Torchlight flickered across the marble halls of Rome. The empire whispered of treachery, and every oath was tested by fire. From the heart of Nero’s court, where loyalty could mean salvation or ruin, Praetorian Guard Traian Aelius Propacius steps forward to speak of duty, conscience, and the cost of guarding a man history would never forgive.
Interviewer: Traian, thank you for joining us. For readers unfamiliar with your role, how would you describe your duty in Nero’s Rome?
Traian: I was first sworn to guard a child,
not an emperor, a boy barely past his second year, spirited and curious, who
bore the name Lucius. His mother had been sent into exile, and in her absence,
I became his shield. My duty then was simple: to keep him safe from harm, to
guide his steps, to be the steady presence he could trust. Yet even in those
tender years, I understood I was protecting more than a child’s body. I was
guarding the promise of what he might become. Later, when Rome began to call
him Nero, my oath remained unchanged. To me, he was always Lucius, the boy I
once carried on my shoulders, the boy who dreamed of justice before the world
taught him fear.
Interviewer: Many saw Nero as a tyrant. From your
vantage point, what kind of man was he?
Traian: He was both boy and emperor, burdened
with a crown too heavy for his years. There were moments when he longed to rule
with mercy, to be remembered as more than his bloodline’s curse. But Rome was
merciless. The Senate whispered, the people demanded spectacle, and cruelty
became the coin of survival. I saw him hesitate at the edge of mercy, and I saw
him push past it.
Interviewer: The Great Fire of Rome remains one of
the most infamous events of his reign. From what you learned, how did it change
him?
Traian: I was not in Rome when the fire began.
When I finally found him, he told me what had happened. He had been at his
estates outside the city, and when word reached him, he rode into Rome. He
opened his gardens to the homeless, ordered supplies, and tried to fight the
flames. For a time, he was the Lucius I remembered, desperate to help,
desperate to be loved by his people. But when the whispers began, when the
blame turned toward him, everything shifted. To protect himself, he struck
back. That was when the Christians became his scapegoats. It was not mercy or
cruelty that guided him then, but fear.
Interviewer: Do you believe he wanted to be a good
ruler?
Traian: Yes. In his heart, he wanted to be loved,
to be remembered as more than his bloodline’s shadow. But Rome is not kind to
dreamers. Every step he took toward mercy was met with suspicion, every attempt
at justice twisted into weakness. In the end, he became what Rome demanded and
what Rome feared.
Interviewer: The palace halls were rife with
treachery. How did you endure such a world?
Traian: With silence, vigilance, and with the
knowledge that every ally might one day be an enemy. Even among the Guard,
trust was fragile. I stood between Lucius and conspirators cloaked as friends.
But the greater battle was within myself; how long could loyalty endure when it
began to feel like complicity?
Interviewer: History judged Nero harshly. Do you
believe he deserved forgiveness?
Traian: Forgiveness was not mine to grant. I
can only say this: he was not the monster the poets would write about, nor the
saint he once dreamed of being. He was a man caught between fear and destiny.
Perhaps that was the tragedy of Rome, that even emperors were prisoners of the
crown they wore.
Interviewer: And what of you, Traian? What future
did you see for yourself beyond Nero’s shadow?
Traian: When I was discharged, I found myself
standing at a crossroads. I had given my years to Rome, my loyalty to Lucius,
and in return, I carried scars no one could see. What comes next is not glory,
nor triumph. It is simply the search for peace, a life lived quietly, away from
marble halls and whispered conspiracies. Whether I will ever find it, only the
gods know.
Interviewer: Do you have anything to add before we
wrap up?
Traian: Only this: be careful how you judge
the past. History is written by those who survived it, and in Nero’s case, by
men who came long after his death, men who had never seen him, who shaped him
into villain or monster to serve their own ends. All documents are hearsay,
colored by fear, politics, or faith. If Rome teaches us anything, it is that
truth is fragile, and if we are not wary, history will repeat itself.
Purchase Links
https://mybook.to/ForgivingNero
https://books2read.com/u/3GOMvQ
Mary Ann Bernal is a distinguished alumna of Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, NY, where she earned her degree in Business Administration. Her literary journey began with the 2009 publication of her debut novel in The Briton and the Dane series, marking the start of a richly diverse body of work that spans historical fiction, contemporary short stories, science fiction/fantasy, and fast-paced adventure novellas.
Her recent publications include Crusader’s Path, a poignant redemption tale set during the First Crusade; Forgiving Nero, a compelling exploration of familial bonds in Ancient Rome; and the award-winning AnaRose adventure series, chronicling the daring escapades of a museum curator-turned-relic hunter. Mary Ann’s work has been honored by the Independent Press Award, the NYC Big Book Award, Chanticleer International Book Awards, the B.R.A.G. Medallion, and the Reader Views Reviewer’s Choice Awards. Her short fiction anthologies have likewise earned distinction, most notably from the American Legacy Book Awards. She was also recognized with the Editor’s Choice Award for Literary Excellence by Reader’s House magazine.
A dedicated supporter of the United States military since Operation Desert Storm, Mary Ann has actively engaged in letter-writing campaigns and related initiatives. Her advocacy has been featured on KMTV’s The Morning Blend and in the Omaha World-Herald. As a celebrated author, she has appeared on numerous reader blogs and book promotion platforms. Mary Ann currently resides in Elkhorn, Nebraska, where she continues to craft stories that inspire and endure.
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