“Drawn by four white geldings and preceded by two lictors carrying sacred axes—the only weapons allowed within the city walls—the small procession evoked curiosity. Elissa peered out of the coach’s window, taking in the merchants and the beggars, the men of state flanked by bodyguards, the school boys—some of them about her age—gathered along the wide avenue of the Via Sacra to watch the vestals pass. She followed the progress of four slaves bearing the weight of a litter, and through fluttering... curtains she glimpsed a wealthy prostitute. She imagined herself, pampered and perfumed, her body draped with silk and jewels, carried through the streets of Rome to meet her lover, to meet Justinus. And she wondered what would ensue. “Thinking about Marcus?” Angerona asked. Elissa felt a pang of guilt. “When I close my eyes, I hear his screams.” “It’s not your fault.” Wasn’t it? If she had given in to Nero, his lustful desires, her brother might still be alive. Or she might have murdered Nero when she had the chance— She forced herself to stop that violent train of thought.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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