Caput VI
***XLIII***
The tears ran freely down Annabeth's face. Supine upon a pyre of olive wood lay a body covered in blue cloth. The shroud, woven by the daughter of the goddess responsible for the existence of the monster Arachne, moved softly in the gentle Thessalian breeze. The deep blue of the Aegean shone brightly under the bright light of a full moon. People from not only Mount Pelion and therefore descendants of the gods, but those from the surrounding area. Those that had prospered from the protection granted by the Daughter of the King of the Gods surrounded the pyre as well. Atop the shroud, in full view of all attendees, lay a single horn. Its base was jagged, its tip, stained red. It was the horn that had been extracted from the abdomen of Zeus' daughter. The horn that had ended her life even as she dispatched the Minotaur with her spear. No one had fought such a monster in over a score of years, Chiron had proclaimed, no one was ready for a beast of its power.
She should not have had to fight him alone, Annabeth told herself. If she had been here, instead of chasing Roman armies throughout Mesopotamia, she might have been able to stop this. Lukas likewise had been gone, speaking to other demigods throughout Greece, measuring their reaction to the potential of a fight with Rome. Surprisingly the citizenry was as enthusiastic, if not more so, than those who were descended from the deities.
Chiron passed a torch to Annabeth. With measured steps, she moved forward. She spoke softly to herself. "You were my first friend. I will honor your memory in all I do. You fell protecting your people, you are a true hero, Thalia, Daughter of Zeus. You were my sister."
***XLIV***
Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus looked at the fleet returning to port. Silently, he was almost thankful for the dangerous weather which had hindered his fleet. The maritime war did not go well. He had been skeptical of his naval commanders' ability in the wake of repeated naval success by Sextus Pompeius Magnus Pius. The little bastard is calling himself a Son of Neptune now. It was a direct mockery of him. I will end the bastard, this fleet may not have sailed. But in the new year, I will attack Messina and curb the bastard. Fortunately, his friend in the north was having much greater success.
***XLV***
Unlike the Mare Nostrum which merely lapped upon the shores which Caesar looked over, blood ripped through the air at the tip of Decurion Titus Virinus Pullo's spatha. This would be her final battle, not due to wounds or that her thirst for combat had been sated. But instead due to the fact that she vomited nearly every morning now and it was beginning to be hard to hide. Praefectus Equitatus Perseus had written orders for her to return to Rome with dispatches. Once there she would again become Reyna Messalina Varus and her child would eventually become a bastard like his father.
Six months had passed since she and Percy had reunited on campaign against the Aquitani. In that time, they had grown close. Close enough that despite the silphium she carried, her decision had been to not take it and terminate the pregnancy. Her husband could not provide what she now carried in her abdomen; she was growing afraid she loved the man who had.
Another German tribesman fell to her blade. He was the fourth today. She'd lost track of how many over the last seven months. Her mother gifted to her the abilities of a warrioress, an ender of lives. Her ability to destroy, however, was merely a ripple compared to the wave of destruction that followed Perseus of Corinth.
At least a dozen men lay in his path. As had become his custom, he rode with a sword in each hand. In his left was a plain spatha; opposite it, a sword meant for ceremony and born of wealth had become an instrument of death. The Sword of Brutus flashed in the early morning sun and a great gout of blood proved it struck true. Reyna watched as a troop of Germanic cavalry stopped mid-charge, their mounts refusing to move forward as Percy turned his attention to them. Behind this group of Germanic tribesmen, the river began to rise and churn, cutting off all hopes of their escape. Reyna could see his eyes focused upon the river and knew it was his doing. It was not the first time he had used his powers for the benefit of the army. Crossing the Rhine, "unseasonably low" river levels allowed the legions to cross in rapid order, throwing off the ambush planned by the Germanic warriors that Perseus' cavalry had quickly routed.
Across the river the women and children stood at the banks, crying out for husbands and fathers now separated from them. The great, black Arabian reared and again charged forward. Percy's arms windmilled and both blades bit deeply into one of the Germanic warriors. The cavalry around them, a mix of auxiliaries and native born Romans wheeled and slashed. After just a few more minutes of near slaughter, the first weapon clanked to the ground. More followed and soon the only Germans fighting were those fighting for their lives in the raging tributary of the Rhine. On the far bank the women and children melted into the trees, bound for one of the hundreds of villages that dotted Germania.
"Praefectus!" Percy wheeled Blackjack around and looked to the young military tribune riding toward him.
"Agrippa seeks your counsel and summons you at once." Percy sheathed his swords and inclined his head.
"Decurion Pullo!" Reyna saluted the cavalry commander. It was a testament to him that despite their nocturnal relationship, in public they were nothing but senior and junior officers. "Bind the prisoners, return to the camp. I will wait there."
Four bloody fucking years, Percy thought. Almost fucking five. Four years and gods knew how many miles separated the man staring back at him in a polished silver plate and the boy that had left Corinth. And if the gods know the miles, Hades surely knows the lives. He continued to study his own face until Agrippa's voice returned him to his present.
"Do you aim to be the richest man in Rome?" In direct contrast to the clean shaven and neatly trimmed governor, Percy's wild hair and thick beard turned to Agrippa with his eyebrows raised.
"What do you mean, governor?" Percy saluted, his fist bouncing off his breastplate before extending.
"If the reports are correct and you continue to flood the slave markets of Rome with stock you will soon surpass me in wealth."
"Never, sir." Percy's vocal response was paired with the roguish grin he had become known for. Agrippa studied him for a moment. He then flicked a scroll across the table between them.
"Read that." Marcus Agrippa had spent many hours teaching his cavalry commander a higher level of finesse in Latin and, more importantly, how to read it and not only speak it. Agrippa, however, did not know the hours committed to a Latin that his Greek subordinate spent at night. It took him longer than he would have admitted to anyone else, but eventually he finished his reading.
"Should I call you Consul now?"
"I would prefer you call me Agrippa and solve my problem with Sextus."
"We have an enemy here."
"And we have two months to solve it. For I must return to Rome, and you will go with me."
***XLVI***
Lukas had been raised to leadership. Despite her commitment to her mission, she could not deny that Lukas was a better figurehead. He had the looks and the gift of speaking. Now he shared the leadership with Eudoros, Son of Ares. Thalia, partly due to her father and partly due to her own ability, had been a leader almost upon their arrival. In her absence, it now fell to Lukas and Eudoros. Annabeth would advise as always.
It was late at night and Annabeth's gray eyes bore into the orange flames. The air was cool, but it was not cold. She wore a Spartan style peplos, cut short and fully deserving of the term phainomērídes, thigh-showers. Leather sandals covered her feet. She drew the dagger she had long carried and looked at her flame illuminated reflection in its blade.
"What troubles you, child?" Annabeth looked up sharply, her eyes locking upon the centaur that had managed to appear in near total silence.
"What I have been tasked to do, Chiron. Now that I have felt the loss of a dear friend, I fear what I may lose." The trainer scratched his beard before responding.
"My dear, sometimes the gods give a task in which the bravest option is to say no." Thunder rumbled overhead. "As Thalia reminded us all, your time here is finite. I do not recommend spending it all in pursuit of an unachievable task." His hooves clicked off of the stone paved courtyard as he walked away. Annabeth watched him leave. A flash in the dagger's blade drew her attention. A streak of gray passed before her. Annabeth looked down.
Instead of a reflection, she saw a woman with matching gray eyes but dark hair. Her face held an aura of superiority, but it softened when the eyes rested on Annabeth. A voice filled her mind.
"Do not forget your task. Drive the enemy from our lands. You are my best hope. My daughter will lead the victory. Afterall, Athena always has a plan, and who can defeat a well-built plan?" Just as quickly as her appearance, the woman was gone.
"Mother."
***XLII***
In the end, it had been Agrippa's plan. If it was unsuccessful, the Senate would hang all blame upon him. He was Rome. Therefore any loss on his part, due to this plan, was Rome's loss. For it was he that ordered his forces split. For he understood that only right fucking bastards could do what he ordered.
They were nearly a league away, but Percy could hear the din of battle. Over the hills and dark forests nearly ten thousand Germanic warriors battled against Agrippa's two legions. And there's fuck all I can do about it, he thought. Behind him an auxiliary force moved quietly down the forest path. Whatever tribes made up the alliance against whom Agrippa now fought, the Batavi leading the column loathed them.
Instead of the six-hundred-man cohort he had inherited from Vitellius, Agrippa had entrusted him with nearly a thousand. He rode at the lead of an ala quingenaria, four hundred and eighty Gallic cavalry. Trailing his column, a cohort of auxiliary infantry added another nearly five hundred. Their target lay another three miles distant, the settlement, large by Germanic standards, that was home to the three reiks' families for the course of their alliance.
Percy kept the Goddess of War's daughter from his mind. Reyna had departed for Rome two weeks before. He estimated another two weeks of travel lay before she again became Reyna Messalina Varus, daughter of an ally of Brutus and Cassius. Her brother, Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus, had fought beside the traitors before surrendering to Marcus Antonius. If his understanding was correct, Valerius had given his sister in marriage to the Varus cunt because of Octavian Varus' rising standing in Rome. It had been an attempt to keep his family relevant. However, upon switching loyalties to the young Caesar, Valerius had begun to write his own future again. It eluded Percy how association with Varus could positively affect one's status, but he supposed it had to do with the cunt's godly heritage or Agrippa's assertations of his tongue of a snake. Fuck, he thought, why am I thinking about her and her problems? I should be focused on the battle. His own voice answered the question. Because she carries your child. But one you'll never see if you stay distracted. The Batavi scout approached. He began to speak in his native tongue, ignoring the officers who did not understand and looking only to Perseus.
"The village is around the next bend. Unless they have built another, it has just three gates." Percy studied the tall man. He appeared to be near his own age, broad in the shoulders and possessed a wild blond beard. A Germanic war axe hung from his belt and a shield with red and white markings rested on his back.
"What is your name?" Percy asked in the same language.
"Harjawalda in my tongue, Chariovalda in theirs." He nodded his head toward the Romans watching them with obvious skepticism.
"Am I not one of them, Harjawalda?"
"No," the German said simply, his voice low and monotone like many of his kin Percy knew from the East. "I have heard the barritus, I have seen you fight. You fight like one of us. You fight like a war chief, not like one of them." He drew the axe from his belt. "But you plan like one of them and this tribe is my enemy." A wicked gleam had entered the Batavi's eyes and Percy knew it meant the blood would flow.
"Markos," the centurion appeared. The experienced soldier now served as beneficiarus to the praefectus commanding the infantry cohort. The prefect already sat astride a horse beside Percy. The man was the bastard son of an equestrian of Rome itself and the military had been offered as his only way. He looks scared shitless, Percy thought. "Each of you take half your men and move on the closest gates. Take two turmae each."
"And you, Perseus?" Percy looked at Markos. As the man of Brindisium looked upon the bearded face with its sea green eyes, he saw no mercy in them.
"I wait for them to run; and I will stop them."
"He is good." Mars looked on from the shadows at the young cavalry prefect. Miles away, Bellona watched the exertions of Rome's legions against the hosts of the Germanic tribes. He continued to muse to himself, "That battle will be a battle only. What he does here is the war." Mars Ultor would not interfere. If the Greek boy decided to slaughter them all, so be it. They were the enemies of Rome. But their slaughter would only enrage more of the tribes and the enemies of Rome would only multiply. "What remains to be seen is if he understands restraint as much as he understands death." He turned to the silent goddess beside him. "What is your interest here?"
Nerio turned to the taller and armed god, "Husband, need you really need to ask?"
"Valor may only lead to more death here." She smiled at him softly.
"Sometimes you forget husband, holding back death may be the most valorous of actions."
Percy's spatha dripped blood as he willed Blackjack to a halt without a command. He sat upright and calmly placed his right leg across the horse's back, resting it on his left. Before him, nearly five hundred Germanic tribespeople stood in a wary stance. Nearly a hundred of them had died defending the gates and more had been cut down by Percy and his cavalry before halting their flight. They all carried weapons, a mixture of swords, axes, bows, and spears. Even the women and children, Percy thought. He tossed the sword into the air and caught it with the blade running alongside his arm. He pointed the hilt towards them and spoke his accented Batavi dialect.
"You will all die, or you will surrender. Look around, you are not escaping." A woman, high in standing by the quality of her clothes, stepped forward with a boy of no more than fifteen by her side.
"There are enough of us to…" he cut her off coldly.
"There are enough of you to feed the carrion for many weeks."
"What do you offer?" Blackjack carried him a few steps before he pulled his horse to. He directed the hilt at the boy beside her, the one clearly her son.
"He lives."
"And our husbands!" she shouted toward him, still speaking the Germanic barbarian tongue. "Our fathers and brothers!" Her voice had continued to rise in volume. Her words seemed to trigger those around her into a martial frenzy. They began to use their shields and weapons to create a steady drumming, the sound of which continued to rise. With a steady rotation of his wrist, Percy returned the spatha to its standard orientation and leveled the blade at the woman.
"Whatever happens this day, your line ends unless you drop your sword."
Percy would never know if it was his words or the appearance of several hundred infantry at their rear that led to the surrender. But as he spoke, Markos led four centuriae onto the group's rear and formed in battle formation. The woman and boy looked at the soldiers behind them and the calm cavalry commander before them. Her sword thumped to the ground, quickly followed by the boy's spear. With a jerk of his head, Percy directed the Thracians into the group's midst. None resisted.
***XLIII***
"Yet another fucking disaster," muttered the young Caesar. Off of Messana, his fleet had been defeated yet again by Sextus Pompeius. Again, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus' son proclaimed himself the Son of Neptune. To the north, having defeated the Aquitanians and the Germanic alliance in rapid succession, his friend Agrippa would soon return. Officially his return was to serve as consul; in reality, between Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa and Titus Statilius Taurus, Caesar hoped to crush the upstart.
Well, son of Neptune, we shall soon see if your "father" favors you or his born son. For with Agrippa traveled one of Rome's newest citizens.
***XLIV***
Despite his previous visit, Rome fascinated Perseus. More of the city's plain stone façade seemed to have been replaced with pure marble. Behind the commanders, a train of captives bound for the slave markets and the loot of two successful campaigns would fund the continued growth of the city. Still yet, beside him on a bay mare, Agrippa pointed out the improvements he would make.
"There, we improve the aqueduct." Then, "On that hill, a Basilica of Neptune, with your approval of course." Later "Public baths, big enough to put the barbarians of Greece to shame. My apologies, friend." Before finally, "And there, a saepta for the citizens to cast their votes for the future of their city." Those citizens who cast their votes were the same which would now spend their money on the slaves brought to the city or reap the rewards of the wealth that successful campaigns tied to names like Agrippa's that filled the city's coffers. While rarely did money exchange direct hands, Percy had begun to realize that votes could be bought, nonetheless. He also realized that a year before the way he soon addressed Agrippa would have been forbidden.
Percy had laughed at Agrippa's apology. "There is no need to apologize, my friend. To watch you speak of Rome is unlike anything I have seen."
"Rome is my home and I pray it long is." Percy reached across the distance between them and gripped Agrippa's shoulder. When they had departed Rome for Transalpine Gaul, such an act would have been unspeakable. But it had been nearly a year since their departure and battle forged friendship.
"You speak of Rome as a wife. I pray the one you meet tomorrow agrees to share you."
"Understand, Percy; in Rome, more often than not, marriage is about position and duty, not love. I pray you never reach the point of that."
A blossoming love, however, grew with the swelling of Reyna Messalina Varus' stomach. Lust and hatred of Octavian Varus may have driven the two together, what grew between them however, had not been planned. Despite the pregnancy, Percy had to admit that Reyna appeared as beautiful as always. Her chest appeared fuller, but to his mind that did not suit her. With a soft hand, he caressed stomach that held his child.
"The gods must protect him." He could not determine what it was that told him it was a son.
"Are you saying you will not?" He looked at her. Reyna could tell in his face the caring he held for the unborn child, yet his phrasing perplexed her.
"I am saying I cannot." He looked at her. "Against sword and steel, that is easy. Against the words of Rome, I have no status with which to defend this child. He is safer as one of the Varii than as the son of Greek bastard. Your cunt of a husband is impotent. You know this, he knows this, I know it. Rome does not. It would not serve him for it to be known and he will play the game of power."
"You would abandon your child!" Bellona's daughter hissed.
"No, I would give my child the rights at birth, that I had to kill for."
Before him, an aedile named Titus quivered. The little man had to crane his neck to look into the face of the demigod before him. It was, of course, unlikely that the aedile knew the man before him was born of the gods. Titus, however, had never felt the power rolling off a man the way it rolled off of the one before him. In all his interactions with Caesar, both Caesars even, none had given off the aura of power that the black-haired man with green flames as eyes.
"Who did it?"
"A Syrian. He had a reputation for killing if one had the coin."
"Had?"
"Bassus killed him."
"Then who paid him?"
"We do not know." The big Greek moved forward quickly, and the aedile shrank away. Percy reached out and gripped the smaller man's arms. He leaned forward and his presence cowed the official.
"Then you will find out." Only now did he realize how tightly he had gripped the man's arms. As he leaned back, he could see bruises already forming. The aedile seemed terrified by Percy's eyes. Percy pulled several sestertii from a pouch on his waist and tossed them onto the table. Without another word he turned and exited to the street. No one nearby seemed capable of looking him in the face. That only served to stoke his anger more.
The wedding of Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa and Caecilia Pomponia Attica occurred on the fifteenth day of Iunius. The Flaminica Dialis, high priestess of Jupiter, had declared the date auspicious as it was at the peak of the god's wife's month. The high priestess set forth that as the month was the month of Juno, the marriage and future childbirth would be blessed.
Percy had been shocked by the invitation to enter Titus Pomponius Atticus' domus as a guest of the groom, after all, despite Caesar's gift, he was still merely a plebian. As he had been reminded, he was most definitely not a part of the most noble patrician classes. Part of his presence, however, served to ensure the safety of the estate; both Consul Agrippa and Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus would be in attendance after all. Due to that, he had witnessed the family's offerings to the lares which protected the house. Soon after this, the guests arrived. Percy greeted the few he knew, then tensed as Octavian Varus and his very pregnant wife entered. He forced his attention back to the bride.
As she approached her soon to be husband, he could see the red paint covering her face. Idols and symbols of Juno, Venus, and Hymenaeus filled the area. A brace of doves fluttered about the upper reaches of the chambers and all believed them a sign that the Falminicia Dialis had been correct in her prediction of the date. Percy accepted just one cup of wine and ate sparingly. His role in this night was not complete. Later in the evening, after the wine and merry making, Agrippa would, by tradition, "steal away" Caecilia. Even as her father spoke proudly of the union of his "Atticula" and the second most powerful man in Rome, Percy looked about for any threat. In the process, he continued to make eye contact with Reyna. Sea green and near-black would connect for a moment, then flick away before any could see them. With each connection, the room seemed to grow in length. When the time came for Agrippa to carry away his bride to his home, there was a measure of relief that the growing pressure at being in the same room, yet so far apart, had passed.
***XLV***
No debate existed on the current master of the Mare Nostrum surrounding Italia. The self-proclaimed "Son of Neptune" had dictated maritime trade and passage from his island home upon Sicilia. Attempts to dislodge him did little to assuage this claim. Unforgiving weather or calamitous defeat secured Sextus Pompeius' place as the lord of the seas. As Marcus Agrippa look over the harbor of Misenum, he determined it was time to end that. He slowly turned to the man at his side.
That man's presence had been the subject of debate. "How does a decurion fix the problem?" they had asked. "He was born a peregrini and he is merely a cavalryman." A cavalryman that had seen his rank stripped away upon leaving my army, thought Agrippa. There was little he could do. Caesar had made him a citizen, but he did not possess the social standing to maintain his rank as a prefect. That status was reserved for the equestrians, and they suffered not usurpers into their realm. As such, Agrippa had watched the Son of Poseidon relegated to decurion once more. Without an army about them, Agrippa had been unable to even manage a title of decurio princeps. As such, a "lowly" pleb decurion stood beside him along the coast of the Mare Nostrum.
"We have to beat him. Every time we build a fleet though, he is waiting outside the harbor for us to attempt to leave. We" the word seemed emphasized, though Percy was more than aware what he owed Caesar's nephew, "owe it to Caesar to defeat him. He claims Neptune as a father now."
"So the nymphs and nereids have told me." Agrippa looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"I am a Son of Poseidon, Agrippa. Their spirits speak with me."
"And what is your answer." Percy turned slowly looking over the low hills behind them.
"Behind those hills lay Lucrinus Lacus and Avernus Lacus. Train the fleet there. If he cannot see the fleet building, he cannot attack them."
"And carry the boats over hills?" Agrippa asked, skepticism in his voice.
"We have to dig canals. Avernus to Lucrinus and then Lucrinus to the harbor."
"That will take months!" Percy shrugged.
"You asked a way to beat him. Short of using my control of the sea alone and hoping it's enough? This is how you do it. You asked me to do this, Agrippa, I'm telling you this is what must be done."
"Very well." Agrippa looked to the hills and attempted to visualize the lakes beyond. The plan made sense, it just seemed impossible. But as Percy had stated, he had chosen to send him here to find an answer. He had done so. "She is doing well, so you know."
"Who?"
"Reyna Messalina Varus." Involuntarily, Percy stiffened. He had attempted to fight it, but it had been in vain. "And so is her son. Publius Quinctilius Varus." Percy had to force the next words into existence.
"I am sure Octavian is quite pleased with his son."
"As any father is," Agrippa's response said as much as it did not. Perseus of Corinth knew that Agrippa seemed to learn things no one else could. He also knew that a child conceived while he was on campaign could hardly be considered his by masses, even if he and Reyna knew with absolute certainty is was. Agrippa had wondered away and Percy had lost track of time. Emotions continued to build within him. They threatened to overwhelm his control. He was a father godsdamnit, but godsdamnit his admission of such could destroy his son and the woman he loved. A roiling cauldron of emotion continued to build within him. A swift glance revealed no one nearby. With a harsh scream of anger he allowed his rage to be focused on the low hills separating Lucrinus Lacus and the Misenum bay.
A focused tendril of water, narrow at first but growing, struck the rock edifices dividing the lake and the ocean. As the mass of water grew, it began to eat away at the rock. Soon, under the relentless pressure, the rock began to give way. Every muscle of his body seemed to tense beyond expectation as the emotions of the previous unknown hours focused itself on the water slowly eating away at the hills. He continued to scream and continued to mercilessly attack the rock with the water.
Suddenly, as quickly as the anger had consumed him, it vanished. With it his strength left him. Without a word, he collapsed to the wooden dock. High above Misenum, a horse reared in the night, its whinny cutting through the summer air. To anyone that might have seen it, it merely appeared a wild horse of the Italian hills. That was unless one looked at its eyes. For in its eyes blazed a fire-like quality that none would have accepted from a horse. They glowed with a light no human could have explained.
"Only the gods" had been the claim the next morning when nearly half of the canal necessary to connect Lucrinus to the harbor appeared completed overnight. Three days later, only Marcus Agrippa could detect the weariness present on the face of Perseus, just as only he could detect the sadness it hid. Agrippa did his best to distract those around them from the demigod. In their current situation it was not difficult.
Stories of the Greek's battlefield prowess seemed to have preceded their return to Rome. Thus far it appeared that was all they associated with him. No one seemed to realize that he had developed the plan they now were prepared to execute, especially since Agrippa was funding it. It allowed him to slip away and rest. Based off the number of wine jars collecting near the tent he lived in; he needed the space.
***XLVI***
Reyna watched him enter with wariness. Under the sheets, her left hand found the hilt of the small dagger. It was clear that Octavian had been drinking. A red stain marred his white toga, and his teeth were stained with its hue. A cup of wine still rested in his hand. The dagger occupied her left, while the right held the small child to her breast. Publius slumbered peacefully against her as her dark eyes stared across the chamber at her husband.
"Husband, she said coldly. Her voice carried in the chamber, as did his reply.
"Whore."
"That would imply I was paid, the only thing I received in return was pleasure for the first time since marriage." She watched his jaw clench and for a moment believed he would hurl his glass of wine. His arm slackened and she allowed herself to untense.
"When I find the father, I will see him killed."
"You will be as unable to harm him as you were to fuck successfully." Reyna smiled wickedly, knowing his ego would never allow him to admit the child was not his. That much was written upon his weaselly face. "Do not worry husband, you will be father to a great man's son. Which is more than I could say if you had fathered him."
A/N: As a clarification of the timeline: Bassus received his triumph for the defeat of Parthia and died in 38 BC. While there is no record of Agrippa having returned to Rome for this, I have made it so to suit the story's needs as he was governor of Transalpine Gaul at the time. There is no record of his death that I could find, so therefore I have drafted it to suit my needs. Agrippa returned to Rome in 37 BC to assume the consulship and, we think, marry Caecilia Pomponia Attica. This is roughly the same time Agrippa began the construction of the canals to connect the new harbor installation, Portus Julius, to Lakes Lucrino and Avernus.