Wrath of Rome (Book Two of the Dominium Dei Trilogy) Read Free

her, he was using her to taunt his wife, which explained the daggers in Domitia’s eyes as Helena washed her hands with a cloth from an attendant and reclined with them both.
    “Welcome, Helena, you look lovely,” Domitian said as the staff began serving supper. “The chef has prepared a feast for us tonight. The first course features a delicately seasoned tongue paired with my favorite wine from Cappadocia.”
    With horror Helena understood they were to eat the tongue of her beloved, and she immediately felt the acid of her stomach race up her throat. It was all she could do to not vomit, and she doubted she would be able to stop herself for long.
    On cue two servants brought in a beautifully decorated amphora. It had an ornate black-and-red design and two handles. With great pomp and ceremony, the servants unsealed the top.
    “My wine comes straight from the vine, untouched by human hands, the nectar of the gods,” Domitian told her, and then nodded to one of the servants.
    The wine taster dipped a very small imperial cup that resembled a ladle into the amphora, sipped the wine and swallowed. Helena got the distinct impression that this display of approval was in fact intended to signal to Domitian that the amphora had not been tampered with in transit and that his wine was not poisoned.
    “To a successful execution,” he toasted after their cups were filled. He greedily gulped down his cup, then held it out for more.
    Presently the flaming tongue arrived, delivered by a servant from the private kitchen they called Julius, which was the kind of name rich Romans reserved for their pets. The African servant’s hands were trembling as he delivered the sizzling dish. The sound and smell were too much for Helena, and she quickly covered her mouth with a cloth and gave up her fig appetizer.
    “I beg you pardon, Your Excellency.”
    Domitian smiled. “Now you have more room for the tongue.”
    Even Domitia could see beyond her own suffering to lay a soft hand on her back for comfort.
    Domitian did the honors of slicing the tongue in half, one portion for himself and the other half to be divided equally between Domitia and Helena.
    I cannot do this, Helena thought as she watched him spear a slice and shove it into his mouth, smacking his cruel lips in satisfaction. I cannot breathe. I must die.
    “Really, you must try some,” he said, waving another piece of tongue before her face. “Or must I give your slice of heaven to Sirius?” He motioned to Julius, who looked visibly shaken, and said, “Bring me my Pharaoh Hound. I have a treat for him.”
    Julius looked terrified and said nothing, only nodded and walked away.
    A minute later it was the Praetorian prefect who returned with a grim expression.
    “Wrong dog, Secundus,” Domitian told him. “Where is my Sirius?”
    “We seem to have a problem, Your Excellency. It appears the imperial Pharaoh Hound was attacked by an animal of some sort, his body found by a drain this morning outside the Senate.”
    Helena could see shock and sadness in Domitian’s eyes for a fleeting second, only to be quickly replaced by rage. “And where was his walker, Julius, when he was attacked?”
    The Praetorian, Secundus, paused, glancing at Helena and Domitia. “Yes, perhaps I can explain in a private audience with His Excellency.”
    “No,” said Domitian, swallowing another chunk of tongue. “You shall explain it to me right here, right now.”
    “It appears there was a bit of a mix-up at the Coliseum today, Your Excellency. Even the Master of the Games was not aware of it. I only found out now, after piecing together several disparate reports.”
    Domitian chased his chunk of tongue down with another sip of his Cappadocian wine. “What sort of mix-up?”
    Secundus cranked his neck just a bit and said, “The propmasters decided to salvage some of the armor used for the production of Chiron’s execution, so they went into the Gate of Death and began to strip the