Fiction: "Daughter of the Empire: A Novella of Lucilla--Part 3"
Lucilla's plot continues to gain momentum, as she is joined by the Praetorian Prefect Paternus, even as Commodus grows ever more paranoid and the danger increases with each passing day.
Hello, readers! Welcome to the second installment of my historical fiction novella, Daughter of the Empire. I’ll be releasing a new installment over several weeks, as Lucilla—daughter of Marcus Aurelius and brother of Commodus—decides to lead a coup against her brother to keep him from burning their father’s dream to the ground. If you enjoy the historical works of authors like Margaret George, Kate Quinn, Stephanie Dray, and Michelle Moran and films like Gladiator (in which Lucilla is a major character) then I think you’ll enjoy Daughter of the Empire.
*Note: A historical note, explaining some of my narrative choices, will come with the final installment.
The days pass in an agony of waiting. Her sisters have now mostly gone back to their homes, all except for Fadilla, who continues to skulk around the Palatine. There are rumors that she has begun to form a group of informants, all of whom are supposed to take word to her if there are even the slightest signs that someone might be plotting against the emperor’s life. Lucilla tries to avoid her, but she also can’t help but be aware that it’s only a matter of time until Commodus summons her again. At this point it’s unclear which will come first: this meeting or the strike against him, and she isn’t sure what she wishes either.
Ultimately, the summons arrives and, for the second time in a month, Lucilla finds herself walking through the halls of the Palatine, heading toward a meeting with Commdous. The Praetorians who are escorting her give no sign of whether this is to be a productive meeting or whether it will end in her death, and so all she can do is try to still her heart.
When, at last, they arrive at the doors to Commodus’ personal chambers, she’s almost ready to tear her hair out with fear.
Calm yourself, Lucilla, she says. Don’t let him see that you’re afraid, or he’ll start wondering what it is that you’re afraid of, and we know that that can end nowhere but with bloodshed.
She wishes, desperately, that Paternus were here, so that she could get at least some read on what is about to come. If she is going to die this night, she would at least like to be able to face it head-on, rather than wondering whether it will strike her like a thief in the night.
Then again, there’s no point in trying to prepare for death. If it’s going to come for her, then she should meet it with the same stalwart attitude that she has met everything else that has confronted her in life.
So, squaring her shoulders, she steps through the doors to meet her fate.
Her brother’s chambers are dimly lit by just a few braziers, giving them a hostile and dangerous air. She has to squint to see into the gloom, and even then there’s not much that she can actually see. There is a group of figures clustered in one corner, and she thinks that one is Commodus and the other is Fadilla. She thinks that she spots a third figure, and a cold hand seems to caress her spine.
Who else would be summoned to such a late meeting?
There’s a heady atmosphere of fear and anger in the room, hanging like a fug she can’t escape. Her eyes flick around, seeing if there’s any way that she can get out of here but, like an animal caught in a trap, she knows that it’s a futile effort. She’s here to stay, and she’s just going to have to accept whatever her brother has decreed for her.
“Why do you wait there, sister?” Commodus calls from the shadows. “Come into the darkness with us. This is a sinister night full of dark tidings. It’s only fitting that we should conduct our affairs here, where none can see or hear us.”
She thinks then of Emperor Domitian, about the infamous banquet that she’d held where everything, from the tables to the tunics worn by the slaves, had been all in black. Is that what Commodus is doing here? Is he trying to make her feel as if she is off-balance, so that he can strike her down?
“I’m sorry, brother,” she says, thinking quickly. “It’s just…I am a bit out of my element, here in the shadows.”
There’s a cruel bit of laughter from the shadows, and it doesn’t come from Commodus. It’s female, but she isn’t sure whether it’s Fadilla or whoever else he’s summoned here.
“Come closer,” he says, a note of command in his voice.
She takes a deep breath and does what he asks, knowing full well that there’s no other choice in the matter. She is essentially his slave, and to believe otherwise is folly.
The closer she gets to them, however, the greater grows the desire to flee. This isn’t going to escape from this night, she’s sure of it. Everything has fallen apart. There’s no hope for any of them.
When she comes closer to the shadows, however, she sees that the other person here is Paternus. Her heart climbs into her throat. Is he here because he’s told Commodus of what they’re been planning or is there some other explanation?
She has no way of knowing.
Her eyes go to Fadilla, to see whether she can determine anything from her sister’s look, but her eyes are hooded, hiding whatever thoughts are swirling through her mind. Paternus gives nothing away either.
“So,” she says, summoning up her courage, “am I to gather that there are plots afoot against your life?”
It’s a desperate gamble, but she needs to distract Commodus from her own activities, give him something else to focus on.
There’s a short bark of laughter from her brother.
“You might say that.” He leans forward. “It’s come to my attention that there are many members of the Senate who are thinking that they can destroy me. They think that they can tear down our entire family and replace it with another, one that they think will restore their beloved Republic.” He snorts. “There’s no going back to that way of life, and I think they know that. It’s just something they trot out so they can convince themselves that they’re not just as power hungry as anyone else who has ever sought the purple.”
Lucilla tries not to breathe a sigh of relief. It seems that his suspicions have already fallen on someone else. That’s good, because it means that he won’t lash out at her, at least not until it’s too late.
She glances quickly at Paternus, but he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. Whatever is going on here, he doesn’t want her to take too many risks.
“So what are you going to do?” she asks. “And, if I might ask, how did you find out about this reprehensible act?”
Again, that menacing smile. Before, she thought he looked like a falcon about to stoop on an unsuspecting victim. Now, however, she thinks he looks more like a big cat, content to play with its food before devouring it.
He gives a small wave toward Fadilla. “For that you can thank our sister. She’s had her ear to the walls of the Palatine, determined to root out anyone who would threaten us.”
Threaten you, you mean, she thinks but doesn’t say.
“That’s very good of you, sister,” she says instead. “We all owe you a great debt for being so observant and so committed to making sure that we stay safe from the grasp of the Senate.” She pauses, to gather her thoughts and to steel herself for what she is going to say next. “They are nothing but a nest of vipers, as anyone who has ever had to deal with them can attest.”
The words taste foul, because she doesn’t actually believe what she’s saying. If her conspiracy succeeds, she actually hopes to have a better relationship with the Senate. There will be no talk of turning power back to them, of course, but at the very least she can make their oppression seem a bit more palatable.
To do that, however, she needs to succeed tonight. That, at the moment, is far from a certainty.
“But where are my manners?” Commodus asks. “I have left you standing there like a penitent. Come, recline with me.”
He moves over so that she can share his couch and, though she would rather be anywhere else, even though she knows that being in such close proximity to him means that she will be more easily manipulated, Lucilla knows that she can’t reject him, not without raising more of his suspicions. So, every inch of her skin seeming like it wants to crawl off of her body, she does as she asks.
She’s grateful for a moment that, at the very least, Commodus has never shown the sort of unnatural desire for his sisters like some other emperors she’s read about. He may be mad, and he may be a bit of a monster, but he’s nothing like Caligula and his foul desires for Drusilla. She shudders to think how much worse all of this would be if she had to contend with that.
“Now, then,” Commodus says. “Fadilla, why don’t you tell our sister just what it is that you’ve discovered? And then, Paternus, you can add in your bit.”
Lucilla’s stomach tightens.
“The facts of the case are actually quite simple,” Fadilla says. “There are some of the more powerful and wealthy Senators who have come to believe that they are the ones who should be wielding power. They seem to have settled on one of their number to step into the position of the Princeps should it become vacant, which they have every intention of seeing brought to pass.”
Her lips quirk. “I don’t think they appreciated that little display that our brother made with the ostriches a few weeks ago. But then again, it’s not for the likes of them to question what the ruler does, is it?”
“And how did you find all of this out?”
The question is out of Lucilla’s mouth before she can think better of it. She’s aware that it probably makes her look suspicious. For a loyal member of the House of Marcus Aurelius it should matter more that her sister found out that there were traitors looking to kill them. How she got that information should be immaterial. But it isn’t, because she wants to know whether there are those in her own circle who might be suspect.
She doesn’t think that Fadilla will tell her anything, however, and for a moment it does indeed seem as if her sister isn’t going to say anything, that she’ll come back with some explanation that it’s not in the best interests of the throne for her to reveal her sources. However, she just shrugs, as if she doesn’t much care whether Lucilla knows about her sources.
“As a matter of fact, it was our dear little Cassius Dio who spread that information.”
Lucilla is genuinely taken aback by this. She would never have credited her brother’s pet historian with having so much initiative.
I will have to keep a close watch on him going forward, she thinks.
Fadilla, seeming to sense what she’s thinking, goes on, “You should never underestimate a historian, Lucilla. They have the ability to flit through the world unnoticed and unseen. You never know what things they might see and take note of.”
There’s a threat there, though Lucilla can’t tell whether it’s for what she’s already done or what she might do.
“In any case,” Fadilla goes on, “the axe will soon fall. The death warrants will be handed out a week from now, once we’re absolutely sure that we have all of those we need to catch in our net. We wouldn’t want any of them to escape, would we?”
“No, we would not,” Lucilla says, with far more certainty than she feels. “There must be no stone left unturned when it comes to the protection of the family.”
“It’s so good to hear you say that, Lucilla,” Commodus says. “Paternus, I believe you also had something that you wanted to add to this discussion, did you not?”
The Prefect draws in a sigh, as if this is the last thing that he would like to be doing.
“As a matter of fact, yes. There have also been signs that there is disaffection within the ranks of my own men. The Senate knows that money speaks more loudly than loyalty to anyone or anything or any office. So, they’ve been pouring quite a lot of it into the barracks.” He sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “We’re going to have to get a jump on this if we don’t all want to end up dead.”
The room seems to spin around Lucilla, but she holds it together. She honestly has no idea where Paternus stands in this, whether he has already decided that their own plot is no longer worth pursuing or if this is some other game of which she’s not aware.
I knew it was a mistake to throw our lot in with a Praetorian, she thinks. I should have told Plautia that I wouldn’t do this.
“It saddens me that there are so many who can’t see their own good,” Commodus says, shaking his head. “They would turn against the father who has given them everything, turn away from the right path so that they can have their own vicious little schemes, their own little ways of looking at the world. Ah well. There is even a place for such traitors in our world. If they will not live their lives in such a way as that they are an example to those below then, then there will be no choice but to use their demise to set another example.”
As always with Commodus, his mood shifts.
“That will conclude this little conclave of ours,” he says. “There is no point in pursuing this further. I will bring the hammer down on those who would challenge me in my own time. It may be a week, but it may be a month. In the meantime, the four of us will hold this information to our chests. It will not be spoken off to anyone else. Do I make myself clear?”
They all nod and utter their assent. Lucilla tries to make her voice sound confident, but she’s sure that it comes out anything but that.
“Good,” he says. “Then you may go.”
Lucilla knows that it’s always best to seize an opportunity to flee Commodus’ presence when the opportunity presents itself.
“Dominus,” they all say at once as they begin to take their leave. It’s not often that Commodus expects this kind of slavish respect, but they can all sense that this seems to be one of those times.
As soon as they are all out in the hall, a collective sigh sweeps through them. Even Fadilla, for all of her vaunted loyalty to their brother, seems more than a little relieved to be out of his presence at last. There was a danger to him tonight that left them all in no doubt that they were dancing close to a perilous edge.
“Be careful, both of you,” Fadilla says. “There’s no telling what he’s going to do next. There will be blood, and a lot of it. It’s best not to get in his way when he’s like this. Let the fire burn hot and thorough, and then we will be able to rebuild from the ashes.”
Lucilla thinks this is the very worst thing that they could do. She says nothing, though. There will be time enough to contend with Fadilla’s folly once this is all over.
“It will be as you say, sister,” she says with a nod. “You are always wise in matters concerning our brother.”
For a split second it seems as if Fadilla is going to say something in response to this, almost as if she’s able to sense the fact that Lucilla doesn’t see this as an unalloyed good. Then it abates, and she looks the same as she always has.
“As you say. Good evening to you both.” She gives Paternus what can only be described as a dismissive look and then she is gone, her robe fluttering behind her.
As soon as she is out of sight Paternus grabs her arm with a tight grip and marches her down the hall. She wants to protest this rough treatment of her–he is a Praetorian and she is a member of the imperial family, after all–but Lucilla holds her tongue. Something tells her that she is going to want to hear what he has to say.
They sweep down the hall until he finds a room that he deems suitable for their conversation, and then he pushes her roughly inside.
As soon as they are both closeted inside she whirls to face him. No matter how grave their situation is, she’s not going to just let him get away with treating her in such a fashion. When she sees the terrified look on his face, however, she goes silent as a number of fears press in around her.
Has he started to get cold feet about this? She asks herself. Has he decided that it’s too dangerous to pursue this path? Has he even decided that it might be better to cut his losses and tell Commodus what has been going on all along?
Her thoughts are racing so fast that she has trouble catching up to them, but with an effort of will she pulls herself back from the edge. Nothing will be gained by engaging in this kind of thought behavior. Better to engage with the world as it is, rather than as she would have it be.
“What are you doing?” she asks, forcing civility and patience into her voice. Paternus, as far as she knows, is still an ally, and she would be a fool to alienate him unnecessarily.
He looks at her as if she’s asked the stupidest question he could imagine.
“Things are getting more dangerous than we could have anticipated and much faster,” he says bluntly. “We’re going to have to either make a move soon or abandon this whole effort. There’s nothing else for it.”
“I can see that,” she says calmly. “But there is no point in leaping into action before we know exactly what it is that we’re facing. Yes, Commodus is growing more unstable, but we can’t move too quickly and then have our actions foreseen by Fadilla. Do not underestimate my sister. She is quite capable of ferreting out anything she thinks is a danger to Commodus.”
“That’s just the damn point, isn’t it?” he growls, hands tightening into fists at his side. ‘Your sister’s dangerous.” He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure we shouldn’t take her out while we’re at it? She could be a threat to you if you manage to gain the throne.”
She shakes her head immediately. She’s already going to be drawing down the wrath of the gods by being a fratricide. She isn’t going to make things worse by taking the life of her sister, too, no matter that he does at least have something of a good point. Fadilla is not likely to be very forgiving if this all goes according to plan. In fact, she’s probably going to hate Lucilla more than she does already.
She’ll just have to deal with that, she thinks. When it comes down to it, she’s going to have to be more willing to put the interests of the family and the empire as a whole ahead of her devotion to Commodus.
Paternus shakes his head. It’s clear he doesn’t agree at all with what she’s proposing, but he still has at least enough respect for her not to protest too much.
“I’m not sure that’s wise. In fact, I’m starting to think that none of this is wise.”
And there it is. It’s the thing that she’s been waiting for, but even so, hearing it said aloud is frightening. If his resolve is already beginning to waver, then that means the entire edifice of their conspiracy could come crashing down around them.
She breathes in slowly. She can’t let her emotions get the better of her at this moment. She needs to be able to feel her way forward with deliberation and calm. She needs to make sure that she doesn’t do anything rash that will make this situation even more dangerous and deadly than it already is.
“I know that it seems that way,” she says slowly and softly, “but we’ve already come this far. You’re right. We must strike soon. But trust me,” and here she reaches out and touches his arm, an inversion of just a few moments earlier, “we’ll get through this together. We will both live to see a new dawn, one that isn’t beholden to my brother and his mad whims. Surely you, of all people, would want something like that?”
Lucilla hopes that this inducement is enough to lure him back to her side. Paternus must surely realize that his own life, and that of the men that he leads, is always beholden to Commodus and his whims. All it would take is for the emperor to decide that they can no longer be kept safe and they would perish.
Come on, she thinks. Don’t betray me, not now, not when we’re so close.
It’s another few moments–which feel like centuries–but then at last Paternus nods. He must see that this is the only path open to him. He’s already committed too far to turn back.
“Aye,” he says. “You have a point there. Nothing seems certain when it comes to Commodus. His whims seem to change with the day.” He sighs, and there’s so much weariness in it. “Doesn’t it seem, Domina, that we’re in the worst of times? You may not know this, but the Praetorians keep their own histories. We know what it’s like to serve under madmen and maniacs. We’ve served men like Caligula and Nero and Domitian. We’ve seen the darkness that festers inside the hearts of those who wear the purple.”
He sighs. Lucilla could almost feel sorry for Paternus, if she could afford such a feeling. As it is, she finds herself somewhat stymied by this new emotional honesty. As far as she’s aware the men who are drawn to the Praetorians are hardly well-known for their softer side.
At the same time, this vulnerability might be just the thing she needs to be able to bind him to her side, to make sure that he doesn’t go haring off at the first sign of trouble. She needs to make sure that he can help her, that he will stay loyal to her until her brother is dead.
“I understand what you’re saying, or at least I think I do,” she says, “as much as anyone who hasn’t borne a weapon can, in any case. As you say, there are many things that can draw a man down into the darkness, but that’s precisely why we have to fight all the more strongly for the right. The Praetorians have played a key role in bringing down those who would destroy the empire and everything that it represents. It’s time for you to do that again, even though it may come at a terrible cost.”
She might be mistaken, but she could swear that there’s a stiffening to Paternus’ spine, as if her words have indeed had the desired impact, as if he has seen what a glorious future might be in store for the man who plays such a key role in bringing about the end of one period of history and the beginning of another.
Please, gods, let it be so, Lucilla thinks. Don’t let all of this be a waste of time but, instead, let it be the thing that is needed to bring the madness and chaos to an end.
“Is there anything else you wished to say to me?” she asks. She is suddenly very tired and just wants to go back to her own rooms, where she can sink into an oblivion of sleep. She has no idea what the future holds for her, but she wants to at least be rested enough to feel as if she can grapple with it.
Paternus seems to actually consider this, and then he shakes his head.
“No, Domina, there is nothing else. But please, if I may make a suggestion. We should meet with the others who are part of this plan as soon as possible. I meant what I said. There is no time to waste. We must begin to make plans for what is to come.”
She nods her head. “Yes,” she says. “We will.”
They part ways shortly thereafter. Walking through the halls of the Palatine, Lucilla is struck again by how this palace never sleeps, how there are always people running around, making sure that the gears of the administration continue to grind. She wonders, dimly, whether Commodus has spent even a spare moment giving any thought to how his power is kept intact, or whether he is content to just…live.
If only I could be so blase about how things work in this world, she thinks. Perhaps my life would be much easier.
But in her heart of hearts Lucilla knows that was never her way. For as long as she’s been alive she’s been conscious of how power works, first at her father’s knee and then sitting beside her husband. For all of the brevity of their marriage, Verus had taught her a great deal about the runnings of the empire. It will soon be time to put those into practice.
Let us hope that I can do right by the memories of both my father and my dead husband, she thinks dryly to herself. As hard as that may be.
She goes back to her chambers, hoping that she’ll be able to get some sleep. Unfortunately, her husband, in that way that only he seems to have, is sitting there waiting for her, a strange and rather sinister look on his face. Lucilla feels her heart leap into her throat, because even though Claudius has never given any indication that he has a political bone in his body, something about the way that he looks at her suggests that this might no longer be true.
Could it be that Claudius has at last discovered a spine?
“Wife,” he says, and gestures for her to take a seat, “I’ve been waiting for you. Did you have a good meeting with your brother?”
“How did you know I was meeting with Commodus?” she asks, coming slowly into the room. She’s moving carefully, because something tells her that something is amiss here. Danger hovers in the air, a similar sort of danger to the one that she encountered in Commodus’ rooms.
Rather than answer straight away, he takes a delicate sip of the wine that’s been laid out for them and leans back.
“Surely you don’t think that you’re the only one who knows how things go in the Palatine?” he asks. “I have my ears to the doors too, you know, though you may not know it.”
Lucilla takes a seat, though she is still wary of where this is all leading. She sees now that it might have been foolish to ignore her husband so completely. It’s possible, she realizes, that there’s far more to him than meets the eye.
“I would never be so arrogant as that,” she says, reaching out and pouring herself a cup of wine. She likes to think that it’s not poisoned but, given her husband’s mood at this moment, she wouldn’t dare take anything for granted. She takes a delicate sip and, when her throat doesn’t seize up and she shows no signs of immediately succumbing, she takes a deeper sip.
Claudius chuckles. “Did you really think that I would stoop so low as to poison your wine?”
“I never know what to expect here,” she says. “As you should know better than most. One cannot take anything for granted, not even the loyalty of a husband.”
He takes another sip without saying a word. She can sense a danger here, like a trap poised to spring shut.
“What do you want, Claudius?” she asks. Lucilla is too tired for all of this, too fed up with having to tread carefully around her brother and sister, utterly fed up with the idea that she has to live in fear. She won’t do it with her husband.
“I want to warn you about what you’re doing,” he says without preamble and without beating around the bush. “If you keep down this path, I predict nothing but disaster and death.”
She holds in a sigh, but it’s only with an effort. Of course that’s why he’s here. She should have known that he would intrude into her space and try to stifle her own ambitions with his cowardice. Her husband has never been someone who had ambitions.
“Husband,” she says gently, “I don’t think that you want to know more than you already do. It’s best that you stay out of this.”
A brief flare of anger flickers behind his eyes.
“Oh yes?” he says. “You want me to stay out of this when, if things go according to your plan, I’ll be the one to sit in Commodus’ place? Don’t you think I have some right to decide whether that will be my fate or not?”
She wants to shout at him that he will have no real power once they are at the pinnacle of the empire, but she holds back. Lucilla is no fool. She needs Claudius, at least for the time being. The only thing she can do is to keep him as sweet as she can, no matter what it takes.
“You know I have the utmost respect for you,” she says. “And I know that you want what’s best for our family and for the empire. We will do everything we can to make sure that that comes to pass. I won’t put you at any risk.” She pauses. “Or at the very least at no greater risk than I put myself.”
He snorts at that. “You always were the risk-taker of the two of us. We both know that you’ve been planning something like this from the moment that your first husband died and it became clear that you were no longer going to be one of the first ladies of the Palatine.”
She hates to admit it, but there’s truth to that. Still, it rankles that Claudius has suddenly decided to find a bit of courage to speak to her this way after spending so much of their marriage being little more than a doormat. Is it fear of what Commodus might do should he find out or is it something else? Has she missed the resentment brewing in his soul all of these years?
“If you go through with this, I want you to know that I won’t stop you,” he says. “But neither will I lift a finger to help you. If Commodus asks me what you’re doing, I’m going to tell him the truth, and let the chips fall where they may.” He shrugs, as if he doesn’t care how much his words wound her, as if he doesn’t care that he has no loyalty to the woman to whom he owes his power and his authority, such as it is.
“I’m sorry, Lucilla,” he goes on, “but surely you didn’t think that our personal affections for one another would be enough to prevent that? You’ve hardly made a secret of the fact that you hold me in contempt. Why should I do anything to try to save you from your own excesses?”
She breathes in through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. He hasn’t said that he’s going to turn her over to her brother, but now she knows that the threat is always there. If Fadilla or Crispina or Commodus decide that they want to interrogate her husband, there will be nothing standing between him and revealing all of the ugly truth of what they’ve been doing. She briefly thinks that it might be better–necessary even–to have him killed as well, to make sure that he poses no more of a threat to her delicately-laid plans.
But now, he is her husband, and he could still be useful. Her power will flow through him, at least for a time. She will just have to make the best use of him that she can, for all that he threatens to drive her mad with his folly.
Before she can say anything else he gets to his feet. Lucilla wants to demand that he sit down, that he not leave her here, not when there is still so much between them that remains unfinished. The set look on his face, however, shows that he will not be ordered around, that he has reached the end of his rope when it comes to what he will and will not tolerate.
“I do wish you the best, my dear,” he says, “if this whole thing fails, I hope at the very least that Commodus gives you a quick and merciful death.”
He leaves the room as her lips begin to form a response. As soon as he does so the weariness comes crashing down on her again. She knows that she’s going to have to move quickly if she wants this whole thing to not come crashing down into ruin. She could truly just shake Claudius until he falls apart for being such a coward and such a fool.
There’s no use complaining about him. He is who he has always been, for better and for worse. It might be better to find someone else to use for your purposes once the throne is ours.
That, however, is something that she will have to deal with in the future. For now, it’s enough that she will have to push this forward. It’s time to stop waiting and start doing. That much is clear.
Let the dice fly, she thinks.