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(Download PDF) Domitian 1St Edition S J A Turney Ebook Online Full Chapter
(Download PDF) Domitian 1St Edition S J A Turney Ebook Online Full Chapter
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Domitian
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Damnatio Memoriae
Prologue
II
III
IV
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
Nerva
Historical Note
Copyright
Cover
Table of Contents
Start of Content
Praise for the Damned Emperors
series
‘In Caligula, Turney uses fiction to challenge some of the lies that
masquerade under the name of “history” … His narrator, Livilla
provides an energetic and intelligent eyewitness view of the imperial
court and of the gradual decline of Caligula’s rule … A satisfyingly
alternative look at Caligula, something perhaps better done in fiction
than in academic history … Great and enjoyable’
‘Gripping, emotional and authentic. The best Roman novel I’ve read
in a long time. Turney is one of the best historical novelists out
there’
‘Everything.’
I watched as the sculptor’s eyes took in that wide forehead and the
slightly receded hair, tastefully carved to be considerably thicker and
curlier than its subject’s true coiffeur. The nose was wide and long,
though not unattractively so. Domitian was never unattractive, even
when his hair began to recede. All around the room, copies of that
familiar face looked back at me, accusing.
The last of the reddish paint, like deep rivulets of blood, gathered on
the body of the statue, making it an echo of a butchered corpse. It
made me shudder, for it brought me back to how it all ended.
Pomegranate Street
Rome, AD 52
‘Rome is a pit of serpents, Flavius, coils within coils all writhing with
no apparent order or purpose until one is bitten without warning.’
Such was the Rome of Claudius, anyway. Both my own family, the
Cocceii, and the Flavii had suffered times of disfavour and trouble,
especially with that gilt harpy Agrippina at the emperor’s side.
Neither of us were under any illusion that we would be returning to
comfort and simplicity, no matter how relaxed Flavius might sound.
We had exchanged an enemy who ran at us wielding swords and
screaming for an enemy who lurked unseen, ready to issue the
accusation of maiestas and the appropriate death sentence at a
moment’s notice.
Flavius and I dismounted, feeding the reins through the stone loops
on the kerb and tying them there. Sharing a look once more, the
hair rising on the back of my neck, we approached the door. There
was no noise as we moved from the bright morning of the street into
the shadow of my father’s doorway.
The small shrine to the family gods lay on its side, marble figurines
chipped and smashed where they had fallen. Orion, the family’s
bulky doorman, lay close by, a small pool of dark liquid about his
head. Whoever had done this was fearless, for I had known the ex-
gladiator all my life, and I had been certain that no man born of
woman could best him.
‘Aulus Flavius, a cousin from Norba. We are here to visit our friend
Marcus Cocceius Nerva, the younger,’ he added brazenly. ‘Where is
he?’
The Praetorian looked over his shoulder and his friend consulted the
writing tablet in his hand, tapping it with the stilus. Finally, the
second soldier shook his head, and the first nodded and turned back
to us.
‘Lucky for you, Flavii, you’re not on the list. Nor is the young
Cocceius you seek, but if you find him you might want to keep him
away. This is an imperial proscription order, and things could get a
little awkward here if he wanders by.’
Still staring at the blood running down that blade, I reached out and
grasped Flavius by the sleeve. He kept his eyes locked on those of
the Praetorian for a long moment, then seemed to realise that I was
there and turned. He saw the fear in my eyes, I think, for he
nodded, and we retreated from the house.
Flavius nodded his head. ‘There’s only you and your father in the
house who would be of note to the Praetorians, and you weren’t on
the list.’
I nodded. All I could picture now was my father’s face, full of pride
at seeing me in my bright new uniform, preparing for the journey to
Britannia.
‘If they don’t want you,’ Flavius reasoned, ‘then it’s not treason. And
if that’s the case, then you’ll still inherit. At least the emperor is not
taking the family’s property.’
We sat in silence then, watching the empty street and the dark maw
of my father’s doorway. My mind began to race. I would still have
the family house, but clearly I wasn’t going to want it for now.
Flavius’ father would undoubtedly give me shelter. He and my own
sire had been friends and comrades for years, and the elder Sabinus’
reputation meant that he was important enough that even
Praetorians would think twice about insulting him. I would be safe
with Sabinus and the Flavii until I discovered what had happened.
Finally, after an hour or so, the Praetorians exited the doorway, eight
of them, all armed for war and spattered with blood. Without a
single glance back, the soldiers marched off in the direction of the
Palatine and their odious master. No Praetorian eye therefore fell
upon the two young men sitting on the fountain a little further up
and watching them.
Once they were safely out of sight, Flavius gestured to the slaves
and we made our way back. The Praetorians had left the door wide
open, and as I approached, I noted two figures in the vestibule. I
knew not the name of the girl, for she was simply one of the
nameless, faceless slaves that served the house, but my father’s
body slave Albinus I knew of old, and my lip twitched at the sight of
him cradling his pulped and broken arm as he moved to close the
door.
‘Master Marcus?’ the man managed, his face filled with a mix of fear,
horror and now hope.
‘My father?’
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Title: Drome
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But the light in that other world is not the only problem to the solution
of which I wish that I had something to offer. There are many
problems. Here is one: the "eclipses." These are sometimes truly
awful.
For instance, just imagine yourself in a forest dense and mysterious,
and, furthermore, imagine that one of those fearful carnivores the
snake-cats, is stealing toward you, stealing nearer and nearer,
watching for the chance to spring; imagine yourself in such a
pleasant pass as that, and then imagine a sudden and total
extinction of the light (which is what, for want of a better word, we
call an eclipse) so that you yourself and everything about you are
involved in impenetrable darkness. How would you like to find
yourself in such a place as that and have that happen to you? Well,
as you will see in its proper pages, that is just where we were, and
that, and more too, is just what happened to us.
And that will give you an idea of what I mean when I say an eclipse
can sometimes be awful indeed.
Why the light at times quivers, shakes, fades, bursts out so brightly,
or why, slowly or all of a sudden, it ceases to be at all, is certainly an
extremely curious and most mystifying business.
But