My name was Antonius. I was the son of Marcus Antonius, a man from a proud family with a long tradition in the Roman Senate. My ancestors had served the Empire with long distinction. That was until the Time of Troubles.
Through internal wrangling, my father lost all our money and as a result took a knife to his wrists. In the fall-out my mother married a man who had long had his eyes upon her and her fame. He was Cratulus, foe of my father's and friend of the new regime of the Empire. He quickly saw to marrying off my two older sisters to suitable matches. But with me he had other plans.
Having been under house-arrest for the first two months after my mother's marriage, my new father-in-law called me into his officiating room one morning.
"Antonius," he told me. "You bring me a problem."
"In what way, your honour?" I asked him.
"You are the only son of my dead rival," he explained. "And as such, the last remaining claimant of your family name. If you marry, you will have children. More boys. More foes. I cannot tolerate that."
I pleaded, "Let me live. Exile me. Banish me of my name."
"Oh yes," he smiled. "Your name will be banished. Including something else."
I then felt the hands of two of his guards grabbing my arms. They took hold of me and held me to the ground. Cratulus stood from his chair and walked across to me. Joining him was the family's doctor holding his surgery equipment. They both looked down at me with pity. My father-in-law let out a gust of air. "I'm afraid it has come to this."
And then everything went black.
I awoke a day, maybe two days, perhaps a week later. I was in a darkened room. I felt groggy and weak. I found it hard to breath. And I noticed there was something in my mouth, blocking my access to air. I tried calming myself, to breath through my nose. My arms were in shackles. There was nothing I could do but remain lying there, waiting.
Advertisment
Advertisment