And I Begin

On our thirteenth birthday, our parents called a doctor for Caracalla for the first time. From then on, the doctor had private chambers in the Palatine Palace, and he regularly visited my brother, bringing us neither benefit, nor hope, nor comfort.   The illness manifested itself suddenly and, as my father later explained to me, it was a seizure, a symptom of something-or-other. The doctor shrugged, gave a complicated diagnosis, said that the disease was incurable and that Caracalla would have to live with it for the rest of his days.  The doctor, however, did not predict a quick end. He only clarified that the disease would sooner or later irreversibly affect the brain, and Caracalla would probably go completely insane.   I think it was on that day that my father decided to place all his bets on me, and my mother, from constant stress, almost stopped talking. Caracalla, who had been their favorite son because of his childhood kindness and spontaneity, became a burden for his parents, to whom they paid less and less attention every day. At some point, he was left to his own devices, which only aggravated the situation, because the disease progressed, not sparing his health. I felt powerless and desperate, realizing that I would rule the empire, decide fates, but I would not be able to help my brother. However, along with this, a timid hope settled in my head that now, finally, I would become the main one. I was torn between the desire to save Caracalla and to monopolize my father's love.   Until the first kiss with my brother, our father was an indisputable authority for me. I looked up to him, enthusiastically attended Senate meetings, analyzed his decisions, and studied diligently. Except that Greek poetry and rhetoric were not as easy for me as the exact sciences. I was interested in little more than the affairs of state. Except, perhaps, Caracalla, who found himself in a difficult situation. He never spoke, never complained, but I saw his extinguished gaze when my father praised me. When I had new concubines. When the senators didn't interrupt me if I decided to put in my word at their meetings. At such moments, Caracalla would turn away and pretend that he had witnessed those scenes by accident. Like a guilty child, he endured this blow of fate with dignity, which he did not deserve at all. And I didn't deserve to be loved; because in reality I was completely different. And we — Caracalla and I — always knew that.   If there was a monster living in me, it was hiding deep inside. Of course, until the moment my father tried to strangle me. For several months I had nightmares, and every time it was the same dream. Hands on my neck, a crimson face, fists clenched to the point of cracking. And this phrase: "if I ever find out," clearly demonstrating that they would turn away from me at any second, and all that was left for me was to play my role and wait.   Ambition flared up in me every day, while Caracalla weakened. He became addicted to hedonism and idle pastime, which displeased his father. But my brother did not understand what he was doing wrong; he simply did what he wanted, unaware that with every action he only disappointed the emperor more. Caracalla was forgiven a lot, he was pampered like a little monkey, a cute and harmless little animal that was pitied because it could no longer entertain its owners. But no one thought of him as a future ruler. Only I, going to bed, imagined two thrones on which we would one day sit together. I felt safe, confident that I would eventually become emperor: with or without my brother. I craved power like air, torn between the opportunity to please my father and trying not to alienate Caracalla. Then I didn't understand yet that without him my whole life had no meaning.   Meanwhile, my permissiveness against the backdrop of his weakness corrupted me. I was no longer interested in studying. I listened to the senators' arguments with boredom. I rarely accompanied my father on state trips. I knew he had no choice; I knew that the choice between Caracalla and me was obvious. So why bother?   And the monster, sleeping for many years, awoke.