Rome’s Fallen Eagle by Robert Fabbri

secretary.’
    As Lupus was led forwards to the block Sabinus grabbed Narcissus’ arm. ‘You can’t make me watch my wife’s brother’s execution.’
    Narcissus glanced down at the hand grasping his arm and removed it. ‘You are in no position to make demands, Sabinus; unless, that is, you wish to demand to join them.’
    Vespasian placed an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him away. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by arguing.’
    Lupus knelt before the block, placing his hands upon it as the Praetorian guarding him touched the back of his neck with his blade; Lupus tensed as the weapon was raised, hunching his shoulders close to his head. The sword flashed down; Lupus screamed in agony as it embedded itself in the base of his neck, severing his spinal column but not his head. Paralysis was almost instantaneous and Lupus slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely but still alive.
    Narcissus tutted. ‘I would expect a Praetorian centurion to be able to hold himself with a little more dignity and extend his neck when faced with death.’
    As Lupus’ limp body was stretched out with his head over the block, his eyes staring in agonised terror, Vespasian glanced at Clemens; he held himself calmly as the executioner brought down his sword a second time and struck off Lupus’ head in an eruption of spurting gore.
    ‘That’s better,’ Narcissus commented as the headless corpse was dragged away from the block, leaving a copious trail of blood across the wet paving stones. ‘I think we should have Prefect Clemens next, let’s see if he can do better.’
    Sabinus stiffened, the muscles in his cheeks pulsating as he struggled to keep himself under control. Vespasian kept his arm firmly around his shoulders.
    Narcissus turned to the brothers. ‘Do you know, I think you were right, Sabinus, it would be wrong for me to make you watch Clemens’ execution. I think that the perilousness of your situation would be far better stressed if you performed the deed yourself.’
    ‘I can’t execute Clemens!’
    ‘Of course you can; if you don’t I’ll have him execute you before he’s despatched.’
    ‘Do it, Sabinus,’ Clemens called as he was led to the block. ‘If I’m not to be allowed the dignity of suicide by this doublecrossing, oily Greek freedman then I would rather die at your hand than have the humiliation of a mere ranker taking my life.’
    Sabinus shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.
    ‘You have to, brother,’ Vespasian whispered. ‘Narcissus is making you do this to emphasise the power that he has over us; either submit to it or die.’
    Sabinus heaved a huge sigh, holding his head in both hands. ‘Help me over there.’
    Vespasian supported his brother as he hobbled over to Clemens, kneeling in front of the blood-drenched block. The Praetorian offered his sword, hilt first; Sabinus took it and stood over his brother-in-law.
    Clemens looked up. ‘Tell Clementina and my wife that you did this because I wanted you to; they will understand and be grateful that you made my death less of a humiliation.’
    ‘I will, Clemens. Thank you for giving your sister to me; she is a good wife and has made me very happy; I’ll always keep her safe.’ Sabinus hefted the sword in his hand, judging the weight.
    Clemens nodded and mouthed: ‘Avenge me.’ He then placed both hands on the block and stretched his neck. ‘Watch over my children.’
    With one continuous motion, Sabinus raised the sword above his head and swept it down, the muscles in his arm bulging with the exertion, to cleave through flesh and bone with a wet, crunching impact and a crimson explosion. Clemens’ head was propelled forward by the force of the spraying blood; it hit the ground and rolled once, coming to a halt facing Sabinus and Vespasian. For a moment the eyes stared at the brothers, life still in evidence, before a final beat of the heart sent a surge of blood slopping over them, blinding them for the last