Caput XXX
***CCCXLI***
The rest of the Greeks left. The two lithely built women with gray eyes stood across from the tall man with broad shoulders and green eyes. The two women wore clothing for a city, each donning a peplos in the Spartan style, revealing strong legs and arms. The man dressed for war. A sleeveless blue tunic was covered by formed black leather armor with silver trident and golden eagles upon it. Pteruges covered his molded thighs and a sword hung on his left side. A bronze dagger sat at the small of his back. Having never seen the man at such range outside of combat before, both women were struck by the amount of scar tissue that marred his dark skin. In Annabeth's mind, despite his Greek origins, he had always been a son of some commander, born and raised to command Roman armies. Athena merely ignored his background until his campaign against her daughter. The amount of damage on both his armor and body did lend itself to the elite background so many within this haven believed of him. The wounds revealed not the privileged child of a senator; they revealed a life-long soldier, one more accustomed to fighting the battle, than commanding it.
"We heard someone arrived…" the voice died off. Annabeth turned to see Zoë Nightshade and Malcolm approaching. Now four pairs of eyes stared at the Son of Poseidon, the owners all realizing that the man before them might be the largest man they had ever seen. The two mortals estimated him to be near their age, the immortals merely knew that he appeared older than most residents of their settlement, yet he also stronger than the Greek mortals they knew of what they suspected to be equitable age.
Malcolm recovered first. "You are not what I expected, when Poseidon informed me he did not intent for us to fall."
"And I have already spent more time here than I suspected I would without someone trying to kill me." At this, the winged horse stamped its hoof violently. They watched as Percy placed a calming hand upon its flank. The Persian looking Hunter spoke next.
"It has been many years since we first saw each other, Pegasus." The beast nodded its head. "I wish our meetings did not herald suffering." Malcolm could see the gathering here would do them little good. He began to move away on his crutch.
"Come, you must be hungry, and we will need a stable for that one."
***CCCLII***
"I did not believe your first meal in this place would be very enjoyable had you been forced to endure it with my sister and my mother."
"Another child of Athena," Percy muttered into his wine glass. "The Romans would fucking shit themselves if Children of Minerva started appearing. But I'm not sure how they'd manage to bury the goddess alive like they do the Vestal Virgins who get it popped." Malcolm snorted into his wine as a woman brought bread and two tender cuts of lamb to the table. The woman stared long at the tall form of Perseus before easing back to toward the kitchen where she had come from.
"Don't be stealing her on your first day. I spent two years getting her here."
"My days of bedding other men's wives are over."
"Finally get your own?"
"Yes, about four years ago. After I left Greece, they sent me to Hispania. I returned to Rome and was told I was getting married."
"Is she attractive?"
"Yes, but too young for me."
"Children?"
"Two, with another on the way. Four from a previous… series of encounters."
"So, the other men's wives?" Percy nodded slowly. "Do you love this wife of yours?"
"I think I'm getting there; think she is too." Malcolm leaned forward and studied the man with green eyes.
"There are people here who would as soon kill you as you help us."
"Your mother and sister?"
"Daughter too."
"Then why have me here? Don't you?"
"Those three might not give it up, but the others might if they see you and me. And, well, I prefer to live in a world where fathers and children can meet each other." The meal arrived and they ate in silence. The darkness was complete by the time Perseus decided to return to the stable where he intended to ensconce himself for the night.
"I can offer you a place to sleep here. Surely a commander of your status is above sleeping in a stable."
"I started this life twenty-two years ago as a cavalryman under Marcus Antonius, a stable beside my mount is my second home."
"Were you a decurion then?"
"I was one of the ranker bastards that receive orders and try not to die following them."
"We all believed you some blessed from birth commander."
"Most of my early promotions were because people above me were dead."
"How many wars have you fought?" Asked Malcolm, beginning to realize the Son of Poseidon before him might have been a truer child of war than any son or daughter of Athena or Ares in the settlement. They spent their lives preparing for war. This man seemingly spent his life at it.
"The civil war for Antonius, another against him. The Parthians, the Aquitani twice, the Cantabri and the Astures, against Sextus Pompeius. The Illyrians, Morini, Treveri, German tribes whose names I don't even know. And then, of course, the Greeks."
"Do you know peace?" Percy did not answer and instead walked toward the door. He turned in time to see the Greek woman reenter and sit on Malcolm's lap.
"I hope to one day."
***CCCLIII***
The stable was dark as Percy entered it. In the gloom, Pegasus seemed to glow slightly. He was six steps into the structure when he realized he was not alone. He turned slowly, speaking into the darkness. "Sword or trident?" To whomever occupied the space with him, the response was meaningless as nearly a dozen horses neighed, directing him to draw the Sword of Vercingetorix. "I know you are there," he continued. "To attempt to kill me would be difficult, many have tried." The voice that responded clearly belonged to someone much younger than he expected.
"None of them, were me. I have dedicated my life to ensure that I see you die." A girl stepped from the shadows. Percy studied her. He estimated she was fifteen, just a few years short of Publius' age. It had been nearly five years since she struck him with a thrown rock.
"That is a rather dark thing to drive your life."
"You destroyed everything I knew, one day I will look down on your body."
"That does not require my death." He could tell the girl cared about little else. He spun the sword in his hand and pointed at her with the pommel. "I will warn you but once, I have no qualms about killing children who threaten me, girl. Ask the Hunters, I hung enough of them on crosses." Aspasia, Daughter of Malcolm, stared at him. His voice had cut through the darkness as assuredly as iron cut through flesh.
***CCCLIV***
The girls had been missing for nearly six hours. At any other moment, that would have been ignorable. However, considering that the monstrous host sat just half a mile from them, too many alternatives existed. Zoë felt the Hunters closing on her side. She said nothing as the group of girls spread in a line. Thirty-six of them peered into the valley, their three sisters' fates were unknown.
"Everyone moves forward, no one moves alone." The closest Hunters nodded, then passed her words down the line. Zoë waited four minutes for the word to be distributed to all her charges before standing and beginning her cautious advance. Six hundred yards fell under their feet before someone on the far right called for them to halt. Zoë moved in near complete silence before approaching the rocky overhang where Phoebe and several of the younger Hunters waited.
"What is it?"
"Camp fire smoke and this," Phoebe held up an arrow. "This is no monster arrow. It comes from Scythia and a human made it."
"Amazons?" asked Zoë. Despite both groups' avoidance of men, distrust flourished between them.
"I do not think so." Zoë sniffed the air. The smell of smoke and of cooked meat hung in the air. "Go get Myrinne. She and I will scout forward." Pheobe looked at her with anger. "Something caused Laodice and the others to vanish, I will not risk the others by leaving them without a proven Hunter to lead them. Phoebe, you have been with the hunt longer than I, they will need you."
"You speak as if you are already dead."
"I merely speak the truth." Pheobe did not argue as Myrinne appeared, and she and Zoë disappeared over the edge of the outcropping.
They moved tree trunk to tree trunk, keeping to the darkness that occupied the shadows of the thick canopy. Collectively, their breath seemed to slow to the point that they could not hear it. Something in these woods caused Hunters of Artemis to vanish, fate seemed to be tempted enough already. The pair crept forward, the smell of woodsmoke and cooking growing stronger. With the proper gusts of wind, men's voices carried through the woods. Silently, Myrinne pointed to something near her foot. Zoë looked down to see the clear marks of a bleeding animal being dragged, which meant the Scythian arrow clearly came from a Scythian fighter. Why in Hades' name would they be with the monsters?
They continued forward, the scent of the cooking fires beginning to take on a slightly sweet aroma. The voices grew louder, neither Hunter able to comprehend the Scythians' language. Again, Myrinne stopped her Lieutenant. Three trees to their left lay what appeared to be the hide and entrails of a deer dressed for consumption. However, deer pelts were not lined with wolf fur. The two moved closer and their hearts froze. The pile of organs did not resemble those of a deer or any other creature. They were those of a human.
Zoë began to rush forward, but Myrinne pinned her against a tree. Rage flashed across her face, but she forced herself to mouth "Do not be foolish." The clothing was too bloody to determine who it belonged to. They resumed their stalking. Entering a copse of evergreens, they found themselves close enough to the camp to see into it.
A dozen bulky figures walked about conversing in their untranslatable tongue. They had seen the group but once before. Scythian Anthropophage, cannibals from the eastern steppes. Four blocked their view of the cookfire. As they moved, having completed the act of carving their portion from whatever hung on the spit, the cause of their feast became visible. Zoë and Myrinne both turned their faces aside quickly.
The cannibals had left Laodice's head upon her body and now a taut, leathery version of it stared towards them. Large cuts of her flesh were already missing, no doubt filling the stomachs of the monsters before them. Two more trails of blood disappeared into one of the tents. Zoë felt Myrinne reach for her quiver and the Lieutenant mirrored the action. If there was any chance of the other girls being alive, they would do what they must.
***CCCLV***
They separated by thirty feet. Zoë gripped both a knife and the bow in her left hand. Myrinne held just the bow, but an arrow lay between each finger of her right hand. She would have three targets picked before the first arrow flew. Myrinne did not carry the traditional hunting knives of the Hunt, she preferred the leaf-bladed xiphos a style of weapon. Zoë could not bring herself to even look at a xiphos since Herakles. They looked at each other across the dark forest and with a nod of Zoë's head, the first arrows flew.
Even as the first two cannibal's fell, the Lieutenant of Artemis rushed forward. Her bow fell to the ground as she drew her second knife. She felt the whistle as Myrinne's arrows flew past her head. Two more of the Scythian's fell dead before she reached them. A third arrow passed her head before she leapt onto the closest Anthropophage. Hurling herself forward, her legs clasped around the man's waist as her knives plunged deeply into each side of his neck. Even as the large man fell, she could see Myrinne rush forward, firing arrows as she did.
A Scythian rushed toward Myrinne. Zoë spun on her knees, both knives flashing as they sliced across the man's left Achilles and right knee. As the man slowed, Zoë used her knives to climb his back. The knives bit at the thigh, hip, kidneys, lower ribs, shoulder, then neck. She regained her feet in time to see Myrinne slice a man across the abdomen with his sword before thrusting it into his groin. A high-pitched shriek pierced the night at a tenor and volume neither Hunter had ever heard.
Myrinne withdrew the blade, feeling the warm stickiness of blood as it coated her. The man now bleeding out underneath her was the seventh to die. Beside her, she watched Zoë slide between the legs of a Scythian, her knives biting deeply into the inner thighs of the man. Blood shot from the severed arteries and coated the Daughter of Atlas. A man lunged, slamming his shoulder into her leader. The tackle threw the onyx haired Huntress to the ground and the man's bulk prevented her movement. Myrinne jumped forward, spinning in the air until her sword blade cut across the mid-spine of the man. As he struggled to force his legs to obey his brain's commands, Zoë thrust her knives into his lungs as Myrinne struck again, the blade not piercing the side of his neck before exiting the other. Three of the Scythian Anthropophage remained.
The two girl-sized Hunters stood and the wrath in their eyes turned upon the remaining men. Between them, there stood two spearmen and a swordsmen. Zoë flung one of her knives at the swordsmen and the two warriors once described as lionesses by a senior man of Rome, hurled themselves toward their enemy.
The thrown knife did not kill its target, but its penetration of the lower abdomen caused enough pain for the duo to close with the spearmen. Myrinne's xiphos detached the right most man's lower leg below the knee. Again, a man's shriek filled the night air, before a trio of downward strikes separated the man's head from his shoulders. Zoë found herself under the spear arm of her adversary and slammed the blade into the man's ribs four times. The man bellowed in pain. As his body naturally contorted away from the wounds, he brought the spear haft across the Lieutenant's neck. Myrinne watched as Zoë slumped to the floor. Even as the large man fell toward her, the demi-titan thrust the blade into his throat.
Myrinne turned to the swordsmen, the man's vision focused solely on slowly rising Lieutenant. Zoë looked up to see the man leering down upon her. The visage lasted for just a few seconds before Myrinne's sword appeared outward form his throat. Blood coated her. Before she fully recovered, Myrinne vanished into the tent at the end of the blood trails. When she emerged seconds later, she fell to her knees, retching as vomit struck the ground. Zoë stood to move.
"No!" Myrinne barked. "For the love of the all the gods, do not fucking enter that tent! Set fire to it and be content to never see what lies within." Never, not even in the depths of the hell Rome unleashed upon Athens, had Zoë seen such fear and revulsion upon Myrinne's face. Fighting off sickness, Myrinne alone carried the remains of Laodice into the tent and beside Zoë she cast a torch into it. As the flames grew the two stood shoulder to shoulder.
"What…" began Zoë. Myrinne cut her off.
"For as long as you live, never ask me to describe what I saw in there."
***CCCLVI***
Rome stood above all, a city of stone and power. In Percy's eyes, this settlement served as a stark contrast – one of wood of and dedication. Here all stood to the settlement's welfare. How many of Rome stood only for the continuation of their personal power? He walked among them in only a rough tunic, no sign of his status or origins. He spoke Greek as he did in his youth, neither in the flowing manner of the Athenians, nor the Laconic style made famous by the Spartans. Those that did not recognize him received a kind word and a smile which split his bearded face. Those that did received a curt nod of the head.
He walked the perimeter of the wall before turning to an examination of the settlement. Temples rose to each god or goddess, barracks, foundries, training grounds, and agriculture filled the rest of the walled space. Percy doubted four hundred lived here. After over half a day of wandering, he found himself sitting next to the shrine to Poseidon, drinking wine and eating bread.
"They told me you were here." Percy looked up from the dirt at his feet, ten yards away, bow in hand, stood Zoë Nightshade. Her black eyes glared at him. "I never presumed you to be so foolish."
"My father asked, I answered."
"And how will that end?" she spat in return.
"I imagine that will depend on how many fools attempt to kill me."
"How are my Hunters? Have you yet forced them to sever their connection to the goddess?" The implication was clear.
"For all my many sins, that is not one I have inflicted on any woman. They are no different. Most of their servitude has been spent watching over my wife and children."
"What woman would marry you?" she spat.
"One whose father said she would."
"Then I see it appears you surround yourself with bastards."
"Considering how many of them are descended from the gods, yes." The glares passing between them did not end until a runner suddenly appeared. The young man was out of breath. Zoë stared at him angrily. Percy gave him a sympathetic smile.
"They've… called a council… requesting you…" He ran off again. Zoë turned back to Percy.
"For now, our fight is over, but one day I will see you dead. Be it in one month or forty years, I shall witness it." Pery stood and she was reminded of his great height and breadth, it reminded her of Herakles, damn him.
"In forty years, I will be no more than a whisper on the lips of other men. It is something you have never known, Daughter of Atlas, mortality. Despite my appearance, I shall not live forever. One day, I will be nothing more than the echoes of my deeds across the years. I will be no more, but my actions will live on. You are the opposite, your deeds will never be known, but you will live on."
***CCCLVII***
Ten people filled the room. A scaled model of the city and its approaches covered the table before them. Percy now took in the full eagle's view of the environs he had earlier explored. The position was good, the numbers defending it were not. He stood opposite where Athena and Annabeth sat, Malcolm sat beside him. Athena and her two children, Percy, and two Hunters filled most of the room. A large woman with battle-scarred armor glared at him, three men rounded out the quorum. The unknown woman spoke first.
"Why are you here? Do you feel guilty for what was done to us?"
Percy looked the questioner hard in the face. "Men in my position do not have time for guilt."
"And what position is that? Destroyer?"
"Victor."
Two men attempted to hold the woman, who he now recognized from the night battle on the river in Greece north of the Oeneos, as she strove to charge at him. Percy's opinion was that these situations needed to occur now, otherwise they would come to pass during a battle. Athena disagreed however and cleared her throat loudly.
"Lieutenant, what can you tell us of our enemy?"
"More than ten thousand. Monsters and cannibals from the east, Scythian Anthropophage. Three of my Hunters have been lost to them already. Animals loyal to our mistress report another force marches west toward Byzantium, they merely call them the enemy."
"What is their strength?" Percy broke in, knowing a force of any number should not pass through Roman lands without local forces knowing.
"Between four and five thousand."
"I will send word to our commander in the east, if they passed through his domain they will know."
"Is he trustworthy?"
"I trusted him seven years ago at Pelion and the southern wall of Athens," Zoë stiffened, most of the Greeks did.
"Jupiter's Son?" asked Annabeth.
"Yes." He stepped toward the model of the settlement. "If I may, two sections are the most susceptible to assault. Here," he pointed at a section of wall on the eastern face of the mountain, "and the gate itself."
"My children and I designed these walls and fortifications…" Percy cut her off.
"Was that not the case in Athens as well?" The room went silent before an explosion of shouts and curses. Eventually Annabeth's voice curbed it.
"Let us get this out of the way. You out commanded me the entire campaign when you invaded Greece, how?" Percy wished to avoid this conversation, but the facial expressions from all others he knew was not possible. He lifted a cup of wine and drank deeply.
"I did not out command you." He held up a hand to the murmurs that began. "I out led you."
"Those are synonymous," Athena stated without any room for argument.
"Only those of Athena would believe so. A commander receives a mandate from a higher power to stand in front of soldiers and give them orders. Yours," he pointed at Annabeth," came from a goddess, mine from Augustus. That represents the formal assignment as an arbiter of another's will. Leadership is standing before the broken and battered men and convincing them to attack again. It is enduring what they endure and establishing a trust that you do not callously throw their lives away, even when it is exactly what you must do. Led men, follow by choice; commanded men follow by order and discipline." He fell silent for a just a moment. "At the Oeneos, I spoke to three hand fifty men you had broken. Their units were shattered, and their bodies bloodied. I told those magnificent bastards I needed them to go into the fray once again," there was emotion in his voice and it was not lost on most of those in the room. "A sixteen-year-old boy stood and squared up against his commander, a man he had probably never seen. He looked me in the eye and said, "Tell me where the fucking cunts, I am your man." The magnificent bastard did not live to see sundown. He died because he believed in me enough to go on when no man had the right to ask him to. Men do not do that for commanders, but they will for their leader."
"If men would follow a monster, that is their folly," Percy turned the second Hunter, the redhead. He remembered releasing her as a punishment in Athens. Everyone around the table wished that his response rang less true.
"War turns all of monsters of some sort."
***CCCLVIII***
Octavian raged silently as he witnessed the proceedings. First, there was a woman in the Senate chambers. Second, that fucking bastard was going to win the election. His beady eyes locked on Augustus and his daughter, the confidence on his face said everything. For even the comitia centuriata bowed to Augustus' will. The spokesman of the assembly now stood.
"The results of our election!" The man paused after every sentence, his great mass rendering him out of breath at even the task of speaking. "As the spokesmen of the people, our noble body has determined the consuls for the year seven hundred and thirty-seven ad urbe condita! First shall be Gaius Junius Silanus of the noble Junii! Second, elected unanimously in absentia, the first of his family to hold such an exalted position within Rome, Publius Ventidius Bassus Perseanus! May the gods bless their future position!"
***CCCLIX***
"Such an honor is wasted on a man who could abandon such a beauty to galivant through Greece in the company of four young slave girls." Julia turned to the man approaching her.
"He left me with two, maybe three, girls of my own." She watched his eyes take in the increased curves that childbearing imposed upon her, including the nearly imperceptible swelling of her midsection, which her hands cupped protectively.
"And you are all the lovelier for it." She smiled despite herself. "But you carry another child of his?"
"One does not take on a passenger, unless the ship's hold is full." She replied sultrily.
"How could a man of his age keep up with a woman of your appetites anyway? Old as the heroes of lore, he is."
"He has been blessed in certain ways."
"He is not the only one."
"What is your name, sir." The final word revealed her acknowledgement that he appeared anything but a gentleman worthy of sir.
"Sempronius Gracchus," he replied with a bow. She now analyzed more fully, only a blind woman would deny his attractiveness or the fact that he appeared at least fifteen years younger than her husband.
"Do what do I owe the honor, Sempronius Gracchus?" His response carried to her ears in a tone that made it known honor was not his intension.
"Merely to provide companionship to one of Rome's greatest women." He smiled; if there had been any doubt, it revealed precisely what type of companionship he meant. It was the type of companionship lacking with er Son of Poseidon husband currently in Greece with four slave girls, one of which he had fucked multiple times; a second's, she had begun to suspect, vows were becoming overcome by events.
"The ease of which you speak of this companionship," a smirk accompanied her enunciation of the final word, "belies the scrutiny under which Augustus' daughter and Perseus' husband lies."
"A woman of your status is indeed under immense pressure, it would be my honor for you to lie under me instead, to alleviate said pressure."
"And reduce me to avoiding the knives others would readily put in my back?"
"They would find such an act difficult if you are lying on it." The suggestive smile returned. Her coy response only caused it to grow.
"Or you could watch my back, if I put you on yours." Now her own smile grew.
Across the chamber, another man watched and smiled as the woman and man exited together.