The harvest had been bad that year, and there had been outbreaks of plague in the city. The streets of Rome were even less safe than usual as gangs of hungry bandits roamed around, looking for anyone with gold. Also consider the alleged madness of Elagabalus, the boy king, for so they still called him, though he had come of age in the fourth year of his reign.

Factor in the increasingly frail hold the old Gods still had over the hearts and minds of the population in the face of the strange new faith of Christianity, and you should be in doubt that in 222 AD when I received my appointment the empire was in turmoil.

                                                                                          *

“Welcome to Rome, welcome,” said the senator, pumping my hand, “Did you have a safe journey?”

“Yes, quite safe, thank you. The sea route from Tarraco is much safer than the northern roads through Gaul. Not to mention warmer. How goes it with his majesty?”

The senator’s face clouded.

“You will need all your eloquence, court historian, to paint this man in a favourable light. He spends every hour of every day in drinking and in lust.”

“For women?”

“For women, men, anything with a pulse, basically.”

“I heard he is a deeply religious man? He sounds anything but pious.”

The senator rolled his eyes, then said, “You would have a strange idea of piety, sir, to call Elagabalus pious. He is effeminate in manner and delights in wearing women’s clothing and making up his face.”

“I have heard many call him mad. In your view, senator, is the emperor of sound mind?”

The senator thought for a moment.

“I have seen lunatics raving in the streets. I have seen them punch invisible beings and howl at the moon. By those standards, no, he is not mad.”

“But?”

“Your first interview is with the court physician. Perhaps he is better placed to answer that question.”

                                                                                          *

Varius Bassianus was a descendant of Caracalla, a monstrous tyrant that the whole empire rejoiced to be rid of. Caracalla’s successor was weak and inexperienced, and he unwisely failed to break up a tough, battle-hardened unit of soldiers in Syria. That was where Caracalla’s sister-in-law lived. Julia Maesa soon had the ear of the commander. The rumour that she had fucked every one of the soldiers in the camp was probably malicious gossip, but no one questioned that Julia was cunning and power-hungry.

She persuaded that unit to march on Rome and bestow the purple upon her grandson, who took the regnal name Elagabalus.

                                                                                          *

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, good doctor.”

“It is no trouble.”

“To write the official account of Elagabalus’s reign, I must know all of the facts, even if they are unpublishable. They say the emperor is insane. Is he?”

“No,” said the doctor promptly, “He is not a good emperor. He is not even really the emperor, so powerful is the hold the grandmother has over him. But he is not mad.”

“Then why do they say he is?”

“There is a rumour among the people that he has asked me to castrate him and carve, at the site of his former parts, a vagina such as a woman would have. That is why they say is unhinged.”

“And are the rumours true?”

“They are.”

“And yet, you say he is not mad? Why?”

“In my view, he has worshipped the female form for so long that he believes it the pinnacle of beauty and wishes to inhabit it.”

“How do you mean worship? Many men are voracious in their sexual appetites and yet this is the first time I have heard of such a request.”

“He is so in thrall to Julia Maesa that he sees her as a perfect specimen. Something to be imitated in word, speech and body.”

“Will you comply with his request?”

“I will not. Many die from blood loss as a result of castration, and if that happened to the emperor my life would be forfeit. If he tries to compel me, I will resign and flee from Rome.”

I conversed with the doctor for an hour, and, by the end of my conversation, I knew that my next interview would be with the grandmother.

                                                                                          *

I’d expected to meet Julia Maesa in a senate office or a temple at the forum, so I was surprised when she instructed me to meet her within her personal apartments on the Palatine Hill. I arrived at the appointed hour, having reviewed my notes on this formidable woman.

Julia Maesa. Born in 160 CE. Now sixty-two years old. Sister of the emperor Caracalla’s wife. Grandmother to the emperor Elagabalus. Said to have amassed vast wealth through her Royal connection. Suspected of wild promiscuity during Caracalla’s reign.

“What is the difference between the forum and Julia Maesa’s legs? The forum closes for a few hours a night,” went the graffiti.

If I’d been surprised at being asked to her home, I had a much greater shock awaiting me on arrival. Julia Maesa was waiting for me in the bath! She’d filled the tub with steaming hot water and bubbles. Her body was thus not visible to me…for now.

“Greetings, great scholar!” she said with a mocking laugh, “Welcome to my home.”

“Your Highness. I am honoured to meet you.”

“You ARE honoured to meet me, that’s right. If you play your cards right, I may yet favour you further. Be seated.”

She indicated a stool set by the bath. I sat and looked around at the frescoes painted on the wall. They depicted scenes of battle. Battles at sea, battles on land, battles between men and animals in the amphitheaters.

As soon as I was sat, Julia Maesa burst out of the water. She stood before me in the nude, soapy water streaming down her body in cascades as if she were some decoration in a rich man’s fountain.

Although she was sixty-five and far from the prime of youth, her body was not unlovely. She was not plump, and her breasts sagged but little for her age. And, of course, I viewed her through the lens of a man of her generation, being myself only five years younger.

“You’ve had a long journey from Tarraco,” she said, “You must allow me to provide you with some Roman hospitality.”

The emperor’s grandmother unfolded my tunic and extracted my penis. She began to suck on my dick, and my cock slowly woke up. I was not circumcised, coming from a Christian family, so the tip of my penis was generally covered and extra sensitive. I felt the tingle as the suction of her lips pulled the foreskin back and began to wetten. I watched her head bob up and down, and the pleasure on the tip of my penis was so great that I had to steady my hands on her head. My balls were swelling.

“Enjoying that, scholar? Or do you prefer younger women?”

“Your Highness is highly…highly…”

My dick felt so good that I could not form proper sentences.  

Julia Maesa was extremely proficient at oral sex was what I meant to say. She brought me three times to the brink of orgasm and knew how to stop just short and alter her stroke to prolong the experience for me.

At last, my knees shaking, I came on her tongue. She swallowed demurely.

“I have given you head, historian. Now, if you want to keep your head, you’ll be wise enough to ignore and exclude some of the ridiculous rumours that salacious enemies put about regarding my grandson. Don’t forget who your paymaster is. The emperor is a normal young man who enjoys the pleasure of young women and wine, nothing more scurrilous than that, am I clear?”

I said nothing but nodded, pretending to be afraid. She had not reckoned on the fact that, since the recent death of my wife and the increasing humiliations of old age had started to make themselves known in my body, death held no fear for me.

I left her home to write up the encounter, knowing that my appointment with the emperor himself was even then being arranged by his secretaries.

                                                                                          *

An interval of three days passed before I heard anything from the palace. I spent it in the markets and in the streets, talking with citizens, learning the gossip and reading the graffiti.

“Elagabalus, forget not your people!” one line read.

“Julia Maesa fucked half the empire to get him on the throne. Now he’s fucked the other half!” read another.

I visited the pleasure houses and took an Egyptian girl one night, a Spanish girl the next and a Greek girl on the third night. Truly, the Roman empire was a wondrous thing!

On the night before my audience with the emperor, I returned to my apartment to find a beautiful woman waiting at the door.

“Good evening, Sir,” she said softly, “The emperor sends me to serve you tonight with his compliments.”

Hardly able to believe my good fortune, I ushered her inside.

“I hope you don’t mind, sir, if I ask you to penetrate my bottom and not my privates? I am somewhat sore there, on account of the many men who have taken me this past week.”

I laughed and said I did not mind. I fetched my bottle of olive oil, which was used at that time both for cooking and lubricant.

The lady hitched up her cloak and leant across my writing desk. Her bottom was not the loveliest I had seen, but it was nonetheless the firm, muscular backside of one in the prime of youth. I pulled her cheeks apart and rubbed the oil around her sphincter. Then, working my erection up with my hand, I entered her gently.

“What brings you to the emperor’s court, sir?” she asked, which I thought was an odd thing to be wondering as I sodomised her.

“I am court historian to the emperor.”

Her ass was wondrously tight around my cock, and it felt fantastic. What a time this old man’s penis was having in Rome!

“It is said that he enjoys both women and men,” said the girl, “And that he is often found dressed as a woman.”

“I had heard this.”

“It must be hard for him, being so unfree to be himself.”

“Yes, I suppose it must.”

I had not thought of that before.

“Would sir go a little faster, please? For my pleasure?”

I agreed. I clasped her hips and drove my cock into her ass, and she squealed with delight.

Just then, my late wife popped into my head. She had loved being taken up the ass. She would have enjoyed this. But then, at the thought of her, I recalled that I would spend every night for the rest of my days without her by my side, and the thought made me so sad that I almost lost my erection.

I looked down at the girl’s ass again and applied some more oil. I increased my stroke, thumping my stomach against her cheeks and her cries filled the room. Five minutes later, I came.

The lady left when I had orgasmed and, tired out by the day, I went directly to bed.

                                                                                          *

The emperor had grown up in a household of the priestly caste and was fanatically devoted to his faith.

Elagabalus had chosen his regnal name in homage to the sun God, Elagabal.

His sexual behaviour was seen as scandalous. But nothing outraged the people of Rome like his elevation of Elagabel above Jupiter in the pantheon of Roman gods. They could have turned a blind eye to his whoring, even to allegations that he, the emperor himself, had sold his own ass in the streets. But it was his religious meddling that earned him the burning hatred of his people.

                                                                                          *

Dawn was breaking when I awoke and I had to dress quickly and forgo breakfast, or I would have been late for my audience with Elagabalus. Anxious lest I be late, I applied my perfumes, fixed my hair and hurried to the palace.

I was greeted by a slave girl, who led me through the corridors to the emperor’s private quarters. I half expected to walk in on some outrageous manifestation of his licentiousness – an orgy or a threesome or a striptease. But the room was empty when the slave girl left me alone. I looked around the room. There were maps of the empire hanging on the wall. The bed was large, king-sized, and lined with furs.

The door opened. A young woman entered. She wore an expensive-looking cloak and a cowl over her head. I could see she had applied rouge to her cheeks and charcoal to her eyes. This marked her as either wealthy (unlikely, given her station), or a woman of ill repute.

“Good day to you, Sir. You are the court historian?

“I am. I have an appointment with his majesty.”

“Yes, he will be along shortly. I am his maidservant. I was sent to enquire if you need refreshment?”

“Some water would be nice, thank you.”

I watched her walk delicately across the room, her hips swaying. She filled a cup from a pitcher and brought it over. She lingered unnecessarily close to me.

“Thank you. How long have you served the emperor?” I asked.

“Since the day he was born.”

I looked at the maiden’s face, frowning.

“Surely there are not enough years between your birth and his? You would have been an infant yourself when Elagabalus was born?”

The young woman laughed.

“However good my disguise, I always trip up!”

My eyes widened as I realized to whom I was talking.

“My Lord,” I said quickly dropping to one knee and lowering my gaze.

 She laughed.

“Why do you call me Lord when I am a lady?” she asked playfully.

“I hope I didn’t offend…ma’am?” I said.

“Not by your naming of me, no. But I am rather hurt that you don’t recognize me.”

“We’ve met before, my…lady?”

“Last night. It is you who are responsible for the fact that I cannot sit comfortably today!”

My mind racing, I looked back on the events of last night. Now that she said it, I did recall some particular details that I had not noticed at the time. The lady had exposed only the minimum of flesh to allow me to penetrate her. I was not given a glimpse of her genitalia, her breasts or her stomach. Furthermore, while her left arm was holding her up against the wall, her right arm appeared to be moving quickly, as if she were diddling herself…or masturbating…

I had fucked the emperor of Rome. Shaking my head, I said to her, “Good heavens. Your powers of disguise are extraordinary.”

“Thank you.”

Tea was brought and I began to ask her some questions about her reign.

But she seemed to know very little of politics or history and to grow bored quickly. She fidgeted and frequently changed the subject to other things, like the fashions in my native city and my thoughts on the strange ideas of Christianity. Out of all the interviews I conducted, the one with Elagabalus herself was the least productive.

As I got up to leave, one last question occurred to me.

“My Lady,” I said, “Forgive what may be an impertinent question but my curiosity is burning.”

“Ask away, scholar. You cannot offend me.”

“If, through the art of some magician, you could really, genuinely inhabit a woman’s body, would you choose to do so? Or do you put on the garments of a woman and shave your body hair off to gain attention and to provoke for the sake of doing so?”

For the first time, Elagabalus’s face fell. She looked down and I could see she was struggling to maintain her composure. Her eyes were damp when she looked back into mine.

“Sir, I would give up the feasts and the fine clothes, the jewels, the empire itself if I could inhabit the body I wish to.”

And then, she gathered up her skirt and swept out of the room.    

                                                                                          *

I had gathered all the material I needed to write the first volume of the official history of Elagabalus. I was missing my children and resolved that I would return to Spain to write up my notes and then return with the manuscript to the Capital.

I rode out to the port of Civitavechia. As I waited on the docks for the ship, I saw a runner approach a group of men. As soon as he spoke, there was chatter and animated discussion amongst them.

“Sir, what news do you have?” I asked.

“The emperor Elagabalus is dead, sir. His throat was cut by his own praetorian bodyguards, and his body thrown into the Tiber last night. His cousin, Severus Alexander, has been proclaimed emperor.”

So, the reign I had been tasked to chronicle was over. She…out of deference to the dead I will refer to her so…was not a born leader but thrust into unimaginable power and privilege as the puppet of people cleverer, more cunning, and more ruthless. Elagabalus, for all her faults, was, I believe, a more sensitive and moral character than her predecessors.

One thing I felt sure of. Never did a more unsuitable, strange and complex human ever sit on the throne of the Roman Empire than the one known to history as Elagabalus.