Page 27
It was killing her, but she would wait.
‘As a decorated soldier, I know exactly what is at stake each time we send legions to defend our borders. I know the cost of a life, and the sacrifices our conquest demands. That is why only a man who has felt the whistle of an arrow skim past his cheek can be a true commander. Only a commander can rule an empire.’
Claudia had felt more than just arrows grazing her skin. She had seen the world burning. She had felt steel slip through flesh. She had weathered the storm and braved the sea. She was not as worldly as Marcellus, but she had lived and feared and fought.
‘Our enemies surely sense the empire’s weakness, and the people are crying out for consistent leadership,’ he continued. ‘By my steady hand, we shall continue the era of Pax Romana. I will bring stability and strength, at a time of great uncertainty.’
The senators applauded, nodding encouragingly.
After a string of closing platitudes, Marcellus stepped aside to make way for a parade of generals. They testified to his suitability as emperor, reeling off heroic feats he’d performed.
When the last man had debased himself with gushing praise, Marcellus and his party retreated to the other side of the room, looking satisfied and a shade smug.
In his mind, the crown was already his.
Claudia moved to the centre of the room and stared into the cold eyes of the statue atop the Altar of Victory, silently appealing for her blessing. She gave her a faint, reverent nod.
‘Claudia Caesaria, you may now speak,’ said Damocles.
Her head throbbed. Her heart pounded. Her ears began ringing, as if someone had struck a bell within her skull.
The words she’d practised were now stuck in her throat, leaving her gasping for air.
‘Do hurry up,’ a man barked. ‘We don’t have all day.’
A murmur of mocking laughter rang through the crowd.
Claudia took a deep breath and put herself in the hands of fate.
‘Marcellus says that only a soldier can rule Rome,’ she said, ‘and it’s true that many emperors have commanded legions, but the most important quality of a ruler is how well he can represent the people.’
‘Yes, dear, we know that,’ croaked one old fellow.
‘How can Marcellus expect to rule, when he serves only half the population?’ she said.
The senators looked confused.
‘Half of all Romans are women,’ she said. ‘What is Marcellus Suetonius offering to them?’
Several senators chuckled, but Claudia wasn’t joking.
The Senate was comprised entirely of men, Claudia thought, many of them elderly. They were all educated, from wealthy patrician families. They didn’t represent the common people any more than her.
‘Where would the empire be without women?’ she said. ‘To run your houses, to serve your carnal desires, to birth your children – since that is all you allow them to do. They cannot vote or fight or stand in the Senate, yet they are expected to serve and obey. Even the limited power women are given is what keeps the wheel of empire turning. Women create new generations, of soldiers, of slaves, of senators.’
Claudia snuck a look at Gia, and her face was soft, quietly rapt. She knew her words would connect with her, if no one else; that she would be understood by Gia.
‘Some of you have wives, do you not?’ she said, turning back to the senators. ‘You have daughters, do you not? Who is ruling them? Who is guiding them? Who considers their interests, when they hold the sceptre? Who protects women, when they wear the crown?’
The hecklers had nothing to say now, watching her with mixed expressions. It was difficult to read the energy of such a hostile room, full of people who wouldn’t accept her no matter what she said or did, and yet she sensed a shift. Some of them still looked offended, disgusted even, but others appeared fearful, listening intently, as if women might eventually rise up against them if denied all autonomy.
‘The world is changing and Rome must change with it. The armies of your enemies are busy recruiting women warriors. They will double the number of their soldiers. They will charge into the future and Rome shall be left behind, all because of the short-sightedness of mankind.’
Some of the senators on the back benches made eyes at each other, as if recalling previous conversations they’d had.
‘I am the only living child of Emperor Tiberius. I am the rightful heir of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. I have grown up in the palace. I have seen first hand what is required of a ruler. My cousin may be brave and heroic on the battlefield, but will he know how to host foreign diplomats? Does he know every festival, and the customs of every parade? Does he know the laws, as I do? Does he know the history of the pantheon, as I do?’
Claudia looked to Victoria and felt a surge of confidence.
