Kelly stared at the air where her ten foot tall god and ancestor had stood only seconds before. The biggest loser in camp was a son of Mars and one favored by his godly parent with both a gift and a quest? Un-believable! She huffed out a breath turned on her heel and headed for her shell-shocked new relative.

"You owe Mars a pig," she said flatly.

He stared at her blankly. "What?"

Kelly suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. "You've been acknowledged by the god, you owe him a thanksgiving sacrifice."

Blankness gave way to a hunted expression. "I can't, there's no time."

"Make time," she snapped. "We'll do it tonight. You can't leave until the senate Okays the quest tomorrow anyway."

Frank looked at the spear in his hand and swallowed; "Right, fine."

"Go to Bestia's Butcher Shop," Kelly continued, "he'll give you a discount." She looked at the sun descending over the Berkley hills. "Be at the temple in an hour."

…..

By the time Kelly had finished sweeping out the temple yard most of the twenty or so children and legacies of Mars currently serving in the legion had assembled to 'welcome' their new brother.

"Frank Zhang," Sergio Armstrong was saying to one of the multitudinous Valeriuses*, "Can you believe it?"

"No," Kelly answered dumping her dustpan in the trash can behind them. "But Father Mars has acknowledged him. He's one of us and we're just going to have to deal with it."

"He sure showed his stuff tonight though," Marius Valerius Valens pointed out. "First over the walls and from what I hear it was his strategy that won them the game."

"I gotta admit he won't be the first of us to make a bad start," Kelly said, getting snorts of laughter from several campers. She looked at the sunset glow over the roof of the cella*. "Sergio, Marius, light the barbecue pit will you. And somebody get the torches."

The temple of Mars Ultor was far from the fanciest on the Capitoline Hill Father Mars was not into fancy. High walls of dull red stone enclosed a square yard large enough to hold up to a hundred people comfortably with room enough to spare for the priest to do her stuff at the carved altar standing at the foot of a high podium* with the stern face of the god's image carved in black basalt and dressed in heavy, functional steel armor looking down at them from behind a row of stubby columns.

Kelly had just finished struggling into her toga when Frank Zhang came through the open doors and froze on the inner porch, staring down at the crowd of Martians, with a big paper wrapped package balanced on his shoulder.

"Don't just stand there, Legionary," Kelly snapped. "Give the pig to Sergio, straighten your toga, and come over here by me." He obeyed stumbling over his dragging drapery. Kelly bit back a nasty remark – after all everybody had trouble keeping their togas on. She let out a long breath and said evenly; "Kiss your hand to Father Mars."* Frank obeyed awkwardly and she drew the back of her toga up over her head.

"Mars Pater, avenger of wrongs, defender of Rome, progenitor and patron; Frank Zhang, Marti Filius, in gratitude and filial piety offers the required sacrifice of one mature male pig in accordance with our contractual obligations going back to Romulus and the Foundation of Rome."

She took a cake of mola salsa* from little Marcella Poulson, acting as acolyte, and crumbled it into the fire on the altar. Marcella shoved the plate insistently at Frank and he took the hint. Kelly stepped out of his way so he could sprinkle the crumbs of a second cake into the flames. Metellus Niger handed Kelly a shallow dish of etched bronze then poured a little wine into it. She turned back to the altar to sprinkle drops of wine into the fire making it leap and dance.

"Right," she said, handing the patera* back to Metellus. "That's done. Let's eat."

One of the good things about being a priest is you get to go to a lot of barbecues, that being how every sacrifice ends. Mats were unrolled to recline on and platters of devilled eggs, olives, bread and relishes circulated while the pig sizzled over the barbecue pit and got nice and crispy. Then the package of entrails was emptied into the altar fire for Mars and the worshippers dug in, getting very greasy in the process.

Only the host didn't seem to be enjoying himself. Frank Zhang had been holding a skewer of toasted pork for over a minute, not eating, not talking. Staring off into the distance at something he was clearly very unhappy about.

"Not thrilled over being claimed are you?" Sergio said suddenly.

Frank blinked back to the here and now and a defiant expression spread itself over his face. "Not by Mars I'm not!" To his astonishment his new relatives weren't offended. In fact most of them were nodding agreement!

Metellus Niger grinned crookedly. "Think you're the only one? Nobody's ever happy to be claimed by Mars, not even Kelly here."

"Darn right," Mars' priest agreed. "Who wants to be a close relative of war?"

Sergio looked over his shoulder at the image watching over them from the cella of his temple. "Don't worry about it. Dad understands. He expects it."

Frank looked confused.

"You won't always feel like this," Kelly promised. "Not if you really belong to Mars. Not if you're worthy of him. The day will come – soon – that you get it."

"Get what?" Frank asked, even more confused.

"That there are worse things than war," Marius Valens said quietly, "lots worse. Mars' job – and ours – is to see they don't happen."

"You heard what Pater said to Percy Jackson didn't you?" Kelly asked. "He's a defender, protector of the legion, of Rome and of everything she stands for. You'll learn to be proud of that – if you live that is."

…..

The party ended as soon as the last bit of barbecued pork was swallowed only an hour or two after sunset – the legion keeps early hours. The bones and other remnants were collected in garbage bags. The altar fire extinguished with wine and the wet ashes emptied into another bag. Then the congregation headed back to camp.

Kelly deliberately dropped back to walk with Frank. It was a minute or two before he noticed she was there. "You've been given a chance to restore the Fifth's standing. Don't mess it up."

He gave her a wary look. "You hate the Fifth."

Her face hardened. "Darn right I do. The Fifth cost us our luck!"

"It's not fair," Frank all but whined.

That got him a glare. "Fair! Was it fair that my grandfather got dragged through Hades by a friend he trusted? Was it fair that eighty good legionaries died for nothing? Was it fair we lost our eagle and our honor because of one gods be-dammed fool?"

Frank edged nervously away. Kelly hyperventilated a minute before getting herself back in hand. "'Fair' is for children and barbarians, Legionary. We are Romans," with that final shot she stalked away leaving him standing in the road staring after her with his mouth slightly ajar.

…..

Romans keep early hours. Legionaries were filtering into the mess hall for breakfast while a pale sun, low over the Berkley hills, was still trying to burn off the mist rising from the lake and Little Tiber.

The supper couches had vanished, replaced by backless stools – try reclining in a toga or armor – and the round marble topped tables were loaded with a dozen different kinds of coffee, milk, juice and a many splendored variety of muffins, bagels and pastries, a typical Roman breakfast supplied by Bombilo and the other camp entrepreneurs.

Kelly stood in the doorway adjusting her toga – it is always necessary to adjust one's toga after walking even a few yards in it. Looking around the mess she spotted Reyna talking to Gwen and went to join them. "So – how's Centurion shish-ka-bob this morning?"

Gwen glared. "You know you Martians have a really sick sense of humor."

"We get it from our pater. Seriously, how are you?"

Gwen shrugged. "Terrific, especially for somebody who should be dead." She turned back to Reyna. "Like I was saying I hate to leave the Fifth in the lurch like this -"

The praetor interrupted. "You're no use to the legion dead, Gwen. Last night was an omen if ever I saw one. You can fight for Rome with the veterans as well as you can with the Fifth."

"Probably better," said Kelly. "I'm guessing you're leaving us?"

Gwen nodded, looking more than a little guilty. "I've got my ten and Ceres has been sending me hints all summer." She shot a worried glance over her shoulder at the Fifth's tables. "I hate to leave Dakota on his own but -"

"You're no good to him dead either," this time it was Kelly who interrupted her. "And it's never wise to go against your godly parent's wishes."

"That's what he said," Gwen sighed and gave her fellow centurion another unhappy look. Dakota was at the Kool-Aid already his toga was spotted with it. Next to him the new guy, Percy Jackson, was working on a huge breakfast of pancakes etc. Like all probies it would take a little time for him to adjust to Roman ways. Learning to eat lying down was a real killer, but once you mastered it you wondered where this brilliant idea had been all your life. Same deal with Roman baths.

Reyna patted Gwen on the back. "You're doing the right thing, don't worry about the Fifth."

Kelly nodded hearty agreement. "If Frank and company get the eagle back nobody will ever need to worry about the Fifth again."

"If," Gwen said ruefully.

"Have faith," Kelly told her. The other girls stared at her. "I know. I'm no fan of the Fifth. But I believe in Mars. Pater wouldn't have given Frank the quest if there wasn't at least an even chance he could pull it off."

…

Notes:

Valerius: Members of the ancient Patrician Valerian Gens are all legacies of Mars through their descent from Volesus son of Mars, founder of their family.

Cella: the one room sanctuary containing the god's statue. Open to the pillared porch in front.

Podium: This is the high platform on which a Roman temple is built.

This is adoratio a formal gesture of reverence somewhat similar to a Catholic genuflecting to an altar.

Mola salsa: Ground wheat and salt meal formed into cakes for ritual use. They taste awful. Fortunately worshippers are not required to eat them.

Patera: Latin for shallow dish/bowl.