by Ryan Lew
Brutus extended his hand across the table and offered it to Herminius. He looked at the offering for quite a while without taking action. “Or to the depths of Hades,” he finally said, then shook Brutus’ hand. When Brutus was about to pull away, Herminius tightened his grip. “You have Caesar’s ear, when knowledge is exchanged, be sure Fabricius shares in the spoils. Understood, brother?” he said emphasizing the final word.
Brutus smiled. “Understood.”
Chapter 25
Livius was reading when Justina found him sitting in the large chair of their main gathering room. She had fond memories of that chair. As a little girl, she would slide in next to her father, her arms filled with a pile of books. The two of them would sit together reading for hours, her father teaching her the words and helping her sound out the letters.
When she saw her father in the chair, she slipped in beside him, though she didn’t fit as well as when she was little. Still, her father made room and placed his arm around her.
“How is my daughter?”
Justina rested her head on his shoulder. “I have completed my chores for the day.”
Livius smiled. “That is not what I asked.”
“I am well,” Justina said. She loved her father, loved him very much. Though he was not her biological parent, she had never seen him as anything but her father. For his part, he had shown her the same love, always treating her as his natural daughter. Whenever she felt like an outsider in the family, it was her father who made her feel welcome, who brought her back to the fold. He encouraged her to be whatever she wanted to be. When her desire led to learning how to wield a gladius, it was her father who showed her, taking the time to make sure she held it properly, thrust it the way it was supposed to be thrusted, showing her the proper footwork. He even saved up to buy her armor that more suited her build.
“Then why has my daughter been walking around the house the last few days with a large wrap on her head?” he asked. “I assume there is a story to go along with such an injury?”
Justina moved in closer. “Really, I am well. This injury is merely motivation.”
“Motivation?” Livius repeated. “How so? Are you looking to become the Medicus? Attempting to learn how to properly attend bandages?”
Livius chuckled at his own wit. Justina smiled.
“I am motivated to get better at my combat skills.”
“Is that so? To what end? I cannot have you and your brothers beating each other up. How would that look upon my household? Taking my family to the square only to have wandering eyes question all the injuries that stem from this house. They may suspect me the culprit, and I only beat up dead animals these days.”
This time his wit caused Justina to chuckle.
“Do you not want your daughter, your only daughter, to know how to protect herself?”
Livius paused before speaking. “Your mother and I are of few agreements of late. However, we are as one in our hopes for our daughter to find a man worthy of her to wed and make us grandparents someday. We have told you numerous times, women do not need to know battle skills. They need to know how to raise children and be a good partner to their husband. I allow for you to play with swords as a hobby, but anything more than that, Justina, is but a dream.”
Justina pulled away slightly and turned to her father. “So my destiny is to be a wife and mother, and run a good household as does my own mother?” she said, a bit louder than she had intended.
“That is the destiny of all fortunate Roman women,” Livius replied. “You should consider yourself among them.”
This was a conversation Justina had hoped to avoid. While her mother seemed to make it a top priority in all their interactions lately, Justina always hoped her father would feel differently. Why, if this was what he had intended for her all along, had he encouraged her to be anything she wanted in her youth.
Justina stiffened.
“There is no future in fighting, Justina. Not for a woman and, ultimately, not for a man. I would trade all my days of battle for just one more with my family by my side. I want only what is best for you. True happiness is found in a loving family, not on the field of battle.”
Her father’s words softened Justina, and she once again melted into him. Livius smiled. “Will you be there on my wedding day?”
Livius looked down at her, surprised at the question. “Of course I will.”
Justina smiled. “Am I to have slaves in my household?”
“If fortune affords them, and your husband acquires enough status, then yes.”
“And if I were to ask for a slave as a wedding gift, would you be gracious in my request?”
“If your husband allowed for it, then yes.”
“What if I requested one of the slaves in this house?”
“Speak your mind, Justina,” Livius said.
Justina sat up. “I would have Antonia be by my side in my next household. Would you afford me that luxury? As a wedding gift, of course. And with the permission of my loving husband.”
Livius smiled in the way only a father could. Justina was laying it on pretty thick and she knew it. She formed the face she used when she wanted something from him, doe-eyed with just the slightest of smiles at the corners of her mouth. He was powerless to resist it.
“You and Antonia have grown up in this household almost as sisters,” he finally said. “You seem to forget at times that she is a slave and not an equal. I fear that if she were to accompany you in your next household, your husband may lose out on attentions he deserves.”
“She is a good person,” Justina said quickly, “and I like being around her.”
“And she likes being around you…too much. We each have our place in the world Justina, our own roles to fill. It is the way of things.”
“Are slaves not people?” Justina asked. “Dogs to be beaten when they disobey? I have witnessed your treatment of slaves in this very house, father. It has always been merciful.”
“A slave is just a status, Justina. Being a slave does not make a person any less human. Still, at times, discipline is needed.”
Justina was taken aback. She had never heard such words coming from her father. “Have you…beaten slaves, father?”
Livius took a deep breath. “I have only once had cause to use violence to keep our slaves in line. You were quite young, and I am grateful your eyes did not view it. We are blessed that has not been needed since.”
“I am surprised to hear this,” Justina admitted. “You are such a gentle man. In fact, it is one of the things I have always admired about you. I like that I am the daughter of someone who does not use violence.”
Livius smiled. “You forget I was once in the military, Justina. While I am not an admirer of violence, I am no stranger to it. I find myself fortunate that I was able to serve under Pompey during those times. Although I did not always agree with his commands or tactics, I did as commanded, and it has made me who I am today.” He caressed Justina’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You can rest assured, the days of violence and Livius are long past.”
Justina liked the feel of her father’s touch. It was comforting. She melted into his arms. “And am I to do what I’m commanded?”
“To live a happy life, with a family by your side is not a commandment Justina. It is a wish fulfilled.”
“A wish for more than just Romans.”
“All right, Justina,” Livius conceded. “If that is what will make you spend less time with a gladius and more time meeting a possible suitor, then yes, you have my blessing that when you get married, I will gift you Antonia.”
Justina’s smile took over her face. She threw her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him as tight as she could. He kissed her head. “My blessing was answered the day Cato and the Medicus arrived on our doorstep with baby Justina. Your parents tragically killed by the Slave King Spartacus. You will be happy to know that, although I had been retired from military for several years at the time, Pompey came to m
e for advice and plan to end Spartacus. I was more than happy to oblige.”
The news came as a surprise. “I know so little about my parents,” Justina said. “In fact, I think I know more about the man who killed them. The gladiator, trained by Rome, who used those skills to kill thousands of Romans.”
“It was a tragedy that, luckily, came to an abrupt ending.”
Moments such as this, where Justina had her father all to herself, were becoming rare. She felt safe in his arms, happy, and wanted. She was content to simply sit with him and would have been willing to do so for the remainder of the day. As she relaxed, her mind drifted to a future where Antonia would be by her side, as her equal. She was cherishing the moment, when Lucilius’ offer popped into her head.
“Lucilius came to me last night with a peace offering,” she said.
“Has there been tension between the two of you?”
“A little, but nothing that need cause worry.”
“So tell me of this offer.”
“Lucilius has invited all of us to the arena to watch the fights. At first, I said no, but I think it would be a fun experience for the family.”
“Fun?” her father questioned. “Are you certain? Blood is freely spilled in the arena and that blood is often accompanied by death.”
“I’ve witnessed enough blood, mostly my own, to last me for a while. However, I would like to attend. Lucilius said he has admissions for all of us, including Cato and Antonia.”
She allowed her father to ponder the proposition.
“If it is truly what you desire,” he said, “then make arrangements with your brothers. I will see if your mother wishes to join as well. Keep in mind, Cato and Antonia will be standing behind us the entire viewing.”
Justina virtually leapt from the chair. “Gratitude father,” she said with a grand smile.
“I am still surprised this offer came from Lucilius.”
“Perhaps being in this household for a few days has made him realize he needs to choose a different path in life. I may have misjudged him. Maybe he is a good man.”
“Maybe,” Livius said.
Chapter 26
March 11, 55 BC
Servilia removed the sheets, revealing her naked self. “Oh, great one, come back to bed and let us continue what we started last night.”
Caesar stood by his desk, reviewing parchment. He had pulled on a tunic when he rose and, rather than making her leave, he decided to let Servilia sleep. He looked over at his naked concubine. She was a sight to behold and lying there, with that look, proved more than minor temptation. “If life were only that easy,” he said.
It would have been easy to give in to carnal desires. However, if he wanted to stay ahead of the senate, he needed to keep his wits about him. Just as in battle, plans needed to be examined from every possible angle to ensure their soundness. Caesar never let anything take him by surprise on the battlefield, and he had no intention of allowing the senate, or the Triumvirate, to break that streak.
“Oh, poor Caesar, he has not five minutes for pleasure,” Servilia said in her best seductive voice. She moved her hand slowly up her thigh as she spoke.
The move had the desired physical effect on Caesar, but he didn’t give in. “I will enjoy myself when the senate is no more and I am the emperor of Rome. Then, I will give you five minutes for morning fun. Until then, our arrangements need stay in place.”
“You are such a bore sometimes,” Servilia said, covering herself. “Will we at least be spending the morning together? You do need to eat.”
“I have already had fruit. I need you to find your clothing and make your exit. My wife comes in today from her villa just outside of town. We are to attend the fights at the Arena in a few hours.”
Servilia pulled the sheets around her and stood to dress. He had struck a nerve. Servilia only covered herself when he had angered her. It was probably the mention of his wife. If that made her mad, Caesar was pretty sure his next revelation would put her over the edge.
“I have invited your ex to the games,” he informed. “I sent one of my soldiers to make sure the invite was well-received. I look forward to seeing him again and meeting his sons.”
Servilia stopped dressing. “You invite Livius to join in your box?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caesar replied. “I would not be seen with a butcher in my box. His seats are close enough, however, for us to run into one another.”
“How convenient,” Servilia said as she tightened the band around her silk robe.
“I look forward to meeting his wife as well. She will see what a true Roman is like.”
“If she is happy for the past twenty-plus years with a butcher, she may faint at the sight of you.”
Caesar smiled. “Hurry, I need to finish up here and then meet Crassus before the fights.”
Servilia was about to comment when a knock came on the door. Caesar answered the door and was told by a slave that Crassus had arrived.
“I must leave and attend to Crassus,” Caesar said to Servilia. “I’m sure you can show yourself out.”
“Are you embarrassed of me?” Servilia asked as she hooked jewels into her ears.
“Crassus does not approve of our relationship.”
“The rich and powerful Crassus has an opinion of Caesar’s whore? Since when do you worry about the thoughts or judgments of others?”
“I am not concerned with his judgment. I simply do not want to listen to his condemnation or his counsel on the matter.”
“I will not be dismissed like a common whore,” Servilia said. “If you do not accompany me to the front door, I shall not enter that door again.”
Caesar walked over to Servilia. He lifted his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her close, kissing her full on the lips. Just when she was about to pull away, he tightened his grip and took hold of her hair, pulling her head slightly downward. She almost lost her balance. He looked straight at her, his eyes cold.
“Do not forget who it is you are speaking to. If you do not desire to find yourself replaced.” He let go of her hair and walked toward the door. “You may accompany me, but keep your conversation to a minimum.”
“Fine morning to you,” Crassus said as Caesar entered the room. He was pleased Caesar hadn’t made him wait long. That pleasure vanished when he realized the woman by Caesar’s side was not his wife. “To you both,” he added, doing little to hide his distain. He turned his attention to Caesar. “I thought to find your wife by your side. Are we taking mistresses to the event today? I was not informed of this new way of gaining Rome’s trust.”
“Hold your reprobation, Crassus. Servilia was just leaving. My wife is to arrive in the next hour or so.”
“Good to see you too, Crassus,” Servilia said. She turned to Caesar, bowed, and then gave him a pronounced, purposeful kiss. Then she wiped her color off his lips. “Have fun at your little games.”
Crassus watched her leave. When she was gone he turned to Caesar. “You know my thoughts on this. Rome has tolerance to a point, but if this relationship was discovered.”
“What would happen?” Caesar asked, interrupting. “Nothing would change. The senate would continue to gossip like always. I would have an unhappy wife, but I wouldn’t have to invite her to make appearances with me anymore.”
“Tell me you aren’t developing feelings for this concubine of yours.”
Caesar walked over to the table and took a seat. He motioned for Crassus to follow, then called for a slave to bring them wine. “There are several things that make me happy,” he said as the slave poured. “Servilia just happens to be towards the top of that list.”
“Traveling down that trail is dangerous.”
Caesar ignored the comment. “One of Pompey’s old soldiers will be in attendance at today’s games. I would like for you to meet him. I have a surprise waiting for him at the fights.”
Crassus took a drink from the cup filled before him. Caesar and surprises were not a good m
ix.
Chapter 27
The first match had been grueling to watch and the second was proving its equal. Two men had entered the arena. One was clothed in leather pants, boots, and a battered helmet, his scarred chest and arms left exposed. He held a large net in one hand and a strange weapon in the other. Justina’s father had called it a trident. His opponent wore a full set of Roman armor, old Roman armor, but armor nonetheless. His weapon of choice, a gladius.
When the two gladiators entered the ring, the crowd erupted in alternating cheers and hisses, supporting their favorite and booing the other. Justina was in a private box with her family, her father on one side and her brother Herminius, on the other. Atilius sat to the right of Livius. Cato stood behind them, with Antonia, who held a jug of wine.
When Lucilius first invited her to the gladiator games, Justina had been hesitant. Watching two men try to kill each other was not what she considered entertainment. Yet, here at the area, hearing the cheers of the crowd, she had to admit, there was a certain excitement. Two men entered. Only one was intended to leave. Fighting for a cause was noble. Fighting for one’s life was something entirely different. It brought something out in a man—something unexpected. Despite her initial apprehension, Justina found herself caught up in the struggle.
The combatants circled, testing their opponent with weak thrusts and parries. The length of the bare-chested gladiator’s trident helped him keep the other out of range. But Justina noticed his weakness right away: he had but one move, a thrust.
The armored gladiator waited for the right moment. He blocked with his gladius when the thrust came, then spun to position closer to his opponent. The move forced the bare-chested gladiator off balance. It was a fine move, but Justina noticed it placed him on his opponent’s net, certainly not sturdy ground.
