Slave of Rome, The Emperor's Obsession. Book Two Read Online Free Page B

of his.
    Myra entered the dining hall with the certainty of someone who had already made up her mind. In point of fact her decision had been an easy one. She felt that to a large extent, it had been made for her. Whether by the fates, or the emperor himself, she couldn’t tell, but she knew what she had to do. If she didn't accept the emperor's offer, she would be sent back to her farm where, unable to pay back her father's debts, she would be forced out to live on the streets together with Silvanus and her sick brother Marius. They would be dead in a fortnight at most. She was determined not to let that happen.
    The first thing that struck Myra was the ease with which the gaggle of six senators acted and behaved around Commodus. Not a hint of tension, the deference and hesitation she would have expected from subjects toward their ruler were completely absent. These were powerful men, she decided.
    Dinner was pleasant enough. Except for two things, that really threatened Myra's composure. And after they both occurred, in close succession, for the first time in her life Myra discovered she possessed emotions that until that instant, she only suspected to be the province of men.
    "I don't understand these people, the equestrians," one of the senators was saying. "No one forbids them to go and amass riches. After all most of us were equestrians before we led legions and earned our riches that we then multiplied and used to buy our influence in Rome…"  
    "Oh, shut up Gracchus," another senator said from across the table, he laughed merrily as he poured himself a generous serving of red wine. "You, my friend, have never led any legions and we all know that. Don't try and exaggerate your accomplishments for the benefit of the beautiful lady at the table," he winked at Myra and she willed herself not to blush.
    "It doesn't take away from the point I'm trying to make — the equestrian idea of a middle class of free Romans is a thing of the past. Beautiful and romantic, I’ll grant you that, but, useless in our new Republic. The choices are: either be rich or be a slave, and whatever you choose, don't go around blaming others for your own decision. After all free men are free to be successful," a burp interrupted the senatorial diatribe and soon they had all laughingly moved on to other topics.
    It was just as good. For it was perhaps the effects of the wine that had just almost brought Myra to the verge of breaking her own resolution. She had been perilously close to jumping on the fat senator’s topic and declaring it for what it truly was — complete and utter nonsense. It was one thing to be free and extravagantly-rich like perhaps the senators were, but something else entirely to be a simple equestrian dogged by debts and endless work trying to scrape by like she was now and her father had been before. She was completely and utterly not free. At least not in the care-free sense the senator had meant. If she was truly free, she would never be here, penniless, groveling for imperial mercy to save her estate, her husband from military service, her brother from hunger.  
    She would have blurted it all out if it wasn't for Commodus. Myra almost jumped when she had suddenly felt him take her hand in his and smile. His eyes were so sad again. It was as if he knew her exact thoughts and felt for her in the deepest possible way. The emperor was powerful but only that much. He couldn't change the political order of Rome. He couldn't even change the minds of a couple glutenous senators.  
    Now Myra felt sad for him — the most powerful man in the world and yet, he was hiding a profound disappointment of his own. He was free to wage war, to wallow in debauchery but in the end, when all was said and done and he was gone, nothing would be truly different. And then she felt a sorrow for herself. What was she but a glorified concubine — a formerly rich free woman, acting the part of an imperial slave for one year while simultaneously