Throne of the Caesars 01 - Iron and Rust by Harry Sidebottom Read Free Book Online Page A

prepared, but nothing precipitous should be ventured. Ignorance breeds confidence, reflection leads to hesitation , as the saying went.
    Iupiter optime, tibi gratias. Apollo venerabilis, tibi gratias.

CHAPTER 4

    Rome
The Carinae,
Five Days after the Ides of March, AD235
    Iunia Fadilla knew herself blessed. A descendant of the divine Marcus Aurelius, she was made aware on many occasions and by all sorts of men that she possessed both beauty and an intellect that they claimed was rare in her sex. Before his untimely death, her father had found her an agreeable and generous husband. Now, two years or so after the marriage, her elderly spouse more predictably had gone the way of her parent. As was proper, the eighteen-year-old-widow wore no jewels and her stola was of the plainest grey. Yet, as she left the recital, her demeanour was more than a little at odds with her costume of bereavement.
    Her friend, Perpetua, evidently was happy as well. They walked, arm in arm, across the great courtyard of the Baths of Trajan. The rain of the day before had gone, and the sky was a clear, washed-out blue. Gaggles of schoolchildren darted here and there, shrieking, sandals slapping on paving slabs, unconfined by their teachers. Also freed from their labours, doctors, artisans and worse drifted in and out of the colonnaded doorways. A group of fullers and dyers laughed as they went to wash away the foulness of their trades. It was five days after the ides of March, the Quinquatrus , the day of the birth of Minerva. Tomorrow, the festival demanded they spread the sand, and men would die, but today all fighting was unlawful.
    They left via the north-western gates which gave on to the Oppian hill and turned left. Perpetua’s black hair, her bright gown and gems, formed an attractive counterpoint to Iunia’s head of tumbling blonde curls and sombre attire. They affected not to notice the many looks of frank admiration. Each woman was trailed by her custos and a maid. Almost alone, these followers did not obviously share in the general contentment. The day had nothing of the holiday for them, and the two guards at least had taken little pleasure in the modern poetry.
    Perpetua was talking politics. ‘My brother Gaius says this new Emperor may be good for our family.’
    Iunia thought Gaius immature and ugly. She had no interest in his views on politics, or on anything else. Politics bored her. But she let her friend talk. She was very fond of Perpetua.
    ‘Now he is one of the Tresviri Capitales he was allowed to listen to the debate from one of the doors of the Senate House yesterday.’
    ‘Given their own addictions to self-advancement and sycophancy,’ Iunia said, ‘it is touching that the Senators think the junior magistrates will benefit from their example in the Curia .’
    ‘That,’ said Perpetua, ‘is your late husband talking.’
    ‘He had a point.’
    ‘Quite a big one, you always said.’
    ‘Well, average at least.’
    They had walked down the alley between the Baths of Titus and the Temple of Tellus, and now took the quiet path to the right across the front of the latter and along the brow of the hill.
    ‘Anyway, Gaius says that, ages ago, this Maximinus served under Grandfather on the northern frontier, somewhere like Dacia or Moesia. Father was a tribune there and met him. Apparently, although a complete peasant, Maximinus is known for his loyalty. Gaius thinks it might mean that father will get to be Consul at last, maybe even as an Ordinarius . Imagine a year named after Father.’
    ‘Did he mention the prospects of your husband? Or of Toxotius?’ Iunia could never resist teasing her.
    Perpetua laughed. ‘I am not going to rise to it.’
    They went along the front of the Carinae. No one knew why this district of noble houses was so named. Nothing in sight even vaguely resembled the keel of a ship. Off to the left, at the foot of the incline was the Street of the Sandal-makers. Ahead, running around the hill and