Before the Empire

The Temple of Vesta, Rome, 44BC

Ten days after the assassination of his great uncle by the Liberatores in the Theatre of Pompey, Gaius Octavius Thurinus had been coming at the dead of night to the Temple of Vesta and stared aimlessly at the sacred flame. The very same flame that Licinia and her Vestal sisters were charged with keeping lit. The look upon Octavius’ face as he entered the temple gave the other Vestal Virgins a clear indication to leave the grieving young man alone. He was clearly troubled, and his entire demeanour gave the impression he was ready to exact revenge upon those who had murdered his great uncle, Gaius Julius Caesar.

There was something raw and vulnerable about Octavius that intrigued Licinia. When she saw his elegant features illuminated by the sacred flame, it made her feel like she had never felt before. She felt animalistic. She felt… like a Carthaginian warrior queen! Licinia shook her head and dispelled the impure thoughts that engulfed her mind. If she shared such thoughts with her fellow Vestal sisters, it could prove fatal. She had taken a vow. A vow of chastity that would last for almost thirty years, if not for the rest of her life.

“Do you not get bored with your spying?” The Temple of Vesta echoed with Octavius’s question. “Do you find me entertaining, priestess?” Octavius continued to look at the sacred flame. He didn’t blink once. His face remained tense, his jawline prominent and powerful.

Two Vestal Virgins, Fabia and Tuccia, who were at least fifteen years older than Licinia, gave her a weary and disgruntled look as they scuttled away with their heads bowed. They wanted no part in Licinia’s misgivings. The girl was going to have to learn not to meddle with relatives of Julius Caesar. There was an ominous black cloud hanging over the Julians, and the other Vestals felt that cloud would hang over the Roman Republic for years and years to come.

“I meant you no disrespect,” Licinia said, hidden behind a pillar. “I shall leave you in peace.”

“There shall be no peace until those who call themselves the Liberatores breathe no more.” Octavius then beckoned Licinia to join him by the sacred flame. “Does Vesta agree with my ambitions?”

“Mother Vesta doesn’t seek revenge,” Licinia said, still hidden behind her pillar. “Her domain is of the hearth, home, and family.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Octavius almost smiled. Almost. “I suppose I could turn to the Greeks and seek solace in their goddess Nemesis. She surely will guide me, priestess?”

“Put your heart and mind in Jupiter’s will, Thurinus,” Licinia said wisely. “He shall guide you in all that you seek.”

“Very cryptic,” Octavius said. “You know who I am then?”

“You have a face and family that no one in Rome can ignore or forget.”

“Yet you stay hidden and deny me the spectacle of seeing your face.” Octavius shook his head and tutted. “This doesn’t seem a fair price to pay. Surely the spied upon should get to see who preys upon them?”

Licinia took a deep breath, stepped from behind the pillar, and soon stood within feet of Octavius. He diverted his attention away from the sacred flame and placed it upon Licinia. Then, he walked around her as if she were a soldier in the legions and he, her general.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Octavius asked. “You look familiar. And don’t think me rude, but you’re too pretty to be a Vestal Virgin. Such a waste, if I’m brutally honest.”

“We have met just the once, Thurinus,” Licinia responded, not wanting to reveal where. She didn’t want to anger Octavius further.

“Pray tell, where.”

“It matters not.”

Octavius stepped closer to Licinia, and she saw a flash of rage in his eyes. “It matters to me, priestess. Where did you see me?”

Even though Licinia was a Vestal Virgin, she knew better than to disrespect someone of Octavius’s social standing. “It was at a senator’s villa.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. There are lots of them.”

“Senator Cassius.”

Octavius’s jaw tensed and his whole body radiated hate and vitriol. “Cassius, yes. I remember now. I think Brutus and Decimus were there too, weren’t they? Or should I call them by their preferred title, the Liberatores of Rome?” He turned away from Licinia and stood before the sacred flame once more.

“Your uncle came here to pray a week before he died,” Licinia said. “He was a very wise and kind-hearted man.”

“He didn’t die, priestess!” Octavius snapped. “He was butchered by those he thought were his friends. Friends who poisoned their minds with unfounded lies, blackening their souls and tainting their hearts.”

Licinia knew what Octavius was referring to. “I don’t believe your uncle wanted to be King of Rome, Thurinus. He knew Rome didn’t need a monarchy again. The mere mention of the Tarquins is enough to make the Tiber run cold.”

“And Caesar spoke to you about this the week before he was murdered?” Octavius held out his hand and let the sacred flame kiss his fingers.

“He knew times were changing in Rome and we had to change with them.”

“Or else…”

“Blood would be spilled,” Licinia said as she recalled the conversation.

“Not his blood though,” Octavius sighed. “If I hadn’t been in Apollonia preparing for our campaign against the Parthians, none of this would have happened. Yet, we can’t deal in what-ifs, can we, priestess? We can only deal in certainties.”

“Is anything certain in this world, Thurinus?” Licinia pondered. “Apart from death.”

“It transpires my uncle’s wise words have rubbed off on you,” Octavius said. “You are right. Death is the only certainty in life, and all those conspirators who murdered my uncle will certainly die by either my hand or my words. That, priestess, is a golden certainty that the gods will uphold.”

Licinia nodded her head, understanding the words Octavius spoke. “I feel the death of Gaius Julius Caesar has changed Rome forever. For good or bad, I can’t quite decide. But changed it has. Life for our city and those we hold dominion over will never be the same again.”

“My heart is set upon it.” With that, Octavius turned away from the sacred fire and began to make his way out of the Temple of Vesta.

“May Jupiter have mercy upon all of our souls,” Licinia whispered as Octavius, who 17 years later would be known as Augustus, the first emperor of Rome, strode out of sight.