Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate: A Novel by Diana Wallis Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

his head in disgust.
    He considered Sempronius Gracchus, one of Julia’s more persistent lovers. The fool had the audacity to try to usurp the throne for Antonius, even requesting a divorce from Tiberius in Julia’s name. Too bad Antonius committed suicide before the soldiers could arrest himfor treason. As for Gracchus, Augustus merely banished him to the African coast. Tiberius smiled with pleasure. As emperor, he meted out his own justice, and Gracchus was dead.
    As he gazed out across Rome, another name came to mind unbidden. Vipsania. Just thinking of her renewed the pain. He loved her still—though ordered by Augustus to divorce his pregnant wife to marry the emperor’s prostitute of a daughter. It was as though his heart had been ripped from his body. Vipsania bore a son, Drusus. He should have been heir to the throne, but he was dead of a mysterious illness. He felt the anger rise up again. He never believed that. If he ever found who was responsible—he clenched one fist.
    Loneliness crept over his heart like a shadow. He’d never wanted the regency. Sejanus handled so many details for him. Perhaps he could make him a co-regent and leave Rome once and for all for his castle in Capri. The thought pursued him daily. Sejanus on many occasions had insinuated that there were plots against the emperor’s life, and fear had become a dark companion. He rubbed his chin with one thumb. When his prefect brought him names of men he insisted were plotting against his life, he’d dealt with them swiftly, despite their cries of innocence. Their families had been banished from Rome and their worldly goods confiscated by Sejanus.
    Tiberius ignored a faint fluttering of regret. Some of these men were of good standing, even senators. He turned his attention to the scroll again. So the old slave, Cato, was dead. No matter. However, there was Scribonia’s slave, Medina, who asked to be returned to her mistress.
    He tapped the scroll against his hand. He’d dealt the girl enough heartache. He would not be the one to bear the news of Julia’s death to young Claudia. Someone else would have that duty.
    He turned from the balcony and went to the door. The soldier on guard outside saluted.
    “Majesty?”
    “Bring me the Lady Scribonia.”

    Scribonia knew she had little to fear for her upkeep. She was of the praetorian class and the family holdings would insure her being able to live out her last days in comfort. At eighty, she was ready to spend her days in quiet retirement. She thought of her granddaughter and sighed. Claudia was now the emperor’s responsibility.
    This morning, she walked in her garden, shivering slightly in the cool air and feeling every bit her age. Her handmaid, Cassia, hurried toward her.
    “You have received a summons, Domina, from the emperor.”
    A summons? Why would the emperor send for me? A problem with Claudia? Then she knew. Julia. Her heart jolted in her chest. Though the anguish nearly overcame her, she braced her shoulders and, with great effort, gathered her emotions in a tight rein. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing her pain.
    Cassia slipped a stola of muted blue over her mistress’s shoulders and then a woolen shawl around her shoulders for warmth. Scribonia added a pair of pearl earrings and a silver pendant. With a heavy heart, she went down to the entrance of the villa where the coach waited.
    When she arrived at the palace, she was led to an atrium where a fountain seemed to play a melancholy sound as she waited.
    When Tiberius entered, she bowed her head. “You sent for me, Majesty?”
    He handed her the scroll in silence.
    She scanned the contents and the anguish of leaving her daughter alone in Reggio rose again in her heart. She wanted to fling the document in his face. Did he feel any remorse for what he’d put them through? Keeping her face bland, she fought for control. Julia was in the hands of the gods now. Cato was dead. It was too much for his heart. Gathering