Unnamed Journal Volume 2 Issue 6 - Page 22

Take Sejanus, the snake who wriggled his way to becoming Tiberius' Praetorian Prefect and very nearly toppled his master. Such pride he had! Such ambition! He alone perceived what, I suspect, many will realize - that the imperium exists at the sufferance of the legions. That was the basis of all our auctoritas, going back to Divine Julius and even further, to his forerunners: Sulla and Marius. Sejanus saw that he could be emperor, in fact if not in name. He almost was emperor. Macro, who removed first Sejanus, then Tiberius himself, at my urging, was different. Not a jot of ambition had he. Not an ounce! He was content, oh so content! Like a hound, eager to please, hungry for whatever scraps his master let fall from the table. So I used him like a hound, and when he had served his purpose, I disposed of him before he gained awareness of what he had done. One cannot permit a hound to get a taste for blood. It is cruel. Which brings me to Chaerea, one of my other Praetorian Tribunes. A man who I delight in mocking, because he refuses to get the joke. Of all the soldiers I have known, he most fits the mold of a bloodthirsty killer. He enjoys killing for killing's sake. He does not know this, but I have seen it in his face. When he gave me news of Macro's death, he had the dreamy, spent look to him, as if he had just returned from the arms of a lover. Which, in a way, he had. He loves death and blood, is ignorant of this, and is so my perfect instrument. Without being at all aware of it, he will do my will. I digressed again. It is a weariness common to me. My mind flows on golden rivers of thought and awareness that I can barely wrestle to cohesion. It is the human shell of me,