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‘I cannot. You must do it for me,’ said Marcellus. ‘I cannot bear to do it with my own hand.’

‘Are you a spineless coward?’ goaded Aquinas. ‘Are you?’

‘No!’

‘Then do it! Do what must be done! This is the test, to see if you are strong enough. It must be you.’

‘Please, General. I cannot. I cannot!’

‘Will you fail, at the final marker? After everything your god has done for you? You must not let him down.’

‘Please… sir…’

Marcellus continued to hesitate.

‘You must not let us down, after all we have done… after all we have sacrificed. Do it now, boy. Quickly. What are you waiting for?’

Claudia chanted feverishly. Every prayer she could recall passed her lips. She could hear Gia crying out, calling her name, as those who remained in the room whimpered and wept.

‘You want to be emperor? Well, this is the price.’

‘The people will think me a monster.’

‘The former empress will not be remembered well. You will be celebrated for removing her. It will be justice. History will be written so, for we shall write it,’ said Aquinas.

He looked to Senator Tacitus.

‘Yes, you will be most heroic, in the retelling,’ the senator said.

The edges of the room frayed, turning white, as Claudia’s vision seemed to tunnel. She swooned, catching herself on the table as guards inched closer, not yet fully detaining her.

Clearly Aquinas didn’t see her as a threat, and in this moment, he was correct, for she had never felt so weak or so sick.

‘There must be another way,’ said Marcellus. ‘Can I not just have her expelled, or held in the dungeons?’

‘She is the named empress. Her face is on coins and on flags. Leave her alive and her memory will live on. Her support will persist. You must kill her to rule. You must destroy power to claim power.’

The general’s eyes looked even colder than usual.

Claudia was going to throw up. She could feel the bile rising in her throat, so bitter and harsh, burning her insides.

‘Please,’ she begged.

‘Do it, now,’ said Aquinas.

Her cousin took the sword in hand, standing up and flexing his arm, but his soul was clearly in torment.

‘No, Marcellus,’ panted Claudia, searching around for a weapon to arm herself.

She settled on a knife snatched from the table, her fingers slipping over the gold, but it wasn’t sharp enough to do harm.

‘They’ll kill me, if I don’t do it,’ he said, looking to the general.

Claudia looked to Gia, still battling with Cassius to reach her.

‘Then… them… Fight them, not me.’

Claudia was struggling to form sentences in her fear. Marcellus was talking to her, but his voice sounded far away.