The Calends of January

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Since Antony's money was always good and he had in his usual fashion overspent on enjoyments, when he left there was a considerable amount of wine - and good Falernian and Setinian at that, not the sour grapes dipped in horse piss that the proles called wine - left on the table. Still chuckling, Gaius helped himself to another glass. It would be a near crime to let this go to waste.

Of course, he thought in contemplation, it would not be any good to come home drunk, especially in the morning when he should be working. But the Senate House was stuffy and crowded, even when rebuilt to take advantage of the space Mars Field offered, and if he had to look at that statue of Pompey just one more time...No, Gaius decided, he just couldn't deal with going back to the Senate today. Especially once the wine started to kick in in the afternoon sun. He waved over one of the lictors, having them send word to the Senate House to have a slave run over his scrolls to his home, and to tell the other magistrates that he would be conducting his business from there. Besides, he had his first daughter's wedding to plan, and an adoption to run over...It was a shame Cicero wasn't still around, what a coup that would be to have him to run up the documents!

Wedding plans...Gaius looked over at Marcus, and then Marcellus, and then put down his wine cup and rose, mostly steadily, to his pleasure. If there was one thing that sitting around in Gaul waiting for civil war to break out with Antony as a friend had for it, it was that he was now much better able to handle both his wine and that disgusting drink the Germans and Belgiae made, fermented oats and honey called "beer." He didn't like it when the Greeks made it, he surely did not like it when barbarians tried their hands at it.

"Marcus, Marcellus...Sol is shining, we are the uncontested masters of Rome, and soon we shall all be a family. It is a great day, a day that is far, far too well to spend booring around the city or drinking into oblivion. Come, allow me to invite you back to my house. We should all be together now. It will be a festive atmosphere. We can discuss the contracts for the wedding and adoption both. If the gods are willing perhaps one could even be settled on this day, Marcellus." Gaius smiled over at the boy. "So, come on, both of you. I will not take no for an answer. I am sure that Marcia will be ever so glad to see her husband, Marcus, so you too. And...hmm, it would be a shame to waste Antony's good money..."

Finishing the remainder of what was in his cup - it wasn't much, so he could do so without feeling guilty or worrying that he would become any closer to a state of inebriation that would draw the reprimands, however light, of Aurelia - Gaius passed the other two jugs off to the lictors, who to their credit and hopefully not their indifference, not a one had mentioned any possible imbibed state of their wards.

Walking through the city - as officials without womenfolk, Gaius felt it was their duty to do so, at least when they had lictors and with street warfare vanished for the moment, and with it being such a beautiful day out - it was but a short while before they were at the Marciae Nervae house, with Hermes opening the gates to admit them and the lictors taking up their proper positions in the house, having deposited their wine loads to the house slaves. After leaving a note with the gatekeeper to expect slaves from the Senate with scrolls, Gaius entered after his guests and future relatives.

Aurelia was there politely greeting the two newcomers and eying the wine the slaves were carrying in to the kitchen, seated in the atrium with Aurelilla, whose mix of sadness and some other emotion was being beamed at Marcellus, and with the always-prim Marcia. Aurelia's woman Desma stood off to the side with a wax tablet in hand.

Gaius walked over to his wife and daughters, kissing them all on their cheeks. "Hello Aurelia, girls. We had a little run-in with Antony after the Senate, and I couldn't let good wine go to waste..." He made an apologetic glance to Aurelia.

"In any case, it was such a nice day, and one so propitious, that I decided to have my work sent here from the Senate and to bring our new family members with us, to work on the contracts. I assume you're working on the wedding details?" Gaius smiled at his daughter, then turned to smile at Marcus. "Mark my words, boy, you're going to have quite a spectacle if I know those two. I have half a mind to give you some time to get to know each other, but perhaps afterwards...Speaking of which," he turned back to his wife.

"Marcellus and I need to draw up the adoption contract, and Marcus and I the wedding contract. We'll be in the office. Desma, have the slaves make sure there's a scribe present. And I'm afraid we'll need to be left alone for a bit. If one of the clients or someone from the Senate or councils shows up and demands to see me, well...Otherwise, please make sure we are not dirsturbed, dear?" he asked Aurelia, smiling. "Afterwards, however, will be a different matter. Hopefully by then, our family will be two larger." He patted Marcellus and Marcus on the back, then began to usher them into his office.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

Her husband once remarked that Aurelia resembled a child when she slept. For all his martial pretences, Gaius still had the soul of a poet. At least that was what Aurelia thought of him. He had at some length, described the way that her countenance grew softer as she reclined in the arms of Morpheus. Perhaps this was true, Aurelia knew that the face she wore in the public sphere had the makings of a mask. If she tried hard she could remember the girl she had once been, and she had to admit that she shared a number of traits with her youngest daughter. Perhaps that was yet another reason why she could never see eye to eye with Aurelilla? The fact that her daughter resembled her all too closely.

Her idle thoughts pushed aside as Gaius asked her about the proceedings of last night and she recounted her actions, even if she did not mention that she'd erased the writing on her daughter's wax tablet. It served no purpose to let Gaius know about it, he would probably just encourage her to continue with such nonsense. For all his level-headedness, Gaius still had a blind spot to Aurelilla's shortcomings.

Perhaps it was as simple as jealousy? Not the way that her husband lavished Aurelilla with attention, in that aspect Aurelia held a position of her own. Rather it had to do with the fact that Gaius had never put his foot down as far as Aurelilla was concerned. Never would Aurelia's father had allowed her to act in the way that her youngest was. Gods below, if she had been seen with a stranger and unattended, Titus Aurelius would have had her flogged. Not that it would help. Even if Aurelia had threatened to put the whip to employ, she had yet to make good on such promise. She had never lifted her hand in anger against her daughters, and even if Aurelilla strained her paticience she had more or less woved not to do so.

She recieved a kiss from her husband before he made his exit, leaving Aurelia alone with Desma. On cue the Greek woman approached, handing her a cup of water. She informed Aurelia that her bath was ready and that the kitchen slaves would be told to prepare her breakfast. As Desma led the way to the tepidarium where her bath was being drawn. It never ceased to amaze Aurelia what joy there was to let oneself be immersed in the hot water, and added to this was of course the gentle scrubbing of her shoulders that one of the younger girls provided. She reclined, her eyes partially closed as she listend to Desma telling her about the succession of merchants and tradesmen who would come calling. Word of the impending marriage had been sent out and given Gaius' status as one of the most powerful men in Rome, it would be a Herculean feat to keep them at bay. Still Aurelia knew that Desma would perform impeccably as she always did, and like her mother had done before her.

The process of getting dressed was pretty much like any other morning. Two of the girls helping her donning the palla of the day, and proceeding to arrange her hair and applying make-up. All the while Desma was hovering close by, ready to strike down on anything that did not amount to the perfection that she knew Aurelia demanded. It was quite amusing in a way, Aurelia rarely had to chastise the servants these days. It was for the Greek woman to do so, and she knew that most of the other slaves would rather drink poison than disappointing Desma.

Thus an hour or so after she had risen, Aurelia purposefully strode into the room where her daughters were currently enjoying their breakfast. Or enjoying seemed perhaps too strong a word. The silence was oppressive, and it took no more than a second to take in the respective stances of her daughters. Marcia, looking as beautiful as ever was idly staring at the fresco on the wall, her demeanour one of boredom and perhaps just the hint of irritation. Aurelilla on the other hand looked wholly crestfallen. The way that her youngest daughter sat slumped in her chair spoke volumes about her mood, and the look in her eyes confirmed that it was just a matter of time before she would break down in tears, again.

Aurelia moved closer and took her seat as one of the servants served her the warmed honeyed bread and a cup of mulled wine. There were additional dishes of fresh fruit and some light meats. none which seemed to have been touched. It was just the perfect start of the day, or so it seemed. Aurelia repressed the need to sigh, and instead leaned close to each of the girls so that they could kiss her cheeks in a greeting, before addressing them both.

"Bona Dea, you look like you were about to attend your own funerals." She gave each of them a long stare as she picked up a piece of bread. "There are a number of things that needs to be seen to today so I hope I will not have to suffer your frowns my darlings." She offered them a smile as she reached for the cup of wine. "Now Marcia, Desma has some samples for your dress, I'd say that purple would suit you, and make a nice reference to Marcus' senatorial rank as well. Do you need any new jewellery? Apparently there are a few tradesmen who are interested in displaying their goods. Surely even the Plebs know what grand occasion this will be." Aurelia couldn't help but smile as she sat back. "Juno surely smiles on you my daughter. Your husband is a very important man, and you my dear may well be the wife of our next Consul." She reached out and patted Marcia's hand. "We need to look at whom to invite. I'm sure that your father will be able to have Caesar attend, The Scriboniae are an importanf family, and with this union Marcus has surely made a statement on who's side he is." She frowned as she put the cup down "Although I guess that we cannot help but having Tribune Antony as a guest but these things cannot be helped. I'll make sure to have words with your father about what to be done about it." She turned her attention to Aurelilla who was still being as quiet and withdrawn as when she entered. "And for you my dear, a new dress and jewellery as well? I daresay that you could do with some, and who knows? When your father's allies in the Senate sees you I'm sure the suitors will be queuing up." She offered her youngest as sincere a smile as she could manage. Aurelilla had still not showed any inclination to snap out of the melancholy that loomed like a dark sky over her. Still it would do no good to shout at her. Aurelilla had rarely responded to heated words in the past. Then again, there was little Aurelia could do to get through to her. The few times that the two of them had shared something resembling a normal conversation could easily be counted on the fingers of one hand, and by the look of things, there would be no accord made today. She glanced at Aurelilla, who by now was looking straight at her. The expression of perpetual hurt clearly discernable. There had been too many times when her youngest had displayed such, and it was little she could do to alleviate it. Then again perhaps some leniency would succeed where common sense did not. “Perhaps we could get you a writing kit as well.” Aurelia added as she reached out to pat her daughter’s hand, only to watch her flinch, thus causing her to turn her attention back to Marcia again.

”How’s your new girl coming along? I know it’s been a hectic few days but I’m sure you will have her know the ropes soon, seeing as you’re to leave us…” She let the sentence go unfinished. It was not that she did not want Marcia to have a life of her own, but sometimes it seemed that it had all happened too fast. Even though Aurelia knew the propensities of her oldest, it was sometimes hard to reconcile herself with the fact that Marcia was no longer a girl, but a woman in her own right, and more to the point, one who would make her mark on the world. She reached out, taking a soft hold of Marcia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Aurelia had grew harder in Gaius’ absence and tokens of affection such as this had been rare. She knew that Marcia would know to appreciate it.

Glancing at Aurelilla again, noticing that she had once more withdrawn. Probably the whole issue with Marcellus, Aurelia thought. She knew she ought not say anything, but it was better that Aurelilla got to understand the reasons as to why her affection for the man had to be discarded. She coughed to clear her throat before looking closely at both of her daughters.

“I know I ought not say anything about this but seeing as you both have the right to know I find it better to inform you now.” She took a sip of the wine before she continued. “You are both aware of your father’s feelings for young Marcellus Cauno, and he has proposed that he’ll adopt him as his son and heir. I do not think that Marcellus will decline such an offer, seeing your father’s position and status.” She looked at Aurelilla, seeing understanding begin to dawn to her. “Yes that was the reason your father and I was so aghast when we heard about the whole thing last night Aurelilla. But even if the situation had been different, Marcellus would not have made for a suitable husband for you. I’m sorry my dove but that’s the way it is. He lacks a standing of his own, he has very little money and his family, good as they may be, are not influential enough to match the Marciae Nervae. Anyhow it is of no consequence now, but as you understand, you cannot, must not hold any other affections for Marcellus than those that by rights belong to an older brother. I hope you understand this.”

Aurelia nodded to her youngest daughter before turning to Marcia. Her oldest gave no hint of what she may be thinking about the whole issue of Gaius’ adoption of Marcellus, which was just as well. In the privacy of her own mind, Aurelia figured that Marcia might well look upon the laticlavian tribune in much the same way as she did.

“Anyhow, we have a long day ahead of us and I think we ought to get started. Desma!” She motioned for the Greek woman to approach them. “Be a dear and take the dictate. We need to see whom to be invited. What do you say my dear, the Chief Augur and his wife? It will lend a nice touch to the ceremony don’t you think?” She smiled as Marcia nodded, clearly focused on the need to prepare the wedding with much the same sense for preparation as ever her father went through when taking his legion into battle.

They spent most of the day attending to the preparations, looking at samples of cloth, receiving the jewellers and having Desma summoning the head cook to draw up a suitable menu for the upcoming wedding. No expense would be spared Aurelia decided, and she was certain that every secestertii invested would be repaid in full. After all, the union between the Scriboniae and the Marciae Nervae would lend legitimacy to the Caesarian faction among the common people of Rome.

They were interrupted as Hermes announced that the Dominus and Senator Decio Dodonicus as well as Tribune Cauno had arrived. She stood up as she could her the men approach, and with just a hint of disapproval, noticed that they had had their fair share of wine. Even so Gaius handled himself with the utmost grace and dignity as he greeted her and the girls,. She smiled chastely as he kissed her and phrased a suitable reply.

”I’m sure that the Tribune of Plebs will be pleased to see that you value his gifts.” She looked at Marcus Scribonius, offering him a smile as well and let her eyes rest on Marcellus. There was a momentary flicker in his eyes but he held her gaze. So it was settled then and thus she would have to set the example, even if it felt like her insides were being slowly cut into shreds.
“Surely the Gods smile upon you husband, and you my dears.” She nodded to both of the men. “It is truly a cause for celebration.”

 

[Anael]

Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus

Leaving the senate for a nearby wine house, Marcus realised that they would have to suffer the presence of Tribune Anthony for the next few hours and hope he disappeared later. Mark Anthony was as free with his money as he was with his tongue and soon Marcus realised he would have to put up an appearance of drinking the same vast quantities. He had no wish to turn up at the Marciae Nervae residence drunk or in any way merry. It would not go down well with his Mother in Law he was sure. Since Anthony seemed to be including the whole wine house in their conversation, practically yelling his stories out, laughing loudly and downing cup after cup of wine. Despite this the slaves kept bringing out the wine and Anthony kept drinking it, his cheeks becoming a polished purple, almost the same colour as his robes and the wine itself. Finally Anthony left and Marcus could stop pretending to drink and was glad when Gaius suggested they walk to short distance to the villa. The fresh air would help sober them all up and clear his head for the discussion that would inevitably happen with Gaius. The marriage contract.

It was good to step into the shade when they arrived at the house of his wife to be. The sun was beating down from a pure blue sky and Sol was making everybody hot. Pausing, Marcus looked around, taking in the courtyard for the first time in the daylight while Gaius left instructions with the gate slaves. His eyes came to rest on Aurelia as she walked out of the house and into the courtyard, a beaming smile on her face that seemed to disappear as she made her way towards them. She was followed by her two daughters and the sight of his wife made Marcus stop and do his best not to stare at her beauty.

Gaius’ explanation of their time with Anthony seemed to satisfy Aurelia and her frown softened to be replaced with a smile as she greeted her son in law. He smiled back before shifting his eyes to Marcia. Her emerald eyes locked on his and he took a moment to look into her soul, before turning to follow Gaius to his office.

Sitting down in the shade, Marcus took a moment to collect his thoughts. The marriage contract he would have to draw up with Gaius was a complicated thing. He had some ideas about what he wanted but all in all he decided the best thing to do was to just be truthful with Gaius. There was the question of Land, which would provide a nice healthy income, if managed properly. Then there was a promotion in the Senate, something that would happen in time, but the right word here and there might help.

Marcus was sure that he would be asked about guests from his side of the family too, but the truthful answer was, there weren’t any. His father had been the only child of a powerful man, and Marcus had been his only child. His mother would be there of course, but her sister was living somewhere obscure and hadn’t been seen in years. The minor members of the family were just that, minor and pretty much forgotten.

“So, Gaius, what’s first on the Agenda? Can I suggest we get the marriage certificate laid down and then I can go and talk with the ladies about the ceremony, should they need to talk to me.”

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

Following Gaius and Antony’s lead, Marcellus and Marcus ducked into the darkened wineshop. Lamps shone and citharas played. There was a warm buzz of voices, a gentle relief after the raucous noise of the Via Rufina. The inviting smells of wine, perfume, olives and fresh bread drew them as they took seats at a corner table. Antony had already attracted the attention of several serving girls with his loaded smile and heavy purse.

Wine duly arrived and Marcellus drank gratefully, glancing around at the clientele. As he expected of a place recommended by the praetor, this was a ‘respectable’ establishment. Senators and nobles mingled with only the very wealthiest among the merchant class. Even the whores looked well fed as they paraded among the tables, clad in the finest silks. The wine too was excellent; easily as good as that kept for guests and special occasions in the cellars of the Villa Cauno. Marcellus swallowed his bitterness at the easy extravagance of the present company and forced himself to savour the vintage and take comfort from the fact that it was not on his account.

Predictably, the conversation was dominated by Mark Antony and his pithy anecdotes. Although he detected Gaius’ and Marcus’ disapproval, this suited Marcellus well. He was more comfortable on women than on politics and, damn it, he liked the man! Granted, Antony valued his own voice and opinions a little too highly but, for all that, he was a man’s man and a soldier - and he was never dull! More than once Marcellus had to curb his laughter at some spicy jest, aware that he was encouraging the man. Clearly Antony’s manner was an affront to the pietas and dignitas of his colleagues and where the praetor managed to maintain an air of affable indulgence, the more straight-laced Marcus Decio was in increasing difficulty. Even Marcellus had to breathe a sigh of relief when eventually Mark Antony took his leave with a girl upon each arm.

For a while they drank in a welcome and companionable peace. Presently Gaius pushed himself to his feet saying: “Marcus, Marcellus... Sol is shining, we are the uncontested masters of Rome, and soon we shall all be a family. It is a great day, a day that is far, far too well to spend booring around the city or drinking into oblivion. Come, allow me to invite you back to my house. We should all be together now. It will be a festive atmosphere. We can discuss the contracts for the wedding and adoption both.”

Marcellus would have submitted, contentedly, to carousing and oblivion but he too drained his cup and rose. He was after all, a man of action. The decisions had all been taken - better to get the formalities out of the way as soon as possible. And no better way to take the pain out of it than a bellyful of fine Falernian!

What Marcellus had not bargained for was fetching up in front of Gaius’ family for the second time in as many days a little the worse for wine. In the atrium he greeted the Lady Aurelia and weathered, once again, her coolly disapproving stare. Bowing stiffly he was forced to reflect on Gaius’ motives for honouring him with his name. It was clear that Marcellus was not beloved – particularly by the lady of the house. Support in the senate could be secured in any number of less binding ways. With a start Marcellus realised that Gaius must value his military prowess very highly indeed. The magistrate was a man of considerable virtus and yet he was not the instinctive warrior and battle-field magician that the Tribune was. This was why Marcellus was here!

What was it that Philo had said about war being bad for business? Marcellus smiled to himself and stroked his beard. Philo saw only one side of war. He saw trade routes disrupted, shipping blockades and warehouses emptying. For the steward, life was about balance sheets and war made them more difficult to reconcile. Philo knew - and cared - nothing for glory - the other side of that particular coin.

For Marcellus, war meant opportunity and the chance to win fame. If Marcellus distinguished himself in the coming conflict then who could tell where it might now lead. With his relatively humble background, he had never allowed himself dreams of Imperium. But surely, now, allied to such a family as the Marcia Nervae there need be no limit to what he might achieve?

Marcellus gaze travelled around the opulence of the praetor’s home; the paintings, vases and frieze-work, the ceramics, marble, the lapis and gold. His legs threatened to give way beneath him as his horizons suddenly expanded. After all, Gaius had no sons by birth…

Marcellus saw Marcia Nerva watching him closely and he stopped himself. A thin smile played about her ruby lips. It was as if her gaze pierced the murk that lay at the bottom of his soul and heaped scorn upon the ambition it found there. The tribune frowned. This girl could prove an obstacle for him – particularly given her impending marriage. He would need to tread very carefully around her and Marcus for the time being. The younger daughter was vulnerable to his charms as she had already revealed, though he would need to be careful with her for entirely different reasons! He likened Aurelilla to a sorrowful bird in a gilded cage. Even if the door were opened for her, would she have the courage to spread her wings? Moreover could he resist the urge to reach through the bars and snatch her?

Gaius was ushering them into his office with talk of contracts as Marcellus finally caught Aurelilla’s eye. Instantly he was transported to the garden of the previous night. The scent of her lingered in his nostrils, her warm body pressed close to him and he felt the powerful tug of her emotions. His blood raced and for a moment he imagined her alone with him again, but this time he could feel her alabaster skin beneath his fingers. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted with an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain. And then Aurelila was there too! The two of them - mother and daughter - trembling and sighing upon a silken bed, Aurelia’s typically stern expression abandoned to one of carnal delight as she gasped his name…

“…afterwards, however, will be a different matter. Hopefully by then, our family will be two larger."

The sound of Gaius, voice and the firm pressure of his hand brought Marcellus back. For Minerva’s sake get a grip, he scolded himself. The black pit that had gaped for him closed and the heat of the furnace subsided. Mother and daughter! This was what became of spending an afternoon in the company of Mark Antony!

The Tribune sobered as he was finally forced to reflect just how delicately his future might be poised. He steeled himself as he entered his soon-to-be-father’s study. He was a man with prospects now, a man of ambition. He would need all his nerve and ruthless strength to keep his own nature in check and thus to realise his new-found potential.

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Smiling at his wife and daughters in farewell, Gaius led his two companions into his office, a room that was moderately sized yet seemed more cramped than it was due to the omnipresent shelves and cubbyholes that seemed to take up every available inch of wall space possible, and all of them crammed with scrolls. Gaius had always been somewhat obsessive about the need for records, detailed accounts and summaries, and was unwilling to throw away, or even risk misplacing, anything that he had laid his hands on. This applied to most things as well as his records and details, but it was the latter that Gaius attributed to his success in the Roman political sphere where, sad as it was, most of the Novus Homo rising stars and career-minded inheritors alike were no more than political novices, and what was more, did not care to be anything more. His professionalism was almost religiously Pythagorean in its mathematical precision. It made for long nights, tired eyes, ink-stained hands, and cramped offices but Gaius figured that the rewards - Praetor Urbanus and a loving family - more than offset that.

"So sorry about this, it's usually so tidy. Two years in Gaul with slaves and women poking their noses in here and not having as much time as I would have liked..." Gaius mumbled as he cleared away some space from his desk, thinking of the main reasons that he had not had the time to clean up - the main among them the hedonistic nights spent in bed with Aurelia, but surely no need to mention that, especially when he had almost slipped and told of not having long enough nights to bring order to this chaotic Hades...

"Ongetorix! Verilla! Arminius! One of you lazy wretches, fetch my guests some chairs and wine!" Gaius yelled out of his door to clear his thoughts from where they had been straying. He reconsidered for a moment. "On second thought, make that honeyed water. And I'm still waiting for my ink and styli!"

Perhaps Desma had been on them after all, or perhaps Marcia had gotten up from her wedding planning to see to her tata's pleas - Gaius had noticed that Marcia had rather strict, one might even say Catonian, ideas on how to treat the household staff, and while she certainly would not do so with her father's personal servants he had heard Aurelia make an offhanded remark or two since his return that seemed to indicate that her tendencies had grown rather more several as she had matured. No doubt overcompensating for the absence of a Paterfamilias. And he was sure that she would certainly not take well to being interrupted from her wedding plans.

In any case, soon after he had spoken, several of the house slaves appeared, providing the required seats, drinks, and writing utensils for a relieved Gaius. Sitting down in his own office camp chair, he turned, looking at his companions. "Ah, there we are, so sorry. Now, perhaps we can get started here."

He turned to listen to Marcus's proposal, smiling at the younger man when he was done. "So eager to return to Marcia, are you, my boy?" He laughed good naturedly. "But very well, I see no problem with that and like you say, no doubt the ladies will need you for something or the other. There's nothing quite like planning a large celebration to get their hen-pecking instincts up, right boys? Is that fine with you there, Marcellus? Us handling the marriage arrangement first that is, not being henpecked by my wife and daughters, the answer to which I think I can already guess."

Gaius smiled, nodding as he heard Marcellus assent, before fetching his stylus and a wax tablet for a rough draft. "Now then, Marcus. I have some rather nice plots of land in Campania, a three thousand acre olive farm I think you would like not to mention a somewhat smaller but just as profitable wine-grape fields in Apulia..."

The negotiations went on for some time, and finally resulted in Gaius agreeing to give the plots of land to Marcus, along with the slaves to work them and ten thousand sestertii in cash immediately and support in all political endeavors, with the understanding that the latter would be reciprocated by Marcus during Gaius's career, of course. It was an amenable enough transaction, and Gaius was proud to know what a good deal he was driving. Marcia was worth it, and he thanked Caesar mentally for giving him the chance to provide her with a dowry ample and commensurate enough to meet what she deserved.

"All right, then, Marcus. I think that about does us." He held out his hand, shaking his new son-in-law. "At least until the ceremony that the women are no doubt brewing up this moment. I'll have my slaves draw up copies and then run one over to you sometime soon, maybe before you leave." He whistled, and his Greek slave Solon appeared to take the wax tablet, taking it into his adjacent office to begin working on the transcription. As an educated personal slave, it was only natural that he have his own office; it would have been impossible for him to share his master's, and in any case he was a senior slave who would be manumitted soon enough, either way.

Gaius turned back to Marcus. "Well, do you want to join the womenfolk, then? I think you've earned the right to spend some time with your wife. Although with Aurelia there I wouldn't get too many ideas into your head. I mean it, she's liable to sense them even there." He smiled at his son-in-law before turning his attention back to his soon to be adopted son. "And now, my good Marcellus..."

Gaius removed another wax tablet, beginning to work on it, writing in his typical fast shorthand, speaking as he worked. "This shouldn't take as long. A simple adoption contract, usual fare. I agree to formally and legally take you as my son and heir, you formally and legally agree to it, I provide some token financial assistance to your mother which we both know you will just use anyways seeing as she is more than well off...And there."

He passed the tablet over to Marcellus. "Look it over. If you agree to it, I'll draw it up now and we can sign it and be done." He waited patiently, and when Marcellus finally gave his assent, smiled. "Excellent. Come with me." Tablet in hand, Marcellus trailing behind him, they walked into the officer where Solon was working on Marcus's contract.

"Drop that for now, Solon, the way Aurelia and Marcia are at work we'll probably have some time until they'll satisfied enough to have the wedding anyways. This is rather more compelling." He laid the new tablet down before the Greek, who looked it over, before nodding quickly.

"Of course, Domine - Domini, soon, of course," he said, eying Marcellus, before taking out two small papyrus scrolls and getting to work. Soon enough, two identical contracts were before them. Taking some warm wax from the candlelit container kept for just that purpose, Gaius laid a small gob on each one, rolling his signet ring into first his copy, then Marcellus's, leaving the imprint of the Marciae Nervae. He took out two more scoops of hot wax, placing them below his, then moving away so that the younger man could have access. "There you go, my boy, last step."

When it was done, they shook hands, as Solon cooled off the second copy and handing it over to the Domine's new son. "Welcome to the family, son," Gaius finally said, drawing his new son into an embrace. "Come," he continued when he broke. "You must be properly introduced to the rest of the family." Taking him downstairs, he found Marcus with the three women and Desma, where he had left them.

"Girls," he said, addressing Marcia and Aurelila, somehow not wanting to look into Aurelia's eyes at the moment. "So sorry to interrupt, but I would like to introduce you to somebody." He held up Marcellus's copy of the the recently-composed contract.

"Say hello to your big brother, Marcellus Marcius Nerva Flavianus."

 

[Anael]

Edited

Im an idiot and i posted a reply to another thread in this one. Oops.

 

[Esmeralda_Tate]

Aurelilla Nervonis

Aurelilla had made her way down to where her sister was sitting and refused to make eye contact although she could see her expression from the corner of her eyes. She knew what her sister thought of her and the humiliation was enough to send her head down even lower in dispair. Sitting in the chair, she fumbled with her palla until she heard Marcia speak. Dread filled her when she was reminded that their mother would be joining them shortly. She wanted nothing more than to crawl inside a big black hole and hide. Perhaps this family would be better off without her, she thought miserably to herself. Maybe they could get on with their happiness if she wasn't around anymore. She should have never been born. She was a big mistake. She should have been born a boy.

Suddenly she felt human contact. It was something she wasn't used to much. It made her flinch, yet she could have sworn that Marcia was trying to reach out to her. Her voice and tone were much softer this time. Her hands were gentle upon her shoulder, yet she still couldn't bring herself to show much emotion even though deep down she was screaming inside for more interaction. It pained her to be tormented with such conflicting emotions like this. She forced herself to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The touch sent waves into her very soul. She craved it and silently begged for more. She didn't dare let her sister know in any way shape or form that she felt comfort from it. She was already vunerable, and was afraid of being tormented further. If only their relationship remained as though they were still children. She didn't know what went wrong. Of course she believed it was all her fault. Everything was her fault. They were so close, but as time went on, they began to separate and their differences showed. Now she wished that they could rekindle what was lost. She just didn't know how or where to begin.

And so, Aurelilla sat there with a detached expression on her face...

Upon hearing her mothers voice, Aurelilla suddenly jumped slightly and subconciously straightened up in her seat. Words of the upcoming wedding filled the air and Aurelilla couldn't help it when she turned her face slightly, not wanting to take part in the conversation. Jewlery? A new dress? How was that supposed to make her feel any better? The only thing that caused her to even give any sort of reaction was the hint of a promise of another writing kit to replace the one her mother already destroyed. She knew they were empty words. She was just trying to save face in front of Marcia.

Suddenly Aurelilla turned her face and looked her mother straight in the eye. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Marcellus was going to be her big brother? She had mixed emotions about that. She knew that there could never be any sort of relationship between them now, but on the other hand she would potentially have somebody she could talk to. Of course because of her antics the other night out in the garden, she would be watched more closely when Marcellus was around. It wasn't fair that Marcia was blessed to marry Marcus, but she could have nothing to do with Marcellus. She was beginning to think that she was destined to be alone forever. Defeat sunk inside of her once again. It was a big slap in the face.

She heard big heavy boots approaching them as the men came down to where the women were. Lifting her eyes momentarily, she caught a glimpse of the tribune and softly gasped. Here standing before her was her new big brother. "H..hello" she said softly before looking away again. She didn't want her mother to think that she was staring after all. Besides, any feelings that she had for him would have to be extinguished immediately. She would have to learn to stifle all feelings from this moment forward.

She then turned to her mother and sister and thought about the wedding again. With an odd smile she began to speak to them for the first time. "Purple. Yes, purple would look lovely on you Marcia. I think you should go with purple"....

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

The defining feature of the house had always been the constant bustling of life. The sounds coming from the courtyard or the kitchens mingled with those of the house slaves going about their business in the rooms and the atrium. There was always some activity, some sign of life going on in the house.

But to Aurelia’s mind everything but her husband’s words faded into silence, the sentence he uttered sounded like banishment to the Netherworld, every syllable a dagger that penetrated the very essence of her being. She tried to catch his eye, as he led Marcellus Flavius, no that would be Marcellus Marcius Nerva Flavianus, to the table where she and her daughters were seated, beaming with paternal pride at the son that had finally graced his home, and by merit of being made into Gaius’ heir, would secure the name and the line of the Marciae Nervae. She steeled herself, her face a mask of polite interest as she watched, from the corner of her eye the reactions of her daughters’. Marcia’s face betrayed nothing, even though Aurelia knew that her oldest would by now be busy assessing the situation and it wouldn’t surprise her if Marcia had already devised a strategy to handle what was to come. Aurelilla on the other hand was beaming, the smile that so rarely caressed the younger daughter of Aurelia and Gaius’ positively radiant on her porcelain features, mirroring that of Gaius’ own.

Aurelia found herself freezing, the cold realisation that the thing she had feared the most had now been implemented. Her own failings clad in the raiment of Marcellus. There had not been a day gone past since Aurelia’s and Gaius’ wedding that she had not prayed that she would give him the son that he wanted, but neither Venus Birthgiver nor Mother Juno had heeded her prayers. It was not that she could dispute Gaius’ wish, nor do anything to contradict him. He, and the rest of them, needed an heir thus Gaius had acted prudent. Besides Marcellus had proved himself to Gaius during the campaigns, and even though much of her husband’s mind was a closed room to Aurelia, she could easily discern just how much the Marcellus had come to mean to her husband. It was not that she begrudged him the happiness he was experiencing, yet she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Not so much by his choice of making Marcellus Flavius his son, but by herself and her own damned inabilities to provide the thing that Gaius had wanted the most.

She glanced at her husband, seeing a pride and contentment in him that she hadn’t seen in years. It suddenly seemed like a great weight had been taken from his shoulders, and that he stood taller than he had ever done before. Her husband had always been larger than life, at least in her eyes. Aurelia knew of his reputation as a driven commander of Rome’s legions, she knew of the weight his name carried in the Senate, and of his dedication to the welfare of the Republic. Yet all these things had been secondary to the image that he had chose to display in the privacy of their home. While her father had run his household much like she imagined Gaius ran his legion, her husband had a different way of dealing with the people living under his roof. He was gentle, which did not amount to the same thing as being soft. She had witnessed the other side to him as well, although it had never been directed at her, still Aurelia knew that while her husband would never raise his hand in anger at neither her nor their daughters, he would not take lightly to any challenges to his authority. Thus she stood up, forcing a smile to her lips, a smile that never reached her emerald eyes, as she stepped up and went forward to Marcellus, taking his calloused hands in hers. The smell of wine on his breath was as discernable as the ridges on his hands as she took them in hers, looking at him as she spoke.

”I embrace you like a son Marcellus Marcius” the words spoken without any apparent sign of hesitation, nor the kiss that she placed on his cheek, smelling stale wine on his skin as well as the musky trace of sweat, causing her to wrinkle her nose but only for the briefest of moments. Stepping back from him and withdrawing her hands from his Aurelia turned to face Marcus Scribonius. “And you my dear Marcus, your presence here brings us nothing but happiness, which I am sure that Marcia will tell you all about. As a matter of fact,” Aurelia looked at Gaius, offering him a smile before inclining her head a fraction. “Perhaps we ought to let Marcus and Marcia discuss the arrangements together. Marcus, being an honourable man would surely act as custom declares even without a chaperone, wouldn’t you?” She offered her soon to be son-in-law a smile and trailed her eyes to where Marcia was sitting before returning her eyes to meet her husband’s. The nod she got in return confirmed his acceptance of the suggestion.

Looking at Marcus as he walked over to where Marcia was seated, looking less of a husband to be than a supplicant at the court of a queen. No man would ever be able to wholly subdue Marcia’s spirit. Of that Aurelia was certain, and the notion brought at least some comfort to her. She glanced at Gaius again, who had moved to stand by Aurelilla, his hand placed on her shoulder as he continued to beam with pride. No she did not begrudge him the happiness, but Aurelia couldn’t help feeling the familiar stab of hurt as she watched Marcellus sit down nest to them, already striking up conversation with his sister. The image brought new fuel to the dark thoughts that had been with Aurelia since Gaius had declared his intentions for the tribune, and with last night’s proceedings in mind it filled Aurelia with a sense of foreboding, which she immediately chided herself for harbouring. Surely Marcellus was, if not as honourable as Marcus, then at least not as corrupted as to try anything with the girl who was now his sister. Of course he wouldn’t, Gaius had chosen him and no man of her husband’s choosing would ever stoop to such levels.

Aurelia caught her husband’s eye again, offering him a smile. “I will tell the cook to prepare a proper meal for us. It wouldn’t be right if we did not celebrate wouldn’t you agree husband?” He nodded in response, already busy describing Marcellus’ future prospects. It seemed that she wasn’t needed right now, Marcia would master the situation as well as she ever could, if not better even, and as long as Gaius stayed with Marcellus then her fears of what might take place between her daughter and the tribune was being alleviated.

But the hurt still raged within her. The bitter taste of failure and the notion that it was her inabilities that have brought this on to her family. She withdrew quietly, moving through the house towards the sanctum of her bedchamber. Desma would see to that the instructions for supper was being relayed to the kitchens, leaving Aurelia to her own misery. The words of the previous night returned to her mind. “Cursed and thrice cursed!” Because that was the only explanation. Perhaps she had not been pious enough? Perhaps there was some transgression she had committed against the Gods and Parcae alike that had brought this on her. All her hopes had been pinned to the hope that she would be able to bear another child, a son for her husband, but try as she might it would never happen.

She closed the door behind her with a barely audible click and crossing over to her sleeping couch where she sat down. It was not the first time that she found herself secluded, racking her brain for the answer to the recurring question as to why. One thing, and one thing only had been requested of her, and yet she had not managed to meet the unspoken wishes of her husband’s. True enough, she had bore him children but none of them would be able to carry his name. The Marciae Nervae were an older family than her own, and it had been several generations since they had been elevated to the Senatorial class. The Aurelii Orestes on the other hand could not trace their lineage back to such grandeur, which only served to underline the betrayal that Aurelia had committed. Not only to the ancient line of the Marciae Nervae but to the hopes placed with her by the Aurelii Orestes.

Aurelia felt the tears burning in the corners of her eyes, as unbidden as Marcellus Flavius presence had been. Juno knew she had tried; tried to be a dutiful wife and a good mother, and if she had succeeded in one she had definitely failed in the other. Like most married women, Aurelia paid her respects to Mother Juno, as was the proper Roman way. Yet she had begun, and in the privacy of her own head, to revere Isis, The Goddess from the East, the bringer of mercy and the mother of all creation. Perhaps she hoped for some redemption. Isis was known to be merciful, more so than Juno would ever be. Because Aurelia desperately needed it. She had not been a good mother, her dislike for her youngest the most obvious sign of this. She had told herself a million times that in all Aurelilla was blameless, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not distance herself from the fact that it was her birth that had rendered all her hopes null and void.

She heard the door open and close again, soft footsteps walking across the room and not before long she felt Desma’s arms around her. Her mother had done much the same when she had served her. Philippa had been the gentlest creature in the young Aurelia’s life, and the one who had guided her through childhood, youth and finally the blessed state of marriage. When the old woman had left this world, her daughter took up her position, sliding into the void left by Philippa with an ease that bespoke that she had never been meant to do anything else. And in truth she had not. From an early age Desma had been trained in the skills necessary to the power behind the throne in a patrician household. She had become and indispensable part of Aurelia’s life, if not Aurelia herself.

“Perhaps it would have been better if we both had perished then.” Aurelia’s words were hardly more than a whisper as she felt the surprisingly strong embrace envelop her. She needn’t specify whom she meant, the same question had been asked a thousand times already, and Desma replied in the same way as she always did, telling her that the Gods had other plans for them and that it would not serve any good trying to second-guess them. She proceeded, gently pulling the pins from the shoulders of Aurelia’s palla, and beginning to work the knots out of her muscles. It was the usual remedy to Aurelia’s dark moods, a massage and the quiet kindness that was the hallmark of the Greek woman’s relation to her mistress. Slowly Desma’s skilled hands managed to soothe Aurelia, and although the self-blame was still present, it had decreased in strength. The rhythmic motion of Desma’s hands caressing her shoulders causing her to close her eyes as the warmth of the Greek woman’s hands slowly passed on to her skin.

There had been no words spoken between them, not now or the first time that the simple act had progressed into something more. Perhaps it was the way that Aurelia had inclined her head to the side, or the way that her breathing had become just slightly laboured that had been the signal? Then as now, she could feel the soft touch of lips on her exposed neck, placing kisses onto her skin. She sighed at the touch, how tensions rose in her again, but different from the stresses she had been experiencing earlier. Now they owed more to Venus than any other source. Aurelia inclined her head further, pressing her lips against the Greek woman’s as her hands sought the pins of the younger woman’s palla.

She had been ashamed the first time, during one of Gaius’ absences when the strains of governing the household had taken their toll on her. The comfort and consolation that Desma, although much needed, had nonetheless filled her with shame. She had confessed the whole thing to her husband as soon as he arrived home, expecting some kind of punishment for her frivolity, but Gaius had merely smiled, and she guessed that if her husband had been more prone to outspokenness, he would have encouraged it. It was not something brought out of love, at least not from Aurelia, but rather an outlet for the pent-up frustrations that she laboured under. True enough, she treasured her bodyslave, and she would gladly admit to caring for the Greek woman’s welfare in much the same fashion as one would for a treasured mount. Yet it wasn’t love, nor was it strictly an act sexual.

Aurelia lay back again, the sheer material of her palla pulled aside to expose her nudity beneath as the Greek woman expertly trailed the curves of her body with her hands and lips coaxing small gasps to escape Aurelia’s lips in the process. She had no idea as to why it had happened, nor was she inclined to question the rationality behind the act as such. Perhaps it was merely the desire to service her mistress that had motivated Desma’s act, and if so it were to be commended.

She closed her eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she felt the expert touch to her most intimate place. Her fingers entwined in the dark curls of her bodyslave’s hair and her back slightly arched to allow her the access to her folds. It was bliss, gone were the dark thoughts that haunted her, and even if they would be back in force as soon as the afterglow of her climax had faded, this moment proved a respite from them. Oblivious to everything save the ministrations that were given to her, Aurelia hardly noticed the door opening and her husband stepping inside, the hint of a smile on his lips as he leaned down to chastely kiss her forehead, whispering that she might just finish what she was doing before they talked. Thus he sat down next to couch, picking up one of the scrolls that littered the room and began reading, seemingly paying no heed of the act other than the occasional smile, eliciting one of her own in response, and then the spasm as the climax reached the peak, sending shivers down her spine and causing her to gasp as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

Aurelia allowed a few moments to pass, to collect her thoughts and to catch her breath again. She patted Desma’s head, the gesture an attempt to convey the gratitude, the emotion and the bond that they shared and which existed on more levels than the formal mistress and slave relation dictated. She adjusted her palla and sat up, giving her husband a rather bashful smile. “You wanted to talk to me?” Her eyes scanning his face for any implications that her actions earlier had displeased him, that her welcome of Marcellus had not been to his liking. She knew intimately how important the whole issue was to Gaius and even though it felt like she was slowly being cut with a knife she would act with all the dignity that by rights belonged to the matron. “Do tell me is something wrong?”

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Gaius watched, guardedly, as his family reacted to the announcement. Aurelilla was looking like she was as stunned as the October Horse was right before its throat was cut, about as out of place as his usually-vibrant youngest ever could be. He was reminded once more of the incidents of the previous night, and hurriedly put them from his mind. She was a strong girl, a girl with a good heart and he had little doubt that she would get through it. He was glad for a moment that he was positioned so he couldn't tell what was going through his own son's mind and features. Gaius wasn't sure if radiant happiness or a mirroring of his youngest sister's impression would be worst.

Aurelilla's older sister of course was her usually collected, impeccably proper self, and Marcus was...well, he seemed to be acting as much usual as he always did, and why not? This was a family squabble that probably was right over his head, and besides, involved people who were not even his family yet. Gaius was slightly envious for a moment, then shook that off. That was unfair to everyone, Marcus and his womenfolk both. Marcus no doubt had an avid and properly kind interest in what were practically already his relations, and Gaius had never solved any of his problems by running away from them or wishing he were someone else.

Aurelia, on the other hand...On the surface, she appeared to be the most happily, calmly, normally-reacting one of them all in the room. She smiled, leaned down to kiss and embrace his - their, Gaius reminded himself - new son, speaking words of welcome that certainly did not lack in warmth or require any prodding from anyone else to come out. Yet Gaius could tell something was very wrong with her. It didn't matter that he had been away for two years' time; he loved her, they loved each other and had since they had first met. He was perhaps not an exemplary judge of human character but Gaius could without hubris assert that he knew his wife and her moods better than anyone now living, perhaps even better than anyone now among the shades.

And he could tell that something was very wrong with her.

Aurelia was now suggesting that Marcus and Marcia have some alone time together. Despite himself, Gaius had to smile at that. She was mirroring his own thoughts exactly, thoughts that had their origin in the memories of their own courtship, some of which had been rather scandalous indeed, at least by the standards of their day. Of course, Marcia was more impeccably responsible than either of them ever had been in their youth, more than likely. She would not get into any trouble, even if Marcus had been the sort to do that sort of thing. "I think that sounds a splendid idea." He slapped Marcus warmly on the back. "I suggested the same thing earlier. Just no funny business, eh you two?" He laughed as he poked Marcus with his elbow.

His jocular mood ended when Gaius saw Aurelia smiling over at him, telling him that she would go tell the cooking staff to prepare a suitably resplendent feast for the suitably resplendent evening. The pain in her eyes was evident, yet before he could move towards her or make an offer to retire with her, he was distracted by a voice from elsewhere among the assembled family, guests and staff, his wife had gone. Marcia and Marcus also had gone off on their own, and he was alone for once with his son and adopted daughter.

Despite the recent events and the haunting image of Aurelia in his mind, Gaius forced a smile, putting the best spin on recent events for the two. He patted both their backs. "Well, now. Isn't this good. All family now. You two got together so well, I know you will be the best of siblings. Aurelilla, your big brother has been a very great help to me, you know, both in the Senate and in the Army. He and I and your soon to be brother-in-law will go far." He laughed. "It's a shame none of them had brothers, we could make it a truly family affair and have you marry one of them!" He hugged Aurelilla close. "Aww, but don't worry, little hen. Soon enough, suitors will be throwing themselves at me - even if you weren't the most beautiful, most precious woman on the Seven Hills." Gaius kissed his youngest's forehead, then catching sight of Solon, wax tablet in his hands, out of the corner of his eye.

"I need to look after your mother, children," Gaius said, leaning up from Aurelilla. "Perhaps you two could continue planning your sister's wedding? Or not, I'm sure you two have plenty to discuss on your own..."

Gaius left towards his bedroom, pausing only to whisper into Solon's ear to keep a watch on the children, and ignoring the Greek polymath's protest that he was a record-keeper, not a pedagogue. Opening the door, he hardly knew whether the telltale smells or sounds of masturbation reached him first. Smiling slightly, a mix of slight embarrassment and excitement both, Gaius stepped over, kissing her forehead.

"Well, if I knew you were so busy I would have attended to the gardens first. But I suppose I can wait for you to be done."

He sat down in a camp chair near the bed, pulling out a scroll he had left the night before, taken from the office of the Praetor Urbanus at the Theatrum Pompieum. It was a report on the security forces in the city, the Urban Watch mostly, with Ceasar wondering if it would be possible to assemble them into a force for his planned "campaign" against Pompey's forces in the south. The goal was merely to frighten Pompey into abandoning Italy for Greece, where the civil war would be less likely to scare the senators and officeholders in Rome into abandoning Caesar, and for that massive numbers would be preferable. As the march down south and back would not take long, and if all went according to plan they should take no casualties in battle...

Gaius glanced up at his wife as she hit a particularly high note. It was a routine urge that, like all other bodily functions, needed looking after, and that he did himself every once in a while; yet by its very nature, Gaius couldn't help take a bit of a closer interest in his wife masturbating than when she was eating oiled mushrooms or having her hair combed. He felt himself stirring slightly, and forced himself to heel. Doing such things in the day? No, he would control himself, and tonight perhaps...He returned to reading his scroll until he heard the unmistakable sound that Aurelia had finished herself off.

"Indeed I did want to talk to you," Gaius said, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips, not noticing the tool-with-a-voice leave her place. "And I am now rather glad that I did not attend to my weeding first." He smiled at her, quiet for a moment, before leaning in to kiss her again, an action that was not the flirty kiss of before or the passion he felt the first stirrings of inside him, but the sudden outpouring of love that he felt connecting the two of them.

"Mea columba...I am sorry about this. I truly am. I know how it hurts you. I could see it in you, even if you hadn't told me of it. I hope you know me well enough to know that if it was not absolutely necessary for a man of my age and position, I would not even think of subjecting you to this, but in case you need to hear it again...there it is." He stroked her cheek, before sliding into bed next to her, holding her in his arms against her, brushing through her already-disheveled hair.

"I am very, very sorry for making you feel like this, my love. I wish there was no need. Tell me, what can I do to make it up to you? Is there anything?" He looked down at her. "I don't want you to suffer like this forever. I value your love too much to loose it to any slowly festering bitterness." Gaius kissed her cheek once more, shifting to rest his head against her own soft piles of hair.

 

[Anael]

Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus

Without pausing for a moment, Gaius dived straight in. Clearing a space for a wax tablet and grabbing his stylus, he began to draft the marriage contract. Land was top of Gaius’s list of offers and a considerable amount of it too. Campania and Apulia, both South of Rome, offered great potential. The fact that both were not just plots of land, but in one case a huge, up and running, staffed olive farm and the other a vineyard, made their value enormous. He was sure that they would bring in a tidy sum each year. Gaius was reluctant to provide the slaves to run them, but Marcus argued the point that it would be more beneficial to both parties for the slaves to stay. If Gaius had moved them elsewhere they would have needed retraining which was costly and took far too long as most of the slaves were unable to think for themselves.

The political question arose and Marcus was not surprised when the deal on the table was basically “You scratch my back and ill scratch yours”. Supporting each other in the senate would advance both men’s careers and was a sound choice. Marcus also pushed for some financial support to gain him promotion in the senate, which Gaius seemed more than happy to give as a strong high ranking ally would help swing more votes for them.

With the deal sealed, the wax tablet went off for writing out onto parchment. Gaius shook his hand warmly, smiling a true smile, not one of his fake ones reserved for Anthony. “Gaius, I think we have a very successful deal. One that benefits both your family and my new family. Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind Gaius, then I shall join the women and see how things are coming along.”

Marcus made his way from Gaius’ office and into the atrium where his wife to be, mother and sister in law were enthusiastically planning the upcoming ceremony. Well, two of them were throwing ideas back and forth like they were throwing a follis around the room. Aurelillia seemed to be stuck in thought, about what Marcus didn’t know, but he suspected it wasn’t entirely to do with the wedding. Casting his thoughts aside, Marcus made his way over to the ladies and enquired as to their progress, receiving reports from both mother and daughter at the same time. Both went along the lines of, “Very well thank you very much, now don’t distract us.”

Marcus, stood patiently, unable to take his eyes away from his Marcia as she discussed everything from fabrics to flowers and guests to food. In just a few short minutes he could tell that Marcia would be able to run the household without any problems as well as organise any of the parties that he may have to host as a senator. In fact, she could probably run the vineyard and the olive farm at the same time. He was sure she would take a keen interest in the family matters. Those emerald green eyes hid an intelligent mind.

Before he could form any ideas, particularly the ones Gaius had warned him to avoid, the master of the house returned to announce his son and heir, Marcellus. As the news was announced, Marcus saw the reactions on the ladies faces. Aurelia, a flicker of sadness, or was it disappointment and then the mask of composure and a little smile. Aurelillia, confusion and Marcia, just a blank expression.

Aurelia was soon greeting the new, or almost new, members of her family. He smiled at her kind words of acceptance as she took his hands in hers, then she shared a look with her husband and suggested they retire to another room. Receiving a slap on the back from Gaius, Marcus moved over to where Marcia was sitting and stood by her, looking down at the wax tablets and fragments of cloth spread in front of her.

The head of the house and his wife departed for their private chambers leaving Marcus and Marcia, and Aurelillia and Marcellus alone. Looking down over Marcia’s shoulder, her hair flowing down her back, her hand just resting on the table, Marcus almost reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. Etiquette and rules came back to him and he restrained himself and settled himself onto a couch beside her.

“Marcia my dear. Your father has given us the Olive farm in Campania and the vineyard in Apulia as a wedding gift. Is that not a most generous offer? They will provide for us for many years to come. It has also occurred to me that we must see to it that you have enough slaves at home. At the moment there is just Falco and the lictors and I know we will need more so I would very much like it if you and your mother would ensure that all is seen to. I will come along and pay but since it will be your household to run I feel you should be the one to choose.”

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia Nervonis

“Yes, I will do as requested,” Marcia replied staring at the ceiling. “It is a most logical decision, Marcus. You are a very intelligent man to be so considerate.”

The weight of her braided pile of crimson waves and fresh water pearls pulled her face to the heavens. Internally, she asked the gods that rested there why they would drive her father to such ends. Had he no heart to know the minds of those that protected his house and name in all his years of absence? This decision would break their house. Dark clouds were collecting on the horizon. Mother ran to the safety of her chambers. Aurelilla snapped into perfection. Marcia turned to ice. Had father never read the Medea? No, she guessed those stories were not for battlefields. Somehow, she doubted Aurelilla or even her beloved mother had the stomach to deal with this appropriately. She needed to go to Aurelilla. An unnatural cold pumped through her veins making her blood thick and her motions slow. She could feel Marcus behind her. She did not have time for marriage right now. Her father had lost his mind. Her spine stiffened to a proper seating position. Her face refused to thaw, but her voice warmed like fresh honey calling to the bees. She felt him take his seat beside her.

“How wonderful that the lands are secured, my darling,” she stated turning around to face him. “Being such a clever negotiator and noble man, I know my honorable husband-to-be must have bound my father’s support in all your political bids?”

Completing the seated turn on the couch toward him, Marcus eyes infringed on hers like in the courtyard. He sought to bond with her. He wanted to enslave her like the wood nymph in the fresco. One hand twisted in the other at the prospect of intimacy. While her body was his by contract, no one was allowed inside her thoughts. Stop that! she wanted to scream. However, she must walk the thin line every woman before her did. Before the formals, he must be pleased with her in every way. Therefore, with little effort, she softened her eyes into two emerald pools and let the faintest smile touch her painted lips. It was impossible to read someone’s thoughts, wasn’t it? She tilted her head to the right as she listened to his response. Her eyes drifted to his hair while it wrestled the light. His thick mane burned a fiery red.

“Of course, I never doubted you,” she mumbled distracted. Quickly, she became indecently aware of him. The pulse in his neck throbbed with each beat of his heart. The swell of his bottom lip danced with the motion of words and his tongue rolling in the darken interior of his mouth. The thick square jaw moved up and down. His tongue thrust and moved. Marcia’s mouth went dry and she shifted uncomfortable on her bench. Her cold blood warmed as it pooled in an excessive heat between her legs. The wind picked up a piece of his hair and brushed it over his cheek. His fingers pushed the hairs back behind his ear. Marcia jumped up as if a snake had struck her ankle. Rounding the table, she stopped once she had created a safe distance. A flash of red colored both her cheeks. The jingle of her hair jewelry sounded much louder in the fresh silence. Her robes crushed down on her ribs reminding her to straighten her posture.

“I would appreciate it if you would stop doing that,” she said indigently. “My parents may have left us alone. However, I am a moral and untouched woman.”

On the eve of their wedding, her future husband was working some kind of charm on her to make him irresistible. He must have gone to a temple or to one of those shops. It was a charm, she thought. An epiphany struck her like lightening. A woman could not be blamed for her actions when under a spell. She looked at the man across the table with broad shoulders and noble robes exuding power. She was to be his wife. She was to obey him and serve him. With a new light in her eyes, she protested again for good measure if later confronted with her actions.

“I am a moral woman,” she whispered while staring into those eyes.

Marcus stood on the other side of the table with his arms slightly spread. It could have been with confusion or in invitation. Marcia had never been alone with a man. She did not know. However, she knew he must have put those thoughts into her head. He wanted, no, expected her, to do something. Grabbing the edge of the table, she crawled on top pushing the material samples and tablets to the floor. She pulled up her robes to press bare knees to the table and placed her palms down. The tightly bound cloth around her ribs ripped with the pressure of her folded position. The dress loosened and gapped at the neck as she slinked down the table with her round ass thrust into the air. The distance she had created closed in one slow crawl to him. With dark eyes, her hands left the cold marble top and wrapped around his neck. She looked into his face for protest, but found nothing but approval. So, she slowly traced up his jaw with her open mouth to his ear. Her fingers dug into his beautiful hair. His hands burned through her dress as they pressed into her. With hot breath and a pounding heart, she said the most seductive thing she could think of.

“Tell me about your ambition. Tell me who we will become.”

 

[Anael]

Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus

Marcus’s eyes locked on Marcia’s. You could tell a lot about a person from their eyes and they sometimes gave away their inner thoughts and emotions more than people would have thought. Her face froze and her eyes went cold, had he done something wrong? Then her emerald eyes softened and her face began to smile.

“Marcia, do you not trust me to do what’s best for our family?”

Her eyes became distant as she mumbled a reply, she was looking at him but her mind was thinking of something else. The light caught on her hair and his eyes drank in the rich colour of her hair, the way it flowed over her shoulders and down towards her breast. Her heart beat could be seen pulsing in her chest and her breathing fascinated Marcus as he watched her chest rise and fall. The wind caught his hair and he brushed it back out of his eyes.

The silence and closeness of the moment was broken with a crash of jewelery as Marcia jumped up and moved around the table.

“I would appreciate it if you would stop doing that. My parents may have left us alone. However, I am a moral and untouched woman.”

Marcus was shocked, he hadn’t said anything not proper with the current status of their relationship and he hadn’t laid a finger on her. Looking into her eyes once more, Marcus could see she was in new territory, experiencing emotions she had not had before, so he sat silently, his eyes gently watching her as she played with her hands. She looked up at him, locked eyes and whispered.

“I am a moral woman,”

He rose, keeping his eyes on her and gently opened his arms, meant as a sign of forgiveness and understanding, asking her to come to him. Instead of making her way around the table, his wife to be decided to mount it and scramble across its surface. She lifted her robes up to her knees so as to be able to move easier and started to crawl across the marble surface. Samples of material being cast aside as she closed the distance. The cloth was not designed to be worn in such a way and it soon ripped across her chest. The folds of material loosened and Marcus could see shadow of Marcia’s breasts pressing against the fabric that had been holding them tight against her chest. After what seemed like an age, she reached him, lifted her arms and wrapped them around Marcus’s neck. He lifted is eyes from the rips in her robes and looked into hers, watching her face, looking for a sign of what she was thinking. If anything there was happiness and love and as their eyes locked he smiled gently at her.
Placing his hands on her sides and drawing her nearer, Marcus felt her breath on his cheek as she slowly moved her lips to his ear. He could feel her pulse through her robes as her heart pounded inside her breast. His own felt like it was drumming in his ears. The in what can only have been a whisper, Marcus heard and felt Marcia ask him about the future.

Leaning forwards, Marcus slowly moved his lips down towards her neck and then up to her ear, his breath hot against her skin, her hair brushing against his face.

“I will be made consul when Caesar has put the Republic to rights. You, ….. my dear, ……will be the first lady of Rome.” Marcus gently kissed her cheek and paused before continuing. “Our family shall prosper and you will be the paramount to which women shall jealously look.

Marcus’ hands caressed Marcia’s sides as she absorbed his prediction of the future. He knew he was treading a thin line as far as what was allowed and what was not when it came to his wife to be. Deciding to take the chance while he had it, Marcus ran a hand up Marcia’s robes and placed it over her heart, still beating hard beneath her breast. He could feel her nipple through the cloth against the palm of his hand.

“We shall be the founders of the dynasty that will shape the fate of Rome herself.”

Marcia’s breath was hot on his neck as her head rested on his shoulder. He waited for what seemed like a lifetime and then withdrew his hand before giving a firm smack on her round ass.

“Now, get off the table before your parents catch us and your father has me fed to the lions.”

 

[Britwitch]

Desma

The motivation behind her actions was hard to pinpoint, just as it had been the first time she had lain with Aurelia in such a fashion. She had never performed such things before and had only heard of them in whispers and yet everything had come so very naturally to her. Her fingers and lips guided by some unseen force, one which Desma did not begin to try and fathom. Nevertheless, she sensed the need for comfort in her mistress and found her body responding in the best and only way she now knew.

It began with soft kisses to her neck, then moving around to her collarbone and then higher, to accept the kisses Aurelia’s lips offered her. Barely aware of her own clothing being removed, Desma’s fingers stroked Aurelia’s soft smooth skin, peeling away the material between them to allow her mouth access to the flesh beneath it. Grazing her flesh, kissing almost chastely were it not for the places the kisses were landing, moving down over waist and hip, nuzzling affectionately at her breasts and nipples before descending between her thighs. Tongue gently seeking the source of warmth inside her mistress’ body.

Then she found it, that soft, small nub of pulsing heat, her lips and mouth focusing upon it, lavishing it with attention, almost worshipping it. The sound of Gaius’ voice only just reached Desma’s ears as Aurelia’s thighs moved closer around her head, elegant fingers entwined into her hair, urging her onwards without a word being spoken. Once again the measure of a good slave, knowing what her mistress wanted before she even spoke it. As eager and desperate to please as she was in all her duties, Desma could not displease Aurelia now. Doubling her mouth’s actions upon her most intimate of places, Desma’s fingers gently stroked and rubbed Aurelia’s thighs, taking her ever closer to release.

Then it came, that shuddering rush that captured Aurelia for a few moments, her hips pressing up insistently towards Desma’s mouth. Rewarding her efforts with the sweet tasting accompaniment to her climax. They stayed for a moment or two, Aurelia recovering from the heights Desma had just taken her to and Desma carefully rearranging her palla so as not to offend master Gaius with her nakedness when she moved.

Aurelia’s gentle pat to her head was the unspoken command that her services were completed for now. Desma carefully extricated herself and moved across the bedchamber like shadows across the garden at night, silent and barely noticeable. That was why she maintained the position she held so dearly, she did all that was required of her to the best of her ability.

Closing the door to the bedchamber as quietly as she could, she headed for her own modest chambers. She felt no shame in what she shared with her mistress, she had at first but not once she knew it was almost approved of by Gaius, but she knew that to linger when the master of the house wished to speak with her would be unforgivable.

Reaching her own room, Desma paused to cleanse her face with water, subconsciously licking the remnants of her mistress’ pleasure from her lips before doing so. She adjusted her palla so it was more suitably arranged and would not give the impression she had been doing anything save her usual duties and paused to repin her hair, putting back the curls Aurelia’s fingers had dislodged during their brief encounter.

Sighing, Desma headed towards the kitchen for although no instruction had actually been given to her, she knew the family’s guests would no doubt be requiring refreshments before long and so began preparations for wines and a light meal to be taken to them, after all, that was her responsibility and she could not satisfy her duties in her mistress’ chamber only to ignore those outside of it. That simply would not do.

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

As the other members of his adopted family excused themselves and drifted away to other parts of the house, Marcellus found himself alone in the echoing atrium with Gaius’ youngest daughter.

The girl kept her gaze lowered. Her hands fidgeted with the bodice of her gown until she stilled them; clasping them tightly under her bosom. To Marcellus it seemed that the temperature of the cool room had suddenly risen. The air between them seemed to shimmer and crackle as though with invisible flame. He felt his colour rise and looking away he noticed the old slave that Gaius had spoken with briefly on leaving. The man was loitering; watching them with carefully feigned disinterest. Marcellus found that he needed to clear his throat before speaking and then the words came out in a flood - too loud and strident in the hushed chamber.

“Well, Lady… I suppose I should call you sister… Perhaps you could show me your beautiful house and tell me more of your illustrious family. I feel, already that I will have a great deal to live up to.”

He took her arm and steered her to a couch in one of the ala; the narrow wings that opened off the wide central space. The ala was partially screened by palms and hung with rich tapestries so Marcellus hoped that they might escape Solon’s ear – if not his eye.

A newcomer he was but Marcellus was not such an insensate brute as to be oblivious to the more overt dynamics of the Marcia Nervae household. It was clear that Aurelila did not favour him. Marcia was harder to read but the ill feeling between the two sisters - and Aurelilla’s unhappiness - was as plain as a wine stain on a senatorial toga.

Marcellus needed an ally, as did Aurelilla. The powerful, breathless attraction between them made him bold and once they were seated he spoke again, his voice low and soft.

“Aurelilla, I will speak plainly and you must forgive me but it is all I know how to do. I hope we can be friends…. good friends! And good friends should be able to talk openly to each other… on any subject. It is my wish to learn about your ancestors and their deeds in the service of the Republic and I am sure I will, all in good time… but for now I am much more interested to know of you!”

He lowered his head to hers, hoping to capture her eyes.

“You spoke last night about having no-one to talk to; about feeling alone in this big house, despite having your family around you. I would know the reasons why! You must confide in me and I will be as a brother to you – nay, more than a brother! I will guard your secrets as carefully as mine – all of which you too will learn. But, more than this, from this moment forward I take up your cause as my own! Your enemies are my enemies. An injustice to you is an affront to me. Henceforth, my body and my sword are yours to command and I will lay down in my life’s blood before allowing any to harm you! Now come, tell your brother what troubles are great enough to mar such a lovely brow and clothe your fragile heart in sadness?”

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia Nervonis

The air crackled around her skin like a dream that had broke free into the light. Hot breath caressed her neck while his palm cupped her breast. Hungrily, she cursed the thin gauze that kept her bare need from feeling him completely. Her pink nipple hardened into a searing red ache. The puckered nub burned into his promising hand. Whispers of power and prosperity slithered into her ear and fertilized her greedy imagination with jewels, coins, elaborate gowns, grand homes, exquisite travel and power to destroy her enemies. Aristocratic women who did not even know her name now would soon envy and scurry like rats for her acknowledgement. The eyes that did not meet hers now would one day lower and cower in her presence. The fine hairs on her body rose in wicked waves of knotted skin. White lightening clashed inside her chest striking the natural hot spring bubbling between her legs. The fiery red hair crowded around the tiny pink folds glistening and swelling with anticipation. Gasping for contact, the virginal hole flexed to open and spread for his invasion. A great emptiness devoured her womb screaming out for his seed. Pushing her knees wider in her kneel, her back arched out her hind under his embrace hoping the free hand would slip down into her pulsing wet slit and make the pain go away. Cruel time stretched out a small eternity torturing her with proximity without penetration.

Suddenly, a firm hand struck her bottom quick and hard. The contact snapped her dazed green eyes open and in his face. A red print rose in heat outlining the long fingers on her full romp. The pain popped like a thousand tiny stars dancing over her cheek. Not since she was a child has anyone dared to strike her in such a fashion. Even then, she had been known to bite the leg of the disciplinarian in feisty retribution. However, the blow from her future lover differed in its delivery. It showed divine order to their design. Rather then smiling least it be conceived as disrespect, she bit her bottom lip into a hurt pout. The superstitious thoughts or charms and spells were dismissed by her mind as she looked into his eyes. Plato wrote of the jealousy of the gods when humans had been one perfect creature. Splitting perfection into two and sprinkling the halves to wind, the gods thought the need for them would surpass the need for the other halfling. The gods had under estimated them. The other half returned to her. With Marcus, she would be complete. Even the gods would fear their union.

“Now, get off the table before your parents catch us and your father has me fed to the lions.”

“Yes, Marcus,” she said respectfully. “Anything you wish or desire will be my pleasure. For you, I will hold my place.”

Slipping down off the table, she came to stand beside him. Her dress split and wild curls fell free from the usually tight design. Although she attempted to keep her normally proper disinterest, the glow of fresh love painted admiration tinged with desire on her facade. A small laugh lifted up into the air when she looked down. Grabbing the split fabric, she twisted it into a knot over her bare cleavage. Her other hand grabbed the mess of curls escaping down her shoulders. Despite her disarray, she did not want to part from his company - not now, not ever. The words hurried out her lips without thought.

“My body craves to bear your son,” she said bluntly. “I will be a good wife. Do not hold my actions against me. Women suffer hysteria when the womb gets away with her. No other man has or will ever have such an effect on my countenance. Please excuse me. I must call on the slaves to correct my disrepair. I would not wish my father to visit wrath upon you for my lack of control.”

She paused for a moment wrestling with an idea. While it may not have been in good taste or something her paragon of a mother would have approved, she let the words flow from her like a determined stream pushing through the rocks of repression.

“I believe we already one by nature of our creation and not by the contracts men keep. The ceremony serves only to satisfy society with a public declaration. If you were to come upon me in the nights before the wedding, I am already your wife and would not deny you your husbandly rights. Again, I must go now before I discovered in such a state.”

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

Aurelia lay in silence as she felt her husband's arms envelop her. The light of the room had gradually faded, making it hard for her to see Gaius' face properly. She moved closer, burrowing her head in the nook between his shoulder and neck, the gesture an attempt to convey what she felt but was unable to communicate in words. How could she possibly tell him that in his son she saw nothing but her own failures as a woman a wife and a mother incarnated. Perhaps it was her penance for her previous sins, a way of balancing the debts she had incurred with the gods. Then again, Aurelia also feared that Marcellus would come to mean more than the constant reminder of her own transgressions. In truth she feared that he would be instrumental in undoing the Marciae Nervae.

Aurelia gently withdrew, looking at her husband's worried features through the shadows that surrounded them. She knew he expected an answer, or at least some reaction that bespoke her understanding of his concession. She could not readily imagine many men in his position actually asking their wife's forgiveness for doing what was only prudent, but then again their marriage had been something out of the ordinary. Aurelia leaned closer, pushing her lips to his in a kiss that lasted only a brief moment before she pulled away.

Sitting up on the edge of the sleeping couch and arranging her palla towards something that resembled the strict style she usually wore. She would need to see to her hair as well, it would not do to be seen being less than perfect, especially not now. Aurelia could feel Gaius' eyes at her back, and as he reached out to caress her naked arm she knew he was expecting an answer. Curse to the Parcae for having dealt her this fate, but there was nothing to it. Aurelia could just as well try and change the journey of Sol than refraining from telling her husband what ailed her.

"What matters my feelings in the great scheme of thing?" She turned around, leaning her weight on her arm as she sought his eyes. "Marcellus holds a special place in your heart and I cannot say that you have done anything differently from what any other man in your position would have done yet..." She bit her lip as she looked at the ceiling, the patterns that the artist had painted there seemed to be spinning, reforming in new and less pristine ones than intended. "I fear that he will not be what you desired, he is not of your blood Gaius, and while he is now your son I do not think that the law can instill in him the character that you have. Perhaps..." Once again Aurelia hesitated. It was not a rational thing to say, no she ought to have kept her peace and pretended that all was well, but Gaius had asked her to speak her mind. Perhaps she was straining his patience, Juno knew that he had been lenient with her to an extent that other men would not. Her own father would have given her a solid thrashing twice over if she had ever dared speak her mind like this with him. Then again, Gaius was different from Titus Aurelius. Her husband had never had the need to affirm his authority by the application of force, he had believed that one achieved the same goals by gentleness, which was not to be confused with weakness. Gaius Marcius was anything but weak. He had a noble bearing and not even the double disappointment of hers had shaken his temper nor his approach towards her or the girls. It was with this in mind that Aurelia did not speak directly, but she also felt the overwhelming need to voice her thoughts lest they fermented and turned her into something which she was not. There was an internal struggle before prudence won and she turned back, offering her husband a conciliatory smile.

"I am sorry, I don't know what got into me. Will you forgive me?" She offered him another smile as she got up from the couch. "Besides you have other things that needs addressing than listening to an old woman's rants." Aurelia smiled again, self-depreciatory as she glanced at the polished bronze mirror. "I'm sure that everything will work out the way you planned it and no you haven't hurt me in any way." She knew that he had seen through the rather shallow lie that she had offered him as an explanation yet both pretended that it had not been such. Still Aurelia couldn’t stop herself from running her hand over her lower abdomen. She realized what she had done, and felt her cheeks redden in response, the brittle fiction which they had created now running close at being shattered. Aurelia had never claimed to be a person of extraordinary virtue or character, and the failure of hers made the realization even bitterer. A man, a soldier, who was defeated had surely done something to enrage the Gods. A woman who failed her first duty to her husband, her family and to Rome must be equally cursed. Yet for a man there was always the honourable option of taking one’s life. That particular part was closed to her.

“I’d better get ready and have words with Grumio regarding dinner” She pushed a lose strand of hair out of her face and inclined her head to the side, watching herself critically in the matted reflection of the bronze. “And also make sure that our daughters are not behaving in a way that is not proper.” For the first time during their conversation Aurelia’s features showed the trace of a genuine smile. “I distinctly remember a young man from a Senatorial family who was quite eager when courting his bride to be.”

She watched Gaius’ smile in response, Juno be thanked for his gentle manners, it was rare to see him angered for any longer periods of time. Besides the mention of his own courtship was likely to lighten his mood. It was not that Gaius had been scandalous in any way, but the eagerness that they both had displayed would not have endeared them in the eyes of their families. Aurelia could still feel the familiar terror she had experienced then that Titus Aurelius or Aulus Marcius would find out what had transpired between herself and Gaius.

“I really need to see to the details of tonight and you my brave husband ought to be furthering your own and your family’s interests, which I might add, you do not by loafing around as a barbarian Prince in the middle of the day.”

Aurelia gently patted his hand before sweeping regally from the bedchamber. Their argument had ended as they usually did, in the unspoken compromise never to touch upon the very thing that at least in Aurelia’s mind, spelled disaster not only for her but for her family as a whole. She shook her head as she went through the marble corridors, her steps closely followed by the ever-present Desma who informed her that the preparations for the evening was already seen to. She headed out to the atrium where she found one half of the missing quartet. Marcia and Marcus both seated and both of them bearing the tell-tale flustered look that bespoke that more than mere conversation had taken place.

“It seems that a seem has broken Marcia.” Aurelia spoke carefully, choosing not to comment on the unruly state of her daughter’s hair, nor the fact that both she and Marcus Scribonius looked somewhat ill at ease by her presence. “Why don’t you go and change into something else. It doesn’t look good that a daughter of Gaius Marcius has to walk around in tatters. Besides I’m quite certain that dear Marcus does not wish his wife to be exposing herself in such a fashion. “

Aurelia reached out for the jug of fruit juice and poured herself a cup of the cool liquid as she watched Marcus straightening a crease in his toga and taking a seat opposite from her. He was a decent sort, so very unlike his father who had been a right terror. Aurelia had only seen Marcus Scribonius the Elder from a distance, but that had been quite enough. How strange it was that the son did not emulate those traits.

She put her cup down and offered her son-in-law to be a smile and a nod. “You needn’t worry about what happened, although I think it would be prudent not to let Gaius know of it just yet. Then again if you would grace him with a grandson I’m sure even he would overlook what happened.” Aurelia lowered her tone and winked “and if he were to make a fuss you could always remind him of his own less than subtle courtship.”

Aurelia was about to continue, seeing the smile on Marcus’ features when she was interrupted by Hermes. The gatekeeper looking as harried as was his habit when something out of the ordinary took place, and since Gaius’ elevation to Praetor it had been an all too recurrent feature. The small man wringed his hands as he explained his presence.

“I’m sorry Domina but there is a messenger from the Consul himself asking to see the Domine. I do not wish to disturb the Domine seeing as he has retired and…”

Aurelia nodded to one of the servants in attendance. “Do fetch the Domine, and Hermes let the man in. It does not look good if a messenger of the Consul’s have to wait outside like a simple tradesman. Now snap to it!” A few moments later a scribe bearing the Consul’s mark of ownership around his neck entered and made his reveries. Gaius had come to join them, standing behind Aurelia as he nodded for the slave to speak his errand.

“Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of Rome, Imperator of the Gallic Legions, Pontifex Maximus, Son of Venus conveys his best salutations to the Praetor Nerva. He also wishes to inform the Praetor of his intentions to come and dine with you at the seventh hour. The Consul further wishes to discuss a more close alliance between the Praetor and himself in order to strengthen the Republic.”

The slave nodded deferentially as he had delivered the message, and refusing to impart any other information. As the slave was dismissed, Aurelia got up, and running her hand through her hair. It was one thing arranging a family supper, but having the Consul as a guest. After all, Caesar was the man who effectively ruled Rome now and it wouldn’t look good if the reception was less than perfect. Aurelia turned to Desma who already had the wax tablet ready. There were things that needed be bought, and dishes to be prepared. She gave Gaius an apologetic look as she turned to Desma. "We need to have these things arranged." Aurelia gave the instructions as she walked across the house back to her chambers. She would need a quick bath and re-do her make-up and chose a new dress. "Do find the girls as well and impress with them just how important this is. I want to see them both in the bath."

 

[Esmeralda_Tate]

Aurelilla Nervonis

Aurelilla found herself trembling slightly when she and Marcellus were alone in the Atrium. She knew this was forbidden, yet she couldn't bring herself to walk away. She was drawn to the older man. He was like a father figure to her, someone who could possibly take care of her. Oh, what was she thinking? Her mind always ran away with silly notions. She had such an imagination. This man before her was now her legal brother and she was to act appropriately. Still though, she couldn't help it when her heart beat rapidly in her chest when he spoke to her.

She kept her eyes lowered but she watched his strong hands as he moved closer to her on the couch. His voice was strong and full of confidence. She felt so tiny in comparison to him. She knew that Solon was in the vacinity, but most likely wouldn't be able to see or hear anything.

Marcellus wanted to learn about her and her family. Well what was she to say? Shrugging a bit she shifted in her seat and brought her hands together wringing them nervously. "I am sure you know plenty of my family and now that we are siblings, I am sure you will find out even more as time goes on." She was clearly uncomfortable and she was sure that he could sense it.

She struggled with what to say next. Her mouth twisted with unformed words. It was then that she looked up to his face for the first time. He was so handsome with a perfectly chiseled face and powerful jaw. She blushed as his eyes gazed at her intensely. "Please forgive me" she said shyly and turned away towards the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"We should not be meeting like this Marcellus. The last time we were together I was scolded by my parents. My mother did not find it appropriate. We are just brother and sister now. Thats all. Just brother and sister." Her voice trailed off and suddenly sadness took hold of her beautiful features. Her lips trembled as if she were about to cry and her eyes turned glassy. It was a cruel joke. Her father promised her suitors that would eventually lead to a marriage, yet she knew that Marcellus would not be one of them. She couldn't help the jealous feelings that surfaced when she thought about Marcia and Marcus. They would bring forth beautiful children and make her parents proud. Aurelilla on the other hand would only bring shame. She didn't know what she did to deserve this. Perhaps she should have never been born, or better yet she should have been born a boy. Her mother would have held her with high regard, but it was not to be. Aurelilla just hoped that whenever she did marry that she would be able to provide her husband with a son.

After a few minutes Marcellus began to speak again. This time his words got to her core and her emotions were brought back to the first time they met. She did speak of lonliness then and not having anybody to confide in. He was offering her the chance to speak and he would listen. Her pain became his pain. Her battles, his. Oh it sounded so beautiful and grande and she wanted nothing more than to trust him and confess all her pain. When she turned back to face him again there was hope in her eyes. Maybe they could have a life together. Maybe he could convince her father to let it be so. Aurelilla was always the one to be hopeful even during a time of war.

Her breathing was increasing causing her chest to rise rapidly. She leaned in a bit taking in his scent as her nostrils flared with each breath. "I have no one. I am all alone. I was never wanted. I should have never been born." She began but quickly stopped. She feared that she had told too much. Standing up she took a few steps back from him and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "I am sorry my brother. Forget that I even said such things. We cannot speak like this again. Please." Aurelilla was deeply troubled. She was so petrified of having her mothers wrath once again. She wanted to please her, she had to put her feelings aside for the man. It was such a conflict that was tearing her apart. She almost ran out of the room and in doing so, she knocked over a small plant that was on a table. Thank goodness the soil didn't go everywhere. Bending down she put it back up but Marcellus could see her hands as they trembled mercilessly. "We must not speak like this again. We must not" she repeated. A single tear fell down her face. "You are my brother now. Thats all you are, my brother. That doesn't change a thing. I will still always be alone. Nobody can save me" Before leaving the room she turned back around to look at him one last time and she couldn't hide the desperation in her eyes.

When she was finally clear out of his presence she pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She could hear voices and they were getting closer. Wiping her face clean and straightening up her hair she was suddenly greeted by Desma who informed her that she needed to get ready for guests and a big feast. She was confused as to who would be coming over tonight, but she was pleased with the idea of taking a bath. Her tears could fall into the water and nobody would know the difference...

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Gaius held Aurelia in his arms, touched by her wordless response to his question on what ailed her. Some men, most in fact, would probably have grown irritated by the lack of a verbal reply of any sorts. But Gaius had grown used to his wife's ways in the decades he had enjoyed his union with her. When she was upset, it usually was not with words that she replied. In fact, she usually did not reply at all, preferring to keep it sealed within herself, building up the pressure like one of the fire mountains of Sicilia. When Aurelia cuddled against him, Gaius took the gesture for what it was, at least what he hoped it was: her feeling comfortable enough, even after his long absence, to take some sort of solace from his touch.

Aurelia pulled away, looking at him, but he kept his hand draped around her shoulders. The dying light of Sol and the ruddy flames now being lit around the domus by the staff illuminated her from behind, her hair - mostly piled on her head, with some wisps loose and hanging around her - catching the light like the crown of Helios. Gaius had always loved her dark, thick hair, and had a sudden longing to run his fingers through it, carefree like their youth. But Aurelia would have a time of it having it put right the way it was, and he doubted she would enjoy the extra time it would take her bodyservant to finish off any more destruction he added to her elaborate ringlets. So instead, Gaius lightly rubbed the nape of his wife's neck, dropping down to her arm and she leaned in to kiss him lightly before pulling further away, once more working to rebuild the image of matronly sternness.

Gaius frowned slightly at his wife's words, not because of the way she spoke of Marcellus - rather, it was, but more due to the fact that he secretly agreed with her, at least on some level. Of course, it was too late to reverse himself now, not that he had had any other options (which had been why Marcellus had been chosen, and with such haste, in the first place); and more to the point, Gaius had never been a strong adherent to the school of human behavior put forward by such dour pessimists as Cato or Cynic. He tried to believe in the best of people, that they could reform, that they were inherently good.

But that did not fully erase his worries over his new son's behavior. Nor did it make him overlook that Aurelia was once more succumbing to her bouts of melancholia.

"How can I forgive you when you have done nothing wrong?" Gaius asked, smiling at her as he bypassed the issue with Marcellus that she brought up, not wanting either to give his own doubts the forum in which to rise or give her another chance to feel - as she likely would - that he was somehow depreciating her by mentioning a son. "And how can you not be assured of your own place in my heart, a place that occupies the highest throne?" She offered a light lie in response about her feelings, and he smiled tightly. He was more than willing to accept it there, seeing as he did not want to press the issue. It wasn't callousness or disinterest; quite the opposite. Aurelia was in a mood where to follow up on the lie would likely reduce her to a very low state, something that Gaius certainly did not want. He would address it with her later, no doubt in the warm afterglow after a session of exercising their marital prerogatives to settle both of their feelings and to reassure them both of their love.

It was then that he saw her hands on her lower abdomen, over her womb. Gaius looked away, both to spare his own feelings and to offer Aurelia a chance to continue her fiction, however reassuring it was or was not by this point.

"Indeed, Grumio. Very right." Gaius grasped at the exit option Aurelia voiced, then smiled at her mention of their courtship. "Oh? I remember that young man very well. I also recall the young maiden in question, who always seemed to make sure that every time she said 'no' she added just enough to flirtation to keep her true intentions hazy."

Gaius was glad to see Aurelia smile back, kissing her hand as she whirled out of their room. Gaius lay down on the bed, now empty but still holding his wife's warmth, the trace of her scent. He stretched, laughing at the image of himself as a barbarian prince. An Eastern potentate, no doubt; one of the corrupt Hellenistic kingdoms that had sprung up in the wake of Alexander and by now were little better than Persian eunuch-princes. Fancy that, a Roman general like he cavorting in the East, worshiping animals and marrying dusky-skinned barbarian women...He laughed again. Surely such a thing could never happen.

There were strange noises outside now, an obvious outsider and one with the commanding voice of a Senate public-service slave. Gaius stepped out of his room just as the slave, no doubt dispatched by his wife, was hurrying in to fetch him, breathlessly saying that a messenger from the Consul had arrived and was insisting to speak with him. Gaius hurried out, the slave behind him, arriving in the atrium as the Senate slave began to speak his message.

"Of course...of course, tell Caesar that we'll be more than happy to be host to him," Gaius said, addressing the Consul in the familiar way that years of service with him had bred. The seventh hour will be more than fine, won't it, dear?" he addressed Aurelia, more telling her than asking. When any senior politician chose to visit - even without him being the Pontifex Maximum and undeclared Dictator of the Republic - one always had dinner at the time he preferred.

When the slave left, he could only turn to Aurelia with a look of confused awe on his face. "Caesar? Coming here? I'm glad to know I made such an impression on him, but...He already knows he has my support. We don't have any money to offer him, at least not in the sums he would need. Why in the world..."

He noticed the look on Aurelia's face and nodded, quickly, not laughing for once. "Yes, of course. I know the arrangements will be in good hands with you, my dear." He kissed Aurelia on the cheek, and then turned to Marcus. "You're more than invited, of course. If it's too long back to your villa, then you are more than welcome to borrow one of my tunics. Just talk with one of the slaves about it. My house is yours in the meantime." He turned to one of the slaves. "If Marcellus is still here, extend my son the same courtesies. I...will be in my office. There are several things I should be thinking over."

Gaius patted Marcus on the shoulder, then walked out of the atrium. He could hear his daughters' voices coming from the baths, and idly wondered where Marcellus was. Certainly not there, at least; not even he could be that bold. In his office, Gaius sat down, thinking. Caesar coming here could be for any specific reason out of a thousand, but in the end it boiled down to two things: something beneficial or detrimental to him. He thought he was in Caesar's good graces, but this was a civil war. Who could tell, in a climate like this? He would think that his services and words would speak for themselves, and that Caesar would chose other means to dispose of him - figuratively and certainly literally - than attending dinner with him, but still...

One thing was certain, however: it would be an interesting evening.

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

As dusk descended and the lamps were lit, the Nerva house seemed to come alive. Marcellus found himself in the culina, where want of wine and warmth had drawn him.

After his terse conversation with Gaius’ younger daughter, Marcellus had made to leave. He needed air and space to breathe. The house was claustrophobic. It seemed full of whispers, secrecy and hushed comings and goings. But before he could make good his escape, a servant had stopped him with a late invitation to dine. His first impulse was to hurry home with a polite refusal but something - a sixth sense or a dark angel - had made him stay.

Marcellus had been frustrated by Aurelilla’s meekness and he was worried that he had overplayed his hand; that he had come on too quickly and too strong. Damn it but that girl was timid! And what was she so afraid of? The answer to this at least seemed plain enough. Gaius’ wife and his eldest, Marcia were two of kind - strong, intelligent women. Between them, they had more agendas than the most scheming senator and it was not hard to imagine how difficult it must be for little Aurelilla. How could a delicate flower flourish in the shade of two such vigorous and grasping vines?

Marcia, he mused, had inherited her father’s wit and shrewdness. Marcellus did not doubt, for an instant, that she would be every bit as single-minded in pursuing her aims. Aurelila was a more complex creature. Fiercely protective of her family she certainly was, but Marcellus detected a shadow behind her cool, steely gaze. There was a vulnerability within her that, despite her pains to disguise it, had not escaped the animal instincts of the Tribune. He could smell weakness like a hound scenting blood and there was something within Aurelila; a crack in her otherwise cast iron self-assurance that intrigued him greatly. More fascinating still was the fact that he perceived it most when the Praetor was beside her! Instead of basking in the reflected glory of her noble husband she actually appeared, almost imperceptibly, to diminish. It was interesting also that this strange vulnerability, whilst it had by-passed Marcia, was so strikingly manifest in their youngest daughter…

Powerful and confusing feelings welled within him as Marcellus thought, again, about Aurelilla. He sensed strongly that she was the key to understanding what churned beneath the smooth, unassailable exterior of this family. Recklessly he chose to ignore the danger to himself. The keen lens with which he so clinically exposed the weakness in Aurelilla and her mother he could never turn upon himself in terror of what it would reveal.

And so he had accepted the invitation to dinner. As the family vanished to their private chambers to pamper, preen and prepare, Marcellus was left to amuse himself and so he drifted into the culina where there was much excited talk of a noble guest. Stewards bustled, slaves and servants scurried as the pantries were ransacked for the finest ingredients. Fowl and swine were led in and slaughtered; vegetables were scrubbed and chopped. Soon great saucepans and cauldrons were bubbling and belching steam so that the odours of sweat, blood and grease began to be suffused and surpassed by the aromas of the delicacies being prepared. Forgotten in the corner, the Tribune quaffed the Praetor’s finest vintage and glared hungrily at the serving girls.

After all, a person whose imminent arrival could cause such a stir among a household so accustomed to nobility was evidently one worth meeting…

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Introducing: Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa

What was Rome?

The young man who only recently had donned the Toga Viriillis had given the question put to him by the Consul some proper thought. It had seemed easy at first. Rome was the city and the surrounding countryside was it not? He had been proud of himself, having solved the supposed mystery so readily. But the more time he had devoted to the seemingly easy question, the more doubts had begun to appear. Surely a man such as the Consul would not want a simple answer, only referring to geography? There must be more to it.

Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa sighed as he put the stylus to the wax tablet. It was his habit when faced by a problem; to write the known facts down and break them down until they could be put together to form the answer to the questions posed. His Greek tutor had instilled in him a philosophical approach to such matters, and he would rather be subjected to a flogging than admit defeat.

Thus it was in this position, pouring over the wax tablet as his servant found him. The Greek knew better than to disturb the young Domine, not that he was likely to receive a reprimand, but rather because the young master tended to be rather distressed when having to leave his exercises. The Greek slave coughed to announce his presence and waited patiently until the young man had put the stylus down before speaking.

“Domine. The Consul asks that you attend him.”

Marcus Agrippa nodded. Of course he would attend, what else was there to it? When Caesar called one attended. He got up from his chair, unconsciously adjusting the toga and running his hand through his hair. It was a great honour to be invited to stay as the Consul’s guest, especially since the Vipsanii Agrippae didn’t really hold that much influence. Marcus Agrippa winced at the realization. Rich they may be, and the fortunes hoarded by his father and grandfather had been the reason for their elevation to the Ordo Equites. Yet, when all was said and done they were rather a simple family.

The notion grated on Marcus Agrippa’s nerves. Simple folk! He had been taunted about it before, and Father Jove knew how much he hated it. In the privacy of his own head he wished fervently that there would be some way that he could shake of the bonds that held him so firmly in place with the commoners. To rise and achieve Patrician status on his own merits. It was complicated, he both admired and despised his social betters, on the one hand he wanted everything that they were given, on the other he resented the fact that men less able than himself, by merit of an old name were given honours that he would not see even if he lived to be a thousand years. Hence Caesar had been the obvious man to support. He was known to favour competence where he found it rather than to look at how old a name a man might have.

Yet he was not in Rome to gain such thing, rather he was there as a hostage. His older brother, Lucius Agrippa had sidled with the Catonian faction. Marcus Agrippa made a face at this. His brother would have been better off supporting Caesar, especially given his own background, but no. Lucius was as stubborn as a mule and a Catonian through and through. Thus Marcus Agrippa’s reasons for coming to Rome had more to do with begging, Gods how he hated the word, for mercy on behalf of his brother rather than to ask for the Consul’s patronage.

Still, there were numerous others who had found themselves in similar positions, and not all were as fortunate as Marcus Agrippa. He was after all a close friend of Gaius Octavian, the grandnephew of Caesar’s, and Octavian had interceded on his behalf, granting him a audience with the de-facto dictator of the Roman republic.

“Oh there you are.” Caesar was laying down on one of the couches of the triclinium but was getting up as Marcus Agrippa entered. “I hope you haven’t felt too overlooked my friend. There are so many things that needs to be addressed and I’m afraid I’ve been rather a horrible host.” He smiled as he walked over to Agrippa, clasping his hand in his own. “Sir the reason I was sent here.” He felt his cheeks flush with colour, and silently cursing himself. He had prepared his speech, to sound steady and not beg for the life of his brother’s to be spared and now he found himself blushing like a Vestal virgin and stammering.

“Oh don’t you worry about Lucius.” Caesar offered him yet another of his smiles as he gently turned the younger man around. “What has happened is that he and I have a bit of a difference of opinion, such things happen from time to time, even between friends. And like all friends I’m sure that we will be reconciled when all this is over.” The words sounded genuine and from the Consul’s previous actions, Agrippa knew that he was probably honest. Caesar was no Sulla, and he had shown mercy on his enemies on numerous occasions since his return to Rome.

“Sir, I do not know what to say in reply to your kindness..” Agrippa felt the words getting stuck in his throat.

“Don’t you worry about that my friend.” The Consul slapped him on the shoulder. “Now I understand that you’re quite the resourceful young man, at least that is what everyone is telling me, and that you and I are less likely to have these differences of opinion that your brother and I have had.” He ushered Agrippa towards the doors. “We are going to take dinner with a good friend of mine, and we shall talk on the way there.”

Thus Agrippa found himself walking through the dark streets of Rome, side by side with the Consul himself. Their escort of lictors and slaves carrying torches adding to the feel of the whole thing being something out of a dream. The Consul spoke at length about the need to gain military experience, which was a requisite for further advancement along the Cursus Honorum. There was also talk about alliances, of how a suitable marriage with the right woman would further strengthen Agrippa’s position.

It sounded very easy, and Marcus Agrippa had it been anyone else who had suggested such thing he would have disregarded the whole thing as nothing save airy talk. Yet this was Caesar saying it, the man who held the fate of Rome in his hand. Surely he if anyone could make it happen. Agrippa had broached the subject of why though. After all his brother had taken up arms against Caesar, why help him? The Consul had once again remarked that Lucius Agrippa was not his enemy, and that helping Marcus Agrippa now, was perhaps an investment for the future. “If I give you a hand now you will perhaps be able to help me in some little way or other in the years to come.”

They arrived at the domus of the Praetor some minutes later. Agrippa knew the man by reputation only, but the things he had heard had been honourable. Apparently he was an experienced soldier, a close friend of Mark Antony and well-respected within the Senate. They were greeted by the Praetor and his wife, Gaius Marcius Nerva didn’t quite look like a soldier, but then again the man had never seen defeat. His wife, the Lady Aurelia although old enough to be Agrippa’s mother still maintained the beauty of a younger woman. He greeted them stiffly as Caesar and himself were shown to the triclinum where the rest of the family were waiting. In rapid succession, Agrippa was introduced to Nerva’s son, Marcellus Marcius Nerva Flavianus, the former tribune of the VII Legion in which Nerva had served as the legate. The oldest daughter Marcia and her fiancée Marcus Decio Dodonicus the Younger, a name which carried weight and made Agrippa frown inwardly. The last to be introduced was Aurelilla, the youngest of Gaius’ and Aurelia’s children. She looked skittish, keeping her eyes to the floor, and while Marcia’s piercing emerald stare had caused him to blush out of awkwardness, Aurelilla made him blush for a variety of other reasons. Thus he found himself totally entranced by the youngest of the daughters. Of course it was a fantasy; she belonged to a Senatorial family, her father being a close political ally of Caesar. He could only dream of a woman such as her.

It was in this glum state of mind that spent most of the dinner, listening to the older men discussing politics, Caesar’s compliments on the way that the Lady Aurelia handled her household, some witty comments by Marcia and the silence of Aurelilla’s. He had perhaps had more wine than was strictly prudent, yet he needed something to take his mind of the girl. It was not until Caesar had suggested that Nerva and himself had a talk that he was brought back to the present. He was given a nod to follow them out into the gardens and stood a pace or so behind the older men as they continued the discussion on politics, feeling the effects of the wine and almost dozing off when he heard his own name being mentioned.

“Yes I was speaking about you Marcus Agrippa.” Caesar nodded as he sat down on one of the marble benches. “You see here Gaius, our friend Agrippa here is a young man full of ambition to serve Rome. He wishes to embark on a military career, and I was hoping that you could perhaps take him under your wing.” Even now, being slightly woozy from the wine, Agrippa could hear that there were more levels to the suggestion than the Consul had hinted. “And on another note.” Caesar stood up and placed his arm around Nerva’s shoulders. “I could not help notice what a sterling couple young Agrippa and your own Aurelilla would make: Marcus here has a lot of things going for him, and he would make a fine son-in-law don’t you think?”

Once again Agrippa felt like it must be part of a dream. Was the Consul really suggesting that he’d be married to Aurelilla? And be given the military tutelage of one of the heroes of the Gallic Campaign? Fortuna did indeed move in mysterious ways. He felt himself holding his breath until Gaius nodded, a smile on his face as he clasped Caesar’s hand in his.

And then and there it dawned on him; This was Rome.

 

[LadyAria]

Marcia Nervonis

Marcia’s eyes glossed over with the empty faraway look. Her mother alluded to the courtship between herself and Marcia’s father. Swirling with acidic disgust, her stomach flopped over at even the hint of what her parent’s may have done. Marcia tried to find her happy place of just moments before with Marcus so close. However, Aurelila’s words pushed a poison thorn into her thoughts that revolted her. The idea of her parents in youth or even in courtship groping with clumsy fingers in filthy secret places made her sick in the mouth. Swallowing down her breakfast, she lowered her eyes in respect for her mother. Once again, she felt sure her parent’s relationship was the most unnatural thing in the world. The noises in the night as they rutted like pigs filled their house even though Aurelila’s womb was a barren as salted soil. A normal match served only for birth of children. The adoption of Marcellus announced to the world that was not possible. Marcia did not ever want to suffer such a horrible public failing. However, for her and Marcus, clearly, the rules did not apply. They would birth twenty male children, because no one has ever felt as they did. Marcia and Marcus would be held above every rule and would rule Rome as gods incarnate.

“Yes, mother,” Marcia nodded and bowed both to Aurelila and Marcus. “Until dinner.”

Retreating to her dormitoria, she pushed through the doors with extended arms and chin tilted up to the heavens. Snapping the fingers on her right hand, the new body slave rushed to fall at Marcia’s feet. Her lips quickly brushed over the tops of her sandals before resting her forehead to the floor. Marcia’s turned down her face approving of the slave’s clean plaited hair. A pleasant look touched her face. This one was already vastly improved upon from the other one she had.

“Present for inspection,” she ordered.

Trembling slightly, the hands and arms came up although the slave was careful not to take her head from the floor. The skin appeared red from excess scrubbing and dull from months of malnutrition. Obviously, it would take time to reverse the effects of capture and starvation by the merchants.

“You may touch me now,” Marcia nodded. “Rise and updress me.”

The gray haunted eyes came up to dart away from her Mistress’s emerald gaze. Turning her head, she looked for the older one. Kneeling in the corner, the old lady held a comb and hair dressing in her hands. Neck bent down, the woman did not even look like she was breathing. Two snaps from Marcia’s left hand would have made her spring to life. However, she rather enjoyed looking at the slave statue. Slave statues, she thought. Maybe Marcus would allow her to buy some beautiful young slaves for their hall. They could be living statues better then any artist’s hands. They could be painted, positioned on pedestals and tell the story of the gods. Any guest in their home would be envious of their innovative art. What a beautiful home they would have together! She purred lightly as the slave’s hands removed the torn robes. The cool air tickled her nude form as the slave begin to massage her face to make a natural glow.

“Does the slave wish to visit her child?” Marcia asked feeling generous.

“Yes,” the slave whispered not looking up.

“Very well,” Marcia answered breaking from the slave’s hands to walk naked to the couch. “We have been made proud by your progress. She says she wants to see you too.”

Marcia paused at the couch to rummage through the pillow. Her hand felt the familiar corn silk hair rope into her fingers. Pulling out a wooden carved doll, Marcia stared at it and watched the two women crawl toward her. She sat down to allow them at her knees before she removed the cork from the back of the hollow toy. The insides bulged with course ashes. Marcia dipped in her index fingers, and swirled it around feeling the bone fragments. Then, she extracted it and pushed the grey sooty finger into her mouth before returning the cork to the doll. The slave looked at her in awe. Marcia smiled lovingly at them taking a hand from each before bringing them to her cheeks. She whispered in Greek. “I am here.” The women responded by jump up with tears in their eyes to hold their lost child. Resting her head against the bosom of the younger slave, she enjoyed the foreign coos of love and questions about her happiness. The emotion created a thick vibration in the room making reality hazy with loss. Marcia did not respond, but relaxed in the hands that moved over her petting her arms, stroking her hair and clinging to her back. They revered her with a passionate familial love she had never felt. Slipping from the younger one, the elder grandmother pulled her into her arms and let huge tears fall from her eyes to slide down Marcia’s cheek. Marcia buried her hands into the folds of the woman’s dress talking softly in Greek. She felt sure she knew what the dead girl would want her to say.

“I love you, mother, grandmother,” she whispered with closed eyes burrowing into the softness of the elder. “Love me. Need me. Never forget me.”

Sandwiched in an outpouring of raw painful love, Marcia jumped when the door opened without her permission. Instead of embarrassed, she burned with outrage at the infringement on her special time in make believe. Although she’d never admit it, she grew more and more addicted to the game. She bounced up ready to sting. However, her jaw snapped shut as the slave announced mother’s request for her to got to the bathes. Caesar was coming to their house. Marcia marched forward while wiping away the slave’s tears from her cheek. No one must know. Grabbing the slave, she latched hard onto the chin of the underling forcing her to look into her boiling eyes. From behind her, her two slave crept to back her with a fury matching Marcia’s at the interruption. The head felt small in her hand. She considered trying to snap its neck. She was naked. It would not stain any of her good dresses.

“Never speak of what you saw,” she hissed pushing her back into the door. “Or I will free your spirit.”

To punctuate the threat, the two women behind Marcia stared with hatred at the interloper. They would help Marcia dispose of the remains if her hand would slip. However, her mind saw the look in her mother’s eyes. Slaves cost money. Mother would be disappointed if she killed one. She never wanted to disappoint her mother. So, when Marcia saw the slave was sufficiently afraid, she tapped her cheek lightly before letting go. Marcia smiled brightly at the slave switching expressions like theater masks. The other two slaves moved in sync with Marcia turning down their eyes and slumped back into submission. Only the air still hummed with the traces of what had transpired.

“Tell Mother I’ll be right along,” she chirped at the terrified slave who had seen what was in her eyes. “Tell her that and nothing more.”

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Caesar brought with him another man, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa. Marcia’s starred into him seeing an imposter as they were introduced. He smelled of common blood. However, Caesar worked the strings of the marionette very well. She saw the potential in him that the Consul saw. The man made powerful allies. Obviously, there were alternative motives for bringing this man in to their house. Her gaze flickered over to her beautiful younger and unengaged sister with a revelation. He means to bond this “up and comer” to her sister. Aurelilla deserved old money, protection and comfort. This match did not suit Marcia in the least. Her sister still ached with the fresh wound of the adoption. She willed a message to Caesar not to inflict further pain. Fighting the appearance of disappointment, Marcia turned to her father with an innocent smile that dazzled in admiration.

“Father speaks of you in great favor,” she spoke to Caesar although her eyes bore into her father’s eyes unforgivingly. A silent plead echoed in the green lights that shined for him alone. “He is forever telling us of your noble designs, Sir. My father, too, is a noble man who fights for Roman values and his family’s honor. We are so proud of him. Anyone he holds in such high regard is beyond reproach.”

Marcia turned to Caesar with curiosity. Battle had aged him from the likeliness she had seen. However, he still bore the resemblance of the man that tortured her in her dreams. The dreams of him haunted her so often that they were more like memories that made her feel betrayal to her love. The draw of the politician made her finer senses sharpen. Her hands itched to clasp to beg him to cast aside his wife and make her empress. His power poured from every pore. She felt mad for Caesar’s power; however, vanity kept Marcia in check. She concealed the fantasies under a virginal smile. Only the ghost of her thoughts danced on the shadows on the wall behind her. For she felt, no love was greater then self-love and Marcus was a part of her. He was her other half. Marcia would near hurt herself.

The fates were sadistic to Aurelilla. Marcia thought biting into a sweet ripe plum. Caesar, Agrippa and her father had departed to the gardens. She considered Marcellus and the connection between her siblings. Without doubt, he was neither good enough to be her brother or his sister’s husband. He was fodder for the fighting fields. She turned over the fruit leaking down her wrist. Clearly, Aurelilla did not feel that way. She saw in Marcellus something Marcia could compare only palely to her bond with Marcus. The Agrippa fellow will not do at all despite the garden chat she felt sure was transpiring. It was how father approached Marcus for her contract. She sat down the seed covered in tuffs of plum meat. Marcia must be an older sister and intervene. Aurelilla needed strength before she was completely destroyed by the injustice that ruled women’s life. Mother did not stop the adoption. Father blindly followed the Roman way. Marcia called upon her higher self to do what was right.

“Marcellus, brother,” she said to a man still seated at the end of the table. “How did you enjoy your first day in our home? I do hope you, me and Aurelilla will find time to bond as only siblings do. It is a short time to my wedding and departure to my honorable husband’s house. ” She turned a loving smile on Marcus and blushed with a genuine attraction catching his eye. “We have such a short time together. The three of us should spend some time alone. Don’t you agree, Mother?” She turned an innocent expression to her mother seeking approval. Please say yes, she begged her mother with enlarged eyes. I must save my sister.

 

[Anael]

Marcus Scribonius Decio Dodonicus

Marcia was enjoying teasing Marcus. He wasn’t sure if she was aware that that was what she was doing, but that is what it was. She was taking her time getting off the table, her palla in disarray, face flushed and her eyes full of passion and fire. The unmistakable sound of someone making their way along one of the marble corridors towards them broke into his consciousness. Leaning forward and placing his head beside hers once more he whispered a single word into her ear “Later” the rest could be left to her imagination. Marcia slowly made her way off the table and sat herself down beside him, in the nick of time too. The lady of the house and her ever present and devoted slave stepped into the atrium.

Aurelia’s words were soft and carefully selected so as not to embarrass Marcia too much but also to let her know that her mother was not stupid. The mild slap on the wrist seemed to indicate that Aurelia was going to let them get away with it. Although Marcia did seem to be the one taking the blame and Marcus came away smelling of roses. Marcia excused herself and left her husband with her mother the lioness. She took her time taking a seat, pouring some juice and eyeing him up, deciding what to say.

When she finally spoke, Marcus almost choked on the grape he was eating. He could never imagine that Aurelia and Gaius had been anything like himself and Marcia. It was also surprising that Aurelia had a sense of humour and was not as straight laced and innocent as she led others to believe. He made a mental note to not underestimate her again, although he seemed to be on the right side of her for now. Marcus smiled and waited for her to continue, not exactly sure how he should respond.

Saved by the bell, or in this case, Hermes the gatekeeper. Hermes always seemed to be on the stage of a breakdown when Marcus was around and this time Marcus was worried that the old man might actually pass out on the floor. Aurelia dealt with the situation with well practised ease and soon a messenger from the Consul was standing before them.

“Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of Rome, Imperator of the Gallic Legions, Pontifex Maximus, Son of Venus conveys his best salutations to the Praetor Nerva. He also wishes to inform the Praetor of his intentions to come and dine with you at the seventh hour. The Consul further wishes to discuss a more close alliance between the Praetor and himself in order to strengthen the Republic.”

So, a quiet afternoon with his wife and her family had just been turned on its head.
Getting home, cleaned, dressed and back again in time would be tricky, if not nigh impossible. A worried look crossed Marcus’s face. Gaius, sensing his dilemma kindly offered his wardrobe. Marcus smiled and nodded thanks, mainly to Gaius’s back as he hurried off to deal with preparations.

The women of the house would be off bathing before long until they were done Marcus would have to wait before having a wash and changing. Spying Desma hovering in the corner Marcus summoned her over.

“Desma, the Domine has offered me the use of one of his tunics for the dinner tonight. Please have one selected for me and put in a room where I can wash and change. Unless there are any objections, I shall use Marcia’s room.”

******************************************************************

Before long the Consul arrived and brought with him a strange young man. Marcus had missed the introductions, mainly because his eyes were glued to Marcia who was looking as beautiful as ever. The dinner was pleasant and Marcus did little talking. He greeted the Consul pleasantly and left the talking to others. It was clear that Caesar was here to talk to the Praetor and this was confirmed when they left the table along with Caesars lap dog and took a walk in the gardens. Marcia had also been quiet during the meal, passing a few compliments in the direction of their guest as a hostess should do, her thoughts seemed elsewhere. Now that her father and their guest had gone she turned her attention to Marcellus. So that’s where her thoughts were, Marcellus and Aurellilia. Marcus had noticed something too, but his wife knew her sister well and would know far more. From his position next to her he watched as her emerald eyes sparkled as she looked past him to Marcellus. Her gaze flicked to him and their eyes locked and she allowed him to look into her soul. Marcus saw genuine love and attraction before her guard went back up and she continued to probe Marcellus. Something was on her mind and Marcus would get her to tell him what she was planning later.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Aurelia Marcia

Aurelia felt like an automaton as she left Gaius, Marcia and Marcus in the atrium. There were so many things to oversee and all too little time in which to do them. She could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up on her. Lately such flashes of pain had become all too frequent, and while the Greek physician Hermogenes had assured her that it was nothing she ought to worry about, the frequency had become alarming. Aurelia had yet to tell Gaius about it, and she dreaded what he might think. It was bad enough that she had succumbed to melancholia in face of the adoption of Marcellus, another affliction would surely serve only to lower her esteem in her husband’s eyes. Perhaps it was yet another way for the Gods and Parcae to further punish her. Mother Juno did not take kindly to competition, and since Aurelia had included Isis in her prayers it could well be that Juno herself had decided that this was a suitable enough penance for her trespasses.

Throughout most of her adult life Aurelia had harboured mixed emotions vis-à-vis the celestial powers. She had revered Diana and like all good Roman women, she had transferred her allegiances to Juno as she entered adulthood. Even though this was the right and proper way to go about things she could not help but be fearful of some of her patron goddess’ traits. Juno was vengeful at times, and it was not beyond her to punish a follower gone astray. After all, Aurelia had not managed to fulfil the obligations placed upon her by tradition and her family’s expectations.

She shook her head as she entered the tepidarium and was immediately attended by one of the slaves. Desma had already relayed her mistress’ orders, and the girl who helped her disrobe did so in a quite and efficient manner. It was not that Aurelia had ever acted the tyrant with the house slaves. In so much as it had been possible, she had tried to be a just ruler of the household and although she had never grown close to anyone save Desma, she had still made the effort to know more than merely the names of the servants. The Gallic girl was called Xanthe, on account of her yellow hair and she had probably been born a slave as far as Aurelia could recall it.

It was strange how the fortunes of mortals differed. From her looks, the girl could have been a noble in Rome instead of a lowly servant. Then again it was really her own and her sires’ who were to blame. The Gods ultimately judged, but each mortal created their own destiny. Aurelia sighed as immersed herself in the tepid water, the solace that it brought may be counted as minor in the great scheme of things yet it was not to be sneered at. She glanced at Xanthe again, wondering if the fair-haired young girl would have preferred a life in Gaul rather than the one she was currently leading. In the household of the Marciae Nervae she was offered protection and was cared for, at least after a fashion. She may not be free, but then again Aurelia didn’t consider herself to be that either. It was merely the nature of the bonds that differed between the two of them. The fate of the Gallic girl was to serve Aurelia’s while Aurelia’s was to serve those of her husband. Something which she had yet to fulfil.

She could feel the headache slowly emerging again, the light, although somewhat dimmed served to make the pains even worse. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she willed the on setting migraine to subside. She did not have the time to succumb to another headache. Aurelia was about to tell the Gallic slave to close the shutters, when she was interrupted by Aurelilla who meekly made her entrance in the tepidarium.

Her daughter could not have chosen a worse time, yet there she was and there was not much that Aurelia could do about it. She nodded to the slave to help her undress, the process seemingly awkward for her youngest. It was strange how her youngest always seemed so ill at ease being naked, even when the company was limited to Aurelia. Still it was a minor quirk of Aurelilla’s and not something that she cared to address. After all there were other things that needed to be said.

She moved to the side of the bath to allow her daughter to take a seat opposite from her, and then withdraw in silence as was her habit whenever the two of them were alone. Not that Aurelilla ever said more than a few words to her in the company of others. It was rare an occasion to hear her voice even. Then again, Aurelia knew that her youngest was quite capable of carrying a conversation, even before Gaius had left for Gaul the two of them had talked for hours on end. Then again, the girl’s father was the gentlest of men, and the thought of him caused Aurelia’s stern features to be lit up by the shadow of a smile. Perhaps it would be wise to emulate some of Gaius’ traits. Juno knew that it wouldn’t make the situation worse than it already was. Aurelia coughed to clear her throat and bestowed her youngest with a long stare. The girl had so much of Gaius in her, at least as far as her features were concerned, but her heart? Aurelia had to concede that the matters thereof were hers alone. She pushed as strand of hair from her face as she tried for a smile, perhaps kindness could break some of the ice that had been allowed to form between them.

“You probably think me cruel and unfair on you Aurelilla.” Aurelia kept her voice level as she willed the girl to meet her gaze. “That I do not love you or even care for your welfare, and perhaps you’ve been right. Your coming into this world was..” She stopped, not quite knowing how to continue. She had wanted to offer some kind of rapprochement but the way things were going she was only opening old wounds. Aurelia bit her lip as she glanced away, trying to arrange her thoughts in spite of the throbbing headache. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve been a disappointment to me for most of your life. You’re reasonably intelligent yet you do not show it, nor do you make anything of the fact that you are prettier than most. There have been times when I thought you might be simple, but your father assures me that it is not so.” She felt the bile rise in her throat as she delivered the verdict. The words had formed themselves seemingly out of her control. It was not going very well, but then again she had hardly imagined it would. She sighed again, leaning closer and reaching out for Aurelilla’s hand. “You know that there have been a lot of changes and more is to come. We cannot afford to have open strife within our family at this time Aurelilla. I want you to make an effort, especially now that the Consul himself are paying us a visit. In return I promise you that I shall try to dedicate some attention to you as well.” She stood up, noticing how the Gallic girl jumped up, towel at the ready and standing respectfully aside as Aurelia stepped out of the pool. “I think you ought to wear the green palla tonight. I’ll make sure Desma has words with your girl about it. And no sulking, I want you to be on your very best behaviour tonight.”

She didn’t look back at her daughter as she was towelled dry and dressed in a non-descript tunic. There was no point in discussing things with Aurelilla just after having delivered a sermon on how the girl ought to behave. Gods that child was overly sensitive, and what had she to mope about? She had a father who worshipped the ground she walked on, not even Cornelius Cinna had shown such paternal love and Cornelia had been a beauty that even surpassed Aurelilla’s. It may be that Aurelia was not the kindest of mothers, but then again someone had to balance things up. Her own mother had scarcely given her a fraction of the attention that she gave her youngest, and even though Aurelia had threatened to take the whip to her, she had yet to make real on that promise. Lavinia on the other hand had put the whip to good employ, something she had in common with Aurelia’s father. There had been no room for leniency in the Aurelii Orestes. By all accounts Aurelilla should count herself lucky.

In the confines of her bedchamber Aurelia was attended by Desma. The Greek woman worked with the quiet efficiency that was her trademark. The way that she shaped the wet tresses of Aurelia’s hair into exquisite ringlets, or the subtle application of the make-up spoke volumes about the devotion that the woman felt. Once again Aurelia found herself considering the different roles that the Parcae had assigned to each mortal. Desma could, if things had been different, been a matron in her own right and a woman who would rule rather than serve. The Greek woman had a sharp mind, in so much as the term could be applied to a slave. Aurelia was hazy on the philosophical details of the relation between a proper person and a tool with a voice.

“So what do you make of the Consul’s visit?” Aurelia glanced at her reflection in the bronze mirror, critically examining her countenance in the matted surface. She knew that the Greek woman would probably have gained a good insight in the political aspects of the Consul’s planned visit, after all there was none in the household save Gaius that was so well supplied with information regarding the state of Rome. “And Marcus Scribonius? I daresay that he is quite different a character than his late father.” Aurelia found herself smiling again, Marcus Scribonius was indeed a rare specimen, and her eldest ought to count herself lucky that Gaius had managed to secure the marriage for her. Besides the two of them seemed to have developed quite the affection for each other, which was always helpful if not necessary for a prosperous marriage.

Her mood darkened somewhat as Desma mentioned something or other about Marcellus. Impeccable manners aside, there was something unsettling about the man. Aurelia could not bring herself to call him her son, and she would be hard pressed if she were to do so when protocol did not demand it. Turning to Desma again as the Greek woman oversaw the girls helping their mistress don a scarlet palla, “I want you to be my eyes and ears. Anything that you can find about the man. It is vital that I get to know it.” She bit her lip as the garment was being secured at her shoulders by means of the silver pins. Perhaps it was treacherous an act, but Aurelia would rather know what kind of person that had become part of her family than discovering it later, when it may be too late.

The seventh hour had just struck as the Consul arrived, and much like Antony had commanded the room so did Caesar. Yet there were differences, where Antony was coarse Caesar was subtle. There seemed to be no need for the man to project himself like the Tribune of Plebs did, yet the similarity was readily discernable. Both were men who shaped the world. Caesar was shorter of statue than the Tribune of Plebs, his hair blonde and thinning, yet the face showed an energy that belied the actual years of the man. He had clasped Gaius in an embrace, and offered Aurelia and the girls courteous a greeting. The other two men were given the customary introductions, Marcus Scribonius receiving a warmer and more familiar one than Marcellus, but that was only to be expected. With Caesar was a young man who was introduced as Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa. No reference had been made to his relation to the Consul, but by bringing him with him Caesar had declared that he was an esteemed friend.

Aurelia had been instantly taken by the young Agrippa. Unlike the other men who had become part of their household he did not betray his feelings. She thought that she could detect some deeper sentiments than he displayed a sort of mirror-image of Marcellus in a way. Both seemed to be observing their surroundings, like soldiers surveying a battlefield, all in order to make the best disposition of the troops. But where Marcellus came across as the kind of man who would launch a head-on assault, Agrippa seemed much more subtle. There was also another thing about him, something akin to sadness, which struck at the very roots of Aurelia’s. This young man would go far, of that she was certain, even though or rather because of his humble origins. That too made the feeling of closeness grow stronger in Aurelia. Like her he hailed from the Ordo Equites, and if anyone knew the inherent feelings of inferiority that it carried it was Aurelia.

The dinner turned out to be less formal than she had expected. Caesar seemed to be well at ease in their company, and his easy-going manners were contagious. The fact that Grumio had worked miracles with the food did of course play their part, as did the Gaius’ and Marcus Scribonius’ conversation. It was clear, in so much as Aurelia understood it, that Caesar had no intention of waging war on Pompey. It was not what he had planned. When he spoke it it rang true, and Marcia’s eloquent praise of the man did nothing to lower the mood of the evening.

As the Consul and her husband together with Agrippa left for the atrium, Marcia addressed her in her usual well-spoken way. It was hard knowing her daughter’s mind, Aurelia would be the first to admit that her eldest was by all accounts in possession of a more agile intellect than herself. The request, innocent as it sounded, still carried with it far reaching consequences, and Aurelia had to think before answering.

“Yes, perhaps you are right.” She picked up a grape and pretended to study it, ostensibly searching the fruit for any imperfections. “I suppose that it would do no harm.” She looked at Marcia again, willing her to reveal her true intentions. “You could always visit your grandparents in Ostia, it would mean a great deal to them to see you again.” She nodded her assent, deciding to trust her daughter’s instincts. “But as you know you must ask your father for the final decision, not to mention Marcus Scribonius as well.” She offered her son-in-law a smile. “I’m sure that Gaius has some designs for the men of the family that will require their full attention in the time to come.”

 

[magbeam]

Gaius Marcius Nerva

Gaius stood nervously at the entrance to the domus, brushing non-existent lint off of his tunica - threatening to unravel the whole damn thing, he was doing it so much - and just glad that he wasn't wearing a toga. It was still an informal enough event for that to be unnecessary; Gaius could just imagine him rearranging his purple-striped cloak and causing it to fall into disarray. It wasn't that he hadn't been close enough to Caesar over the past two years that just seeing the Son of Venus caused him to act like an awestruck girl. But this was different. This was him coming to his domus, personally requesting it out of the blue - or "requesting" rather - with an obviously important offer - again, "offer" no doubt. Gaius felt his palms growing sweaty and tried to discreetly wipe them on his tunica. He really was not acting like a proper Roman. But this was far from a normal proper occasion.

He wondered if his family understood that. May the gods bless them all, but they had all been through rocky paths the past few days. One of the womenfolk - or even the men - having some sort of fit while the Consul, the essential Dictator, of the Republic was here on official business...that scenario was more than half the reason of Gaius' nervousness now. Caesar obviously had something extremely important to discuss with him. Given the state of things, some extraordinary commission in the cursus honorum or Army would not be widely impossible. The last thing he needed now was for Aurelia to fall into tears at the sight of Marcellus or for Aurelilla to start screaming at her mother. If he could not control his own family, how could he ever command a province or a legion or whatever Caesar had in mind for him? Not only would it possibly cause Caesar to reconsider giving Gaius whatever new appointments he had in mind, and perhaps in taking away whatever appointments he currently had (the weight and honor of the urban praetor's toga was still fresh in his mind) but, worst of all, he would lose face before Caesar.

And he could not let that happen. Not only for political reasons, but for personal ones as well. It was an effect of Caesar's personality, a symptom of how he was able to rise to such dazzling heights of prominence. Caesar made you want him to like you. If one of his family did make a scene, the only option would be for Gaius to, for once, be a stern paterfamilias, to take the matter in hand then and there. And Gaius did not want to have to be forced into such a position.

Thank Jupiter Stator that he knew he could at least count on Marcia to be the normal, average Roman matron.

Gaius straightened up as a slave arrived, announcing the Consul and guest. Gaius frowned slightly at that, not remembering anything about a guest, but he was all smiles as Caesar himself made his way into the atrium, in a tunica that managed to be both humbly modest and stately majestic at once. "Gaius, my old friend!" The two men embraced, patting each other on the back once. "Allow me to introduce my companion. Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa."

"Welcome into my home, Caesar, Agrippa" Gaius said warmly, guiding the elder man by the arm over to where Aurelia was standing. "This is my wife, Aurelia."

"My mother's name," Caesar said with a smile. "For once, I see Antonius' statements were not bragging. Truly, you must be one of the most handsome women ever to have graced the Seven Hills with your presence. Thank you for hosting myself and Agrippa for the evening." Caesar made his way down the line of Gaius' family and guests, giving him time to look over at the Consul's companion. Agrippa was a pale man, clearly uneasy with his current surroundings and seemed to be little more than a youth. Yet, knowing Caesar, him being here after the Consul's earlier promise in his missive was not a coincidence.

As soon as Caesar - and Agrippa, behind him - made their way to Aurelilla at the end of the line, one of the house staff entered and announced that the evening meal was ready, and the group began to move towards the triclinium. He found himself seated in a circle of couches with Caesar and Agrippa, with Marcia, Aurelia, and Marcus across from him. As the discussion around the meal bubbled - the usual pleasant banalities - Marcia turned to him, beginning to speak to Caesar. Gaius smiled at his eldest at first, but the smile became slightly forced as she continued to speak. What was she going on about now? It did not seem like any sort of the insolence he would expect - grudgingly, of course, and perhaps too tolerantly - from her younger sister. It seemed like pleading of some sort, or a warning. But of what, he had no idea. Gaius was glad when, as the final portions were being cleared away, Caesar leaned in towards him.

"Gaius, my friend, that meal was most excellently prepared. My compliments to you, and to you, Lady Aurelia, on your choice of kitchen staff. However, while I do not wish to depart from the charming company of you and your daughters, my dear lady, perhaps I might borrow your husband for a brief discussion?"

Glad that the crux of the evening was at last coming into play, Gaius raised his legs off of the couch, leading Caesar from the triclinium into the gardens. He dimly noticed Agrippa following them, but said nothing; surely he was involved, and if Caesar had wanted to speak with Gaius alone, he would have said something to his young companion.

"Is he, now?" Gaius responded to Caesar's words about Agrippa's hopeful entry into the military world. "Good lad. The Republic needs fresh blood always to lead its army. Against barbarians - both beyond and within the borders of our empire." No sense mincing words; a protracted civil war was all but assured now. He might as well ingratiate himself with Caesar as much as possible with his efficiency and loyalty. "Of course I will give him my full patronage and experience." Never mind that this meant a field commission in all but the most remote possibility. Aurelia wouldn't like knowing that he would soon be once more gone - for perhaps much longer, and certainly much more dangerous, than his posting in Gaul - and he would not like explaining that to her. He would do it later, when everyone was gone and they were alone for the night.

However, what came next, as Caesar put his arm around Gaius' neck and made his other suggestion, would be even harder.

Aurelilla. His poor little dove. He had broken her heart twice so far - the first when he left for Gaul, the second time when he crushed her dreams, however silly, concerning Marcellus. He had promised to find her a suitable man for her, something to assuage her recent losses - someone exciting, rich, handsome, kind. Gaius very much doubted such a man existed - whether in Rome, Africa, among the yellow dwarfs of distant Serica, sunken Atlantis, or any land in between - but he also had not even begun to look. In a way, perhaps that was good.

Aurelilla would have hated it even more if he had found such a man for her, only to break off their engagement now.

For this was Caesar who was making this suggestion, not some third-rate Suburan oil merchant. Caesar was the Dictator. He would be controlling Rome - the city, the State and Republic, the Senate and its appointments and economy and trade agreements and damned near everything - for a long, long time. And if he didn't, then Gaius and Agrippa would likely be executed and any of Caesar's wishes null and void. But until then...he was a friend and ally of Caesar, an officer of the Roman Army and official of the Roman Senate. In this matter, the three were one. There was only one reply he could possibly give.

Plus, a dark and cynical portion of Gaius' back-mind whispered, it would solve any issues involving her and Marcellus.

When the three of them returned to the triclinium, the rest of the family was still there. Good. Might as well get this out of the way as soon as possible. Looking directly at Aurelilla, a small, forced smile counterparting his guilty eyes, Gaius cleared his throat, and then spoke.

"Everyone, I have an important announcement to make...It seems that we are to have yet another expansion of our family." He reached out, placing an arm around the shoulders of Agrippa. "Young Agrippa here has asked for, and I have granted permission, for him to wed Aurelilla."

 

[Randolph]

Marcellus

Suddenly Marcellus, whose attention had been wandering increasingly far and frequently during the course of the evening, snapped to attention.

“…We have such a short time together. The three of us should spend some time alone. Don’t you agree, Mother?”

This was the Lady Marcia speaking weighted words and, like a pilum finding the mark, they seemed to pierce him deeply. With his gaze narrowing, he stared at her across a table still groaning with platters even at that late hour. She turned toward the Lady Aurelila, seeking approval and so he couldn’t catch her eye.

What is she up to? Marcellus had spent long enough among the Marcia Nervae to realise that this was no innocent remark – if indeed such a thing existed in that family where hidden meaning lurked beneath every word and deed and the social graces lay like carefully placed fronds concealing traps for the unwary. Marcia clearly bore no affection for either him or her sister. Why then would she want time with them away from the house? He took another sip of wine and said nothing.

Marcellus was tired. Earlier he had enjoyed the conversation of the men; talk of the city and politics, of noble friends and allies. The conversation was steered by Gaius but, predictably perhaps, dominated by Caesar. The Pro-consul appeared relaxed and affable but beneath the easy charm, all present could sense the probing, restless intellect and the latent force of his personality. He was ever at pains to compliment and honour the Praetor, his home and his family. He was graceful and tactful enough never to appear insincere and yet Marcellus had the distinct feeling that he would much rather be discussing troop deployments and horses than art and sculpture. Caesar was like an officer on the parade ground, strutting in his finery. His scabbard might be a thing of ivory and gold, yet all men know that within it lies cold, battle-hardened steel.

But Gaius, Caesar and the young Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa had excused themselves and Marcellus was left to pick at the leftovers on his plate and make polite if stilted conversation with Marcus Scribonius whilst trying to engage the quiet and withdrawn Aurelilla. He had all but given up and surrendered to Bacchus when the host and his noble guests reappeared.

The announcement was his second shock of the night. Marcellus was choked by the feelings that erupted within him. He had not yet been able to come to terms with the thought of Aurelilla as his sister. But now, to see her betrothed to another man…

He stood and applauded with the rest, unthinking and numb. In truth he had taken a liking to Marcus. Like Marcellus, Marcus was from a modest family and earlier he had complimented the Tribune on his military career. Consequently Marcellus’ growing anger sought a different focus. A sensation of hopelessness, of being powerless to act and influence a situation threatened to unman him. Aurelilla was contained tightly within herself; a pale rosebud closed against the frost as hers and Marcus’ hands were thrust together. Gaius was grinning like a cat with a bird, Aurelila was by his side; radiant, composed - the perfect wife.

Marcellus caught the Pro-consul smiling at him. It was a warm smile with no trace of irony but it stung him like a slap across the face. Hatred tore aside his innards and made a hollow in which to feed.

They sat again. While servants poured more wine for the toasts and the laughter still rang to the rafters, Marcellus leaned over to Aurelilla.

“You are blessed sister, in family and friends and in your father’s choice of husband. My joy for you is tempered only by the fact that, having just gained a lovely sister I must lose her so soon.” Marcellus raised his voice for Marcia and Aurelila’s ears. “Under the circumstances I believe we should act upon our noble sister Marcia’s excellent proposal without delay. Perhaps you could even depart for Ostia in the morning. My mother’s house overlooks the bay. Once you have paid respects to your grandparents you must come and be my guests. Please, tell me you will come!”