Read Online Defender of Rome by Douglas Jackson - Free Book Online
Authors: Douglas Jackson
Ads: Link
common harlot.
The Emperor studied him seriously, eyelashes fluttering. ‘What do you think?’
There could only be one answer. ‘Astonishing, Caesar.’
‘You recognized me as Pandora? The others didn’t, but what do they know about art? At the close of the gymnastics I will give a performance then hand out gifts from Pandora’s box.’ The voice was as Valerius remembered it: high, but not shrill, more boy than man. It still managed to carry a ruler’s power and for some reason it sought his approval.
‘I am sure they will be gratefully received, Caesar. What more could a man ask than a gift from your own hand?’
The shining eyes narrowed and Valerius wondered if he’d gone too far in his flattery. He found himself holding his breath.
‘So, a courtier as well as a soldier.’ Nero waved a hand and the four satyrs disappeared behind the screen. He came closer. ‘Of course, you were trained by Seneca, as I was. We have much in common, you and I. We have both suffered in Rome’s name. We should be friends.’ He raised his hand to Valerius’s cheek and the young Roman couldn’t prevent himself flinching from the manicured fingers. Nero’s eyes darkened and the room seemed to freeze; the unnatural stillness was broken only by the sound of the Emperor’s hoarse breathing. The scent of a strong perfume trickled into Valerius’s nostrils and made him need to sneeze. He wanted to turn away, but the unblinking stare held him like a vole in the grip of a kestrel’s claws. Very slowly, Nero brought his face close. Valerius tried not to smell the sour breath or see the outlines of the small pus-filled spots that dotted the skin beneath the powder. He felt his gorge rise as the painted lips touched his. A thick tongue probed his closed mouth and the urge to vomit became almost irresistible. He knew that if he gave in to the sensation he would surely die. He stood, still as the marble statue on the other side of the room, and endured.
After a few moments without a response, Nero took a step back. His tone mirrored the astonishment on his face. ‘You will not return your Emperor’s love? Is this what a soldier calls loyalty, or devotion, or duty?’
Valerius could feel the fear rising in him. Against any other form of attack he could have defended himself, even if it meant his death, but this? ‘Not will not, Caesar.’ From somewhere he found the right words. ‘Cannot. It is not within my gift or my power.’
Nero’s head swayed on its long neck, the cold eyes never leaving their prey. ‘But it is within mine.’ His voice quivered with righteous anger. ‘I could have you held down and use you as I willed.’
‘Then it would not be love, and you would have lost my loyalty and devotion.’
‘And you would have lost your life.’
‘My life is my Emperor’s to take, though I had hoped to give it willingly on the battlefield.’
For a dozen long moments Nero studied him. Without warning he gave a girlish laugh and flounced away. ‘Am I not the greatest actor in the world? With nothing more than a kiss I have a Hero of Rome disarmed and trembling in fear.’
Valerius bowed his head, not in acknowledgement, but to ensure that the other man could not see murder reflected in his eyes. He had never felt such fury. He wanted to reach out and take the scrawny neck in his hand and squeeze until the breath rattled in Nero’s throat like a dying chicken’s. To flail with the walnut fist until the pasty, overfed face was smashed into a bloody pulp. Slowly, he willed the rage to subside and when he looked up the Emperor had taken his place on the golden throne, with the emerald dress ruffed up around his thighs and his thin, pale legs hanging ludicrously below.
Now the voice took on a new authority. ‘I brought you here for another reason, Gaius Valerius Verrens, Hero of Rome. Will you serve your Emperor – unto death?’
There could be no hesitation, though the words choked him. ‘I will,
The Emperor studied him seriously, eyelashes fluttering. ‘What do you think?’
There could only be one answer. ‘Astonishing, Caesar.’
‘You recognized me as Pandora? The others didn’t, but what do they know about art? At the close of the gymnastics I will give a performance then hand out gifts from Pandora’s box.’ The voice was as Valerius remembered it: high, but not shrill, more boy than man. It still managed to carry a ruler’s power and for some reason it sought his approval.
‘I am sure they will be gratefully received, Caesar. What more could a man ask than a gift from your own hand?’
The shining eyes narrowed and Valerius wondered if he’d gone too far in his flattery. He found himself holding his breath.
‘So, a courtier as well as a soldier.’ Nero waved a hand and the four satyrs disappeared behind the screen. He came closer. ‘Of course, you were trained by Seneca, as I was. We have much in common, you and I. We have both suffered in Rome’s name. We should be friends.’ He raised his hand to Valerius’s cheek and the young Roman couldn’t prevent himself flinching from the manicured fingers. Nero’s eyes darkened and the room seemed to freeze; the unnatural stillness was broken only by the sound of the Emperor’s hoarse breathing. The scent of a strong perfume trickled into Valerius’s nostrils and made him need to sneeze. He wanted to turn away, but the unblinking stare held him like a vole in the grip of a kestrel’s claws. Very slowly, Nero brought his face close. Valerius tried not to smell the sour breath or see the outlines of the small pus-filled spots that dotted the skin beneath the powder. He felt his gorge rise as the painted lips touched his. A thick tongue probed his closed mouth and the urge to vomit became almost irresistible. He knew that if he gave in to the sensation he would surely die. He stood, still as the marble statue on the other side of the room, and endured.
After a few moments without a response, Nero took a step back. His tone mirrored the astonishment on his face. ‘You will not return your Emperor’s love? Is this what a soldier calls loyalty, or devotion, or duty?’
Valerius could feel the fear rising in him. Against any other form of attack he could have defended himself, even if it meant his death, but this? ‘Not will not, Caesar.’ From somewhere he found the right words. ‘Cannot. It is not within my gift or my power.’
Nero’s head swayed on its long neck, the cold eyes never leaving their prey. ‘But it is within mine.’ His voice quivered with righteous anger. ‘I could have you held down and use you as I willed.’
‘Then it would not be love, and you would have lost my loyalty and devotion.’
‘And you would have lost your life.’
‘My life is my Emperor’s to take, though I had hoped to give it willingly on the battlefield.’
For a dozen long moments Nero studied him. Without warning he gave a girlish laugh and flounced away. ‘Am I not the greatest actor in the world? With nothing more than a kiss I have a Hero of Rome disarmed and trembling in fear.’
Valerius bowed his head, not in acknowledgement, but to ensure that the other man could not see murder reflected in his eyes. He had never felt such fury. He wanted to reach out and take the scrawny neck in his hand and squeeze until the breath rattled in Nero’s throat like a dying chicken’s. To flail with the walnut fist until the pasty, overfed face was smashed into a bloody pulp. Slowly, he willed the rage to subside and when he looked up the Emperor had taken his place on the golden throne, with the emerald dress ruffed up around his thighs and his thin, pale legs hanging ludicrously below.
Now the voice took on a new authority. ‘I brought you here for another reason, Gaius Valerius Verrens, Hero of Rome. Will you serve your Emperor – unto death?’
There could be no hesitation, though the words choked him. ‘I will,
Similar Books
