New Rome

29. Fall from Grace

Above ground, in the shelled wasteland, the sun slowly rose - climbing over a thick layer of smoke. It rose on a spectacle of death. The war that had waged for generations had boasted another great battle that night and now two army's worth of bodies rotted in the sun. 325 miles away, the city of New Rome shook off its cobwebs of sleep and woke to the awful – but all too familiar news – of yet another defeat.

People voiced their discontent about the war, loudest in the Lantern – where many miserable soldiers were conscripted – and cursed the Amen race that had plunged them into it. Thousands of miles below, the artificial lights of the House of Red changed – brightening to signal the change from night to day in a palace that natural light could never touch.

The corridors were full of people, petitioners snaking out of the door, but none had yet caught sight of their object – the Imperator. Strabo, head of the Praetorian Guard, strode down the halls – his broad shoulders parting the crowd. His fierce expression stopped anyone from stopping him. At length, he came to the bustling entrance way to the House of Red. Its walls were dominated by two paintings, one of the Imperator in youth and one more recent. Both had accusing hawk-like eyes that watched Strabo leave through the rotating doors and step into a waiting chariot.

"Take me to the Deep Prison," he instructed the driver, the tension thick in his deep, rumbling voice. 

             The Imperator sat behind his desk, his head in his hands. Julia was on her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her flushed face.

"I am filled with shame and regret – please, I beg you-"

"Do you have any comprehension of the harm you have caused?" The Imperator interrupted. All warmth seemed to be sucked out of the room and Julia trembled in fear.

"I never meant this to-"

"You never meant to get caught!" The Imperator snapped. Julia hiccupped tearfully. She touched her head to the ground, her stomach churning with fear. All she could was cling to the promise Daviad had made her.

"Tell them it was consensual.  That it wasn't rape and that you cuckolded me." He'd instructed her – his voice devoid of feeling.

"But... my grandfather..." She hadn't understood what had made her husband change his mind. Why would he want her to be publicly seen as a liar? Their marriage declared a shame for the whole universe to jeer at?

"Do as I say," Daviad had barked, "and I shall not estrange Aemilia from you."

Facing the Imperator's anger – this would be her hardest task. But Julia would do it, if it meant she wouldn't lose her daughter.

"A man languishes in jail for your deceit, the son of a good man."

"I know," Julia sobbed, "I know I did wrong. I was blind and foolish – I beg your forgiveness grandfather!"

The imperator flung out his hand suddenly, knocking the contents of his desk to the ground. Julia flinched as the papers and stationery scattered across the room.

"You have shamed me!" He roared. Julia cowered, too terrified to look up.

"Forgive me grandfather! I feared your anger!"

"You were right to fear it." He rose to his feet and Julia whimpered, thinking he meant to lunge for her.