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.’