Ides of December (redux)

[Lady_Mornington]

This is a closed thread​

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Marcia put her stylus down and glanced at her sister who was sitting next to her desk, a sad smile moving over her face as she pushed the end of her stola back from her forehead. “Because I am dead?” Lilla had been gone these past twenty years, her life ended by their father Gaius Marcius Nerva. “Yes, because of that Lilla.” Marcia turned to look at the apparition, noticing the subtle signs of corruption and decay that lined her face. “I’ve said the rites for you and made sure that the ferryman would accept your passage across the river. You no longer belong here.” Lilla smiled sadly again as she glanced around the study, absentmindedly pressing her hand to cover the blotch on her cheek. “I know.” She held Marcia’s gaze “I suppose I’ve come to tell you not allow ambition to destroy everything you love. Don’t repeat the mistakes of our fathers’.” Lilla adjusted the stola to cover her head and with a small nod she was gone, leaving Marcia to contemplate the words of warning.

***

It was the year of the second consulship of Gaius Julius Caesar Octavian and Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, and Rome was less volatile a city and an Empire. Octavian had restored the power of government to the Senate, dispelling any claims that he intended on making himself King and was thus honoured by the grateful Senate with the title Augustus and dubbed Founder of Rome alongside Aeneas, Romulus, Gaius Marius and Caesar. The last remnants of dissention had effectively been done away with by the political genius of Augustus coupled with the fearsome reputation and military skill of Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.

Her own family had been loyal supporters of Agrippa ever since Caesar had made her father Gaius Marcius take on the gifted but politically unconnected Agrippa as his pupil and on the behest of Caesar’s, promised his daughter Lilla to be his wife. Even though the Gods had decided that there would be no such alliance, Agrippa had nonetheless honoured the friendship of the Marciae Nervii and that of the Scriboniae Decii and rewarded Marcia’s family handsomely. Her husband, Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus the Younger as his full name read, had fought alongside Caesar and then stood shoulder to shoulder with Agrippa and Octavian during Antony’s rebellion. For his continued loyalty Marcus Scribonius had been made an advisor to the consuls as well as currently holding the position of Praetor Urbanus and with any luck he would have made consul the next year. Yet Marcus Scribonius was dying from an illness stealing his breath and making him gasp for air much like a stranded fish. It was early stages yet, and the condition could be disguised, but the Greek physician who had examined him had been certain; the Paterfamilias would scarcely live to see another December.

A Patrician Scribonius, Marcus had accepted the verdict with the dignitas as one expected of a Roman, and even though his strength was failing him, he had soldiered on, attending the duties in the Senate, in the Courts and never faltering in his loyalty to the Consuls and the People of Rome, and as Marcus stood by Augustus and Agrippa, so stood Marcia by him. Yet while her loyalty to her husband was beyond question, she had nonetheless begun to prepare for the day when the flames of her husband’s funeral pyre would rise and consume his earthly remains. Marcus Scribonius had made his mark on the world, his dignitas, auctoritas and gravitas were all beyond reproach and in some ways he had even surpassed the veneration that had been reserved for his father. Marcus Scribonius the Elder had been synonymous with victories, having defeated the hordes that stood against Rome during the Third Servile War that saw the end of Spartacus rebellion as well as the taking of the Greek city of Dodona during the Mithridatic Wars that had earned him the agnomen Dodonicus.

The line of the Scriboniae Decii was august enough, Senatorial in rank even during the time of Kings and the alliance with the Marciae Nervii they had further strengthened their position among the Famous Families in Rome. It was possibly the one good decision that her father had managed to make had been the marriage between herself and Marcus Scribonius. An alliance between the staunch Marciae Nerii and the aristocratic Scriboniae Decii had served to increase Marcus’ position within the Senate and with Caesar. He had also positioned himself well away from Antony, and thus the family name was never tainted by the odium of the Triumvir’s outlandish behaviour in Egypt and the subsequent attempt to seize control of the Empire.

Marcia sighed as she recalled the words the spirit of her sister had spoken in the small hours of the previous night. Her father’s ambition had driven her family to the brink of destruction, yet ambition had also seen Marcus Scribonius rise to eclipse the position of his forbearers, and ambition would see her son Lucius Scribonius rise even further and be the first Patrician Scribonius to be Consul of Rome for well near a century. She glanced up from her loom where the threads tied to the frame had formed an intricate pattern of scarlet and gold, the colours of the Senatorial class.

“You should add some more gold there” She spoke softly as she met the gaze of her younger daughter and inclined her head towards the weave on her loom. Scribonia Minor, more commonly referred to as Decia was seated at her own loom next to that of Marcia’s, slender fingers working as nimbly as ever Marcia’s. Decia was the youngest of Marcia’s three children and she was by far the easiest to get along with. The girl was considered pretty, she was not without intelligence and even though there had been few expectations placed on her, Decia had nonetheless emulated every desirable trait that one could want in a Patrician woman. By merit of her name and the considerable dowry that her father would endow her with she was likely to attract any number of suitable offers when it was decided that she would be available for such.

Then again the fortunes of the family would not be made by Decia anymore than they would be by her sister Scribonia. Marcia sighed inwardly as she considered her oldest daughter and twin of Lucius Scribonius. The girl was gifted with the beauty and intelligence of her Aurelian ancestors, yet there was something fundamentally askew with the young woman. Lucius had a raging temper lurking beneath his usually composed surface and even little Decia was quite able display her emotions Scribonia remained eerily detached. Marcia sighed imperceptibly as she examined the weave on the loom, and nodded approval as she glanced at Decia’s handiwork. The problem was not that Scribonia’s actions were alien to Marcia, rather that they were all too familiar. A woman’s mind was like the Minoan labyrinth, containing both treasures and horrors and a woman did best in keeping the gates firmly shut. Let the rest of the world see the exterior, let it be enthralled by beauty or poise but never let it inside her walls. Marcia was a skilled observer she had never managed to understand what went on inside the mind of her eldest daughter. While she could read Lucius and Decia like open scrolls Scribonia remained an unknown entity. One thing was still abundantly clear that Scribonia, like Lucius, were children of her mind as well as her womb.

Marcia’s reveries were interrupted by a polite cough as the Steward of the household entered the room. Adrastos was standing at a respectfully distance from the where Marcia and Decia were sitting and his stance indicated that he had news to impart. He was an educated Greek , weren’t they all? Marcia idly reflected, and he had sold himself into slavery thus entering the service of the Scriboniae Decii.

“Speak.” She trained her emerald stare to the Greek, her eyes boring into him as piercing as ever her husband’s Spatha. Marcia was not a cordial mistress of her household, while she did not hold with random cruelty nor did she foster any closer relations with the servants. She had once vowed to rule by example. A Roman matron set the example to her slaves and thus her sense of duty as well as her diligence set the standards for how the servants should behave.

“Domina, dominilla” Adrastos offered Marcia and Decia a deferential bow. “The Dominus sends word that he will be home by the seventh hour. I anticipated that the Dominus will require supper by then Domina?” The Greek would no doubt have made all the preparations for that himself but he knew better than to give the order without Marcia’s blessing.

She nodded her assent as Adrastos continued, “The young dominus is entertaining Gaius Caelius Caldus. Will he be joining you for supper?”
Marcia kept her features impassive as Adrastos mentioned Gaius Caelius. He had served with Lucius as tribune in one of the Spanish legions, and they had both been present as the rebel Orsinas had broken the truce at Montilla and consequently sacked the city and slaughtered the garrison as well as the civilians. The savagery of the act had caused outrage in Rome, and even though Lucius Scribonius had been unable to prevent the atrocity he had nonetheless been viewed as something of a hero in an otherwise sad affair. While this was all well and good, Marcia was not best pleased with his enduring friendship with Gaius Caelius. The man was a mere knight and while it was wise for a young man in Lucius’ position to acquire clients; so had her father and so did her husband, but there was something that irked her about her son’s and Gaius Caelius’ friendship.

“Very well Adrastos.” Marcia stood up “Best not let such a prominent guest as Gaius Caelius feel that we do not honour his visit.” She nodded for Adrastos to proceed with his work and motioned for Decia to follow. “I guess we have make certain that your brother and young Gaius Caelius don’t look too deeply into their cups.” She offered Decia the shadow of a smile as she strode purposefully from the study towards the trinclinum, being greeted by the sound of animate conversation well before she and Decia entered the room, to find Lucius Scribonius and Gaius Caelius reclining on two couches, cups of wine in hand and both in quite high spirits by the sounds of their talk.

“Gaius Caelius” Marcia interjected, extending her hands for the young knight to take, watching how he got up from the couch and offering her a formal greeting. “I trust you are well?” She inclined her slightly to the side, piercing emerald eyes studying him closely until he turned his gaze away. “And Lucius, wine at this hour?” Marcia assumed a jocular tone but it was evident that she wasn’t best pleased with her son’s behaviour. She was by no means ignorant of the ways of men and how they found their pleasures. “Your father is expected back within the hour and I’d guess that he’d like to be able to share some coherent conversation with his son.” Marcia smiled sweetly but there was no hiding the steely edge to her demeanour. She turned back to Gaius Caelius and offered him another smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I do apologise for our lack of hospitality alas my husband specifically asked to keep tonight’s supper informal. However I am quite certain that Marcus Scribonius would appreciate your presence tomorrow when he takes petitions from his clients.” Marcia felt Lucius eyes bore into her even as she had turned away from him to direct her attentions to Gaius Caelius, who offered her and Decia a deferential bow as he took his leave, although not before being assured by Lucius that the two of them would meet up the next day.

“Decia, will you excuse us. I need to speak to your brother. Why don’t you make certain that your father is properly received. There’s a good girl.” Marcia kept her eyes trained on her son as Decia nodded and quickly left the room, no doubt aware of the approaching storm that was about to break. Sitting down on one of the couches and facing Lucius noticing the barely contained anger at the slighting of his friend had stirred in him, but before he could lash out she cut him off.

“Please Lucius, anger doesn’t suit you, especially not over such a trifle as dismissing Gaius Caelius”. Marcia kept her eyes trained on his face, willing him to contradict her, but as he withdrew slightly she assumed a less confrontational tone of voice. “I understand that you are good friends but you’ll do well to remember who you are; a Patrician Scribonius. “ She let the words sink in before, in a conciliatory gesture she reached out, taking Lucius hand between hers, slender fingers intertwining with his as she held his gaze. “You do understand that you are destined for greatness Lucius Scribonius and”, an enigmatic smile crossing her lips as she held her son’s gaze as she continued. “I do not want history to remember me as the daughter of Gaius Marcius Nerva, or the wife of Marcus Scribonius Decio but as the mother of Lucius Scribonius Decio”.

There was a moment of silence, though it seemed that the words had had the desired effect, as there was an almost imperceptible nod from Lucius. Marcia was about to speak again when she was interrupted by the familiar drawl of Scribonia who had entered the room, causing Marcia’s smile to wither away and be replaced with an impassive stare that did not give away her thoughts regarding her eldest daughter. True to her habit Scribonia had decided to wear another garish palla, the bright red contrasting sharply with her pale Aurelian features, but instead of adding allure the garment made her look like a particularly cheap kind of prostitute.

It was probably wrong to label Marcia’s and Scribonia’s relation as one of hatred; after all hatred implied a certain measure of familiarity and as far as Marcia was concerned there was none such to be found between them. It was ironic since Scribonia resembled her the most of all her children. She offered her daughter an impassive stare as Scribonia sat down next to Lucius, and returned Marcia’s stare with one of her own, green eyes boring into Marcia’s as the shadow of a smile formed on Scribonia’s lips, as she mouthed a greeting and reclined on the couch, causing the hem of her palla to ride up and exposing her pale calves and the curve of her thigh. Marcia sighed inwardly, Scribonia had been promised to the Patrician Publius Sestius Pansa, who might not be as noble as the Scriboniae Decii but had a name that carried enough weight to allow for such an alliance.

“I heard Publius Sestius being mentioned in despatches in the Senate.” She focused her emerald stare on her daughter, keeping her features neutral as she studied Scribonia’s face. While the young woman did not show any visible signs to the honour bestowed on her husband-to-be there was just the hint of a frown creasing her brow at the mention of Publius. No love lost there apparently, and the realisation caused Marcia to experience just the faintest trace of contentment. It was not that she felt that Scribonia constituted a threat, yet it was wise to learn the strength and weaknesses of the people around you for the time when they did prove to be a threat to you and your family, and if Marcia had learned but one thing it was to show no mercy should a threat to her family arise. Her maternal grandmother Lavinia Aurelia had taught her that lesson and she adhered to the wisdom of the old woman’s words even to this day.

Marcia’s train of thought was interrupted as she heard Decia’s light footfalls and the heavier ones that heralded Marcus Scribonius arrival, prompting her to gracefully rise to greet him with a slight but still visible bow as she entered the room. He was dressed in the garb of office, the white purple bordered toga and the broad purple stripe running down the right of his white tunic. There were no visible signs of the illness, in fact her husband looked as healthy as he had always done. Tall and broad shouldered, his red hair cropped close and his intelligent blue eyes boring into her emerald ones. He offered her a smile followed by a comparatively chaste kiss which nevertheless made Decia giggle.

“I trust you are well Husband. Supper will be ready shortly if you so please, or if you prefer to change before we eat”. Marcia made a small gesture for one of the slaves in attendance to take her husband’s toga as Lucius, Scribonia and Decia offered Marcus their customary greetings.

 

[teknight]

"As well as can be expected," Marcus answered as he let the slave take the toga. "Today's affairs were trifling, but one can't have the Orsinas rebelling everyday, now can we?" he asked his son with a smile. Lucius' gaze quickly lit in anger, a fact Marcus did not let go unnoticed. "He's led a legion, yet he's still a boy, letting his temper get the better of him," he thought inwardly, as his brows knitted for the briefest of seconds. However ,this was not a conversation he was currently willing to entertain. He let the family know he'd change first and then they could convene for supper.

"The wife seems in a mood," he let his thoughts wander as the slaves helped him change. "Can't say I fully blame her considering..." With that, a dark cloud threw a shadow over his face. He willed himself to replace it with a smile: "...considering she's a woman. The Gods themselves know not what goes on inside a woman's mind."
As the slaves were helping him remove his garb, Marcus reviewed the day in his head, both to sort his ideas and pick out the details which would spice the evening meal. The topic of the day in the Pompeian Theater had been the upcoming year's consuls. Crassus would be replaced, and the safe bet seemed to be Sextus Appuleius...but there was time still, and Janus was a two faced God. He had married Publius Quinctilius Varus' sister, so he had that going for him. Speaking of the general and Janus, it'd be the third time in the history of the Republic that the doors to Janus' temple would be closed. There was peace in the realm. Peace had its advantages, much as it didn't suit the Roman spirit. The thought amused him: Romans had to be strong and warlike, but not so strong as to render themselves asunder...such were the thoughts of cynics and Greeks. That made him wonder what Adrastos would have ready for supper. Marcus was not long for this world, but he intended on feasting on it- lest the Elysian fields lack good cooks. The blasphemy struck him and he realized an offering to the Gods might be in order, for their moods were fickle.
As for the peace: he suddenly thought of his father. Dodonicus-the-war-like, as he'd taken to referring to his father in the confines of his own mind. The old man was probably complaining even know in the Elysian fields, saying that peace was unbecoming of Romans and missing the feeling of fear he used to induce in people. His father's death had come at a fortuitous time, as it had freed him to side with Caesar after his legions had crossed the Rubicon. What if the old man had opposed Caesar? The question was moot as only the Fates would have known when the old man was set to die. Yet, how funny it had worked out. He'd sided with Caesar, and had been granted Gaius Marcius Nerva's daughter as his wife, his Marcia. He briefly entertained the thought that he was really hers, but then dismissed it, for such was lunacy. He had truly been lucky: he bore the iron ring of one of the old families, had married well, had seen a distinguished military career (despite his inexperience)....Of course, he was now paying for it all. The gods were as cruel as they were funny.

He joined his family for supper, where his first comment was aimed at Scribonia. "Garbs like that will surely put off your soon-to-be husband, daughter. He was mentioned in the Senate's dispatches today- a fact worthy of praise, not garish outfits." His gaze held his daughter's, even as her expression turned sour at the mention of Publius Sestius' name. Indeed, the Gods themselves knew not what a woman was made of. "Behave yourself like the Patrician you are- honor your family and name." This sent a smile to Lucius' lips, breaking him out of his ill-disguised revelry of anger. "Lucius, any word from your friend Gaius?" he asked pointedly- although his jab was meant for his wife: her stoic nature drove him to poke at her self assuredness from time to time.