The Punctual Servant

by Daniel Mainwaring

Domitian’s trunk-like forearm crushed his servant’s neck against the marble wall.

“My chamber was to be sealed until noon,” he seethed.

Stephanus, gasping for air, could only mouth the words, “It’s afternoon, Caesar.”

He was free to breathe again as the stunned Emperor backed away.

“Forgive me,” Domitian mumbled feebly, “these damn clouds they deceived me. I thought it was only morning.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the Emperor clasped his head in his hands.

“I haven’t slept. When I close my eyes Minerva plagues my dreams.” Droplets of sweat accumulated over his balding scalp. The self-proclaimed conqueror, or “Germanicus”, shivered as his raging pulse began to slow.

“He lied,” Domitian sneered as he moved his hands to reveal blood-shot eyes and a blotchy complexion. “The soothsayer did it to mock me. He and the Senators. Even the gods partake in their ridicule.”

“Perhaps,” Stephanus offered nervously, “Jupiter intervened. This is a day of joy for all Romans. The prophesied hour has passed without incident.”

Riddled with a toxic cocktail of pride and paranoia, Domitian doubted the Senate would celebrate his reprieve.

“Fear, Stephanus.” he said “Fear is the only way to command respect. Much blood will be spilled. My doubters and critics will be fed to the lions.”

His rosy face rapidly turned violet. With gritted teeth, his eyes glazed over as he imagined the spectacle of his opponents’ demise.

Stephanus looked sadly at the once beloved ruler. His exaggerated achievements and petty jealousies had driven him insane. The soothsayer’s warning had failed to restore his amiable nature.

“Ouch,” Stephanus said. The bandage on his wounded arm was tighter today. His hands felt numb, and a steely chill ran along his forearm.

“You damn fool,” scoffed the Emperor as he returned from his daydream. “I told you. I’ve seen legionnaires with lesser wounds lose their arms to infection. You need to air it!”

Stephanus felt obliged to nod in agreement.

“Remove the bandage and get some air on the balcony,” Domitian commanded. “I will stay here. Now I have no fear of sleep, I can rest my weary eyes.” He reclined on his bed while his servant made his way onto the balcony.

The sky was still gray, but Stephanus sensed the darkness was coming to an end as he freed his arm, layer by layer. He slowed the process as he neared the skin, so as to prevent his hidden dagger from falling to the floor.

“My head feels weary,” Domitian muttered as his servant slowly approached. With his eyes still closed he rubbed his bare midriff. “I forgot even to eat during this nightmare,” he said. “I must build my strength. Fetch me some dates, and wine.”

He could smell his servant’s sweaty frame standing over him. Opening his eyes, he saw a dagger plunge into his groin. Wincing in pain, he reached for the knife he kept under his pillow. It was gone. A second blow to the throat ended his reign.

Stephanus dropped his bloodied weapon and crept back. He had hoped to avoid this duty but the Emperor had left him with no choice.

Having heard the commotion, two guards rushed in, swords drawn. Relieved to see the crimson soaked sheets beneath the Emperor, the men returned their weapons to their sheathes.

“What time is it?” asked Stephanus wistfully.

“The water level on the clock was almost at noon before we heard his screams,” replied one of the soldiers.

“Despite his fears,” said the servant, “he never thought to keep a simple sundial on his balcony.”

About the author

Daniel Mainwaring is an English-born resident of Kansas. He has written extensively for business and finance publications. He ran an entertainment website for 10 years, and has self-published one novel.

About the illustration

The illustration is a statue of Emperor Domitian, marble, 1st century. In the collection of the Vatican Museums, Rome, Italy. Image by Steerpike, August 11, 2008. Made available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC-BY-SA 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en).