Nero: A Novel by Conn Iggulden

Author:Conn Iggulden [Iggulden, Conn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2024-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Italus stepped onto the docks at Pontia, his gaze drifting up the hill. He had gone ahead of the news on the galley. Word was spreading from the city to the provinces, carried by imperial heralds to every region of the empire. The message to the twenty-eight legions was simple: ‘Emperor Gaius is dead. Hold fast.’ Those words meant that the ultimate authority of all their lives was absent, at least for a time. No general would move without further orders. If he was fighting a war, he would retreat to the camp of the night before and fortify the position. Negotiations halted, deals were postponed, slaves sent back to their coffles without being sold. Of course, there would be fortunes made in the brief period of confusion. Some men were clever at seeing opportunity, even in disaster. They would guess at the price of oil or wheat and complete a bigger order before the axe came down, risking fortunes to make even more.

Italus wondered if the prefect of the VI Ferrata on Pontia would benefit from the news he brought. He had not expected to be first with it, though it made sense. He’d raced west from Rome, changing horses at a legion tavern and reaching the port before morning. That had been a difficult moment, as he’d lacked any official permission to order a galley crew onto deep waters. It had taken all the authority he’d earned as a centurion of the first cohort to override the objections. Of course news had to be carried to the islands! Italus had come close to striking the galley captain, but it would just have made trouble for him. In the end, the man had given way before Italus was quite ready to knock him out. They hadn’t said a word in a day of hard rowing. Italus spent his time at the prow when he wasn’t eating the slop the rowers were given.

To set foot on Pontia again was something he had dreamed about. He rubbed his jaw as he stood there, swaying slightly as he adjusted. He needed to be shaved and to bathe, but he wouldn’t get the chance.

The legate of the VI Ferrata had seen the galley coming in, this time without the imperial flag on its mast. He’d ridden out from his barracks even so, accompanied by his senior officers. Italus had to assume island duty was a tedious one, for the most part. Well, he had brought a little excitement with him.

He saluted the legate as he came to a halt on the docks. Some of the praetorians held that being the personal guard to emperors meant they were the senior service. This was not the place to stand on his dignity, however.

‘Centurion Gaius Italus Passienus, first cohort, praetorian guard. It falls to me to announce the death of the emperor.’ He took a deep breath, praying Herminius and the others had not failed in their acclamation. ‘Hail, Emperor Claudius.’

The legate’s eyes widened as he took it in, finding refuge in the simple routine demanded of him.

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