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The vote was a remnant of the Republican era. Her father’s appointment had been unanimous but this was a different, much more tenuous, situation. She was asking them to do something entirely new, something for which there was no previous form. If not for the apparition of a goddess, they would not even have considered her, and even now, with that miracle in her pocket, her victory was still not assured, despite the promise made by Damocles.
Claudia tried to estimate how many men were placing their tokens in her bowl, though she didn’t know which was which, nor would it have mattered, because the tokens seemed to be evenly distributed. She lost count when Gia’s hand brushed briefly against hers, drawing her gaze.
‘It will be over soon,’ said Gia.
‘It is just beginning,’ said Claudia, shaking her head. ‘Win or lose, we will be fearing for our lives.’
When the last vote had been cast, Damocles and his assistants counted out the stones one by one before a gathered group of observers, including Pliny the Elder.
Claudia hung back, too nervous to watch. Marcellus moved around the outside of the observers’ circle, trying to calculate the numbers for himself. The Senate recounted once, and again, before the senators returned to their benches and Damocles addressed the room with a face that was impassively blank.
‘Today, history has been decided,’ he said. ‘The votes have been cast. We have 147 votes for Marcellus Suetonius, and 152 votes for Claudia Imperia, with one abstention.’
She… had won?
She was victorious?
It was too big to be believed, and yet the sound of celebration and objection grew enormous, blurring away into a slick of amorphous babble as Claudia stood still in shock. She looked to her cousin and saw her own bewilderment reflected on his face, united for a brief moment, despite their differences, in shared surprise at how destiny had come to pass.
‘It cannot stand,’ shouted one man. ‘I will not allow it.’
‘What are you going to do? Fight the gods?’ replied another.
‘We should vote again. There has clearly been inference.’
‘She is not my ruler. I will not salute for her.’
‘Not in my name, by the grace of Jupiter, no matter how many goddesses will it.’
‘The Senate has given its judgement,’ said Damocles. ‘You may not like the result, but the empress has been democratically ordained.’
‘It is offensive,’ spat Senator Tacitus, ‘to our ancestors, to our children, to the king of the gods. You may as well appoint a prostitute.’
Thelonius agreed: ‘Rome will fall, mark my words.’
The vocal objectors were herded out by their more discerning fellows, who poured out into the Forum to spread the news.
Gia moved to stand in front of Claudia as the remaining crowd became more animated, senators bickering and brawling on the benches. Half of them wanted to kill her, and the other half looked at her as if she could make their wildest dreams come true.
Damocles raised his voice, to shout above the dissenting din.
‘Claudia Imperia Caesaria, first of her name, descendant of Claudius, daughter of Tiberius the Second, subject of Minerva – you have been declared as ruler of Rome and will be known as Empress Claudia.’
In this moment, most of the followers who had clung to her cousin for the past hour crossed the room to join her, including many of the soldiers. Even some the imperial cultists reluctantly joined the circle that formed around her, joining the chorus of praise from people who’d swiftly turned face. Others remained apart, separate in their opposition.
Marcellus walked towards her, bobbing his head as if thinking of what he wanted to say.
Claudia braced herself, as Gia flexed her sword.
‘If you touch a hair on her head,’ she said, though she didn’t finish this sentence, for Marcellus held up his palm.
‘No need.’
Claudia recalled her prediction that he would slay her if she lost, and her momentary consideration that she could do the same.
‘I’m here to congratulate you.’
He stuck out his hand. A peace offering. He looked clammy and greenish, as if last night’s revelry was finally catching up with him.
