unarguable talent.’
‘Then they have not experienced it, Sire,’ she said, ‘You are truly gifted.’
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.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Rubria, ‘Who would do such a thing.’
‘Those who see clearly my greatness and would hasten my path to the Pantheon.’
‘But why,’ she asked, unable to take her eyes from the catastrophe unfolding below.
‘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.’
‘Sire,’ she pleaded, ‘Please cast these thoughts aside. I can never forsake the Goddess. This can never happen.’
Nero’s face changed slightly as her words sunk in.
‘You misunderstand, Priestess,’ he said, ‘This is not an option, but a decree. You will be my bride and you will do so willingly or else suffer the consequences.’
Rubria was breathing fast now, close to tears as she realised there was no way out of this.
‘Sire,’ she said eventually, ‘My calling permeates my very soul, and though I recognise your glory, the needs of my Goddess will always come first. I beg of you to turn off this path for I cannot join you. I will always be here for you as confidante and friend, but, whatever the consequences, I cannot consent to be your bride.’
Nero stared at the girl before walking towards the door and Rubria breathed a sigh of relief, believing he was going to leave.
‘I will not lie to you, Priestess, he said as he pushed the wooden bar across to lock the door, ‘I am bitterly disappointed. Ours was to be the most glorious wedding ever seen in the history of Rome.’ He turned around and faced her. ‘You could have had everything Rubria, and if you had only seen the sense of being my bride, I was willing to wait before partaking of your particular pleasures. Our wedding night was to be magical, romantic, sensual and gentle as I introduced your pure body to the pleasures of the flesh.’
Rubria was scared now, as Nero circled her like a cat circling its prey.
‘But you have taken that option away now, Priestess,’ he said, ‘You have spoilt it for yourself. However, all is not lost, for I will still have my vision. My grounds will be planted and my palace will be built, and though there will no longer be a wedding night to look forward to, there is an upside.’
She stared at him in fright as his voice lowered, menacingly.
‘Sire?’ she said, her eyes transferring the unspoken question.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘At least I won’t have to wait for the wedding night before enjoying your hidden treasures. In fact, everything suddenly seems much better. Why wait and share when I can have it all right now.’
‘Sire, surely you don’t mean…’
‘Oh but I do,’ said Nero. ‘You had your chance, Priestess. I asked nicely but it seems you don’t understand nice so now we’ll do it the other way.’
‘Sire, please, no…’
Nero lurched forward and grabbed Rubria by the throat, sneering his wine laden breath in her face as he forced her back against the marble wall.
‘Enjoy your last few minutes as a Priestess, Rubria,’ he snarled, ‘For your role as a Vestal Virgin is about to come to a painful and bloody end.’
He forced the terrified teenager to the floor, and, as the reflections of the fires sweeping Rome reflected off the marble walls, Nero Augusta, Emperor of Rome raped Rubria, Priestess of the Temple of Vesta.