Solar Wind. Book one - страница 23

“Don't get in the way, Galeria!” Faustina irritably pushed her hand away. “So, what did our emperor, the honorable Lucius say?”

“Augustus chose my grandson Pedanius Fuсk as his successor and this question was solved,” Servianus said with notes of celebration in his voice, gazing victoriously at Regin's frozen face. “My Fuсus will be the next Caesar!”

“Congratulations!” Domitia was the first to recover. “Congratulations, Senator!”

When Servianus left the villa of Annius, the prefect Regin warmly parted with him. The question of bringing the influential senator Antoninus to his side had now fallen away by itself. What was the point of confronting the future relative of Caesar? Only a madman could afford that.

“Be healthy, my dear Faustina! It was good to see you!” Domitia said goodbye to Marcus’s aunt. “I'll be here for lunch soon, hopefully before festival of the Saturnalia.”34

“Oh, Saturnalia! Gods, how fast time flies!”

“Oh yes! ‘Time takes everything away,’”—Domitia Lucilla quoted Virgil, showing her education.

This, however, irritated Faustina, who scornfully raised the corners of her mouth, imitating a smile, and thought, “Gods, how unnatural and arrogant, this Domitia.” She, Faustina, of course, would tell her husband everything, laugh at the pomposity of these old people, and discuss that goose Domitia Lucilla. Only depicting a noble matron! Girlfriends told Faustina that Domitia had often visited the disgraced Empress Sabina, and she, everyone knew, secretly amused herself with black Nubian slaves.

However, it was time. And Antoninus's wife stepped to the luxurious palanquin, standing at the gates of the villa surrounded by slave-guards, with mixed feelings.

Meanwhile, Regin, who had lost all interest in Faustina, was thinking about his position on the sidelines. It, of course, was complicated. Although the game was not finished, as it seemed to him. It was not over yet.

Everyone knew that the emperor was an unpredictable man and his decisions were often strange and unexpected. Why was Hadrian for this Pedanius Fusсus? Nothing outstanding, narcissistic, absurd, as reported to him, Regin. What were the emperor's political calculations? What was he hoping for? What did he want?

No one knew that.

One thing was certain: Caesar's health was fading, time was rushing a choice, and haste made mistakes. He, Regin, was sure—the choice of Pedanius Fuscus was a mistake, the wrong step, threatening to turn into trouble! But there was still time to fix this, the game was not finished, and fallen balls would not be counted by Servianus!

“Oh, Marcus! Oh, my Marcus!”

The female voice was so familiar and pleasant, ring out from the dark. Out of the dark? No, the bedroom was illuminated by the scant light of two braziers standing at the edges of the lodge, in the corner on the table oil lamp lit, throwing uneven light on the walls. Through the narrow small windows in the room penetrated the night March air, wet, cold, but Marcus was hot. He was not in a tunic, he was naked. And he was not alone, with his back to him on all fours was a woman, also naked. She clung to the slabs of the floor, and he clearly could see her hair scattered on her shoulders, narrow back and round buttocks, smooth skin, shiny as silk.

She was silent, as if praying to all the gods in the world.