Caput III

***XVIII***

Crack! The man strapped between two large posts arched his back. The muscles in his jaw flexed as his teeth clamped down on the wooden stick between them. As the optio pulled his arm back, the whip followed its motion. The whip tore strips of skin back with them. Already the man's back bore the appearance of raw meat. Blood ran down the soldier's back. It dripped from his body to the sand beneath him.

Crack! The whip hissed through the air again. The man's spasm of pain caused the wood to drop from his mouth. His head slumped forward, and he passed out. When the whip moved forward again, he awoke with a scream of agony. Again, chunks of the man's back tore from his body and more blood fell to the sand beneath them. Beside the optio, a decurion shouted out the number ninety-two. Eight more, the punisher thought. He was impressed that the suffering man had lasted as long as he had.

Crack! The man's whole body slumped. Blood splattered the optio and the decurion. He was being punished for fleeing the battle. One hundred lashes were the decreed punishment from Marcus Antonius. The optio's hand flew forward again and the whip sliced into the muscles exposed by the near-flayed skin of his back. The sickness in the optio's stomach did not cease as the hundredth lash cut deeply into the man. For without mercy, the decurion had cut the leather straps holding the coward in place and watched as his shredded back fell to the blood-soaked sand.

Percy watched as they drug the unconscious man away. The man's blood remained in the center of the punishment area. The man's blood remained on the whip in Percy's hand. Percy looked at his own hand, the swinging of the whip had opened the laceration on his palm. He turned his eyes toward the man again. Two of his comrades were dragging him towards a tent. Others looked at him in disdain. At the edge of the area, Sedullas and Ambiotorix gave him curt nods. Flavius was walking toward him. Percy's eyes again fell to the blood and flesh incrusted whip in his hand.

"Put it out of your mind, boy."

"How?"

"He was a coward and ran. Look at your arm, look at your hands. Wounds you suffered because he ran. He ran from the cohort you had to save. Because he ran, his officers are dead. Because they are dead, they cannot issue punishment, therefore, you issue his punishment." Percy looked at his hands. His blood was running the length of the whip and mixing along its path with the blood of the man he flogged. "He did not do his duty. Therefor you had to do yours." Flavius slapped him on the back, but Percy did not move from beside the wooden posts.

Percy was certain Flavius had concerns about him. Hades, he had concerns about himself. He could not stop thinking about the man from the north of Italia he had flogged. The man remained unconscious for two days. When he woke, his screams roused those around him. They did not wake Percy, for he was already outside the man's tent. His whimpers continued into the night and Percy continued to stand outside the tent. For three days he had stayed there. After a week, the screams stopped. Percy was outside the tent as they carried the man's body from it.

Infection had spread across his back. What had once looked like raw meat, now looked like rotten meat. The smell of decaying flesh rose as the body passed him. Percy felt bile in his throat as his nostrils attempted to clear the odor. He began to turn, but a hand stopped him and forced him to watch. The brutish voice beside him spoke low, only Percy could hear him.

"Look at him, boy. This is the worst duty of a leader. Punishing a soldier for what his nature tells him to do. Your nature tells you to survive, your discipline orders you to stay. We all say we're brave, bollocks, but some of us have the moral strength to stand when we're scared. He didn't." The man's body retreated from sight. Percy turned to watch Marcus Antonius walk through his army. He knew nearly every man by name it seemed. Must I be as cold toward my own men as I am the enemy? Percy thought.

The army moved out the next day. They would winter in Athens, before moving east to Antonius' holdings in the eastern extremes of the Republic. Flavius' ala received the orders lead the column south. Flavius himself received orders to ride with Marcus Antonius, so Percy would lead the advance guard in his stead. He was to ensure both the local populace's lack of ill will and locate any surviving renegades from the Assassins' army. The comments pertaining to the locals had been: Don't pillage them, I know you must eat. Forage I understand. But don't inflict undue pain upon them. The orders pertaining to renegades was markedly more violent: Any organized survivors of the Assassins' army that have not surrendered to Antonius or Caesar are to be considered enemies of Rome and dealt with accordingly. Make examples of them.

Percy's helmet was strapped to his saddle. The Sword of Brutus was hung from his baldric. He had hidden the sword with a trident impressed upon it in a baggage cart. The blade was too fine to be explained well. Leading from three miles in front of the main column, the cavalry moved slowly but maintained a posture ready for attack. Large numbers of tracks were clear on the road heading south and not all of them appeared to be those of regular civilians. They were currently three days into the march south. Sedullas was with him. Ambiotorix was bringing up the rear of their formation.

"Percy!" the call from Sedullas tore Percy from his thoughts. The Batavi was pointing to something on the ground. Percy muttered directions to the horse, and it moved forward. I still need a name for this bastard, thought the demigod as he rode toward Sedullas. The large man pointed toward the ground. Even to Percy it appeared clear that two distinct groups occupied the road ahead of them.

"The heavier steps are following the first. They are bigger, look like the marching prints of soldiers."

"How far ahead of us are they?"

"Hours," the German looked to the sky. "But they are on foot, Percy, we could catch them before dark." Percy nodded and waved his arm forward. The column of horsemen took off at a canter. Sedullas surged ahead to track. An hour later, they reached a clearing. The gap in the trees allowed for better views of the countryside. Percy's eyes locked onto a single point in the distance. Sedullas pointed out the smoke curling into the sky and voiced what Percy was thinking.

"That is not good, Percy."

"No. We're going to find out what it is."

"The army."

"Is too far behind. Send a pair of riders back to inform Flavius." Percy turned to him, "Plus I have the Batavi, what other soldiers are necessary?" The big German smiled and copied Percy arm motion forward. The cavalry surged again.

***XIX***

Annabeth cursed herself for the misfortune. She had fallen with a caravan of refugees. Most appeared to be camp followers from the Liberator's camp. They had been traveling for nearly four hours together when they reached the small village. The villagers had been kind to them. Now they were dying beside them. The nearly one hundred legionnaires had swept in from the forest. The killing had been efficient, several dozen refugees and villagers were dead before anyone knew they were under attack. The old were butchered, their bodies piled in a hovel and set alight. Any man who fought suffered either a quick death or suffered through their families' disembowelment, or worse. Annabeth's dagger ended the lives of two men, before the blow of a large soldier drove her to the ground. She felt the left side of her face swelling as ropes chafed her wrists. She sat, bound, in a former cattle corral. The other individuals that pleased the legionaries' eyes surrounded her; their faces defeated in the expectation of what awaited them. After their bodies satisfied the Roman soldiers, the gold they fetched in the slave markets would fill their coffers.

Again, she cursed her misfortune. She had joined the caravan of camp followers with the intention of blending in and hiding as the caravan went south. She needed to return to Athens. Athens was the city of her mother. Annabeth never felt closer to her mother than while standing on the Acropolis. The Parthenos may be the statue of her mother, but Annabeth felt a special connection to the Athena Promachos standing in the open area of the Acropolis.

But now, instead of making her way toward Athens, she sat in this corral. Many of the male members of the caravan and village had attempted to surrender, but they were put to the sword on the orders of a tall man with a vicious scar on his face. The ones kept alive were the ones who would fetch a good price in the slave markets. She watched as the guards studied the prisoners in the corral. Some of their eyes studied the women's bodies, some of them studied others. The soldiers' faces revealed the lust filling their eyes. We're mere objects to them, she thought. Her mind turned to the mission given by her mother. If she was halted by these renegades, her disgrace would be severe. Annabeth was not ignorant of the evil men held in their hearts, rather it was not her first thought due to being focused on the task at hand. Survive; and get home.

It appeared the pillage of the houses and carts was over. The other raiders returned to join the ones guarding prisoners. The guards were pointing out which prisoners, men or women, pleased them. A tall soldier with a scarred face threw his filthy paw of a hand at her. There was an evil in his eye that told her he did not just want to make her is. No. He wanted to break her.

Thunder sounded in the distance. Annabeth prayed to her mother. There was no answer and the man still approached. She reached for the small dagger under her chiton. The thunder in the distance was unceasing and growing louder. She heard shouts near the edge of the clearing. The barritus caused everyone in the clearing to turn.

The horsemen were already on top of them. A midnight charger ridden by a tall soldier was over top her and the brute approaching her. The sword in his hand flashed and he continued past them. Annabeth looked up at the soldier towering over her. He stumbled forward slightly. His head seemed to wobble. The brute took another step forward and his head fell forward. A pillar of blood shot from the severed neck. The decapitation was not complete however, a thin strip of muscle kept it connected to his body. As the head fell forward, the balance of the corpse was tipped forward. Annabeth attempted to arrest the brute's fall, but, being bound she was unable to, and she was trapped on the ground under his body. She felt the man's blood covering her face and clothing. She heard chaos reigning all about her. She heard bodies falling all around her. She heard the slaughter.

***XX***

The only thing Percy felt as he killed the large man was the reluctance of the Brutus' Sword to pass through the metal protecting his neck. Blood coated the blond-haired woman as the body fell toward her. He quickly adjusted his eyes back to his next victim. The Sword of Brutus again flashed in the growing darkness and another of the renegade soldiers fell to the earth. A man reached for his reins and Percy thrust the sword through his throat. Already he could hear the shouts and pleas of surrender from those not killed in the initial assault. The German tribesmen looked to him as they held weapons ready to strike.

"Gather the prisoners," his voice was level as he issued the command to Sedullas. The Batavi repeated the command and looked at him. Percy felt the German's blue eyes meet his own. He forced his green eyes to keep the man's gaze. Hundreds of the cavalry watched the surrendered Romans.

"We are not equipped to take prisoners with us."

"No, we aren't." The Greek looked over the twenty-five survivors of the battle, well, skirmish. Most had been killed outright. They had not expected the cavalry to attack them. They were preparing to force their victory upon the survivors of their own attack. Percy saw the blood covered woman looking at him, someone had cut her bonds and she stood proudly. He could tell little through the thick layer of blood covering her. His eyes moved past her to a cart of ropes. He looked at the dead civilians littering the ground. He counted at least twenty, and gods know how many were in the burning houses. Percy looked upon the still gathered men, women, and children that would have suffered under their captors. He turned his gaze upon the twenty-five prisoners.

He only heard the orders of Flavius Make examples of them. Percy had seen what that meant to Romans three days before; he had kept the men alive after capturing them. Flavius had arrived, taken one look at the brigands, and issued a single command. Those men had killed one man and stolen spoils of war. Percy had received a beratement that night in the privacy of Flavius' tent. He would not forget the lesson. He cast his eyes across the ransacked village. Even the blood covered woman could see the hardness in his eyes. His men heard the hardness in his voice.

"Hang them."

One of the prisoners stood upright. "We are Roman citizens! You cannot…" Percy cut him off.

"No. You marched with the enemy of Rome, soldier of the traitorous Thirty-Sixth," Percy looked at the emblems upon the shields dropped in disgrace. "You are declared enemies of Rome, and I deem you murderers and thieves." A half dozen of the Germans began to pull ropes from the wagon. Two of the prisoners attempted to run. German lances ran them through from behind. The soldier who had spoken stepped forward.

"I am Titus Valinus Stato, Prilus Prior of the Thirty-Sixth. I demand we be taken to your commander for Roman trial." Percy looked around the clearing.

"Centurion, I see dozens of civilians murdered by cowards who ran from a battle. Your position is forfeit." He heeled the horse forward. "And," he motioned throughout the clearing with his sword. "I see no Romans here by which to enforce Roman law." The centurion rushed at him.

Before he could take more than three steps, Sedullas had galloped to his right and dropped a length of rope around his neck. The Batavi rode forward until the rope snapped taught and the Roman began to drag behind him. Nearing a large branch, Sedullas tossed the rope over it. He caught the loose end and began riding forward again. Again, the rope stretched before the horse's power began to lift the panicking man from the ground. The centurion's arms clutched at the rope digging into his neck, while his legs fluttered and kicked.

There was a sudden panicked commotion as the other prisoners began to rush about. They could not outrun the horses of the Batavi cavalry, however. Soon more ropes held struggling men throughout the town whether hanging from buildings or trees. The centurion had stopped moving, though Percy could smell the urine running down his leg that had resulted from the involuntary release of his bladder. As more bodies ceased to move, the smell only grew within the village. He sheathed his sword. Percy turned to the survivors.

"We will help you take care of your dead." Most only nodded mutely and began to move about like in a trance. Percy looked over the group, they were still moving slowly. All except a single female in the back of the group, she was moving with a determined gait toward the stream running next to the village. Percy recognized her because she was covered in the blood of the first man he had killed. Ha. First man I killed today, he thought cynically remembering that just thirty days before he had never killed anyone. He guided the horse toward her before pulling up and dismounting.

***XXI***

Annabeth did not know why the commander had taken a keen interest in her. Now the tall man covered in blood moved toward her. His armor did not fit him well. It looked as if it had been adjusted to fit his tall frame but done so badly. The sword on his right side was finely made. The helmet covering his head and masking his face appeared quality, but battle-scarred. He reached up and gripped the head of the eagle forming the crest of his helmet. He lifted it from his head, and she found herself looking at her first enemy at close range.

Her gray eyes studied his appearance. Despite its current reddish hue, her blond hair was a stark contrast to his raven locks. Piercingly green eyes studied her as he approached. A beard that was distinctly non-Roman covered his face and his hair shunned the Roman norm. While she considered herself tall for her gender, this man towered over her, though he did not see that much older than her. While blood covered his armor and the helmet, his face had been covered by the helmet. She watched his lips move but did not comprehend the words. He looked at her quizzically and then spoke again. His Greek was accented like someone from the Peloponnese.

"Are you alright?"

"Why do you fight for them," she asked in answer. She watched him study her. He did not answer until he began walking away.

"Rome gave me a life." She looked at the officer with curiosity and turned to join the other members of the caravan. She would have been happy to be done with the Romans, but the burial of the dead was barely complete when the rumble of hooves grew in the darkness and soon, she saw torches flickering off more Roman armor. She watched the men leading the new column converse with the cavalry commander. They clapped him on the back in what seemed like congratulations or at the least commendation.

The next morning, she began south again for Athens. Ten days later she arrived. Annabeth began formulating her notes and developing battle plans. The planning was flawless, if she were to say so herself. Athena would have approved of her plan, and her avoidance of the Romans. Said avoidance became suddenly more difficult when she awoke one day to find Marcus Antonius and large portions of his army outside the walls of the city.

***XXII***

Percy learned many things observing fellow soldiers within the free city of Athens. He learned to never challenge Germans to drinking contests. He learned "peace time" discipline was much more difficult than war time discipline. He learned the touch of a woman did not require love, but merely wine and fifty sestertii. Most of the Batavi, while they enjoyed what fifty sestertii bought them, felt like their time in the city was similar to prison. They had cheered Antonius announced their voyage to Anatolia was arranged.

Eight days later, Percy now found himself beside Marcus Antonius on the prow of a large transport ship. Roman soldiers stumbled across deck in the swells. Percy merely felt his body sway. Seventy Batavi and over a hundred of their mounts filled the hold of the ships. Percy had been invited to the deck with Antonius. They had been conversing for several minutes about the unnatural calm of the Aegean when Antonius suddenly fell silent. Percy had been watching the naiads swimming below their ship performing lewd acts and hoping that the general had not noticed.

"Good gods, look at the little harlots." They had clearly been noticed by Antonius, but he seemed unphased. "I knew I was attractive, but this is a bit much." He was laughing as he smiled suggestively down upon the watery women in the waves. He was still laughing when a spurt of water hit him in his face. It caused him to laugh even more heartily. The newly proclaimed ruler of the eastern provinces had shaven in Athens and again resembled the Roman leader he was. Percy had shaven as well, but it seemed his beard hair only grew more quickly with each attempt to tame it.

"Apparently, they dislike being called harlots, sir." Percy was struggling to contain his own laughter. Antonius raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Cheeky little bastard," the commander wiped the water from his face. "Well, they're wasting their bloody time with you. You would not partake in one of life's great pleasures. Pluto's ass, even the expensive ones were only two hundred sestertii." Percy knew he was referring to the whores in Athens. He also knew the general was famous enough he did not have to pay for anything in the city. "Percy, my boy, there are only two things that are better than an army on campaign. A good whore and a married woman who hates her husband."

"A married woman who hates her husband?" echoed Percy. Antonius only smirked in answer.

"Who the fuck is she to complain when you move on to another woman?" Percy was silent for a minute before bursting out in laughter. Soon the pair were both laughing. After a few moments Antonius threw the apple core he was eating into the sea.

One of the naiads below the surface made a face and soon a large pillar of water was speeding across toward the former Master of Horse. Percy reacted without thinking and with a wave of his hand, the water was falling back to the Aegean. Antonius' eyes narrowed and he spun slowly toward the young Greek.

"Jupiter's hairy balls. You're one of them." Percy felt himself begin to sweat under the piercing gaze. He wanted to back away, but Antonius' hand shot out and trapped Percy's against the railing. "So Greekling, what god's loins did you spurt out of?"

***XXIII***

Two individuals with piercingly blue eyes studied the blond-haired teen with steely gray eyes. The satyr leading them waited outside the house. He had been the one to smell the demigod, though a woman's voice had guided them in the right direction. The boy was twenty-two. Broad-shouldered and strikingly handsome, his face portrayed a confident aura that drew everyone near him in. Only the blue-eyed girl, four years his junior, seemed immune from its effects. The third individual in the room, only now recovering from her lack of nutrition in the mountains of northern Greece, studied the two of them with an appraising eye.

"And why would I go with you?" The boy responded.

"Because everyone there is like us, a demigod. There we do not have to hide anything; we can be ourselves and speak of our parents without any fear."

"My mother has given me a mission, I cannot fail."

"Let us help you with it." The girl had dark hair, but a harsh look that for some reason drew Annabeth in.

"You do not know what it is," Annabeth still did not trust the two.

"A woman's voice led us to you, I would assume that was your mother." The gray eyes flashed up to the dark-haired girl's face. "I am Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Let us help you, Annabeth, daughter of Athena."

***XXIV***

Percy could not formulate a response. On one hand he could not understand why Antonius had taken the news so well. On the other he had never expected to have this conversation and had no preplanned answer.

"Not his." Percy's response had escaped before he was able to register what he had said. Antonius stared at him for a moment, before his head threw back and laughter of an unbelievable volume soon carried over the sea breeze. The laughter put Percy at ease. "His brother," Percy muttered in response.

"Neptune's beard." Percy felt like attempting to melt into the wood of the ship and get out of Antonius' sight. "Every time I said bastard, I was more fucking right I knew." Antonius was laughing. Percy could not bring himself to join him, despite the laughter easing his concerns. Antonius shook his head side to side. "Of course, you managed to ride that black bastard. Neptune's beard, how the fuck did I not see this?" Percy was still frozen under Antonius' gaze. The burly general realized Percy's silence. His arm whipped forward and slapped him heavily on the shoulder. "Well, fucking talk, boy, it should be clear I don't give a shit about your father."

"I…I…My father is Poseidon," was all that Percy managed to get out. It only caused Antonius to laugh more.

"Boy, most people of my class know you half-breeds exist. No one gives a fuck." It felt as if a weight was being lifted off Percy's chest. While many of those around him believed in the very gods he was descended from, the idea of openly revealing that his father was the God of the Sea seemed a risk. He turned his eyes back to the naiads below them. "No wonder the little harlots kept looking at you." He had purposely made his claim loudly enough for the naiads to hear and seen water was flying toward him. His eyes had turned to Percy expectantly however, and with a wave of his hand Percy stopped the water from striking Antonius. Antonius said and looked back at the naiads beneath. He shook his head and laughed again. "Absolutely, bloody marvelous."

***XXV***

Egypt was unlike any country that Percy had seen. It amazed him that less than two years ago he had departed Corinth. Now he stood in the breadbasket of Rome. Alexandria was a city unlike anything he had seen. Athens had been ancient beyond Corinth. Ephesus had been a den of hedonism with Antonius as its marshal. Tarsus had been a stopover only to meet Cleopatra moving north from Egypt in the tenth month of the year. They were to winter in Alexandria. Though if the temperatures thus far constituted winter, he was quite certain he did not wish to experience summer.

Percy, along with Flavius, had received multiple invitations to join the dinner events hosted by Antonius and Cleopatra in their shared palace. With an unspoken warning in the form of a glance, Percy echoed Flavius' rejection of the invitation. Flavius had voiced his reasoning later, "He calls them dinners, it's a fucking orgy, boy. You don't touch the whores; you don't want this." Percy's understanding held that Antonius was married to Caesar's sister, but it seemed that Antonius cared not for the arrangement, nor the responsibilities Percy associated with marriage.

Despite the pleasantness of Alexandria, Flavius kept the Germans training. The luxury of Antonius' life in Alexandria disagreed with the Batavi and to a barely lesser extent, their Roman and Greek officers. Despite that, Percy found himself spending his little free time with a daughter of Greek grain merchant residing in Alexandria. The girl claimed that she was her father's good luck charm, that the fields he purchased from were ordained by the gods.

***XXVI***

Percy attempted to calm his riotous raven hair. Even cut short in the Roman style, he struggled to control it. His hand continued to brush the hair, trying to tame it, all the way to the residence of Nikolaus of Kythera. The grain merchant rented a house near the port for himself and his eldest children. His wife and three youngest children remained on Kythera. One of those children was Dione, and it was Dione that had enraptured the Greek soldier in three short months.

He felt her body press against his own. He wore only his red tunic, having decided against the braccae recommended by Flavius or his armor. His focale still covered his neck and a balteus controlled the tunic from blowing in the wind. Only a small pugio hung from the belt, he would need no iron sword tonight. Dione pressed herself against the young soldier again and Percy felt her hand exploring his frame. Three nights before, more than their hands had explored each other. It had been his first glimpse into Aphrodite's realm.

After finishing the meal with Nikolaus and his children, the two boys had left for a public house and Dione began to supervise the household servants as they cleared away the meal's remnants. Percy watched her as she moved. His face turned red however when he turned to find Nikolaus watching him. The older man did not seem overly concerned about his wandering gaze, however. He poured another glass of wine for Percy.

"Perseus, I see the way you look at my daughter." The merchant took a sip from his glass of wine. "Once, I looked at her mother that way, but I had a profession that did not require I march off at the orders of someone else."

"Sir?"

"I will not allow you to play with my daughter's life," a hard edge had entered the merchant's voice.

"Nikolaus, I would not…" he was cut off.

"You will not. You will not return. She will be heartbroken, but she will not waste her life on a soldier who may never come home." Percy looked at him dumbly. "My slaves have been instructed to keep her away while we talked. Leave boy, leave, and do not return."

***XXVII***

Percy was in pain. After Nikolaus had escorted him to the door of the house, he had found the man's two sons waiting outside the door. They did little more than acknowledge his passing. Percy had walked aimlessly through the streets of Alexandria until finding Sedullas and Ambiotorix outside of a public house. They had read the look on his face and shoved a large mug of alcohol into his hand. By the bottom of the mug, he could not remember why he was there. And he had stayed there for three days.

Now, as his head spun and he relied solely upon the horse to follow those around him, he remembered why he was still drunk. What he could barely remember was why he was mounted with Flavius and leading the column of Antonius' army across Sinai. He vaguely remembered the two Batavi assisting him in walking the night before and Flavius being exasperated when he found the three of them drunk. Well, Percy began to think, though it hurt to do so, I was drunk. I'd been drunk for three days. What he barely remembered, but did remember, was that over twenty thousand Parthians had invaded Syria under Prince Pacorus I and an old Pompeian General, Quintus Labienus. Much of the Levant and Asia Minor had fallen to the invaders. The army marched north to reclaim Antonius' land.

The army marched north, but Percy felt as if his heart remained in Alexandria.