Chapter 9: Audience with the Emperor
Chapter 9: Audience with the Emperor
The Appian Way…A broad stone-paved road stretched straight to the horizon.
Tall trees on both sides cast shade, and milestones set at regular intervals marked the distance to Rome.
Inns and relay stations lined the roadside, providing convenience for travelers.
I couldn’t help admiring how organized the Roman Empire’s infrastructure was.
“Countless legions marched along this road, and innumerable merchants traveled it.” The general said proudly. “Rome’s strength comes from roads like this.”
After a week traveling north along the Appian Way, Rome’s walls finally appeared on the horizon.
At the majestic sight of the Aurelian Walls, everyone held their breath.
“That is the capital of the world—Rome!” Someone shouted.
In front of the gate, imperial messengers and a welcoming party were already lined up in formation.
Gold-adorned banners fluttered in the wind, and trumpet calls rang out with grandeur.
Without thinking, I tightly gripped Grandmother Julia Maesa’s hand.
The long journey that began in Emesa was finally nearing its end.
My heart pounded as I imagined the new life that would unfold in Rome.
“Well done. Truly well done. You made it, Varius.” Julia Maesa said in an emotional voice.
Through this seven-week expedition, we hadn’t simply crossed distance—we had taken the first step toward a new fate.
From Syria’s sandstorms to the Mediterranean’s violent waves, and the authority of the Appian Way…
[We still arrived safely. Thank the heavens. The Sun God listened to our prayers.]
“Yeah. I think so too. It feels like everything we went through on this journey made us stronger.”
At last, Rome’s gate opened, and a new history was about to begin.
**
At the heart of Rome—the imperial palace on the Palatine Hill.
It looked like the dwelling place of gods.
Passing through the palace’s main gate with Grandmother Julia Maesa, I was overwhelmed by its grandeur.
“It’s far more splendid and imposing than what I saw in movies.”
[Movies? What’s that?]
“Ah, sorry. I said something weird again. Where I lived, there’s something that shows things from the past. It’s even better than what I saw there.”
[It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s been years since I last saw it, and it’s only become more beautiful.]
“So the moment people see a palace like this, they turn into a lump of greed and throw themselves into it like their lives depend on it. Like moths flying into a flame.”
[That expression… it’s poetic and cool. Yeah, that’s probably it. When the whole world bows beneath your feet, who wouldn’t like it? That’s probably why my personality changed once I became emperor.]
“You already got the core of it. That attitude… I like it.”
Towering marble columns supported the sky, and each pillar was carved with intricate acanthus leaves and laurel wreath motifs.
“Look at those, Varius.” Julia Maesa whispered. “Statues passed down through the generations since Emperor Trajan.”
As we crossed the gardens, just as Grandmother said, I couldn’t take my eyes off the artworks placed everywhere.
Marble sculptures brought from Greece, obelisks from Egypt, rare treasures offered from many provinces—everything heightened the palace’s majesty.
Jets of water rose from fountains—forming rainbows as they dampened the garden’s roses.
Passing through a corridor lined with praetorian guards, my gaze was stolen by the frescoes covering the walls.
Rome’s great victories were depicted vividly.
The conquest of Gaul, the Dacian campaigns, and even the recent war in Germania.
Each scene was framed in gold, creating the illusion that it was alive.
The moment we stepped into the audience hall…we faced a splendor so intense it nearly stole my breath.
The ceiling was decorated with a gilded lattice pattern, and in the center, the face of a sun god shone brilliantly.
The walls were entirely adorned in red porphyry marble and green malachite.
It felt like stepping into a jeweled box.
Huge columns lined both sides of the hall, each made of Numidian yellow marble.
Between the columns stood busts of emperors, as if the rulers from Augustus to Hadrian were standing guard here.
The floor was covered in a mosaic of intricate geometric patterns.
Made from tiny marble pieces, colored glass, and even gold leaf, the mosaic glittered underfoot with every step.
At the center, Rome’s symbol—an eagle—was depicted with wings spread wide, surrounded by laurel wreaths and olive branches.
“Julia Maesa and Varius from Syria—enter the audience hall!” The herald’s booming voice rang out.
Strangely, out of all the entourage, only Grandmother and I were singled out by name.
At the far end of the hall, on a golden throne atop seven steps, Emperor Caracalla rose.
His presence was oppressive.
Over his purple toga, he wore a laurel crown embroidered in gold, and around his neck hung a massive emerald necklace.
His face was more muscular than I expected…with a square jaw that looked like the textbook image of a soldier-emperor.
But in his eyes was a sharpness that couldn’t be predicted.
As expected—this was the face of a power-holder who murdered even his own younger brother Geta and survived.
“Julia Maesa! My aunt and my loyal ally!” Caracalla approached with his arms wide. “So you have finally come to Rome. How could I ever forget your service?”
Even his manner of speaking reeked of degeneracy.
Anyone would’ve shown respect and decorum to an aunt—but he was speaking in blunt, disrespectful speech.
Especially Julia Maesa, the younger sister of Julia Domna, the empress and imperial mother under Emperor Severus…was she not the special aunt who had actively supported Caracalla?
Was this proof his paranoia had flared up?
Or an intentional provocation to observe how Julia Maesa would respond?
Even so, as if it were nothing, the seasoned Julia Maesa gracefully knelt and paid her respects.
“Your Majesty’s glory shines upon the entire empire. We consider it an honor to serve you.”
“Rise, rise!” Caracalla said warmly. “You are not someone who needs to kneel before me. Who made the Syrian legions support me? Who ensured the eastern provinces’ taxes came in on time?”
The emperor took Julia Maesa’s hand and guided her to an ivory chair beside the throne.
He abruptly switched tactics and began showing shockingly exceptional courtesy.
Ordinarily, subjects had to remain standing before the emperor.
It was likely a response to Julia Maesa’s impeccable formality.
“So you are my nephew Varius.” Caracalla’s gaze turned to me.
So sharp… it felt like it could pierce straight through my eyes.
A monster who knew how to crush someone just by standing across from them.
“I heard from General Lucius that you performed the role of High Priest serving the Sun God with excellence. I’m pleased to see this talent I’d only heard rumors of. You look quite clever—like your grandmother.”
He said he was pleased, but the impression was like a lion licking a cat.
Without flinching, I bowed respectfully. “It is an honor to meet Your Majesty.”
“Good. Very good!” The emperor nodded in satisfaction. But his expression suddenly turned serious. “However, Aunt Maesa, there is something I am curious about.”
Caracalla sat back on the throne and began tapping the armrest with his finger.
It seemed like a sign he was thinking deeply.
“While you were in Syria… did you ever entertain other thoughts?”
A subtle change entered the emperor’s voice.
“For example—something like being an emperor of the East.”
A sudden straight punch.
A flicker of tension crossed Julia Maesa’s face. But she steadied herself and answered calmly.
“Your Majesty, how could I ever harbor such irreverent thoughts? I thought only of Your Majesty’s glory.”
“Is that so? Then…” Caracalla leaned forward. “Why did you meet the Syrian legion commanders so often? My spies report you visited the camps every month.”
“That was to confirm the legion commanders were acting in accordance with Your Majesty’s will, and to verify the legions’ loyalty.” Julia Maesa explained steadily.
The emperor stared at her with sharp eyes. “And what did those commanders say about me? Speak honestly.”
“They all… were deeply moved by Your Majesty’s greatness. Especially when they heard news of Your Majesty’s victory in Germania—”
“Don’t lie!” Caracalla suddenly stiffened and shouted. But he quickly calmed himself and continued. “I apologize, Maesa. But these days, there are too many traitors around me. Even among my praetorians…” The emperor’s gaze returned to me. “My nephew—young Varius. I’m curious what you learned in Syria. Do you also take interest in military studies?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Under my grandmother’s guidance, I study tactics and strategy whenever I can.”
“Good! Isn’t that the basic posture of imperial blood?” Caracalla’s eyes flashed. “Then what do you think of the Parthian campaign? Do you believe the East can be completely conquered?”
I needed to answer carefully.
“With Your Majesty’s valor and the might of the Roman legions, I believe nothing is impossible.”
“Hm… Is that so? A clever answer.” The emperor smiled.
But within that smile, satisfaction and calculation both showed.
“Good, Maesa.” Caracalla looked back at Julia Maesa. “Forgive me for doubting your loyalty. But that is what the imperial throne is. One must doubt everyone and consider every possibility.”
“Your Majesty’s wise judgment is what safeguards the empire.” Julia Maesa lowered her head as she replied.
“Then you may rest in the palace’s guest annex.” The emperor raised his hand, signaling the end of the audience. “Starting tomorrow, you will also attend Senate sessions. I’m sure Syria’s experience will be of use in Roman politics.”
Leaving the audience hall, I looked back.
In the golden-lit hall, Emperor Caracalla sat alone on his throne, sunk in deep thought.
At the peak of power…yet constantly tormented by suspicion and vigilance—the emperor looked strangely lonely.
“Grandmother, it felt like His Majesty was suspicious of us.”
“That is the essence of what power is, Varius.” Julia Maesa answered wisely. “At times like this… we must act even more carefully.”
[Ugh… until we escape Rome again, it’s going to be like walking on thin ice.]
Yeah. That’s exactly what it feels like.
If this is the pressure from day one of the audience…then doesn’t that mean Caracalla already knows the prophecy rumors about Macrinus too?