Chapter 17

Corvus managed to gather his inner circle in his rooms just before his motorcade to the elevation ceremony was about to leave. Once they'd all arrived, he said, "Senator Rufius has requested I provide him with an appropriate escort for the wedding tonight. It's in seven hours. I need ideas."

"He's not going with Widow Iunius?" Dorsuo asked.

Corvus shook his head. "I'm going with Widow Iunius. It's been planned for weeks, but that apparently gives him the right to demand I find him someone else to go with."

"That's a pretty archaic rule," Fusa pointed out. "And when it's invoked, it's usually well in advance. If he only asked this morning, can we refuse for either of those reasons?"

"We'd be within our right, but he almost certainly expects us to refuse," said Lanatus. "He'll use it against us later."

"I could go with him," Aquilina said. All the heads in the room turned to her. She laughed. "What? I've got good family connections to the senate and he can't afford to piss my father off. It'll be fun. I might even get to spy on him a little."

"I doubt he's going to say anything useful to my media communications director," said Corvus.

"You would be surprised." Aquilina gave a little smirk.

Corvus looked to Lanatus. "Do we have any other options? Who else could we ask?"

Lanatus sighed. "I'd have to look to see who's not already coming. There won't be a lot."

"There won't be anybody," said Fusa. "Come on. Anybody highly-ranked enough to be coming is already coming. Bassa Tuccius delayed her divorce proceedings so she could come with her husband instead of staying home with her lover."

"That's only a rumor," warned Lanatus.

Corvus sighed and raised his hands before Fusa could argue. "Fine. Point made." He gestured to the group. "You three go on ahead, find seats and hold one for Aquilina, please."

As soon as the other three filed out, Aquilina said, "I'm not planning to sleep with him."

"I would hope not. If women had any sense about those things, he'd be the end of his line."

Aquilina laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Don't be jealous, Corvus. I promise you. I find him thoroughly repugnant. Sometimes it's fun to toy with a man you can't stand, though."

Corvus sighed. "I wasn't actually worrying you would sleep with Atellus Rufius as much as I was worrying that the Widow Iunius had already suggested you as a suitable escort for him."

Aquilina smirked. "She's been doing research on me."

"Apparently so. But I can assure you she didn't suggest it out of any love for you. She thought there was a chance you would hate me for asking."

"Then her research isn't as good as she thinks." Aquilina put her arms around his neck. "I would have been flattered if you'd just asked directly and I'm flattered that you tried to protect me from her machinations. Either way, her suggestion backfired." She curved her hands up behind Corvus's head and leaned in to kiss him.

Corvus placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Aquilina, I'm sorry. She and I ... we've agreed that she's going to be my mistress."

Aquilina nodded. "I assumed she was the one you waited too long for. Brilliant job of scuttling her date with Senator Buzzkill, by the way."

Corvus laughed. "I ... it didn't go at all how I expected."

Aquilina tilted her head. "It worked. She's going to be your mistress and not his wife. I don't need to be a spin doctor to call it a brilliant job."

Her hands were still around his head, stroking his hair. Corvus said. "You're not upset?"

"About what? I told you. I don't want to be your mistress."

"But I'm going to have one," Corvus pointed out. When she continued to wait for more, he added. "And she doesn't like you very much."

"So, don't put an exclusionary clause in your contract with her." Aquilina shrugged. "Even if you have to in the end, those contracts take months to iron out. You and I could well be tired of each other by then."

"Months?" Corvus had assumed the contract was more of a formality.

Aquilina nodded. "Sometimes. That's half of why I skip that part and only take lovers as I see fit. A lot of relationships don't last as long as the contract negotiations."

Quad knocked on the door and immediately stuck his head into the room. "The motorcade's just waiting on you, sir."

Corvus had only ever seen the inside of the New Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on TV. When he was actually inside, staring up, it turned out to be much larger than he'd gotten any sense of. A domed ceiling soared high enough that it seemed there should be birds flapping around and building nests in the eaves, but apparently the birds didn't dare.

The ceiling was divided into eight wedges and each wedge was painted with an images of Jupiter - Jupiter flinging lightning bolts from his chariot, Jupiter on his throne, Jupiter alone, Jupiter with his children. Nowhere did Corvus see Jupiter with his stern, frequently disapproving wife Hera, but Hera had never been popular in New Rome, so it didn't surprise Corvus that she'd been excised from the family pictures. Curiously, in nearly every picture, Jupiter was showing an inappropriate amount of bare skin for the situation. Even on his throne, one side of his toga had fallen down revealing one pectoral and a pale pink nipple.

Overall, the general theme of the temple seemed to be gold. The pictures on the ceiling were lined with gold leaf, the blank places between them painted gold. The pillars that held up the roof were painted gold. A rotunda ran just below the dome and was lined with massive bas relief golden eagles, wings outstretched and touching tip to tip.

Each eagle was at least as large as three men standing side by side with their arms spread wide and certainly weighed tons. It was taught that Emperor Pontus was eventually assassinated for bankrupting the Roman imperium, but his attempt to sell those very same eagles in order to pay the imperial debt had been the tipping point.

Along with the ancient majesty were some decidedly modern touches. When Corvus walked in, a sound crew was testing its equipment for the coming ceremony and a giant TV screen worthy of a major sports stadium was mounted on either side of the altar.

As imposing as the temple was, it wasn't as startling as walking out of his dressing room into the vomitorium at the back of the temple and catching his mother doing what she was doing only minutes before her own elevation.

She didn't seem to notice him, so he said clearly. "What on Earth are you doing?"

Lucretia didn't look up. "I'm kneeling at an altar rail with my hands clasped in front of me and my head bowed, dear. I was hoping your grasp of the obvious hadn't withered and died in the shadow of your towering cleverness. You should join me."

"Why?" Corvus was genuinely baffled. "I don't believe in the gods and neither do you. Why would either of us be praying at a time like this?"

Lucretia sighed. "Because in a few short minutes, we will be broadcast across the empire not just on television, but in several hundred movie theaters and on those two giant monitors in the temple proper. On close ups, our faces will be forty feet high. The slightest smirk or sneer or any other hint that we are capable of irony in this moment will instantly be blown up and distributed to the whole of the empire. So, I am trying to wrap myself in a shroud of solemnity that will deflect the twin demons of snark and sarcasm if they come looking for me."

Corvus sighed and knelt next to her. "This place is so imposing, I don't think it would have occurred to me to smirk if you hadn't put the idea in my head."

"Better to think of it now than to have it hit you halfway up the aisle."

Corvus clasped his hands in front of him. "I don't know if pretending to pray is going to help me avoid ironic thoughts. It will probably do just the opposite." He glanced over at her. "You are still an atheist. Aren't you?"

Lucretia sighed. "In this moment, I'm an ecumenical pessimist. I only believe in the gods that are out to get me."

Corvus shifted and the two golden clasp-plates holding his cloak together clanked. He'd been weighed down with tens of thousands of denarii worth of jewelry - rings and chains and clasps and pins, not to mention that he was wearing a cloak, which made him feel like he was six years old again and playing ancient centurion with his cousins. Every part of his costume had some meaning going back hundreds or thousands of years. He smirked, feeling like a display stand at a high-end jewelers, then blanched to realize he'd done it.

He'd seen plenty of elevations on TV and heard the talk afterwards. Even when the Oracle Corporation raised an esteemed engineer to the aristocracy as they were permitted to do once a year, the newly-elevated patrician was an instant celebrity at least for a week or two and if there was nothing else to talk about, people would talk about their comportment during the elevation.

He looked over at Lucretia. As weighed-down as he was, his mother had it worse. The golden strands and gems alone must have taken hours to weave into her hair. Her toga was far more ornate than his, her rings more numerous, the chains hung with large gemstones. Her cloak, worn straight back was clasped with a pair of black and gold lacquered eagles, wings outstretched towards each other.

"I like your eagles."

Lucretia smirked. "Shut up, Corvus."

"You look like an empress."

That got an unflattering snort. "I swear, if you make me laugh on imperial television, I won't send assassins. I'll kill you myself." The words were harsh, but she was grinning too broadly for Corvus take entirely seriously.

"The intruder last night wasn't from you, then?" he asked.

"He got caught. He wasn't from me." Lucretia sighed. "And believe it or not, I like to think I'd scruple at assassinating a member of my own household. We all have our limits."

"Not everybody on the estate is a member of our household," Corvus pointed out.

"I wouldn't assassinate a guest either," said Lucretia sharply. She looked sad. "Have we really come to this already - suspecting each other of sending assassins?"

Corvus shook his head and kissed her cheek. "No, mother. It was a poor jest." He sighed. "If this ceremony is just a formality, why am I freaking out right now?"

"Because every stone, every beam, every window and bench and gold-plated geegaw in this place is designed to freak us out, Corvus." Lucretia nodded and her face went from animated to serene. "They hold the elevations here to remind us that we we're being given a gift, but that we don't really deserve it and shouldn't get ideas above our true station. We don't belong and what we've been given so easily can be taken away just as easily. I am ... not immune to this temple's peculiar glamour, but I don't intend to bend to it..."

Corvus nodded, stilling his own face. "No one's taking it away from me easily."

Lucretia smiled. "That's my boy."

And then the attendants came for them. Someone was intoning in Old Latin and the words echoed through the temple's hundreds of amps and speakers. Corvus didn't try to translate, just let the words wash over him as he walked in stately fashion up the long aisle. Lucretia walked at his side. The three rows of attendants that preceded them into the sanctum dressed in cloth-of-gold seemed to be there for no other purpose than to make sure they didn't walk too fast. The three rows behind them seemed to be even less useful, existing only to create a visual symmetry for the cameras that filmed them from above.

Corvus didn't look up, but could feel the massive eagles glaring down at him, threatening to sweep down and crush him. Before that thought could raise a dangerous facial expression, he turned his thoughts to Labeo Vitellius and his conversation with Lucretia. He'd spoken true. He really did believe that Lucretia had a moral compass and lines she wouldn't cross. As manipulative as she was, she'd never pushed him to act against his own interest or made any real distinction between his best interests and her own.

He didn't believe his mother would have him killed. In fact, he was pretty sure Lucretia would only have someone killed if she were under extreme duress and her family in jeopardy. Assassination just wasn't her style - not even using the senate as her tool, certainly not for something as trivial as money or position.

If Gaius Gallicus had murdered Labeo Vitellius, he'd done it without Lucretia's help. Corvus couldn't lay out a clear, unsentimental, logical path that led him to that conclusion yet, but as the High Priest Jovian intoned in Old Latin about gods and sacred duties, Corvus realized that this was his faith. He would risk dying to knives in the night before he'd believe his mother might send them.

He realized something else, too. The reason the priest was speaking Old Latin was so that the sophisticated, powerful people gathered her today could choose not to understand it.

Corvus had pieced together enough of the sentences to realize that what the man was saying was absurd - gods turning into animals and impregnating women, people turned into animals or inanimate objects, Father Jove carrying around lightning bolts in his hands without wearing protective gloves. If people had bothered to translate, they would have to be giggling or at least squirming at the absurdity of it.

Before learning about the inner lives of slaves, Corvus had known very few people who actually believed in the gods, but he knew that when a true believer got on the subject, everyone around them got uncomfortable. People generally didn't say anything because there was nothing more useless than arguing with crazy, but they generally either tried to change the subject or get out of the area the first chance they got.

The thought might have made him smirk, but because he was again thinking politically, he was more interested in the question of what all this was for. It couldn't all be for nothing. The prayers, the giant gold eagles, the attendants in cloth-of-gold, they meant something. The New Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was one of the few that didn't supplement their income by breeding slaves. If they did, the slaves would probably turn out a lot like Malcolm and no one wanted creches full of little Malcolms. The thought alone gave Corvus a little shiver of distress.

The Temples Jovian served two purposes. Their priests often served as political advisors and the temples themselves were used for patrician ceremonies -- weddings, graduations, elevations, funerals. Jupiter Optimus Maximus was reserved for the richest, most influential families and even then often found excuses not to accommodate them. As a perfect example, Corvus and Lucretia were apparently good enough to be elevated here this morning, but Lucretia and Gaius weren't good enough to be married here in the evening. The priests who'd made the decision hadn't said that of course. They'd only said the wedding was "too controversial."

The people sitting on the high-backed benches to either side of Corvus and his mother didn't look at them like they were controversial. They looked at the pair with affection and what could only be described as "reverence" as much as Corvus might want to find another word for it. They didn't look like people who would reject them, but they had. They'd paid for this temple with their donations and their tax dollars. Some of them might have even had a hand in the decision to block the wedding.

Corvus could be angry and, in a dim way that didn't really touch his thoughts, he was. But he was more interested in why these people - some of the most highly-placed in Roman society were willing to pay for all this - for the gold and the land and the twelve useless attendants. He didn't know the answer, but he knew it was a key to understanding New Roman society.

As he was finally reaching the altar, Corvus caught one face in the crowd. A young man standing next to General Agricola had his hand across his mouth, obviously trying to look like he was being thoughtful and contemplative and just as obviously trying not to laugh at all of it. Corvus had to look away quickly or he would certainly have joined in.

Maybe that was another lesson. It only took one person to make this sort of thing funny.

At the altar, he knelt before the High Priest Jovian. The old man looked like a grandfather or a favorite uncle - bearded and sporting a shoulder-length white hair like he was emulating Father Jove himself.

At least he'd kept his clothes on, Corvus thought and quickly had to raise his hand to his mouth to feign a cough. He lowered his eyes to the rich, red carpet, resolutely not looking at the High Priest Jovian and forced himself to think serious thoughts -- intruders, assassinations, plots and counterplots. It worked well enough that he managed to keep a straight face even after he heard the priest ask his mother to swear on her uterus to be loyal to New Rome.

When it was his turn and the priest repeated the same oath for him to recite, replacing the Old Latin word for 'uterus' with the one for 'testicles, ' he allowed himself a small smile before continuing and there was a chuckle from around the temple as they watched him on the massive screens over his head.

"Corvus Gallicus is still a childish little boy who laughs at mentions of his own testicles," his detractors would say. He would have defenders as well, but it was the detractors who were important. He didn't want anyone already inclined to underestimate him to see his elevation and think that maybe he really was a patrician after all. He was an uncouth plebeian and he wanted anyone believing that to have a handle to hold onto that belief with - like his laughing at dick jokes on imperial television.

Besides, it was funny.

He repeated the priest's words, swearing to accept the burden of aristocracy and the added responsibilities of being a patrician of New Rome. He swore loyalty to the Senate and to a long list of gods - gods he'd never heard the names of before. He hadn't realized how many gods he'd been disbelieving in until he had to swear fealty to each of them one at a time.

And then it was over. The High Priest Jovian lowered another heavy golden chain around Corvus's neck, this one with an equally heavy medallion inscribed with a replica of the image of what Corvus was starting to think of Jupiter Pectoral - the father of the gods on his throne in his peek-a-boo toga. People seemed to be really obsessed with deity nipples.

Corvus kept his straight face all the way back down the aisle. The priest said a final prayer as they stepped farther and farther away from him, their pace set by attendants front and back. Halfway through their exit, the priest ran out of words and music swelled around them, so heavy on the low harmonics that it made Corvus's teeth ache and he was surprised to find that his nose was not in fact bleeding when he got back to the vomitorium - the name of which also made him smirk.

But when he made to take off some of the heavy jewelry, Lucretia stopped him. "Keep it all on for now. We need to do press on the way home."

Corvus groaned, but Lucretia gave him a stern look and held up a handful of her gilded and bejeweled hair. "Do not groan. Do you have any idea how much of my prep time today is going to be wasted getting this out?"

"How are we doing press on the way home, mother?" Corvus groused, but he left the jewelry on.

"There are hundreds of reporters waiting between us and our cars. It's traditional for youl to grab one out of the crowd for an exclusive and let her ride with you to the estate and ask you questions."

"Her?" Corvus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Whoever you pick, there are going to be rumors that you're romantically linked. There always are. And we don't need any of the sort of rumor that will come if you pick a man."

Corvus shook his head. "Why don't I know any of this yet?"

Lucretia shrugged, gold, lacquer, and enamel clacking together. "I thought your media relations director was briefing you on all this. You've been spending an awful lot of time together."

Corvus lowered his eyes and Lucretia rolled hers. "For Elysium's sake, Corvus. You might want to slow down a little. You're going to run out of available bed partners if you go through them too fast."

He was saved from having to comment by a twin line of centurions in gold-colored uniforms and holding archaic pikes entering in neat precision, making a sharp turn and marching in place before the double doors leading out. Lucretia strode between them and gestured to Corvus. "Let's go."

As Corvus stepped up to her side, she added quietly, "And do try not to have sex with anyone new before the wedding at least."

"I will try, mother," Corvus intoned. "I swear on my testicles."

Lucretia laughed.

"What was going through your mind when the High Priest Jovian lowered the medallion over your head?"

Corvus closed his eyes and nodded. Choosing a reporter to ride with him back to the estate had proved easy. On the day his elevation had been announced, he'd been struck by the beauty of a pretty young woman with sloe eyes, high cheekbones, and reddish-brown skin. He hadn't known her name at the time, but he knew it now. When the crowd of reporters surged against their honor guard, shouting questions, he'd spotted her again and called out, "Fibria Fabius, why don't you join me?" Fimbria had shoved through the crowd and been allowed to pass through by the centurions.

Still, being asked inane questions by a pretty young woman wasn't qualitatively different from being asked them by a withered hag. Corvus still needed to come up with a steady stream of bullshit to feed her. He wished he had Aquilina whispering in his ear.

Considering he'd been thinking about nipple-fixated painters and engravers, Corvus was glad to come up with, "I was thinking about the awesome responsibility patricians have to all the people of New Rome from the lowest to the most high. And I was wondering just how heavy that medal was. I'm wearing a lot of history here."

Fibria laughed and flipped through her notebook. "We have that here. The medallion is one point four pounds of solid gold."

"And the chain?"

"Point eight pounds."

Corvus nodded and fingered the metal. "They feel heavier. I don't think the scales capture the weight of tradition in this." Even though Fibria only had a voice recorder, he made sure to give her his best solemn face.

Fimbria nodded and wrote something down. Corvus looked thoughtful for a minute. He wasn't sure how many questions he could answer like that with the fine quality of nonsense expected by the imperial media and decided to go off script. "Does it say there how much this cost to make?"

Fimbria looked startled, but she flipped through her notebook and found the number. "All told, four thousand, two hundred thirty denarii."

Corvus nodded. "Something else I was thinking as he lowered the medal around my neck is how much we as an empire spend on tradition and symbols and medals that might be used to address some of the terrible needs facing our people. I understand it's important to express our loyalty to New Rome and to Jupiter and the other gods, but this is just a symbol." He let that hang in the air for a few seconds before adding. "One I'm keeping of course. I might need it in order to prove I'm a patrician one day."

Fibria laughed and covered her mouth. Corvus gave her a mischievous wink and watched her mouth. As soon as she drew in a breath for a follow-up question, he added, "But I am going to donate its cost to opening a literacy center in the Brightness. That should get it started and I'm hoping I can convince Senator Petronius to encourage the Senate to pony up at least as much."

"That's ... incredibly generous," said Fimbria, momentarily at a loss.

"It's not, actually," said Corvus. "It's what I should be doing. Did you understand what the High Priest was saying in there?"

"Some of it," admitted Fimbria. "I didn't take Old Latin in school."

"I mostly know it from reading," said Corvus. "But it was generally about our responsibility to New Rome, but New Rome is a lot of things. It's a torch of truth against the darkness of ignorance and superstition. It's the pinnacle of civilization in a benighted world. It's a fulfillment of the promise made by Caesar Mauritius and Caesar Briannus Metallicus when they fled the old world chased by visions of an emperor gone mad with his own power and a thousand years of darkness. But it's also something much more real. It's New Romans - all New Romans, not just the ones in my family or my household or even my social circle. If we're responsible to New Rome, we're responsible to New Romans."

Fimbria continued to stare at Corvus for a few seconds to make sure he was done before she turned off her voice recorder and leaned forward. "Are you sure you want to be saying all this to me? You know I work for a gossip rag. Right?"

Corvus shook his head. "Not after today. You can take that tape to any outlet you want and get a job with it - unless you like working gossip."

Fimbria barely hesitated before shaking her head, extending the recorder and starting it again. "Do you think your having grown up a plebeian makes you more sensitive to these issues than other patricians?"

"Maybe, but I don't want to give the wrong idea," said Corvus. "I grew up in a solidly middle-class household. I know how to read. I have an education. I had a lot of advantages that many plebeians don't get. I just think that, as an empire, we're at our greatest when we seek to create real opportunities for as many people as possible. Something like literacy doesn't cost the empire a lot and pays for itself a hundred times over in a more informed, logical plebiscite capable of finding better, better-paying jobs."

Fimbria asked a few more questions and tried to wrap up when they reached the estate, but Corvus gestured to her. "Do you want to come inside?"

Fimbria very much wanted to come inside, but she turned off the recorder again. "You know people are going to assume we're sleeping together. Right?"

Corvus shrugged. "That would only help enhance my reputation, I think. What about you?"

Fimbria shook her head. "It was a done deal as soon as you called my name, which I do thank you for - even if I have no idea how you even know who I am."

Corvus laughed. "Actually, you interviewed me when the news of my elevation first hit. I thought you were the prettiest girl who'd ever talked to me."

"Oh..." said Fimbria. "Are we going to have sex then?"

Corvus shook his head. "I just had more to say. And I did promise my mother I wouldn't sleep with anybody new before the wedding at least."

"Fair enough." Fimbria followed him out of the car. "But you do want something from me. Right? You wouldn't have called my name if you didn't have anything in mind."

Corvus nodded. "I wanted to do you a favor."

"So, I owe you for this?"

Corvus shook his head. "No. There's no better way to make enemies than to have people feel beholden to you. I may be a patrician, but I'm also eighteen years old and male. Even if I don't expect anything in return, I still have a biological urge to do favors for pretty girls."

Fimbria laughed. She had to take three steps for every two of Corvus's, but he was still weighed down with responsibility, history, and about sixty pounds of metal, so she managed to keep up. "You know the NAMOC is probably going to cut most of this interview. Right?"

"Let me worry about that," said Corvus. "I'm going to get myself into some political debt to make sure it goes out."

"Another favor for a pretty girl?" Fimbria asked.

Corvus shook his head. "This is all for me. The whole plebesite knows that interview happened and they'll be waiting for it. This may be the only chance I get to address them all at once for a while. You don't owe me anything for the interview, but you really don't owe me anything for making sure it gets on the air."

Fimbria tilted her head. "All right. In that case, can I ask a favor - one I really would owe you for?"

"Sure. What do you need?" Corvus asked.

"Can you get the media ban on the execution of Labeo Vitellius lifted? I know a lot of people who are dying to cover it."

Corvus gave a thin-lipped smile. "I'll see what I can do."

As soon as he returned to his rooms, Corvus collected his inner circle again along with Tullus. As he sat on his bed and let Clover remove layer after layer of accessories, he filled them in on what he'd done and what he wanted done. Tullus promised to find out who he would need to trade favors with in Plebeian Affairs to shepherd his interview through the News And Media Oversight Council. Aquilina scribbled notes as he recounted what he could remember of his answers to Fimbria's questions.

"You're going to piss a lot of people off with some of that," Lanatus warned him. "A good quarter of the senate makes their bones on the premise that poor plebes are lazy and illiterate by choice. And Senator Decius won't like you meddling in the Brilliance."