”Lactuca was an unfortunate mistake, Imperator, a vegetable deserving of his very name.” There were some mild chuckles at the Senator’s witticism, easing some of the strain in the conversation between Romulus and the
Imperii faction head. Genucius Dives was practical, influential, and steady in his plotting, all qualities which had endeared him to the imperial administration. With so many military threats to the weak Empire, north and south, a firm hand in the Senate was desperately needed. Now if only the young emperor would cease this obstinacy, Genucius thought wryly, glancing around the chamber with fixed diffidence.
Romulus’ private reception chamber, the
camera obscura as it was known in social circles, was a failed attempt to intimidate the visitor. If anything, he thought as he awaited Romulus’ reply, it made the emperor as uncomfortable as his guests. The lack of lighting and the cold stone made servants stumble, the inhabitants cough, and the levity, well…nonexistent.
Romulus stared stonily ahead, trying not to glance in either direction for counsel. Varic and his mother, neither of whom would trust the other alone with him, would see his slightest look as a mark of favor and preference. And so would the others, the courtiers hanging on every imperial gesture. If only he could clear the room of all of them! But then…he craned his neck in distraction.
”Senator Lactuca will live out his miserable life in Brindusium, the silly labes populi
.”
Genucius laughed appropriately as required, without real spirit.
”A stain on the public, indeed, Imperator. Yet indicative of the problems we face in the Senate. There is no Princeps Senatus
and there won’t be as long as Arcadius and the praestiti
are in opposition to Sicily.”
”The Senate is meaningless,” Romulus snorted, oblivious to the open insult to his invited visitor.
”The institution,” he said soothingly,
”is a quaint anachronism.”
”Vero,” the Senator replied, inclining his head.
”It is unfortunate that the anachronism plagues the Imperator so, what with how often you speak of the Senate.”
The barbed shot struck home, and Romulus’ expression colored.
”It is so. And how should we deal with the Senate then? They oppose Sicily at every turn. They screamed for action against banditry in the south. So I recalled Suomar and what happens? The so-called praestiti
bark at me like rabid dogs…the emperor has abandoned Sicily! Suomar is a heavy-handed barbarian! Selenus is a useless snowflake! To say nothing of the Gothic horde,” he snapped, suddenly rising from his small throne. Genucius flinched, waiting for the anticipated tirade.
Surprisingly, Romulus cooled as he paced, but did not sit down right away. A small compromise, those in the room thought gratefully.
”Arcadius and his young pup are the least pulex
in this city. The Bishop breathes down my side of the Tiber. He’s in Syracuse’s pocket, I assure you. Why else would I have consented to Selenus’ command? Claudius dithers slower than Fabius Maximus himself. If Ravenna falls, he’ll be completely outmaneuvered. And then what?”
For the Senator, it was an easy question to answer. Recall Remus Macrinus and squash Theodoric between their armies like a
pulex indeed, a barbarian flea. Many in the administration shared this thinking, but no one dared voice it.
”These are difficult questions, Imperator, not easily solved.”
Romulus wasn’t finished, however.
”My Roman brothers in the East would love to see me brought down. And this latest farce…Zeno honestly expects me to marry this…Tita, sight unseen?”
”I’m told she’s quite presentable, Imperator,” Genucius replied mildly. A cough came from behind Romulus' throne, though no one ventured to ask Lady Barbaria if it was purposeful or not.
”Presentable. One says that about an ox on market day, Senator. Not about my future bride! Am I to receive the dregs of the eastern court then?!”
”An imperial princess is a great honor and would do much to ensure your legitimacy in eastern eyes---“
Romulus waved him off, his eyes flashing, a clear danger sign.
”You’re very good at reciting Annaeus word for word, Genucius! I’ve talked enough with the young upstart, mildly throwing Zeno’s words in my face! Eastern eyes?! Have I a care for eastern eyes? If my generals would just win, if the people would just keep quiet, if the Senate,” he said, pointing at Genucius dramatically,
”would simply bend to my will then this Empire would have no need for eastern eyes. Each speech against Sicily only pushes us closer to the eastern leash!”
A fair point, the Senator thought, though he wished it had been spoken earlier, without the bluster.
”Thus we return to the question of the Senate. Imperator, you need an organized voice there. Relying on a dithering non-entity as Lactuca only made our opponents laugh. The man’s voice squeaked, in God’s name, Imperator!” He put his own frustration into the last. Senator Lactuca, for all his loyalty and wealth, was one of the worst orators in the Senate, rivaling perhaps the young Regulus. After being literally brought to tears by the latest
praestiti speeches, he had fled the chamber. Romulus, in his surprising mercy, had left the man alive, exiling him to southern Italia and obscurity. Genucius was then brought in to rescue
imperii fortunes, a daunting task.
At last, Romulus deigned to sit down, perhaps accepting some responsibility for that last debacle. Lactuca was his man, after all…Varic’s man, to be more precise. Perhaps that accounted for the barbarian’s unusual silence.
”So be it, and the vegetable is gone. What then do we do?”
Genucius spread his arms with due deference.
”You need a Princeps Senatus. And Rome needs its Prefect restored.”
Romulus smirked.
”And to no surprise, you wish to be Prefect.”
”Only if the Imperator deems me sufficiently worthy,” Genucius said simply, bowing.
”I should hope your…contributions…will merit the posts.” None needed to speak of a specific figure, though it would indeed be sufficiently ample. The imperial coffers were a greedy maw.
”Prefect I can readily grant. Princeps Senatus, however, is co-opted by your peers. How do you intend to persuade Arcadius and the rest to go along?”
”Co-option works both ways, Imperator. And Arcadius befits a tradition worthy of the Princeps of old.”
They both shared a mild laugh, not as forced as before.