Caput XXVII
***CCCIX***
Even as children of the gods, it shocked them the difference during the nearly three years since the catastrophe at Athens. No longer was the peak of Mt Taygetos a measly collection of tents and rudimentary huts. Blessed by Hecate and monitored by her children, the wall possessed a quality that none of the settlement's inhabitants had ever seen. No mortal could discover it. At least no single mortal, should Greece turn against the children and grandchildren of their gods, they did not know if the magical barrier would hold them back. Mortals could not see the wall, when they struck it, usually no more than a passing shepherd or hunter, they suddenly remembered somewhere else they needed to be. The barrier would not hold against more than one monster, as had been discovered six months before with bloody clarity. As such, guards manned the walls.
Those walls rose just ten feet, a far cry short of what many would prefer, despite the realization of some that Mt. Pelion never had a true wall, merely a line of pickets. Stone formed the lower six feet of the fortification. Atop the five feet thick lower portion, a wooden platform had been placed. Rising from that platform, four feet of wooden palisade formed the upper wall with crenulations for archers and javelin throwers. Six wooden towers dotted the perimeter and offered platforms for lookouts. The wall possessed just two purposeful breaches. The main gate rose to a height of fifteen feet of stone and two heavy wooden doors fourteen inches thick formed the barrier. The smaller sally gate sat opposite the main gate, again over a foot of hardwood formed the door.
Inside the wall and built into the craggy terrain, eighteen buildings stood. Wood formed the majority of the building material, their numbers not large enough to fully invest in stone construction. Despite this, three stone structures rose into the Lacedemonian sky. The first, appearing taller than the rest, sat atop the highest piece of land within the barrier. Dedicated to Zeus, it, along with the stone-constructed Sanctuary of Hera, served as a form of Acropolis. The buildings design reflected a pragmatism now espoused by both Annabeth and Malcolm; they featured a low stone "ceremonial" wall within which they placed clefts which could receive a section of the prefabricated wooden parapet designed by the surviving Children of Hephaestus. This makeshift fort would be their final redoubt should another force seek their destruction.
The final stone building existed to prevent that exact occurrence. The path into this "Sanctuary of the Half-Bloods," as a rather wordy child of Apollo called it, passed through the gateway with high hills on either side. Once through the gate, by the sweat of demigod and Hunters of Artemis backs, those hills became steep embankments that funneled all who entered toward the Temple of Ares. At their request, the Temple included shrines to other war gods and a barracks. The pathway, upon exit from the shadow of the embankments, passed through a columned breezeway under the eyes of the Children of Ares. To the left of someone passing through the columns lay barracks of the Spartan style for the warriors, to the right sat the shrines and temples of the martial deities.
In contradiction to the stone edifices of the Temple of Ares, Athena's temple stood made of rough-cut wood. An owl, carved of olive wood, perched atop the apex of the building's roof. That carving alone stood as any exterior adornment. Inside the structure, an olive wood altar sat beneath a stone figure of the goddess. The sculptor, a descendant of Phidias and daughter of Dionysus, used her memories of Phidias' work combined with having put eyes upon the goddess herself. The inner walls of the sanctum were covered with tapestries. Woven by the goddess herself, they shown the deeds of great heroes and those of the gods before them. Malcolm could not help but see a parallel in the goddess's current condition and design of her temple. Afterall, despite her proximity, she could not hear prayers beyond those audible enough to carry.
Eight other temples filled the hills. Artemis' acted as billeting for her Hunters on their visits, something that happened more often now than it had at Pelion. Hermes' children requested an inn be built as part of their father's temple; in his name they were the guardians of travelers after all. Though more of its occupants seemed to be the unclaimed children of the gods or those of minor deities it seemed to Malcolm. The altar within the Temple of Hephaestus doubled as a massive forge, while, like the olden days, Aphrodite's children preferred their lavishly built cave dwelling to the small temple to their mother. Poseidon and Hades received shrines. Despite her ire toward them, Annabeth still recognized the gods as gods, therefore Malcolm fully suspected the responsibility of such an affront lie with his mother.
Malcolm leaned against a wooden column. It rose fifteen feet to meet the roof of the open entrance to a barracks. Three of the large living quarters spotted the village, all of them more luxurious than the accommodations of the Ares contingent. Inside they offered space for families or individuals, and for many of their number for those that found themselves somewhere in between, be that for months or a single night. Yet, none of them were completely full. Once he knew over hundred children of the gods and hundreds more of their children.
While the usage of satyrs to find others of their kind had been his idea, their success revealed a horrid truth. Of the one hundred and seventeen descendants of the gods living in their village, seventy-six were below the age of eighteen. Many brought stories of parents being hunted down for "their role" in Athens' destruction. A child from a colony upon Delos brought word of a near massacre of the gods' children there. The satyrs continued to search, but their search continued to reveal children, not adults. One of eighteen years brought word from near Thrace, that a party of snake women had descended upon his family's farm, killed everything, and moved north. Even the monsters are committed against us, he thought, before adding, Well, one hundred and eleven and half inhabitants. His right leg disappeared below the knee.
Below him a training area held nearly two dozen youths training for combat. Aspasia stood amongst them. Her training sword sang through the morning air as she danced between the blades of twenty-one other children of the same age. It pained him. For as long as anyone, save Chiron, could remember children of the gods and the legacies received training to survive against attacks by monsters. Now we train them for fucking combat, he thought bitterly. Aspasia trained more than most, after all, she swore to the goddess Athena to kill the man who burned Athens.
***CCCX***
"You have made him so great that he must either become your son-in-law or be slain." Those words sealed her fate. Damned Maecenas, she cursed the man. Just days later upon the road, her father and the commander held the exchange that sealed her fate.
"Filiam meam tibi offero."
"Spondesne Julia, tuam filiam, mihi uxorem dari?"
"Facio." A single world determined her fate. Augustus offered his daughter, the commander confirmed that he spoke of Julia, and her father merely stated I do. Thus was her life. When her initial rage at the news wore off, Julia raged more than not a single word reached her ear before her father's decision. Just sixteen, she had already played her father's political pawn once. Marcus Claudius Marcellus had been just three years her elder. The man named her new husband was at least twenty years her senior. Though if she had thought about it and realized he possessed just three fewer years of life than her father, she would have known that range measured twenty-one years. Decrepit old shit, she thought. Yes, she would not marry him until the next year, after the tenth month window to ensure she did not carry her former husband's child, but at the age of seventeen she would marry a man of thirty-eight. As if the limp dick Marcellus could father child, she thought bitterly. Julia had never met the Greek general. She knew his reputation for ruthlessness, how his household was full of beautiful slaves of conquered people. If he surrounded himself with women such as was rumored, there was little doubt what he would expect from her. Her sources told her he was the true father of all the Augur's children. Meaning he and Reyna the Elder had been cuckholding Octavian Varus for nearly fifteen years. As much as she disliked the weaselly bastard, she did not like the connotations for her.
I'll be merely a younger woman for him to shove his cock in and push out his children. She supposed if he was not interested in her beyond a weekly fuck, she could go about elsewhere to enjoy herself. One does not take on a passenger, after all, unless the hold is full. Unless, she thought, that ruthlessness carries into the way he treats his women. That caused her to pause. He was a powerful man. Only her father, and maybe Agrippa, held more sway than him. She doubted either would oppose him if she were to embrace promiscuity and he punished her for it. At a minimum, she suspected whatever man she was with would be killed. Her mind conjured horrible images of all the ways a woman could suffer, then she shuddered, knowing the Greek could conjure worse.
It was her father's attempt to control him. And me to an extent, she supposed. In the few months since the end of her rather unhappy marriage to her cousin, the hedonistic pursuits she had discovered during the marriage had called to her. She enjoyed that life, or at least enjoyed the discomfort it caused her father. But now he was giving her to one of his brutes. Agrippa was at least a real Roman citizen, not some Greek barbarian raised to status. According to rumors, he was the most brutish of them, one who would "keep her in line," rumors stated, by whatever method necessary.
"Jupiter's balls, if he was willing to burn Greece to the ground and lead his own people back in shackles, what will he do to me?" The coy voice she saved for the bedroom sounded off in her head. Maybe use the shackles.
Her stepmother, against her wishes, served as host for the party occurring tonight. All the women of standing were celebrating the betrothal. Julia's groom and father were off conferring with Agrippa and Jason somewhere, not that that she had seen her betrothed thus it did not matter. The rumors about him were correct, he had been strikingly handsome upon his arrival in Rome, but godsdamnit he's well over thirty now, bloody ancient. And so were his tactics. The stories coming out of Hispania said the two had not taken prisoners. No caravans of slaves for the markets, just thousands of crosses stretching across the frontier.
The women of Rome applauded and surged toward her as she entered the courtyard. Beset on every side, she endured the throng of well-wishers, genuine or not until she reached a slave girl. The girl was beautiful and bare from the waist up in the usual fashion.
"Enjoying yourself, Julia?" Julia forced a smile before responding to Livia.
"But, of course. I do appreciate you doing this for me." She embraced her step-mother, feeling the eyes of the room upon them. Over Livia's shoulder she could see Reyna the Elder. No wonder she caught his eye. Despite four children, the woman was stunning. Even with her loose hanging dress, her physique was impressive. Tall, with shoulders and arms that while smooth and feminine clearly held power. Her torso swelled where it should, but where many women her age had begun to grow in size, she appeared lean. A single dark braid contained her hair. Dark eyes scanned the room. Only as their eyes met did she detect the sadness they held. Fuck, how am I to compete against someone who looks like that? Second, she bloody loves him. It isn't a liaison of lust alone, there's love between them.
The next few hours seemed to drag on as much as she expected the next few years would, he would probably die young, most front-line commanders did it seemed. Too much wine was drunk and tales of scandal that made even Julia blush were revealed, which shocked her. After beginning to feel the effects of the wine, Julia could tell that almost all the Senators' wives were all interested in her future husband. Gods, has he fucked them all? Every single one of them gained a jealous gleam when they spoke of him. Julia understood that she was younger, but they did not seem to be speaking of the same brute she was to marry.
"He's rather old, isn't he? My father's age?" A few of the women looked at her curiously.
"What are you asking, dear?" Livia's voice was clipped. Julia could tell she did not like the potential course of the conversation and Julia enjoyed the discomfort she caused.
"I am asking," she started, the wine adding to her courage, "Am I marrying a man or a corpse?" Livia glared at her, while the other women shrieked in laughter. "You all are obsessed with him it seems, is he that bloody rich?" Her cousin, Claudia Marcella Major, wife of Agrippa, leaned forward. The wine had hit her, which was apparent in both her tone and the smell of her breath.
"His money and slaves are…" she seemed to struggle finding the right word, "a lot. But gods, if was in town more often and we had our way, our dear Augur would not be the only man cucked for him." What in the gods' name does that mean? She thought, as again the women cackled in laughter. For gods' sake, even Claudia Marcella Minor, the wife of Jupiter's Son is laughing.
"Reyna!" called one of the women. Julia froze, this had not been what she expected. "We all bloody want to know, how is he?" At least two women, Julia noticed, cast their eyes down at the question. An admission they know? She was impressed by Reyna's response. Despite the sadness Julia had noticed before, the woman responded in the manner of a woman losing a paramour, not someone they loved. Either they're in love or he's so good whoever follows him will not be enough.
"Well," began the woman, carefully choosing her words. "First, he is a Greek, from the city blessed by Venus, Corinth." She gave a coy smile and the women howled with laughter. "Second, there are the rumors he is a son of Neptune, if so, there is little doubt what familial traits have been passed down." She paused and allowed herself a slight laugh and smile of recollection. "Between those two divine influences," again she let the smile play across her face. Her eyes closed and she let out a slight hum before locking eyes on Julia, "I hope the girl can handle him." The challenge was clear to Julia even as the other women howled in laughter yet again.
***CCCXI***
He looked at her. The expression on her face told him she knew the answer already. Their fiery argument earlier that evening made clear any issue that was not. Mulier equitans described their last time, woman riding. Different phrases described the first two rounds. She passed him a pitcher of wine and he poured himself a heavy pour, their nakedness not affecting the situation.
"You're going to be loyal to her are you not? At least until she proves herself disloyal."
"I owe it…"
"You owe no one! Yet you will do it anyway." She spat the words, yet her face held not the anger he expected.
"I will."
"Will that slave whore count when you fuck her again? I have seen the way she looks; no one will blame you. Jupiter's balls, I stopped being angry when I saw her body."
"I will be loyal, until I have no reason to be."
"Such naivety from one such as you. Her reputation and you think there is a chance of fidelity?"
"You were quick to throw away your marriage, I will not be the same."
"That is both the coldest thing you have ever said, yet the truest example of yourself." She rotated, her body closing against his. He felt her hand along his thigh, "And until your engagement occurs?" His hands cupped her buttocks as he drew her close.
"I have no commitments."
***CCCXII***
This would be their first meeting. Despite the announcement of the union in Junius, only now eight days before the beginning of Saturnalia would bride and groom meet. The announcement of their marriage far preceded tonight's events, their official engagement, the sponsalia. If tradition held, she would depart with a ring upon her finger, and he would keep the cart load of valuables that made up her dowry. Slowly she followed the slave through the dark passages of his domus until she found herself in a darkened chamber. Despite his age, he appeared young and strong.
"They say you are a son of the Sea God. Were you that decisive against Pompey? I don't remember, as I was only three and you were, what? Twenty-five?"
"Twenty-four and it had little to do with Sicilia."
"Then what? Propensity for ignoring the women were other men's wives?" The room around them began to vibrate. The already tall Greek seemed to grow taller, and his eyes flashed with green fire.
"You might say I was born with it." He moved forward, toward her. "But, I am not what you expected am I?" The two burning green eyes stared unblinkingly across the chamber toward her. In a way he was correct, in a way he was not. It was true she expected something terrible, but great. Until looking at him, she never understood how great and terrible gods could appear.
"I…I…did not know what to expect." Her eyes swept over his exposed arms. Likewise, his chest was exposed in a deep v shape at the neck of the toga he wore. Despite his similarity in age to her father, his right arm and chest bulged with muscles. Scars covered both, as well as his face and head. He made her father, who despite his machinations she looked up to, seem comparatively child sized.
"Come now. The Barbarian general. Butcher of Greece. Pacifier of the Iberians. Surely you have heard something." His voice rumbled and seemed to fill the space around them.
"Dangerous," she whispered in response. He leaned forward, his shadow completely enshrouding her in complete darkness.
"You would not…be wrong."
***CCCXIII***
Percy looked down on her. He could feel a semblance of fear, however unnecessary it was. She was slight of build, though Percy realized that most likely due to age, or lack thereof. Her hair moved to the center of her head and fell braided down her back. Its color rested between the light hair of her father and the rich brown of her mother. Her rounded eyes, however, matched only the pale blue of Augustus. They now studied him, angled up at a nearly comical degree. He spoke again, this time his voice gentler.
"You have nothing to fear from me."
"Nothing to fear? From you? The tool of my father's destruction and you say I have nothing to fear?" Some of her fire had returned. "You razed the nation of your birth, yet claim that I, a woman given to you with the ease of giving away a horse, have nothing to fear?"
"I have said such, therefore it is."
"Those who hold power in Rome do not suffer a challenge. I am no slave girl, content to warm a bed because the man wills it." Percy was impressed by her knowledge of what occurred within his campaign tent and more rarely, his domus. "I am the daughter of Augustus and I am no simple house wife."
"Therefore you claim, as Augustus' daughter, the right to be a challenging woman?"
"I do."
"I did burn my homeland to the ground, one could say I enjoy a challenge."
***CCCXIV***
What fire she just moments ago felt returned to her vanished. She studied him after his words, and he smiled. He did not smile as a man did though, but as a shark. Just as quickly though, his face changed. "You do not love, I know. I cannot say that I love you, but love is not the basis of marriage at our status." He produced the annulus pronubus, the engagement ring, and looked at her. "As love is not here, I will merely promise this: I will care for you and I will honor our union, at least until such time as I determine that to be futile. Then and only then, will I exert my rights as a husband. Should we come to love each other, which for the sake of happiness I wish for, then I say I hope this marriage to be long and fruitful." He placed the ring on her ring finger, as the vena amoris, the vein of love, resided there. She could not respond, his honesty and veiled threat beyond what she expected from such a barbarian-born man. She leaned upward and placed her lips on his cheek.
"It is in the hands of the gods," and she was gone.
***CCCXV***
"What will you do now whore? Now that your lover belongs in another woman's arms? Will you force her to suffer, or has he thrown you aside like a common whore for a younger fuck?"
"I will hold myself upright, for I ensured my children would be strong and of noble constitution. Neither of those would be the case with a sniveling shit such as you for a father, had you even been able to sire one yourself." His hand shot out and slapped her before she could react. Delayed as it was, she returned his violence with her own.
Octavian soon found himself true to her words, sniveling and shaking in fright as a dagger blade rested against his manhood. "Should you lay a hand on me again or ever upon my children, you shall be as ball-less as a eunuch. He may soon be another woman's husband, but should word of this reach him, my removing your balls will be the most painless part of what follows. Though perhaps, now I know why your whores screamed, I never could convince myself it could be this." Octavian winced as slightly more pressure was applied to the dagger.
***CCCXVI***
Unfortunate bastard, thought Jason. If anyone he knew would wish to avoid political marriages and the chaos they brought with them, it was his cousin. And you off and get yourself tangled up in the most political of them all you fucking idiot. He meanwhile, remained in Syria, even as Agrippa received a recalling order to Rome. About him, tens of thousands of legionaries and auxiliaries assembled. Gathering with them, supplies for an extended campaign slowly gathered. He knew not how long it would take, but once the full compliment assembled, he would march for Armenia. Unlike Antonius, Jason would ensure the security of his allies and have proper supplies. Officially, his mandate from Augustus tasked him with securing the vassalization of Armenia against Rome's enemy. The recovery of aquila taken by the Parthians during the campaigns of Crassus, Saxa, and Antonius would be considered a much greater success and Jason possessed the authority to negotiate as necessary.
In Damascus, his wife waited. She hoped to leave Syria with their first child in her womb. Considering the reputation of his father, Jason suspected he like most sons of Jupiter nearly as potent. I supposed Jupiter will have a grandson soon enough. She delivered the word four months before that Perseus and Julia would marry. She unfortunately did not realize how long his mission would take; any child conceived here would be born here. The child would be a child east, not a son of Rome for some time. Jason's mind turned back to Percy, and he wondered how the best Roman commander alive would be forced to remain within the city. Jason knew Augustus would keep him there, for Augustus was desperate for an heir and one could not conceive one if the husband remained upon campaign. Jason's current assignment was different, as legate for Agrippa he remained in the region indefinitely. It was now Ianuarius, the first month of the new year. The marriage would take place the next month, following the celebration of Februa, the purification rituals. At that moment, in Jason's mind, the two most powerful men of Rome became father- and son-in-law.
***CCCXVII***
Percy looked hard at Augustus across the chamber. In one of the few instances of disagreement between them, he spoke harshly. "Repeat that."
"I have you, I no longer require Agrippa." Rage flashed in the green eyes.
"You're wrong. We both need him."
"Why?"
"He bridges the gap between us. In your world, a whisper carries more finality than a blade and public opinion is more decisive than a great victory. My world is war. If you're not fighting one, you're preparing for the next and trying to find a more imaginative way to end lives. You live in marble and rhetoric; I was cast in iron and blood."
"You will do as I order. My daughter is your payment for absolute loyalty."
"I have killed for you. I have ordered men to their deaths for you. I burned my home to the fucking ground for you. But do not think you wield me as a blind weapon of destruction, my acts are for Rome and as long as your orders support that, you have my loyalty. And in the interest of Rome, ridding Agrippa from your company is a fucking mistake."
***CCCXVIII***
Percy did not know how much coin had been given to the lares, but if it came anywhere close to the amount he donated to his own father's temple, Augustus' ledger books clearly now resided in the negative. Percy meanwhile stood before a statue of his father, while to his right, the great statue of Athena stood in a position of supplication and lessor honor. Even Percy admitted it was perverse the measure of satisfaction that gave him.
"She would rage over that, should she know." Percy turned slowly to be met by an equally green pair of eyes.
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"It is my son's wedding, why should I not see him?"
"Because you are a god, I am merely a man."
"You have become a great man, son, and I suspect one day you will be greater." With a soft pop, he vanished.
***CCCXIX***
Julia wore the tunica recta, the long, straight dress of white that hung to the floor. Her infula, or headband, held back her light brown hair. The cingulum tied together with its nodus Herculaneus sat about her hips. To women on their first marriage, it represented their chastity. Given the reputation and previous marriage of Percy's wife, the belt and knot of Hercules instead represented fertility. A yellow-red veil, the color of fire, covered her hair, the flammeum. The hasta caelibaris, the celibate spear held her hair in place. In the case of this bride, it was quite clear to Percy that the spear in sense displayed his authority over his new wife more than it did celibacy.
Despite Augustus' orders, Percy wore the toga virillis, the toga of manhood. The toga pura in its bland whiteness "did not suit the husband of my daughter" Augustus claimed and in his position of Procurator Augusti, his election to the Senatorial Class, and his standing as Praefectus Praetoria. The priests and priestesses however, denied his wearing of the toga praetexta with its broad purple stripe overtop a tunic with two vertical purple ones. That attire put him equal to the curule magistrates on official business and in Augustus' words, he was never not on official functions. The priests and priestesses demanded that Percy and Julia wear the proper attire, "how else will the attendees prevent evil spirits from identifying the bride and groom?" Neither Percy nor Augustus bothered pointing out that both bride and groom wore garlands of roses and wore the only ones to do so.
They were within Augustus' domus beside all the Romans the man called friends, all while Percy received reports of their scheming nightly from Augustus. While Augustus had passed a law limiting the financial expenses of the wedding feast to just one thousand sestertii, he ignored his own rules and Percy knew for a fact that he had spent nearly five hundred denarii on tonight's events. All the attendees now enjoyed their mustaceum, the grape-based cake served only for this occasion. Outside, the sun soon began to fall.
And here, would this wedding separate itself from a traditional one. After all, given her previous marriage, the traditional "stealing" of the virginal bride would be in more question than acceptance. There would be no theft, but the bride would be taken from her father's house to the domus of Publius Ventidius Bassus Perseanus. The crowd would still sing the Hymenaeus on their route, while the whitehorn torch, the spina alba, would guide them in honor of Ceres. The procession went from the Palatine Hill and the Domus Augusti all the way to the Domus Bassi upon the Caelian Hill.
There, at the doorstep of Percy's home, where in direct opposition to Roman tradition he possessed no family to greet his bride with, a torch burned brightly over an amphora of water from the Mare Nostrum. With fire and water to greet her, symbolic of life itself, Julia turned to the older man. "Ubi es, Perseu? Ego Iulia tua sum." She watched the blazing green eyes look down at her face. She had asked him where are you and confirmed that she, Julia, was his.
"Adsum, uxor mea." The crowd around them cheered. I am here my wife, he says, she thought. No, I am yours, just as all wives are their husbands in this world. With surprising gentleness, he lifted her, carrying her through the open doorway. In perverse fascination, members of the family followed to ensure the couple made it to the lectus, the ornate couch now sitting in the center of his bedchamber for the sole purpose of the newlyweds' first time.
Her husband turned toward them now, "Get the fuck out."
A/N: So there has clearly been many years to pass in the last two chapters. When Chapter 25 ended, the story stood in April of 25 BC. This wedding occurs in February of 22 BC. I will acknowledge the age difference between Percy and Julia as merely an action of the of times. In history, Julia married Agrippa in 21 BC, when she was 19 and he 42. Similarly, when Pompey Magnus was 47 he married Julia, Daughter of Caesar, who was just 17. As I have not shied away from issues such as slavery and infidelity, I did not intend to shy away from this fact of the time either.