Note from Kanuro5: Finally back to updating the story. This chapter is especially unique to write and a wonderful change of pace for me. Hope you all enjoy reading it as I enjoyed writing it!
XXXIV
The Rose of Rome
Day 57 of the Campaign
Alesia
"What was the profession of your father?" a young blonde woman asked.
"H-He was a stone mason," the young Roman child said to her. "He went to build the walls that surround this city. I was told he died in an accident, a rock fell on him."
The blonde shook her head and sucked her teeth, "I'm sorry to hear that. And what of your mother?"
"She died when she had me," the boy said blankly.
The woman placed a warm hand on the boy's cheek, the boy smiled and the woman smiled back. She told him, "Those stone walls that surround this city keep us safe from those who seek us harm. Your father was a great man for protecting us all, never forget that." She called for her body slave, Numeria, to hand her a wooden toy of a builder that carried a nail in one hand and a hammer in the other. The woman gave it to the boy, "I want you to remember your father every time you play with this toy." The woman smiled, "Can you do that for me?"
The little boy eyed his new toy with exuberance and smiled to the pretty woman, "Yes."
Appia kissed him on the forehead and looked around the room, taking notice of the dozens of little eyes of children staring back at her with wonder and curiosity. All the children of the orphanage wore only thin muddy rags that were sewn together into small tunics that barely draped their shoulders. Many were thin and caked in dirt; their exposed extremities were bright red from the winter that descended on Alesia.
She turned to a boy with short black hair whose face was peppered in youthful freckles. Appia smiled at the boy and said in the gentlest of tones, "What's your name?"
The freckled boy replied, "Livius."
"Oh that's a strong name."
The boy smiled and looked to the ground, saying softly, "Gratitude."
"How old are you, Livius?"
He held out his fingers to Appia which counted five.
"What did your father do?"
"He was a soldier. One day he left to fight and never came back."
"And what of your mother?"
"She was really sick. She kept coughing and spitting up nasty stuff. She fell asleep and didn't wake up."
"What do you want to be when you grow up, Livius?"
"I want to be a soldier! Like my father!" Many of the orphan boys shouted in agreement. "I want to be in Lucius Julius' Legion!"
"You do? Just like your father?"
"Yes."
"Then here." Appia handed a wooden toy soldier to him. "Your father was a great man also; he helped protect us from those who want to harm us. I pray to Mars that he shall make you big and strong when you get older to protect us. Will you promise to protect the weak?"
"I promise!"
Appia smiled warmly, many of the children began mimicking her smile. Numeria leaned into her Domina's ear and whispered, "Pardon me, Domina, but the hour grows late and the wind grows fierce, I advise we head back to the palace."
"Very well," the beautiful blonde replied, then turned back to the children with a smile. "Apologies, but I must take my leave, but not before I give you all something." She had Numeria distribute all the wooden toys she had to the children, every child received one. They cheered for Appia and many hugged her waist.
"Gratitude for your visit, Lady Appia," the mistress of the orphanage said with a jovial smile. "Your delicate voice and loving touch always sates the children, especially in this harsh climate."
"It lifts heart to help those less fortunate. My husband and I plan to do more for the orphans when he returns from war," she smiled. Appia's eyes roamed the inside of the decrypt orphanage. She shook her head at the sight of the termite infested support beams of the ceiling, the smell of mildew and the abundance of cobwebs in the corners of the walls. How any child could live in these conditions was abhorrent. "Come to me for whatever you need to feed them or clothe them. I would speak with my mother-in-law in repairing this haven."
A chilling blast of wind slapped Appia's cheeks as she exited the orphanage. Her slave placed a thick woolen hood over Appia's head to shield her from the frost. Appia winced for a moment before venturing out further into the cold; the crunching of snow beneath her feet and the whistle of the wind the only sounds that echoed on the street. The minor comfort that brightened Appia was a beautiful ray of sun shined on her. The Rose was receiving her light.
"My Lady, Appia!" a man called out to her. The man was dressed in the winterized uniform of an urban prefect—the man tasked with governing a settlement in the absence of a governor. He was a portly set man in his early 40s, but was immensely tall, towering a full head over Proculus. He was surrounded by six armed militiamen of the Town Watch.
"Ah, Calpurnius, what fortunes of coincidence seeing you here," Appia smiled.
"I would agree with you, and apologies if such words may sound slighted, but my position as Prefect requires me to inspect the conditions of the citizens. For what purpose are you here, my Lady?"
"To see the children, Prefect. This season is the most unforgiving for all people, but especially the orphans. The little ones have no one to warm and love them except each other, so I visited them and remind them about how they are loved. I also—" A strong gust shortened the story. "Perhaps I may finish later in more forgiving climate."
"I agree, allow me to escort you back to the Governor's Palace, my Lady."
She nodded as her jaw began to clatter, "I-I-I do welcome it."
The two distinguished Romans walked side-by-side on the snow-filled street; Numeria following close behind her Domina whilst the six militiamen formed a circle around the patricians and paved the wave through the street.
Calpurnius turned to her, "A person of high birth interacting with the lowest of class, such occurrences is quite uncommon to see."
"So I am aware. But I heard in the forum that we're in for a nasty winter this year. Some are saying an ominous winter. If omens breathe truth, then everyone—high-blood and low-blood—must work as one to survive the harrowing season."
Appia heard Calpurnius chuckle. She turned to see his granite-like lips rising on his face, "You speak as a Julii."
"I am a Julii," she said with pride.
"I know. I was born within the realms of the Julii, my Lady. I have seen their charitable works for the plebeians since I could recall. They are the people's champion. But I only stand astonished that you preach their virtues after joining their house a few years ago. Who taught you such virtues?"
She sucked her teeth before speaking, "Proculus." His face was as clear as the sun in her mind.
"Truly?"
"Indeed. Such was one of the reasons that I found him…" she giggled and blushed slightly, "Interesting. He was different from all the suitors and young men I met."
The prefect raised an eyebrow, "Based on how he interacted with plebeians?"
"Yes. Calpurnius, I am the daughter of a Consul. And even before my father was elected to that position, I only intermingled with the highest of Roman society. I've been to estates that you cannot possibly fathom, and I mean no disrespect unto you in saying such things. Their only interests lied in the patricians and how the patricians could stay wealthy and respected. I speak of the greatest of patrician families, the ones that never leave the Palatine, the ones who never dared venture into the Aventine. They would occasionally visit the Forum, but only the most reserved spaces in the Forum."
The market day was coming to a close and the last of the citizens were in line to purchase the butchered meat of pigs. Though Alesia was thriving, it still had its homeless and poor as did any city. Appia stopped by the butcher stand, her eyes gazing over the long line of hungry men, women and children huddled together in a single file to retain warmth. Many of them wore burlap stitched together into cloaks to cover their bodies, but their faces were kept exposed by the ice-filled wind. Appia noticed how many of their faces were splotched with redness from the wind; the color could rival the brightness of apples.
"They would rarely see this," she pointed out. They continued to walk. Calpurnius made his hands into a fist and breathed warm air into them. Appia began playing with her hands, but didn't have much feeling, so she copied Calpurnius' warming method and felt sensation, for about two seconds before the air stole the warmth from her hands.
"When I came of proper marriageable age," Appia continued, "My father thought it best to give my hand to someone who could aid in bolstering his position. Yet he could not find one amongst the Senate. His next choice was the Scipii, the richest of the Three Families of Rome."
"Indeed they are. I hear their leader shits gold." His eyes went wide and he bowed his head, "Pardon my errant tongue, my Lady Appia, I forget who I am accompanying."
"Pardon accepted. I have heard my share of profanity, I am no stranger to it." She remembered how sometimes Proculus would go on a tirade when someone wronged him. And since she was often nearby the Legion, she became quite acquainted with a soldier's language. "But he found no man was eligible to marriage among the Scipii. He decided on the Julii, not for their wealth since they had less than both the Brutii and the Scipii, but for their military prestige under Lucius. An elite legion under the undefeated Heir of the Julii, such an alliance was more than its weight in gold."
"Did you hold a preference for whom you'd marry?"
"I had no choice for preference, I did as my father bid me," she smiled. But she didn't know why she smiled at the question; it just came naturally to her. Her mother told her as a girl that since her father was climbing the Cursus Honorum, she would have to practice her feminine wiles. She must smile all the time to appear modest, sweet, compromising; she must be seen and not heard, yet only speak when spoken to first. She must smile to show inventiveness, caring, and pride. It was her duty as a Roman woman to smile and agree. I did my duty as my parents saw fit.
"I understand," Calpurnius coughed, "I know choice was absent from your control, but did you have a preference of what Family to marry into?"
"No. I did not care about such a notion. I was told to support whoever I married, bring honor to my parents, and bare my husband sons…" she touched her womb and felt lifelessness. Three years of marriage and no child… "As for the men…I—well I," she giggled, "I was a girl of seventeen at the time, Calpurnius. I fantasized of marrying a man my age who was physically flawless. But I was told that more often than not, women like me married older men. Come to think of it, most of those suitors Father planned for me were old men with fleshy lips and protruding bellies, Venus truly blessed me to grant a specimen of Mars as my husband. "But Proculus," the corner of her mouth rose, her voice was soft and tender, "He was eighteen, handsome, muscled, had the piercing eyes that every girl wanted of a man," she licked her lips in fond memory, "He shined like Apollo." She winked at Calpurnius, "His looks were a bonus, but upon first meeting him I initially believed Proculus was of the same snobby patrician pool, but just better looking; but I would discover more hidden depths about him before we took our vows."
"How so? Proculus can be seen as part of the pool you so describe from a certain point of view, do you disagree?"
"Not at all. Such is why I stated I initially thought he was the same. He…I mean…yes, Proculus seeks glories for himself, what young Roman does not? But he showed me how the lower class lived and how they thought of us patricians. I always believed that they loved us and would always be subservient to us because we were…" she paused, the prefect could hear shame in her tone, "naturally better than them. We were wealthier, we were educated, we held more privileges; I believed that such things would earn us respect. But Proculus showed me the fallacy in such ideals.
"I remember, three years ago in Rome, a month before we would marry, Proculus said he had a surprise to show me. He told me to wait by the forum with only my body slave; I was still a foolish young girl so I agreed. I met him with Numeria by my side, scared that I was among the grimy lower class with no protection by my side; I even had the gall to believe they would force themselves upon me. But then Proculus came to my side, I was so relieved but then I realized that he came by himself without the company of bodyguards. His surprise was a personal tour around the Aventine of Rome." Appia chuckled at the thought, "My heart seized in my chest. I thought my betrothed was mad, but he gave me the smile of Adonis and I agreed to accompany him, Numeria complained the whole trip there.
"As we reached the Aventine, I was terrified of what I saw. Men and women crowded together in cheap tunics who were haggling and spitting and cursing at one another, children playing in the mud and dirt, drunks and beggars soliciting others nonstop, and the aroma of spoiled wine and sex was rampant. Calpurnius, I wanted to cry. But as I looked at Proculus, I saw not disgust on his face, but revelry. He smiled at me and shouted in the sky as if he found some treasure. He interacted with the plebs, and they interacted with him. They smiled and gave him free meals and played music for him, he would even join them in playing music. Proculus and the plebs laughed and drank merrily; we even sat down and watched puppetry." Calpurnius noticed Appia smiling. "It…It was one of the best times in my life."
Calpurnius scratched his head and chuckled, "Proculus is indeed a Julius."
"Yes he is. And at the end of the day, I asked him how he could interact with them. He told me his whole family could do it, it was in the Julii blood to be for the people. The Julii understood that Rome is not the patricians, Rome is the mob. If the mob suffers, then all of Rome suffers. Calpurnius…these people, the Julii, they cater to the lowest denominator. The mob respects the patricians who take care of them. It is through high-class privilege that we patricians have a responsibility to care for those less fortunate than us. To be completely equal. That is why I fell for Proculus, upon first meeting him, he seems one-dimensional in thought, but there exist more dimensions than one can see."
Appia could see Calpurnius chuckling. "Fortuna has blessed your union, it seems."
"Oh—well, yes…she really has blessed our union."
One of the Town's Watch announced to Calpurnius, "Prefect, there goes of Rannius of Atmos around the corner."
"Truly? Good, I had business with him," he turned to Appia, "Apologies, my Lady, would you mind waiting here for a moment, I have business with this man, I shall not tarry long."
"Go ahead." She smiled as Calpurnius left her to confront the man. The young woman's smile faded, her eyes lowered to her feet. Her faithful servant noticed her eyes trailing lowly.
"Domina, does something bother you?"
"I'm fine Numeria…" Appia sighed. Numeria saw how she scrunched her face and narrowed her eyes at the sky. The slave girl knew she was thinking about Proculus, but it was not in a good light.
Appia gnashed her teeth softly at the thought. Two months ago—a week after the Legion left on the campaign—it was an ordinary night at the Governor's Palace for Appia. Proculus seemed to have returned from his sullen mood after his Father commanded him to stay. They spent the night talking, laughing, and making what seemed like endless rounds of love. She was happy. He was back to his old self, and he had given her that wonderful soreness from her loins that was evidence of a delightful climax. They lied together on the bed, both of them exhaling in exhaustion in post-coitus, their legs entwined with one another, her kissing his temple, his tongue entering her mouth, both exchanging warm pants, his large firm hand groping her breast fondly, his nail softly scratching her nipple; he was ready to go again. But nature called for Appia, and her slave escorted her to the privy to relieve herself. She did not believe she took long, for on her return to the bedchambers, Proculus had vanished along with his sword and armor, not even his body slave Euphatos knew what became of him. She found a note on the bed—she clenched her fist at that point in her memory—and read that he would pursue his destiny in fighting with the 28th Legion, and he shall return once they were victorious.
There it was. He was gone. All the hours they spent on that bed, and how does he tell her? Through a letter? Through a letter! Appia growled to herself. Two months later and it still infuriated her. But the anger would then quickly subside, allowing shame to envelop her heart. Maybe it was how Proculus did it, that made her feel terrible. He said he loved her, fucked her good, and when she went to the privy he ran out on her in the dead of night…without saying a word and just leaving a note, treating her not as his wife but…like…a common whore…
The following morning, she frantically paced around the entire palace, her imagination scouring over every horrible atrocity that Proculus could succumb to in war. What if he never found the legion and was lost in the wilderness to freeze? What if he was mauled by some rabid beast in the frozen wilderness? What if he returned home, but he was missing a limb, or his face was hacked to pieces and he had to spend his life as a recluse? What if he was crippled and could never walk again? What if he fell comatose and she had to care for a vegetable for a husband for the rest of her life? She spoke to her mother-in-law, Octavia, about the fear over Proculus' safety and how it was tearing her apart. Octavia hugged her fondly and whispered in the ear, "Now you know the cost of marrying a soldier, but know that it'll worsen when your sons leave for war."
A letter came from the north a month ago, chronicling the Heroic Victory of the 28th at Praxus Hill. The newsreader read the victory in the Forum and all of Alesia cheered, but none were more elated than Appia and Octavia, learning that Proculus made it to the Legion and that he, his brother and his father were well. She could feel a cold hand releasing her heart, enabling her to breathe easy. He was safe…for now. But who knows when he might return to her, or not at all?
All she could think about was the damned note, and how he could not speak to her. When he returned home, the first thing Appia promised to do was slap him for putting her in that terrible situation. Does he truly hold no affection for me? What kind of man leaves a note? How could h—
"My Lady, I have returned, pardon me for that." Calpurnius said with a jovial smirk.
Appia smiled sweetly, "Not at all, dear Prefect. Shall we return to the Palace now?"
The escort continued, they moved closer to the palace with the snow easing up to peaceful flurries. They rounded a corner and were cut off by a crowd of citizens surrounding an establishment; shouting could be heard from the middle of the crowd.
"Apponia! Damn it, Apponia!"
The prefect groaned at the sight. "Oh what now?!"
Appia shook her head at the establishment surrounded by the crowd. A brothel. Following on the heels of the prefect, Appia made her way to the epicenter of the commotion. A belligerent man surrounded by two other men who looked to be his bodyguards, was at the entrance of the brothel, threatening the brothel owner for entry. Appia noted the three had weapons. One had to only look at this belligerent man to see that he was drunk. Appia believed him to be of Gallic birth, he lacked the fair complexion of a Roman and had a scruffy chestnut beard and possessed a heavy yet intelligible accent.
"Apponia!" The drunken man screeched at the brothel windows, swaying from side-to-side, "I know you are inside! Bring your filthy cunt out here! Now!"
"Apponia's not here! I've told you this!" Salvinius, the brothel owner said adamantly, his arms were extended out to block him from entering. Appia could see that the brothel security was inside the brothel with drawn daggers, eager to use them if they had to.
"Fuck you, you shit! I know that little bitch is in there!" He spat a thick wad of phlegm in the owner's face. "How dare she take another man in bed! That fucking bitch is mine alone!"
"Correction. She is my slave. She is mine and she fucks whoever pays her!" the owner shouted back.
The muttering of the crowd broke Appia's attention. She took a better look and could see children as young as eight with eyes filled with fear of this screeching man. They hung to their parent's hands and legs every time the drunk shouted a profanity. Calpurnius turned back to Appia and told her to wait. He stepped forward.
"Cease this squabbling at once!" The portly prefect projected from the crowd.
The eyes of the brothel owner softened at the sight. "Bless the Gods that you are here, Prefect! This manic drunk has been harassing my establishment with threats of violence against my slaves."
"For what purpose?"
"It does not concern you," the drunk sneered. Calpurnius stared at the man before turning his eyes back to the owner. He continued.
"He pisses on about how one of my girls lies with other clients. He was under delusion that he and the whore were exclusive. She's a whore! And he does not grasp that! Now he threatens to kill me, my whores, and raze my establishment to ashes!" The owner waved his arm forward in an arc. "All of the citizens bore witness to the harassment." Appia heard several men and women chime in with agreement.
Calpurnius pointed his beefy finger at the raving man, "What is your name?"
"I do not answer to you! Speak to me again and my men shall take care of you!"
The bodyguards gulped. "Boss, I—"
"Shut up," the drunk snapped at them before turning his attention back at Calpurnius. "This does not concern you, Prefect!"
"I beg to differ, with the Governor absent, all incidents that flow within the city are my concern. Now you have one chance to return to your abode and sleep off your wine. I hope you take this chance."
"Fuck your chance and fuck you!" The raucous man drew his sword.
The crowd gasped. Calpurnius drew his sword with a snarl. The Town Watchmen drew their spears and pointed them at the man. The drunk's two bodyguards were trembling, their hands shooting high in the air. They were not being paid enough to follow their boss over the edge.
"Boss! Have you lost mind?!" one of them shouted.
"Silence, and draw your weapons!"
"Oh fuck this…" the other bodyguard said. He turn and fled, and the other one followed suit, shouting back to the Prefect, "Know that we have no hand in this, leave us be!"
"Cowards! Come back here!" the drunk screamed after them.
"Do not pursue, men." Calpurnius told his militia. "Those two are blessed with sense. As for this one…"
Appia stepped up closer to the man, her voice was soft and beseeching. "Think of what you are doing! You are shaming yourself in front of these people. I beg of you, lay down your weapon."
The man's eyes whipped towards the young woman, he growled, "Hold your tongue, bitch! Did I fucking speak to you?"
"Silence!" Calpurnius bellowed. Appia shook a little bit. It was her first time hearing the Prefect fume with anger. "You pathetic sot! Do you not know who you address? This is Lady Appia of the Julii!"
The crowd around them murmured softly, failing to notice General Lucius' daughter-in-law roaming the streets beside them.
The drunk sneered at her with raised eyes, "For what purpose are you here? Are you trying to reclaim your husband at the brothel?"
Appia's eyes widened. Salvinius gasped. The crowd fell silent; their eyes of uneasiness fell on the young wife. Calpurnius closed his eyes and cursed lowly, thinking to himself that now this poor girl knew the truth.
"What are you saying?" Appia asked him, her eyes lowered to the snow-covered ground.
"That your husband, Proculus, fucks a whore in this establishment once a month! I've seen it with my own eyes!" The drunk chuckled darkly at the sight of Appia's lowered head. He felt like he was on top of the world, and the wine in his blood certainly aided him in that feeling. It told him to place all these pathetic bitches in their place. Once he was done with this patrician cunt, he would move on to beating Apponia to an inch of her life.
"Your husband has betrayed you, cunt! Now leave me be!" he said as he turned to face the whorehouse owner, Salvinius.
"Hold there!" Calpurnius shouted. "You fucking fool! You shall regret that! Men, seize this man!"
"Fuck you, Prefect! And fuck—"
"I know."
The eyes fell on Appia who was staring hard at the drunken man. She wore a neutral, blank expression, her tone rang of indifference but loud enough to be heard. She said it once more, "I know my husband betrays me with whores."
Everyone ceased moving. Jaws were falling from mouths, Calpurnius did a double-take. The drunk's conceited smile faded.
"I've known for a while of my husband's infidelity," she said softly, her voice was filled with pain. "He would lie with whores without my consent, and in which he believes he does so without my knowledge. I've known…I've known." Then her voice calmed. But her calmness was unsettling, like the calm a sailor would experience before the inevitable storm. "You misunderstood my words, when I said, 'What are you saying?' it was not about my husband's infidelity. No, that has nothing to do with this. I meant what are you saying towards me? Towards the Prefect, towards the women in that brothel? What are you saying? Why are you being the fool in cursing these women who only try to do their profession?"
She walked closer to the man, she was chuckling as she walked; and yet her face betrayed no emotion. "It's funny. I defend the women who most likely fucked my husband. The Gods have a sense of humor, truly. But know this is not about them, this is about you. You paid a whore to fuck you and you grow mad that she lies with another man? Would you be filled with equal anger if a cobbler fixed your sandals and the next day he fixed another man's? It is their profession; they are paid to pretend they enjoy it, they are paid to claim that you were the best they ever had. Why do you take this personally? If you truly hold feelings for a whore, then no man may comment on the love you feel. But is this how you show it, threatening violence on anyone who stands in your way?" She finally smiled, the corners of her lips rising like that of a mischievous boy. "You act as a trembling toddler who misses their favorite toy."
The drunk grimaced, "How dare yo—"
"Hold. Your. Tongue. I am still speaking." The man quieted, his bravado wounded by her glare. She continued unabatedly, "And so, you resort to hire two men to harm whoever you find and you scream profanities within the streets; in front of the elderly, in front of the children. Have you no shame? Apparently not. For you believe it right to slander everyone here, including me. The condescending of women must make you feel superior, doesn't it? You've proven that with the whores and with me. Allow me to inform you of myself.
"I was once known as the "Rose of Rome", for my beauty and status. A silly epithet really. I never liked it. My mother always taught me to stay humble from praise. And I value that above all else. But…you should know, every rose has its thorns. You are to touch a rose with delicateness and peace, if you dare try to yank it from its stem, then you should be prepared to bleed."
The man took a step back. "What did you s—"
"I said, 'you should be prepared to bleed' if you dare yank the rose. By the look upon your face, I can tell you were not expecting a woman to have such bite. What is your plan here? Do you truly believe that you can carve through the Prefect and his men in daylight in front of all these witnesses and get away with it? All over a whore? A dog has more sense than you. And worse, you dare insult the daughter-in-law of Lucius Julius, the man who conquered Gallia and Hispania? Also the wife of Proculus, you're apparently aware of his disposition to know that he is quick to wrath when humiliated. When he returns and learns of your slurs…well…" Appia turned to the crowd, "Does anyone hold a shovel? I believe this man needs it so that he may dig himself deeper.
"But what truly irritates me is that you hold the gall to hurl slurs upon my marriage. I love my husband, and in his own bizarre way, I can feel that he holds love for me. True, it is not perfect, but you do not see me screaming like a child at a brothel and threatening violence; all for the sake of mending wounded pride. I am more a man than you are." She walked closer.
"B-B-B-Back away from me!" he screamed.
"Why? Are you afraid? Of me? Why? What did you call me…a 'cunt'? That's what you said, correct? You pride yourself on being a man to be taken seriously. Ha! You are nothing. You are an eyelash in my eye, the dirt beneath my nail, the phlegm in my throat. You are just a bitter, pathetic man who had too much to drink. And so…" she extended her hand forward, like a mother opening her hand waiting for her child to return something that did not belong to them. Her voice was firm and cold, "Hand me your sword, follow the Prefect's men, sober up in your cell, and upon your release I never want to hear from you again. I never want to hear gossip of you in this city, I never want to hear of any abuse of women by your hands; you shall never visit this brothel again. Do you understand?"
The man stared into her eyes, and she could see discomfort and a twinge of fear in his'. He looked around himself; the militiamen were closing in on him with drawn spears. He surrendered his sword to Appia and hung his head in defeat; the Town Watch seized him by the arms and took him away. She looked around the crowd, it seemed like a quarter of Alesia was surrounding her, all with eyes that contained a mixture of wonder, admiration, and fear. The Prefect approached her, Appia noted that he looked like he saw the Gorgon.
"My Lady, uh…remind me never to anger you…"
Appia quickly reddened with embarrassment. "Yes, well, let that be a lesson to all. I rarely show that side of me…but Calpurnius, what he said about Proculus's activities…you have most likely suspected such things, as do the men in your barracks. But I must speak to you for the sake of formality." Her demure nature evaporated. Calpurnius felt a bizarre, cold sensation emanate from her gaze. She said with eerie softness, "Do not speak of what you heard today." She turned to the Town Watchmen, her eyes were fiercer than when she looked to Calpurnius, "The same goes for you all."
"Y-Yes, my Lady!" the militiamen shouted in unison.
Appia exhaled, not knowing that such a speech had winded her. "Come Calpurnius, I'm freezing out here. Let us return to the Palace."
"At once, my Lady. Apologies, but I must know, did you always have…that fire in your voice?"
"Always. It comes with being a patrician among the highest families. As a woman, your speech must be your sword and your pride must be your armor. My mother told me that as a woman of noble birth, I only have one duty, and that duty is family. It is to maintain and protect the integrity of my family at all costs. And I shall not allow a drunk to besmirch my families' integrity."
They were walking closer to the palace, and yet the drunk's twisted words still echoed in her mind. "Your husband, Proculus, fucks whore!" She already knew. She's known that for the past six months. She softly gnashed her teeth at the thought as her mind drifted back.
She remembered clearly how she determined Proculus' infidelity. On certain nights of the month, he would return in the morning fatigued, smelling of wine and cheap perfume that was only used by plebeians. At first she dismissed it for carousing with his male friends, but then when she woke in the morning before him and marveled at his body, her eyes were horror-stricken when she found small lover-bites on his chest, neck, and arms. And even when they would lie together, he would be using innovative techniques to pleasure her that he never did before. These new techniques were flawless, showing that he was not experimenting, but he had mastered these techniques…with someone else.
As her suspicions grew, she sent her slave, Numeria, to follow Proculus on the days he went "carousing" with his friends. At the cusp of midnight, Numeria came back with tears in her eyes, heartbroken to confirm Appia's fear. Proculus and his friends had entered the brothel owned by Salvinius, and laid with several whores that night. Appia wept the entire night, and come morning, she avoided Proculus the entire day. She believed that Proculus was so hungover that day that he failed to notice her snubbing.
At first, Appia wanted to sleep around just to spite Proculus; she even considered sleeping with Vitus. She contemplated sneaking into the younger brother's room at night and mounting the young man so hard that come dawn Vitus wouldn't be able to walk. But she couldn't go through with it. It would have been too cruel to twist Vitus' feelings in such a malicious act. And if discovered, she would face more scrutiny in her infidelity than Proculus' on the sole basis of being a woman. From what she learned, Proculus would only lie with whores, refraining to indulge himself on other men's wives. It was more socially acceptable for him to be sleeping with slave whores than real women of status. From what she was told and from the lack of rumors, Proculus was smart enough not to fornicate with a married woman. Such a fact cushioned the blade, but still could not protect from the sting.
Yet through all the infidelity, she knew within the core of her heart, that he still loved her. Why was she so sure? Was it woman's intuition? Who could say? Maybe it was his actions. After he slept with other women, he never acted differently towards her. He never scoffed at her or brushed her aside with contempt. He would cherish her as if she was Venus herself. He still treated her as a specimen of love. Then again…that also infuriated her. That he could go lie with whores and come right back to her without apparently caring that he did so. But what gave her pause in her anger was how he seemed to only lust after prostitutes during her menstruation. Every month at the exact week her cycle occurred, it would be that time where Proculus would visit his whores. Never a day before her menstruation, and never a day after. He often expressed disgust in sticking his manhood in her bleeding genitalia, and her cycle often brought abdominal cramps and occasional nausea, negating sex entirely between the two during the entire cycle. Proculus was a carnal man, he desired sex every day. She didn't mind. The only downside from the daily rutting was occasional soreness in her loins, but that was often overshadowed by exuberant satisfaction she received after the act. But such pleasures could not fully heal from the blow of infidelity, and yet she kept silent of Proculus, especially to her father in fear of what he might do.
Violence erupting over an infidelity? Such was possible, she thought. The Trojan War was a prime example. Yet Appia knew that such a scandal would not reach the magnitude of the Trojan War, but violence, scandal, and disunion were bound to erupt between the two Great Families of Rome, the Julii and the Maxentii; such a fact could tear Rome apart. Her father was a proud man, as was her cousin, the Praetor Marcus Maxentius. Dissent would be inevitable and violence on any scale would erupt. She would not allow that to happen to Rome.
But what truly tormented this young woman's mind and heart was the unanswered question: why did she not tell Proculus? She told herself that she kept silent because she did not want to fill their relationship with awkwardness. How dreadful would it be that whenever they entered a room, a large veil of awkwardness and regret would hang in between them? She couldn't handle such a thought. But did she truly believe that? Was that truly the reason she didn't tell him? She now began to dread every time her menstruation was approaching. Every time he lied that he was going to carouse with his friends, why did she just smile and say to him, 'Be careful…'? She would tell herself that he is just using the whores to relieve his physical urges, no love existed in the act…but did she truly believe that? Ultimately, she was too afraid to answer her questions; or maybe she just didn't want to. She thought if she stayed silent and remained a dutiful wife, he would cease in his infidelity, but months have proven that he would never stop indulging himself. She would have to be the one to end it. Her mother told her that as a Roman wife, it was her duty to never question her husband…but Father never betrayed you Mother, if he did, would you still hold your principles to heart?
Not anymore. She was done with it. Done with the false smiles, done with the passiveness; she was done with it all and it was due to that drunk. The drunk reminded her that she was indeed a Rose, a beauty not to be squandered in the garden. She loved Proculus, and it was because of this love that she would bare her thorns. When he returned from the campaign, there would be some changes in the household, she would see to that. Things would change.
The Governor's Palace
The entrance to the palace cracked open, and the party entered with a sigh of relief.
A slave bowed before Appia. "Welcome home, Domina."
"Where is Mother?"
"She is in the War Chambers awaiting you, Domina."
"Gratitude. How long has she waited?"
"For an hour's half, Domina."
That damn drunk… "Alright, I shall see her immediately."
The smoothed, heated concrete of the Palace provided a soothing warm solace for Appia and Calpurnius as they entered. The halls of the palace were busy with slaves tending to its upkeep, retinues and ancillaries hired by Lucius were managing the diplomatic affairs while the governor was off at war, and upon entering the war chambers of the palace, Appia found her mother-in-law, Octavia, overlooking a map of Alesia, surrounded by men who answered her questions and suggestion on how to improve the city. Appia smiled at the middle-aged women, her auburn hair still retained its healthy coat and draped beautifully down to her back, her makeup hid the contours of age on her face, she was standing straight and proud while surrounded by men who were voicing their own opinions about her judgement, but she stood proud.
Octavia looked up from the map, her smile revealed her white teeth. "Oh Appia, there you are! I was beginning to worry. What took you so long?"
"Well, we…we encountered—" Calpurnius awkwardly began.
"—A crying child in the street," Appia finished, exhibiting a tender smile to her mother-in-law, "He was cranky and cold and was making a scene, so I took care of him."
"Good. How were the children at the orphanage?"
"My visit raised their spirits. I delivered the toys we requested from the carpenter. They loved them. But their establishment is in need for repairs. I'll tell you of it later."
"I know you are tired, Appia? Do you require a bath?"
A warm bath sounded heavenly, but she promised Octavia that she would help her. She sighed to herself before replying, "No, I am fine. Let us begin."
Octavia nodded, she took a gulp from a cup of wine and pointed on the city map. "We can start constructing on another building right away, with the coffers as high as they are now, we can construct plans to upgrade the Temple of Jupiter to a large temple or construct an Academy."
Appia whistled at the options, "Those are two great choices."
"I desire to hear your opinion on what building we should choose."
Appia had her slave remove her fur coat. The young woman stretched as she walked over to the map beside Octavia. "The Gods deserve to be praised, and the plebeians shall take comfort of the temple growing in size."
"Then again," Octavia countered. "Having a city filled with those who improve the future of Rome is always needed, educated men can perform such actions."
Appia smirked, "Or women."
Octavia smiled back, "Another reason to consider the academy."
"But alas, Mother, just because we hold the coffers to spend on these projects, does not necessarily mean we should. We could always save the coin in case of emergency."
"Of course, I only suggest that if we must select a building, we have two options to choose from. It seems you favor the option of the temple." Appia nodded. "How would you believe the Gauls to react to such a choice? What about the Gallic gods?"
Appia cleared her throat and smiled, "The remaining Gauls in the city are transitioning from their pantheon to our pantheon. Earlier, I took a walk to the Shrines of Teutatis, Esus, and Abnoba and noticed fewer Gauls in prayer with each passing week. The augurs of the Temple of Jupiter state that more Gauls are flocking to them. We can build new temples, but we cannot completely rid the Gallic shrines."
Appia could note the satisfaction of her answer in Octavia's eyes. Octavia asked, "Temples also keep order within the city. How would you gauge the public order?"
Prefect Calpurnius chimed in from the corner, "Adequate, my Lady, but with fair warning, it is decreasing. With the Legion gone, there's been more criminal activity within the city, but mostly petty crime, nothing the Town Watch cannot handle. Most of the criminality is caused by our Gallic citizens who have yet to fully assimilate to Roman behavior. This cultural clash is increasing tensions with the Romans within the city. Today…" the Prefect's eyes moved towards Appia, "The child that Lady Appia was speaking of was an example."
"Another reason that I advocate that we increase the size of the Temple of Jupiter." Appia said, "It shall increase health and order within the city. Also, another blow to the public order is the squalor. Since it is winter in this barbarian land, more citizens are crowding together in residences, increasing the squalor. We should also consider building and improving residences for all citizens, not just Romans. Earlier, the orphanage, and…Mother, their conditions are deplorable, if we can, let's aid them first."
"You would have children receive better treatment than adults?" the Prefect asked.
"Hear me out, what is more demoralizing, seeing a dead adult in the gutter or a dead child? The situation I described is terrible, no one should be dead in a gutter. But having dead children littering the city will cause order within Alesia to plummet."
"Fine," Octavia said with a nod, "if we commit to a project, then we shall decide on the Large Temple and improving residences. Now on for the next subject…"
Appia received a small cup of wine from a slave and drank if slowly, it would be a long session. The two women spoke upon the subjects of finance, improving garrison size, and trade routes from Alesia to other Julii settlements. In a lull of the conversation, Appia's mind raced at how Lucius chose his own wife to be his settlement advisor. Octavia told her that this has been going on for years. Octavia had been the daughter of renowned treasurer and four-time Quaestor, Titus Autilius 'the Architect', a man who spent his better years revolutionizing public bathhouses and sewers across the Republic, reducing squalor by 55% throughout all settlements. Octavia told her that Titus ensured all his children would learn management skills—including his daughter—to better the lives of those in the Republic. Octavia was tutored by her father to become a proper steward who would support her husband if he was to be a governor of a city. Appia figured the father would be proud if he could see his daughter now. Octavia had told her that by constructing and managing the city was her only mean to stay sane. What was Octavia supposed to do while her husband went off to war? By following her husband around to the very edges of Rome, she often had few chances to interact with other patrician wives. And when she could, she would tutor her two sons when their father went to war. She decided that she would be more than a tutor, she would aid in the construction of settlements that her husband had conquered instead of wait in anticipation for her husband to return to her. And Octavia ensured that Appia would be taught the same, and so she took the young wife under her wing, and together the two had planned most of the architecture that stood in Alesia with the helpful aid of Lucius' ancillaries.
After an hour of planning, Octavia deemed it time to take a break. Appia sighed in agreement. Both women waltzed out of the war chambers and reclined comfortably on couches in the midst of the Palace's atrium. The rest of the ancillaries and slaves continued on working around the resting patricians. Appia took off her sandals and stretched her toes with a groan.
"Are you well, my dear?" Octavia asked.
"I am, gratitude for asking. It is just…long day. With the tightness of these shoes and the snow, my feet are killing me."
"Hold that thought, dear. Rura!"
A young blonde slave girl ran towards Octavia and bowed, "Yes, Domina?"
"Rura, Appia's feet are in discomfort."
"Understood, Domina."
She fell on her knees and began massaging Appia's foot before Appia could even blink. Her soft fingers working the balls and soles of her foot brought a wave of relief. Octavia smiled at her. "Better?"
Appia nodded with an exhale, "Much."
"Tread with caution out there, the snow will ruin your feet. Such is the time where I seek the solace of the lands of Italia, where the climate is agreeable and we are not surrounded by the barbarian wilds outside our walls."
"Oh I do not know, Mother, I don't mind Alesia, its simplicities grow on you."
Octavia chuckled, "I suppose it does. I recall when this city was nothing but ash when it was conquered. It was appalling to the eyes, the smell was worse. Smoke, rot, blood; that's all I could smell after it was conquered. But in five years…well, just peer outside and you'll see. What we did."
"What you did, Mother. You chose most of these buildings for the city. The citizens owe most of their fortunes to you."
Octavia's face wrinkled with impish delight. "Oh stop. I was aided by skilled retainers."
"Were their names Me, Myself & I?"
Octavia sniggered. "Where did you learn to flatter?
The edge of Appia's mouth rose. "Well, I was born in Rome."
Both women enjoyed a lovely laughter. "I am proud to call you my daughter. I've told you such?"
"A dozen times."
"Come, Appia. You've had a long day, let us draw bath and rest for tomorrow. I've just imported this most luxurious soap of lavender. I hear it makes your flesh sing with pleasu—"
A slave girl came before them, "Excuse me, Domina. A man waits with a delivery of a wicker basket for you."
"Where is the man?" Octavia asked the slave girl.
"He waits outside the doors, Domina."
"How important is this 'basket' of his?"
"I beg your pardon, Domina, but the man says it is of the utmost urgency that you receive this package. He claims it came…from the North."
The entire busyness of the room grinded to a halt, all eyes shifted to the slave. Appia looked at her mother-in-law who was lost in a state of surprise. Appia could see her lips silently form the name of her husband under her breath. Both women sat up from their couches. Octavia turned to the young girl with a wide smile that held fragments of wishful hope, "Maybe he won another victory against the barbarians." She told the slave to fetch the man.
But Calpurnius stopped the slave before she left, "Pause a moment, did this man come under the banners of the Twenty-Eighth?"
"No, he did not. He wore no evidence of being a soldier." The girl left to fetch the messenger.
Octavia asked the Prefect. "W-What was that? What did you come to mean by that?"
"My Lady, we cannot assume that whatever comes back from the North is from your husband. When the news of his victory at Praxus Hill arrived, the courier rode under the standard of the legion. We must take all necessary measu—"
The slave returned, "Domina, the man has arrived."
The man who entered the room was of middle age and wore the expression of a man walking to the gallows. The man's face was plastered in wrinkles and his hair was a stringy grey, his pale face of fear and sadness only accented the man's age. He had a grotesque scar on his cheek that looked like a sword slash, freshly made. He was trembling as he walked towards an end table to place the basket in front of the crowd of onlookers. He presented a wide wicker basket—big enough for a watermelon to fit—with a brown cloth draped over top, before the aristocratic Romans. The two Julii women stared at the basket and then back at him.
"I deliver this basket unto to you." His voice quavered as he spoke.
"You speak to the women of the Julii. I would have you address us properly," Octavia firmly stated.
"A-A-Apologies. I just, well I—never meant—I mean—"
"What is your name?" Appia asked softly.
"My name is Amelius, my Lady."
"Who are you?" demanded Calpurnius.
"I-I-I cultivate the farms outside of Alesia to the north. I have my own family out on that small piece of land. It's not much, b-but we get by."
"How did you come by this basket?"
"A-A-A man with a thick blond beard came from the North! He carried that basket and ordered me with the edge of his sword to deliver it to the leaders of the city." Amelius' stammering increased. "O-Or he said he would return and k-k-kill my family!" He pointed to the thick scar on his cheek and the stub of a finger on his right hand, "He did this to me!"
Appia eyed the poor man's face and hand, and shivered at the thought of a monster inflicting this on another. Her eyes turned to the wicker basket that now seemed to be radiating an unexplained aura of horror.
Calpurnius stood tall. "Describe the brigand who accosted you," he asked of the man, "And in more favorable weather, I shall send men to search for him."
"That man was no brigand, Prefect." The man dug in his pockets, the household guards all went to their swords. The slave girl stopped the guards from drawing their swords, explaining how the man was frisked for weapons before entering. The man pulled out a stringed necklace from his pocket, showing everyone the unique pendant attached to it. Appia had to move closer to see it, the pendant was oval shaped and had a fanciful mixture of blue and white. An insignia stood proudly on the pendant, a white stag.
"A white stag," she said, "To what does this mean?"
"A stag…oh Gods, that's the standard of the Brittonic barbarians." Calpurnius said.
A soft murmur descended on the halls. Appia breathed in sharply. The Britons? That mysterious tribe of the North… she thought, Why would they send a messenger with a basket so far south?
She stared at the basket once more. Her eyes then trailed to the shuddering man. "Amelius, what is in that basket?"
"It's…It's s-s-some—uh, no… a h-h-he…."
"Speak sense!" the Prefect snapped. "She asked a question, so open your lips and form words, damn it!"
Amelius looked as if he was going to cry. Appia could feel her own heart beginning to quiver. Why can he not form a proper sentence? What did he see inside the bask—
"Domina, wait!"
It came from a slave. Appia turned. Octavia was standing next to the basket, her hand hovering over the cloth that draped the wicker. Her bottom lip was shaking slightly, as if she was mumbling.
"My Lady please, wait!" Calpurnius said rushing forward. But her hand moved closer.
"Mother!" Appia squealed. Octavia stopped, giving a look of forlorn to her daughter-in-law. Don't…just don't…She couldn't utter these words, she didn't know why. She didn't know what resided in that basket, but she did not desire to know. But she could see how Octavia held hunger in her eyes, an ungodly hunger to seek out the mystery of what the basket held.
The mother reached for the basket, Appia held her breath as Octavia snatched the cloth away.
There it was. Terror. Terror was all there was on Octavia's face. Octavia blinked disbelievingly, her tears flowed. Her mouth creaked open, yet only voiceless air came from her lips. She collapsed. Her body slave caught her before her auburn hair hit the concrete.
The Palace erupted in chaos. Appia ran to her, as did the slaves who repeatedly beseeched their unconscious Domina to wake from her mind-shattering terror. A dozen voices, crazed in tone, spoke in unison. The slave girls were crying over their Domina, the male slaves were terrified of the unknown inside the basket that struck fear into their Domina. The retinue of the palace roamed over to the Amelius, demanding with violent voices what was inside the basket. But only Calpurnius was calm enough to approach the basket. As he reached the basket, the hall quieted once more and the eyes fell on him. He looked into the box. He swore softly and shuddered in his skin. He looked at Octavia, and then at Appia. His eyes were wild and frightful.
Appia stood to her feet, clenching her fist and trying to put on a façade of solidity. "What's in the basket, Calpurnius?"
"No…just no…"
"What is in the basket?"
"I cannot…I cannot."
"Show me."
"I will not."
"Show me."
"No!"
"I swear to the Gods if you do not show me, I will dump that basket out myself."
"Fine…fine. I will show you all."
His hand slowly descended within the basket, his eyes were red as if he was about to cry. He inhaled as he pulled the object out. He grabbed it by its thin hair, raised it high to the room. Several slaves screamed, several retinues cursed, a few men vomited, Appia was frozen stiff; everyone wore the face of horror.
Calpurnius lowered it back into the basket and covered it with the cloth. His hands were quaking violently, he was the first to break the terrible silence with a mantra of madness. "Impossible…Impossible…Impossible…"
A slave muttered, "H-How? How could the Dominus be killed?"
Another slave grieved, "Oh Dominus…Dominus, why you? Why? How could they succumb to such barbarism!"
A retinue fumed, "Those Britons…they killed him. Those blue-faced Celtic bastards! They murdered him!"
"And they chopped him up like he was an animal!" a slave woman cried out.
Soon, all the commentary blurred together.
"No…the greatest general in Roman history…he lost…"
"Those fuckers! Those damn shit-eaters!"
"How could he lose? He was 'the Mighty'. How could he lose?"
"They must have snuck in his camp and murdered him. Those dishonorable barbarians!"
"W-What does this mean about the Twenty-Eighth?"
"That is right…are they destroyed? Did the barbarians destroy them?"
"Impossible. They're invincible!"
"So was Lucius, but look at him now!"
"Oh Gods! Gods no! If the Legion is destroyed, who shall protect us from the barbarian horde?"
"He's right! Nothing can stop them from attacking Alesia!"
"I am leaving this doomed city! All of you should take flight as well!"
"I will!"
"So will I!"
"Jupiter have mercy. Apollo have mercy! Minerva have mercy! Mars have m…"
"The horde may be on their way now! We must flee back to proper Roman lands! We must flee if—"
"ENOUGH!"
The room quieted from the sudden shout. They all stared at the young patrician woman who in the city's darkest hour, held eyes of strength. She raised her voice once more, "Enough! Calm yourselves!" Appia could hear her voice cracking as she spoke, but she didn't care. "This is no time to give into fear!" She could feel the air seizing in her lungs, the back of her throat was dry and her knees began to buckle. "Show no fear. We are Romans. Months ago, I heard my father-in-law speak to his newest recruits, he told them 'Fear is always present, but the greatest shame a soldier could have is letting fear rule them.' How are we to honor the man, if we break his creed in front of his head?"
Lucius…how could they do that to you? Why would they? "We are Romans. This is not the first time the enemy has been at our gates. And as the darkest hour is upon us yet again in our history, we shall not falter…" You were kind to me when I married into your family; you were as a second father to me… "Indeed, Alesia is in grave danger. But we must not allow fear to spread or the city shall destroy itself before the barbarians do. Everyone outside the palace must not know of Lucius' death, panic shall grip the city. Here is what we must do…" Oh wise Minerva, please bestow a fraction of your wisdom upon me for this crisis…
Appia fought back pitiful weeps as she gazed at her mother-in-law who was still unconscious. "First and foremost, take Octavia to her bedchambers. When she awakens, tend to her needs and ensure her solace of any kind." If Lucius is dead, then…does that mean they are dead as well?
"Calpurnius, please send patrols out. If one barbarian is out there in the wilderness, we are in danger. Question all plebeians who take residence to the North of Alesia, establish a garrison there, d-do something, we need eyes and ears everywhere! We can't—I don't…" Vitus…oh young, sweet Vitus. Did they butcher you too? Please…no…not Vitus…please… "We j-just need to be safe. Double the guard around the city and watchtowers. If any f-food is not yet acquired from the fields or attained from merchants, take them and all supplies into Alesia in case a siege occurs."
"I want messengers ready to leave Alesia at moment's notice at all times, do you understand? If they have to leave at the dead of night—" Proculus… His radiant, prideful smile flashed in her mind. Appia could feel the water welling up in her eyes. His infectious laugh echoed in her head. 'I love you, Appia? You know that…' She was trembling hard. She foresaw him lying in a pool of blood in the desolate snow, his face buried in the blinding whiteness of the ground, the thousands wounds on his back weeping to the heavens in a tortuous rhapsody. They cried in pain, they cried for Appia.
Her voice cracked hard. "If they have to leave at the dead of night, then they must. We must be strong during this tempest of death if we are to survive. You all know your purposes. We must strengthen Alesia together. "
"My Lady?" Calpurnius said weakly. "What of..." the words were bitter to say, "What of Lucius'…what of him?"
He has to know. I shall have to inform him. I'm part of his family; I am his nephew's wife. It has to be me that tells him. Appia looked to Calpurnius. "Prepare the head for transportation. Give me an hour's half to an hour to compose a letter."
"You shall have the basket transported? To where? To whom?"
"To Arretium. To the Leader of the House of the Julii."
The people in the room gasped softly. Calpurnius' voice was a near whisper. "Decius?"
"Indeed. His younger brother is dead. And his nephews are…" Dead? They had to be…or could they have… "His nephews are missing...and the Legion is…missing as well. He needs to know, he needs to send reinforcements if the barbarians target Alesia. I shall write to him of what happened. We all know our duties, let us attend to them."
Those in the room nodded, their hysteria had died away by this brave woman's rationale. They complied with fearful hearts, but they complied. The slaves lifted Octavia from the ground and brought her to her bedchambers. The retinues left to perform their stationed duties, trying not to outwardly reveal the dire situation they have discovered. Calpurnius left as well to strengthen the Town Watch; he would ensure that nary a barbarian would think of ravaging the city with militiamen guarding Alesia.
Appia ordered Numeria to pick up the basket and follow her to her bedchambers. Numeria reluctantly obeyed. The basket was set on a desk beside Appia's bed. Appia sat on her bed, her strained eyes could not be removed from the basket. She told Numeria to leave, Appia was finally alone. Her heart was seizing in her chest, it felt like she couldn't breathe.
It was because of what happened in the atrium. How she took command effortlessly when everyone began to panic. Truth be told, her desire for panic was greater than theirs. Her father-in-law, her brother-in-law, her husband…all of them dead? Butchered like animals? Her first grief-filled instinct was to fling herself from the palace's balcony. She lost those she loved in one fell swoop, what would she have to live for? But somewhere in her grief, she remembered her Mother's words: a Roman wife's duty is to her family. It is to maintain and protect the integrity of the family at all costs. She was a Julii and the Julii survive. As they love to remind everyone of their ancestor—the Great Trojan Aeneas—from the ashes of Troy, they rise to rebuild, stronger than before. Appia was now a Julii, and she must protect what her father and mother-in-law built. She must protect Alesia, she must protect their legacy.
I must be strong like the rose, I must be poised like the rose, I must b... Her dam of tears broke. She fell backwards on her bed, her hands covering her eyes, wails exiting her tongue. She pulled at her golden hair and shouted words of denial, but the images of Proculus, Vitus, and Lucius flashed before her. She fell from her bed and collapsed on the floor, her cries still echoing bitterly in her chambers. The sun had faded behind the clouds, the rose wilted in the shade.
The song, "Hurt" by Johnny Cash was a great musical piece for me to write the last few paragraphs, really gave me that miserable, broken depth of writing. I loved writing the chapter from Appia's POV, I always wanted to do more with her character from the earliest chapters and I couldn't figure how to include it naturally in the story without the use of flashbacks from other characters. I'm glad I gave her some form of development.
For Octavia being the settlement advisor, I took inspiration right from the game from Rome 1. Whenever you clicked the opinion button a Roman woman would always advise you of what to build next and why. I thought it was pretty unique to have a woman telling a player what to build especially since Rome was a Patriarchal society.
I would like to thank everyone who is continually reading this fic. I want you all to note that it is keeping me committed to the story. Truly, thank you all!
-Kanuro5