Unnamed Journal Volume 2 Issue 6 - Page 26

The best that could be said of me during Tiberius' reign was that I managed to survive it. That is no small feat, but my uncle Claudius managed it as well as I did, and he had a frightful disadvantage in the eyes of Romans. I survived the rise and fall of Sejanus. I survived the dull horror of Tiberius' final years. I suppose I did contribute some to the ousting of Sejanus - after all, I brought Macro to Tiberius' attention. I was bellying his wife, you see, and he was gentlemanly enough to look the other way. But Augustus would not have needed such. And yes, I made myself small enough in Tiberius' eyes -- another chrysalis, that -- to earn no more from him than bemusement. Some may call that clever, but I do not. Sycophancy, like the pox, can be ignored, but it is always known for what it is by him who suffers it. No, these explanations will not serve. These tedious palace intrigues that a fifth-rate playwright would disdain to employ in his farce does not account for my mastery over the known world, for the revelatory adulation that marked it. The only explanation unaccounted for by madness is that my divinity made itself known when the gods at last struck my venal old great-uncle to the earth. That is the only explanation a sane man can accept. I will brook no other. And I will prove it yet. On the day when Chaerea does my will, the world will again shake as I emerge at last from the poor body I was born into on that Kalends long ago. I will die and the heavens will receive me and men will know what walked among them. It is inevitable. It is my destiny and my will. <<<<>>>>