He appreciated the symmetry of the stone, a simple edifice that allowed him to walk quietly around the long oval without dwelling too much on where to place the next step. Despite being so close to the palace, a trick of the wind provided an unexpected quiet in the small stadium, allowing one to be truly at peace amidst the bustle of the Palatine. Once taller than a man, the stadium walls had steadily crumbled since Domitian first built this private complex next to his new palace. He had enjoyed private games and sport, leaving to his more reluctant successors this rare expanse of open ground. In the first century, Domitian had lopped off the tall crest of the Palatine Hill, the Palatium flattening the ground and allowing for a massive expansion of the Domus Flavia. What resulted was a grand two-wing structure, the Domus Augustiana used as a private dwelling and the Flavian palace used as a more public wing. Over the centuries, the palace was maintained until by the time of Remus’ predecessor, the Flavian wing had mirrored the stadium in its decay, confining later emperors to using the Augustan complex solely. Despite his restoration of the city, Romulus had invested little in restoring the full edifice, an odd omission which made many curious. Perhaps reviving the gleaming of more public structures throughout the city was a better use for a stretched treasury.
Although he was not one for architectural design, preferring instead to admire, Remus already had plans for the old structure. He appreciated Domitian’s thinking and if an entire public wing could keep the courtiers at bay when need be, the investment would be worth it. As a result, this explained why the imperial palace was a cacophony of noise as workers and sculptors worked among the machinations of the Roman court. This in turn, drove Remus to seek solitude and allow him the unexpected pleasure of the little Domitian stadium. Eventually, perhaps, the shrewder ones would come to know where his steps took him, but for the moment he truly be alone. Thanks to Selenus, pairs of Custodiae guarded each entrance. These were veterans, fresh from bitter combat in Campania, which made him much more comfortable in their presence. They shined in their armor, certainly, yet his guard was no longer a showpiece thanks to a regular system of rotating soldiers into the field. To be Custodiae, you had to be the best, and remain so.
Despite his comfortable surroundings, he could feel the weariness deep inside. This wasn’t the physical exhaustion from many campaigns in the field, rather this was a fatigue that sapped him mentally, leaving him fogged until he could rest and clear his thoughts. He longed to leave the capital and get back to the army. Thanks to the negotiations with Annaeus, this looked to be a real possibility. The young ambassador, firm yet deferent and with a youthful spirit that reminded Remus of his other companions, was in regular contact with Constantinople, and at last there was a glimmer of hope that the Great Decision could be set aside, achieving a real settlement with the East without the talk of marriage that gave him such dread. The Princess Titia was described as very enchanting and docile, the latter being a quality he certainly did not want. Annaeus was kind enough to provide some truth about just how meek the fair creature was, which sapped Remus’ enthusiasm for the proposal more and more. If he was ever to consider such a prospect, he had no wish to live with a statue, no matter how beautiful. No, the treaty would be sealed with war, which was how it should be. If negotiations concluded soon and allowing for due ceremony, he could move to Mediolanum in the fall, ready for a spring campaign. Anastasius proposed to cooperate in the coming year and with his and Viator’s armies, he felt comfortable about the prospects. And the chance for a new campaign was finally draining some of the lethargy his months in Rome had produced.
He paced to the southern end of the stadium, walking up the marble benches with care, not wanting to risk a fall from the unstable structure. At last, he found a comfortable vantage point and could look over the top of the short wall, between two small pillars where once a small statue would’ve sat. The view was magnificent, and it thrilled him to be able to see the open lands of southern Rome running past the Servian to the Aurelian Walls. He intended to fully restore both, seeing the value in a double wall around the city. Below him, he had a perfect view of this stadium’s larger cousin, the Circus Maximus, where a large part of Rome’s sporting life was once concentrated. Even now, in emulation of Constantinople, many in the Senate wished to revive chariot racing, bringing them into conflict with the clergy. This was a question on which he had decided to stay aloof, not wishing to interfere in every civil matter, providing the parties did not get out of hand. He would try to remain benign, yet would brook no opposition, which is why one of his first acts was to take the title of Patrician and add it to his dignity as Imperator. It was a subtle warning that he would rule in his own right.
Glancing down at the vast open oval of the Circus, Remus thought there was much to the proposal, giving the people a pleasant distraction and heroes of sort to cheer. And the estimated income from the races was nothing to sneer at either. He knew just how vital a flush treasury would be in the years ahead. Perhaps he would have a talk with Senator Regulus, or one of the lesser lights. A quiet conversation couldn’t hurt, as he was constantly being reminded.
Placing his right hand on the stone to steady himself, he quietly continued his vigil, enjoying the moments of solitude. His legs grimaced at the constant exercise, yet he felt reassured by this, keeping himself in some trim, not going to seed as some of his officers were threatening to do. He had to get them out of the city soon!
Below him he could glimpse the ruins of the Severan palace, where massive retaining walls had been built to buttress the hillside, literally right over the Circus. Romulus had left this area to rot, and Remus had no plans either. Perhaps a palace ruin was useful to keep as a reminder of how far an empire could fall with enough neglect and ignorance. Thinking of ignorance reminded him of the harpies inside the palace, with their own agendas to push. Giving up on Princess Titia certainly wouldn’t quiet talk of the Great Decision, as the more amused were taking to calling it. It would merely reduce the candidates from three to two. Remus had secretly hoped he could take to the field quickly and put off the marital discussion, yet it appeared not to be. The treaty negotiations were dragging out long enough to make the rumors into the Great Decision and as Selenus consistently reminded him in council, the question could not be avoided. He would have to marry, if just to silence the court. It wouldn’t be for love or money, it could be a political decision, he was told. The problem was, either choice presented the veneer of imperial favor for one faction over another.
The respectable praestiti or ‘diligent’ faction, led by Senator Genucius, would already lose as they had leaned towards Constantinople. The old imperii, once a collection of Romulus’ creatures and now Remus’ strongest backers, were putting forward Regulus’ sister Hesta, whom he had observed stirring up social circles at recent banquets. Against this was the choice of several independent Senators and young hotheads, this being the daughter of Flavius Manlius Boethius – the elder, Remus corrected, vaguely recalling the young son. Young, willowy, and traditional, Cornelia Manlius was seen as apolitical, properly Roman of pure descent, and the perfect choice to avoid controversy. Boethius, an elder independent Senator, was being whispered about for Consul in the coming years, once Selenus' and then Regulus’ terms expired. He was well-respected by all parties, clerical and civil, and had served honorably in the army in years past, before Remus’ own time. He was seen as a man above corruption.
However, as an outsider in the Curia Julia, Boethius was being surrounded by an odd mix of Senatorial debris, from small families to once disgraced statesmen to young fiery speakers such as Andromachus, a motley of traditionalists. It was a union of quiet authority and loud activism. In a bit of daring wit, Andromachus had dubbed them the Boni, the “good men”, the very name of the Republican bloc which had opposed the original Caesar. They were fast becoming a faction in their own right, a third pole in the Senate and if Remus was seen to choose Cornelia over Hesta, it would be seen as a rejection of the imperii and particularly Regulus. Of course, choosing Hesta would cause its own murmurings of corruption and dealings which benefited the few over the many. It was the topic of discussion on all couches at all dinners and at every party of note. The major people involved, the Senators, the imperial officials, and the women themselves, weaved among Roman society like dancers in the theatre. It was threatening to become the first scandal of Remus’ reign.
He detested the topic so much he was tempted to make a decision and be done with it! Then he could leave Rome the next moment. Here at least, in this small stadium, was where he could purge himself of some of the turmoil afflicting him. Or so he thought, as he suddenly heard some rocks shift below, causing some to tumble over the edge of the hillside. Below him, he heard someone grunt, as if skidding precariously. ”Who’s there?” he barked. For a moment he heard nothing, as whoever was below just went still. He didn’t sense a threat, even though his Custodiae were on the far side and he only had his small pugio – he never went anywhere unarmed.
Applying gentle pressure from his feet, he stared over the edge of the stadium at a sight which could be described only as – ridiculous. A man lay sprawled flat on the rocky ground, a foot and hand both gripping the sidewall with great resolve, his expression one of terror and exasperation. This was quickly replaced by recognition and embarrassment as he spotted his own emperor looking down at him. At a loss for what to do, the man simply closed his eyes and laughed. The absurdity of it made Remus smile in return, grateful for anything to relieve his tension. ”Who are you?” was all he could think to ask.
”Ita vero. So, Caelius Laurentius, perhaps you might come up here and explain further about why you almost tumbled off the Palatine and what you are doing so far out of the way. Walk to the northern side and wait with my guards until I arrive.”
As he tramped back across the stadium grounds, he found he couldn’t place the unfortunate man in his mind. He hadn’t seen him at court and his robes were simple, not pretentious at all, which meant that he couldn’t be a courtier. No one he knew wore such simple fabrics, at least not those in the palace. Who then? It was clearly someone with enough daring or foolishness to try to pass the eroding hillside overlooking the Circus. Or perhaps both.
At the northern entrance, he found his quarry looking suitably cowed by the nearby Custodiae, both of whom were clearly looking for an excuse to detain him and take him for questioning. The man’s gentle demeanor had undermined their resolve, however, and they were content with keeping their hands to their hilts. Remus cleared his throat, nodding at their sudden shift to attention. He beckoned quietly to the nervous visitor, knowing the guards wouldn’t shift until he gave them leave. With timid steps, Laurentius stepped through the old doorway into the stadium, the very same where older residents of the Palatine had once passed to find amusements of a different sort.
Yet some sort of leeway had been granted if the unkempt man was invited into the imperial presence. Finally, the brooding figure managed to break the silence. ”Imperator, I am extremely…apologetic…at interrupting your peace as I did…I…”
”...like to cheat death?” Remus said, yet with a hint of bemusement that assured his guest that there was no animosity.
”No, of course,” he said sheepishly. ”Not that I fear death, but I certainly don’t go looking for it either, Imperator.” It was a curious comment which Remus decided to let go for the moment. His voice was surprisingly smooth, not polished as a Senator or diplomat, yet self-assured, calm, and full of meaning. It was something that struck Remus immediately.
It was such a strange occurrence meeting someone who didn’t appear to want something from him. Actually, it was Remus who had wanted to speak with him, out of curiosity and a desire for distraction. ”Where do you hail from, Laurentius?”
”Arpinum, Imperator.”
”Cicero!”, the word appeared unbidden. ”Selenus would pounce on that immediately,” he said with a short laugh. It felt good to simply talk, without having to watch one’s words.
”Not a rare response, either,” Laurentius replied easily, clearing growing less wary in the emperor’s presence, and perhaps shocked at how easily it was to be in the imperial confidence. He had simply wanted to find some quiet, not realizing how precarious the ground near the stadium was, nor daring to think who might be watching.
They kept walking for another few moments, circling around what remained of the grassy field upon which gladiators and animals used to fight. ”You’re certainly not a member of my court, or else you’d be telling me of the charms of your daughter or how your poor villa in Arpinum is in sad decay.”
”Hah!” Laurentius laughed embarrassedly, trying to hold back his mirth. ”I am what I am, Imperator, a poor fool who tripped on some rocks. That you should take a few moments to speak with me is merely my good fortune.”
Remus found growing more serious as they approached the north wall. ”Yet you must be someone to have access to the Palatine. Enough banter, then,” he said, growing quiet, deciding to press the man a little.
”I’m simply a deacon, Imperator, a poor servant of God. My master makes his rounds inside and there’s little for me to do. I guess I found the palace…”
”Stifling?” Remus guessed.
”Yes exactly. I am used to the incense, of course. Maybe it’s just the people…”
”Carrion birds is more apt, Laurentius. So you’re not a secret plot by Bishop Gelasius to speak with me privately?” This wasn’t as far-fetched as he first thought, knowing how many frowns his latest politics was causing across the Tiber.
A burst of laughter was enough answer, however. ”If that was the case, I would not have risked my life, Imperator!”
Remus’ smile lessened a bit when he saw who was waiting at the entrance, knowing that if it was Selenus and Claudius together, it was news and important at that. His escape was over, then. ”My walk is complete, then. I enjoyed our brief talk, Caelius Laurentius. Perhaps I will spot you indoors in the future…and still health?” He smiled as Laurentius performed the suitable bows and oblations as he left the stadium under the curious glances of Remus’ top subordinates. He hadn’t recognized the clerical garb in the beginning, but they certainly had. And the questioning would begin soon enough. Alone he could be Remus yet in public, he would always be Imperator and Patrician.
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