by Geoff Fabron
She was the most recent of Alexander's mistresses, and had been sharing his bed on a regular basis for six weeks. This was one month short of what the servants referred to as the average 'bed-life' of their masters’ concubines. Gambling amongst the palace servants and Praetorian guards on the number of weeks each mistress would last had become a sizeable business since Alexander had followed his father to the throne. The current occupant of the imperial bed had impressed the palace personnel to the extent that the smart money was already on four months or more.
Alexander got up and opened one of the curtains. Normally the servants would do this but in his private chambers they only entered when ordered to do so and never when he had a 'guest'. The dull light streamed into the room causing him to shield his eyes and blink while he became accustomed to the brightness.
The imperial palace was built so that it could look both south to the Mediterranean and east towards the Black Sea. Today both the Sea of Marmara and the Bosporus, separating Europe from Asia looked grey and cold. Only the brightly coloured hulls of the large merchant ships and the sails of the small boats ferrying people across the straits, broke up the drabness. The trees in the palace grounds were bare, and the grass yellow - a result of the poor rains that had fallen in the summer and autumn. He could have ordered the gardeners to ensure that they received adequate water, but he had not. A press release had said that due to the deprivations suffered by so many of his subjects due to the poor harvest, the Emperor had ordered that the imperial gardens should not be watered until the drought had broken. Apparently this statement had been well received by the assembly, senate and populace at large.
The fact of the matter was that Alexander did not care whether the imperial gardens lived or died. They had been commissioned by his father and a huge statue of Emperor Philip III stood staring up at him from its centre.
Alexander stared back at the statue with a look that would have earned him a humiliating tongue lashing from his father if he were still alive. The people had loved his father. Philip the Great some were calling him, although that would be for future historians to decide. The achievements of his reign has been broadcast on all the radio stations and printed in all the newspapers at the time of his death. And Alexander, as the dutiful son and new Emperor had listened to them all.
Originally a successful general, Philip had been raised to the imperial throne by the successful revolt of the legions in Pannonia. After crushing the enemies of the Empire on land and at sea he turned his energies to building up the economy. He had overseen the massive re-organisation of the imperial railway network that had fuelled much of the prosperity of the previous twenty years. He had forced through a breakup of the Banking monopolies, easing access to finance and had actively encouraged technological and scientific research, establishing the wireless service to disseminate news and the Imperial Air Transport Service for the swift movement of mail and transporting of Imperial Officials. He had settled a century old dispute with the United Provinces and in doing so a massive market for Imperial goods had opened up.
"You did so much for everyone," said Alexander bitterly to the statue in the garden, "except your only son."
The stirring from the bed behind him made Alexander realise that he had spoken aloud. Stephanie turned towards the light, and noticed Alexander outlined against the window.
"What are you doing?" she said, stifling a yawn, "why don't you come back to bed?"
"I was surveying my Empire," he said lightly, leaning his naked back against the thick glass of the window, "every morning I must check that all is well with my domains. It's a big responsibility being Emperor you know."
She turned onto her side and propped her head up on one of her hands. She had kicked the silk sheets off the bed and her long golden hair had fallen over her bare breasts.
"Well I assume that it's all still there, so come back to bed."
Alexander left the window and went over to his private bathroom.
"I'm afraid my dear Stephanie that I have a meeting with that boring Isaac Opus in an hour’s time to discuss why there is no money in the Treasury."
He went into the bathroom and started the shower. When he came out Stephanie had rearranged herself on the bed to get his full attention, which it duly did.
"An hour is a long time Alexander. And I am sure that old Opus would not mind waiting a few minutes". She gave him a little smile and moved her body suggestively over the bed sheets.
He stood staring at her body for a few moments. In matters relating to his personnel gratification Alexander was capable of being very decisive indeed.
"Yes, I do believe that you are right," he said and dropped the towel that he had only just picked up from the bathroom. As he joined her on the bed he decided that boring old Opus could wait until his Emperor was ready to see him. The treasury would be just as empty at one o'clock as at noon.
For the next hour matters of finance, trade and the economy never entered the head of His Imperial Majesty Alexander IX, Emperor of the Roman Empire. In fact the only thought of a non carnal nature was one that had occurred to him fairly frequently of late. Why had this sensual, erotic woman ever married that idiot of a General, Manual Dikouros in the first place?
Isaac Opus and several other senior treasury officials were sitting patiently at a large oblong table. They sat in silence but the looks that they gave one another gave voice to the frustration they felt at being kept waiting for so long when the finances of the Empire were in such a chaotic state. Half an hour after they had arrived, the major-domo had informed them that His Imperial Majesty was 'unavoidably detained' and had sent in some refreshments.
At half past one the doors to the meeting room were opened by two Praetorian guards from the household cohort, and Alexander entered. Opus and his people stood, and bowed as the Emperor made his way to the large chair at the head of the table without a word and sat down. He looked around the table at the officials standing before him as he poured himself a glass of fresh orange juice from the pitcher in front of him. Then he sat back, took a mouthful from his glass and swallowed.
"Please be seated," he said once he was sure they had been sufficiently irritated.
They took their seats and waited for Alexander to give them permission to proceed. Eventually he did so by directing a questioning look at Opus.
"Your Imperial Majesty, this meeting has been called to discuss the perilous state of the Empires finances." Isaac picked up his notes and began.
"The poor harvest caused by the drought, has reduced both the income that the treasury gets from the farmers and also what it earns through exports. In addition we have had to purchase large quantities of grain from the United Provinces to feed the people."
Opus nodded to one of the men sitting opposite. He was responsible for the collection of taxes. He consulted his sheet of paper and started to speak.
"This appears to have affected other areas of trade as well. Farmers are not buying as much so factories are cutting back on production, dismissing workers or reducing the number of hours that they work. In turn there are fewer goods to transport which means that the imperial railways are now earning significantly less in revenue and are not even covering their operating costs."
The Treasury official took up the report “Many borrowed from banks and finance houses to expand during your fathers reign. Some are now finding it hard to meet the repayment. Farms and businesses are closing or being taken over by their creditors throwing more people out of work and on to the civic dole.”
He placed his sheet of paper down in front of him and looked to the man on his left, responsible for customs dues.
"The drought has affected our trading partners across the Rhine and Danube as well. They are buying fewer imperial goods, which translates into fewer profits for us to tax, and fewer cross border movements on which to collect customs duty."
He finished his speech and all the men around the table looked at the Emperor who had been sitting quietly while
his treasury officials were talking. He looked bored and disinterested, which he was.
"All very interesting, but please summarise for me Opus."
Isaac Opus flipped through the papers in front of him. He knew that Alexander’s grasp of economic affairs was weak, but surely he could appreciate the seriousness of the situation and take a little more interest!
"In short your Majesty, revenues are down by 20% on last year and are likely to worsen, whilst expenditure has grown by 10% despite significant efforts by the treasury to cut back. In addition there are the payments on the money your father borrowed to expand the railways and establish the Air Service."
The other men around the table nodded their heads in silent agreement with the facts. Opus resumed.
"Cash reserves are virtually depleted, and we are having difficulty in raising additional funds from the banks and finance houses. To a large extent the banks have financed the phenomenal growth in industry over the past two decades but now their money is invested in businesses which in turn are struggling to pay the interest on their loans and are seeing an increasing rate of default."
A glance at the Emperor told Opus that he was still not making a noticeable impression on his sovereign, so he tried to put it as simply and as bluntly as possible.
"Your Majesty, we are spending far more than we are collecting in taxes. Something must be done before the state is bankrupt!"
Alexander's expression changed slightly. The others around the table hoped that it indicated that he finally comprehended what they had been saying. He leaned forward slightly.
"So we need to bring things back into balance? Is that what you are saying?"
The treasury officials allowed themselves a small smile as they nodded. Progress they believed had been made.
"Well then, if you cannot reduce expenditure, as you claimed in previous meetings, you must increase taxes." Alexander sat back in his chair again with a satisfied look on his face.
The smiles vanished from the faces around the table.
"That is one of the options your Majesty," said Opus, "but what is really needed is to get the economy growing and thus increase the tax base."
"Well do that too!" Alexander was getting bored now and was losing patience. "What do I have a bunch of highly paid officials for!"
"The treasury cannot make economic policy," explained Opus, not for the first time. "The assembly determines the policy and passes the various laws, which the senate reviews and either approves or rejects. What your Majesty needs to do is to get the government parties in the assembly to pass a series of laws which will stimulate the economy and balance the treasury accounts."
Alexander sat staring at the men seated around him for a few minutes, drumming his fingers on the table. Finally he called for the major-domo who had been waiting quietly by the doors.
"Petrus, please arrange for the chief minister and all the leaders of the political parties in the assembly and the senate to meet here sometime next week. If we are lucky we may get most of them before they leave for the Christmas recess."
The major-domo bowed and retired from the room. Alexander stared coldly at Opus.
"Now are you happy?"
"A very wise move, your Majesty" he replied, bowing his head slightly.
Alexander got up without warning, and the men from the Treasury had to quickly do the same. The Emperor left the room leaving Opus and the others standing and bowing until the Praetorians closed the door behind him. They then remained standing in silence for a few moments looking around at each other, concern clearly etched on their faces. They had got the Emperor to act, but no one had any confidence in his ability to provide the leadership that the Empire needed at this time.
Chapter Two
5th December1919
Milan, Italia
Cornelius Petronius wrapped his heavy cloak tightly around him for warmth as he made his way up the private road that led to his parents’ villa. It was not a particularly cold evening but the northerly wind off the Alps chilled him to the bone and underneath his old army cloak he only had on his best toga. Not the most suitable clothing for this time of year, but this dinner was a special occasion and it was for his little brother, and his father was a great one for tradition. So he pulled the cloak even tighter around his body and looked forward to the warm interior of his parents’ home.
It was nearly three miles from his apartment to the villa, and most people would have ridden, hired someone to take them or even driven in one of the new motor carriages if they had one. But Cornelius did not have a horse, and was not a particularly enthusiastic rider anyway, and although he was considering the purchase of a motor carriage he had not done so yet. However the main reason why Cornelius walked the distance was that he really enjoyed walking. It was during his time in the imperial army that Cornelius had discovered his love of walking and had used his leave to explore the Atlas Mountains in Africa, the forests along the Rhine in Germania, the hills and lakes of central Britannia and the coastal regions of Asia Minor. He must have been one of the few sane legionary officer cadets who actually looked forward to a 20 mile route march in full kit.
He took hold of the big brass knocker on the door and commenced to signal his arrival but after the first knock the door was wrenched open. Since he was still connected to the door by way of the knocker Cornelius was propelled into the spacious entrance hall.
Recovering quickly, Cornelius turned to see the door being held open by an elegant lady with a slightly mischievous smile on her face.
"Hello Mother, I might have guessed you would be waiting for me."
Julia Petronius smiled at her eldest son as she closed the heavy door.
"You're so predictable Cornelius. You're a stickler for being punctual, and since you always walk from that tiny little apartment of yours - why you don't stay here like your brother is beyond me - I know that you'll be here within a minute of the starting time."
Cornelius smiled in that resigned way known to sons throughout the ages, dutifully kissed his mother and removed his cloak, handing it to the servant standing nearby who had seen the Lady of the House pull this little trick on her first born many times before. His mother took him by the arm and guided him through to the main reception room. "The family members are all here" she informed him in her usual collected manner, "we are just waiting for a few more guests to arrive, then we can go through for the meal."
Amongst the guests there were three men, also in formal togas standing in the centre of the room with a glass of wine in hand. A couple of servants hovered discreetly in the background with trays of additional drinks. The youngest man was his brother Titus, fresh out of the Imperial Military Academy in Ravenna and due to take up his first posting with the army as a junior tribune. The dinner party tonight was in his honour. Beside him was their father, Anatolius Petronius, regaling his youngest son with stories of his own army life in the legions of the Empire, and their Uncle Tiberius.
Anatolius Petronius had gone into the family business, after serving in the army for the number of years expected of an aristocrat. Taking advantage of the explosive growth in rail transport he had built up what had originally been a small wholesale and distribution company in Northern Italy into one of the largest transport groups in the Western part of the Empire.
Tiberius Sextus Petronius was their fathers’ younger brother and had the robust look of the professional soldier that he was. Tiberius had no interest in the business world at all and dedicated himself to defending the Empire, serving with distinction in a number of conflicts and campaigns. Six months earlier he had being appointed the legate of the Legio I Germania on the Rhine, and Anatolius had hosted a dinner party in his honour just as he was doing now for Titus.
They broke off their conversation when Cornelius and his mother entered the room. Titus sighed with relief. Their father's military service had been a long time ago and Cornelius and Titus had heard all the stories a hundred times before. Cornelius greeted his father an
d uncle with a warm embrace and then turned to Titus with a big grin on his face.
"So you survived Ravenna did you, they must be getting soft."
"You are just jealous that the Emperor isn't paying you to see the sights of the Empire anymore. Your seven years in the army was just one big walking holiday!"
They laughed and gave each other a hug. It had been nearly six months since the two brothers has last seen each other. Both were dark haired and of medium build and it was clear from their faces that they were related, but in temperament they were quite different. Cornelius was thoughtful and reflective whilst Titus was impulsive and easy going. The older brother had excelled academically, whereas the youngest barely passed his exams into the Military Academy - although that was not so much due to a lack of intelligence as to his indifferent attitude to life. Cornelius had had a highly successful career in the army rising to being the chief of staff of a legion in Asia Minor. How Titus would cope with the rigours of life in the legions of Rome was the question that currently concerned most of the Petronius family.
"Anyway, congratulations on surviving Military Academy and on becoming a junior tribune. Has your posting come through yet?"
Cornelius took a glass from the tray offered by one of the servants and Titus also took the opportunity to obtain a fresh drink. They both took a sip of the red wine, a good vintage thought Cornelius appreciatively; father is being generous, before Titus answered his brothers’ enquiry.
"Actually, the orders came through yesterday; I've been posted to the II Augusta at Isca in Britannia."
