by Vox Day
Some said Patronus intended to make himself king. Others asserted he was doing no more than breaking the half-barbarian princes of the provinces to civilized rule, a venator careful to maintain his whip hand over the wolves in his charge.
But to Severa, all that mattered was that it appeared increasingly clear that Cassianus Longinus would be facing a sympathetic audience in his trial before the Senate. If so, not even the fact that the prosecution was being brought by Pompilius Ferratus could guarantee that the Cassian would pay for her father’s murder, given the widespread belief that his actions were justified by the threat to the city supposedly posed by her father.
Had he survived the assassination attempt, Severa thought bitterly, Father would have known how to turn the rumors around so that they would work in his favor. He would answer them in such a way that they would strengthen his position rather than weaken it. But there was nothing he could do to counteract the whispers, as venomous as the evil substance on the blade that killed him, now that Patronus was lying dead in his sarcophagus.
It was hard for her to know what emotion most powerfully filled her, her rage or her grief. Her mother grieved as befit a patrician widow, in noble silence, though her haunted eyes and increasingly drawn face betrayed her reluctance to eat more than the occasional morsel of food since her husband’s death. Severilla didn’t seem to truly understand that their father was gone forever. She still babbled nonsensically and never-endingly about her cats, but she did so in a subdued and intense way that told Severa her sister’s innocence too had been slain by the poisoned blade wielded by the old clausore.
Her brothers were less possessed by grief than by an anger so intense it almost frightened her despite her own outrage. Regulus’s ravings were no longer pompous and self-aggrandizing—they were seditious and alarmingly bloodthirsty. She was deeply grateful that her eldest brother was too young and of insufficient rank to inherit the reins of House Severus yet, as he left none of them any doubt that if matters were left in his hands, the Severan legions would already be marching upon every Cassian residence and stronghold in order to lay it waste.
Aulan’s anger burned colder, though no less intensely. Having come so recently from the provinces, he was deeply concerned with the effect of their father’s murder on the various barbarian kings who had placed their trust in him. Their pledges to a dead man were almost surely worthless now. Would they be willing to make new pledges to the new head of House Severus? Or would they use the turmoil in Amorr to follow the example set by the Cynothii and rise up in rebellion in order to cast off the imperial yoke? Aulan’s musings, and his self-confessed inability to fully grasp his father’s vision made Severa see that her father’s murder was not only a tragedy for her family and her House, but for the Empire itself.
Tertius was, perhaps, the only one of the four of them whose mourning for their father took an entirely pragmatic form. Despite being too young for the cursus honorum, he seemed to understand, as their two older brothers did not, that none of their opinions and plans would amount to anything unless they were able to win the support of the next head of House Severus. Whoever was chosen would only be head suffectus, since Regulus had already been named the heir. But it would be three years before her brother would be eligible for the Senate. While there was no law requiring the head of a House Martial to be a senator, the reality was that no major house could afford a leader who did not have access to the city’s center of power.
“Whoever we decide to throw our support behind, we have to be unified,” her youngest brother asserted. Neither Aulan nor Regulus appeared to be paying attention to him. “As Patronus’s children, our opinion carries a certain amount of weight within the family, so we have to be careful not to squander it by dividing our voices.”
“I’m the heir, everyone knows it,” Regulus spat bitterly. “Father even declared it in his will. So even if I can’t be the formal head, I don’t see why the others shouldn’t simply listen to me. After all, whoever is chosen as suffectus is going to have to answer to me eventually. Everyone would be smart to heed my opinion now!”
“A lot can happen in three years, Titus Severus,” Aulan’s voice was dry, and Severa could tell he was seeking to restrain his own temper. “A week ago, none of us would have imagined that Father would be gone. Tertius is right. Before we concern ourselves with anything else, we have to be sure whoever will stand in for Father can be trusted not to make a hash of things.”
“So we should support Uncle, I suppose?” Regulus shrugged. “He’s the most reasonable option.”
Severa shook her head. Aulan grimaced, and Tertius openly laughed. Regulus’s machinations were invariably as clumsy as they were transparent. Not for the first time, she wondered how their subtle father had ever imagined that his least intelligent and most self-serving son could ever hope to serve adequately in his stead. Titus Severus Lucullus, the younger brother of Severus Patronus, was a decent man, a paragon of loyalty to House and Senate alike. But he was hopelessly susceptible to the suggestions of others, and his mind changed with every whisper into his ears.
“Regulus,” Severa said, “you’re forgetting that you won’t be the only one with access to Uncle Lucullus, especially if he were ever—God forbid—to become head of the House. You have to be patient and give up the idea that you’re going to be able to control anything now! You should be worrying about building up your clientele by convincing as many of Father’s clients as you can that you are fit to be their patron. Otherwise they’ll turn to Falconius Metius, one of the Crescentines, or perhaps even my father-in-law!”
“What do you know about it, little sister?” Regulus snorted contemptuously. “You would give me advice, when you’ve never even stood for election or held an office? Why is she even out here discussing this with us, Aulan? Go and play with Severilla and her cats, Severa, this is a matter for men.”
Severa glanced at Tertius. He shook his head, and she understood that he was not backing Regulus but simply telling her to remain silent.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Regulus.” Aulan sighed. “She’s right, and besides, we need her on board with us as well. Above all, we need to keep Valerius Magnus on our side, and she’s our only connection to the man. It would be the easiest thing in the world for him to return to the auctares now that Father is gone. Their alliance was a purely personal one, and he obviously has no loyalty to our House. If we lose him, we not only lose the three Valerian legions, but we risk finding ourselves facing them!”
“It’s not going to come to that,” Regulus scoffed, but he didn’t appear to be inclined to further argue Severa’s right to involve herself in their deliberations. “Very well, so you don’t think we should support Uncle Lucullus. What do you think, Tertius?”
Her younger brother blinked. He wasn’t accustomed to either of his two older brothers asking for his opinion. “I think Aulan is probably right. Uncle is indecisive and isn’t a leader. But Severus Pullus is.”
“He’s seventy years old!” Severa protested.
“Severus Pullus the younger,” Tertius clarified. “He’s never run for consul, but his father is the only Severan consul in the last twenty five years besides Father. He was urban praetor, he served in Fulgetra like you, Aulan, and most importantly, he was the governor of Tarcondis. So he’s familiar with the provinces, which is something you seem to think is important right now.”
“I knew Appias Severus was off somewhere governing, but I didn’t realize it was Tarcondis,” mused Regulus. “He’s got to be pretty rich, I imagine.”
“He’s probably the House’s best bet for consul in the next year or two,” Aulan said. “We’re going to take a serious hit to our prestige in Father’s absence, which means fewer clients, fewer votes in the Senate, and less influence. If Pullus lets it be known that he intends to run for consul next year, that would help considerably in restoring our losses, especially since it would bridge the gap between you and Father. I think you may be right, Tertius, but who else
is there?”
Regulus shrugged. “Severus Structus was bending my ear at the baths after the funeral yesterday. He’s a senator, and he’s technically of propraetorial rank since he was appointed legate to Legio III after Menenius Lanatus was taken ill in the fourth Bithnyan campaign.”
“He’s a second cousin, right?”
“You sound less than enthused about him,” Severa said.
“What is there to be enthused about? He held the command but did nothing with it. Never fought a single battle. Just sat on his fat arse and occupied Astacus while Valerius Magnus defeated both Bithnyan kings, one after the other, and brought back twenty thousand slaves with him for auction. House Valerius made a fortune, and Structus returned with nothing to show for it but a few idols and antiquities.”
“Ugh,” Aulan made a face. “Is there anyone else besides Uncle Lucullus, Structus, and the two Pulluses?”
“Not of praetorial rank,” Tertius said, glancing down at the tablet he’d prepared. “There are three other senators, but they’re mediocrities. The extent of Father’s influence tended to blind everyone, including us, to the fact that House Severus has been devoid of any significant political talent for two generations now. It’s up to you two—and you as well, Severa—to ensure the problem doesn’t persist into a third one, especially now that we can’t rely on Father anymore.”
“What about you, Tertius?” Regulus said, looking down his nose at his younger brother. “Everyone says you’re the smart one.”
“Mostly because I am. But I’m also seventeen, and I can’t even run for tribune for another two years. In the meantime, that leaves the two of you to prevent the damned clausores from destroying everything Father built in the Senate while I figure out how we avenge his murder. And you two have the harder job, because neither of you are in the Senate yet.”
“You’re going to kill Cassianus Longinus?” Severa stared at her younger brother. It wasn’t all that long ago that he’d been battling trees with his wooden sword in this very garden, and now he was calmly telling them that he intended to seek revenge against the head of House Cassianus.
All three of her brothers stared back at her, each showing varying degrees of bemusement.
“Of course we’re going to kill him,” Tertius said, sounding a little surprised. “At least, we will if the corrupt old fools in the Senate don’t execute Longinus, as he deserves. But leave that to me. Your job, Severa, is to see that Sextus Valerius becomes influential in House Valerius. We can’t do anything about Corvus now, and Magnus will always be his own man, but it would be very useful if the Valerians were, if not friends, at least not outright enemies to us.”
“He announced for tribune,” she told her brother.
“I know. And he’ll win. That’s a given. But you’ll need to keep him focused. He and Aulan have hit it off well enough to convince me he’ll never be a willing politician.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aulan demanded.
“It means you’re a soldier,” Tertius said, “and you’d rather carry out orders than give them. There’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t mean you can’t be effective or influential in the Senate. Look at Corvus, for pity’s sake! He was a thorn in Father’s side from the moment he was summoned back to Amorr.”
“Not unlike the thorn you’re proving yourself to be in mine, little brother,” Regulus said with a faint smile. “Although I’m not saying you’re wrong. But look, I haven’t just been sitting around weeping in my wine myself. At the funeral yesterday, I asked Metius and Magnus if they would be willing to meet me here this afternoon, and if I’m correct about what the sound of the front gate opening meant, they are here now. Since we’re all agreed on what needs to be done, I say we meet them together…. Only let Aulan and I do the talking, Tertius, all right?”
“There is no point in letting them know about our secret weapon,” Aulan said, swatting Tertius on his shoulder.
“It’s not as if they’re going to listen to me anyhow,” her younger brother grudgingly allowed.
As it happened, both Falconius Metius and Valerius Magnus had arrived, along with Sextus Valerius. Severa blushed as he greeted her with a chaste kiss on her cheek. Despite the gravity of the situation, his proximity made her feel a little weak in the knees. It wasn’t his first visit here since the murder. He’d actually stayed in one of the guest rooms that terrible night after rushing her all the way back to the Quinctiline from the Comitium. But she still wasn’t comfortable with him touching her in front of her brothers, even if they didn’t seem inclined to take offense.
The two senators insisted on paying their respects to her mother before meeting with her brothers, which gave Severa a little time alone with Sextus. She was a little disappointed when he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to kiss her more intimately, but she could tell by the somber look in his eyes that he had other concerns on his mind.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, laying a hand on his forearm. “You don’t seem very happy to see me.”
He smiled wanly at her and shook his head. “You’re more beautiful each time I lay eyes upon you, Severa. Black suits you. But the news from the north is as bad as we expected, and that’s not even the worst of it. It appears that your father may have been more important than anyone understood.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not just the provinces that are up in arms against us. Two of the allies have risen, as well. My father learned this morning that the governor of Marruvium was driven out of the city two nights ago. And the five lords of the Quinqueterre murdered the quastor who was there to collect the annual taxes. They returned him to the consul provincae in five pieces, accompanied by a letter signed by all five, disavowing the alliance with Amorr.”
“God have mercy!” Severa was horrified. “In pieces? Oh, that poor man’s family! What are we to do?”
“I don’t know. The Forum is in an uproar and the Senate is divided. Everyone is terrified that the Marruvii and the Quinqueterrae won’t be the only allied peoples to revolt against us. Half of our legions are filled with allies rather than true Amorrans, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Severa said, thinking about the two Severan legions. Many of their legionaries, if not most of them, were from Malventum. But surely men sworn to serve House Severus would never raise their swords against the Senate and People! Or would they? Not two weeks ago, she would have been absolutely certain that no senator would ever raise a blade against the princeps senatus. It seemed as if all about her, the world was being submerged in a rising sea of blood and violence.
“Listen to me, Severa,” Sextus said as he took both her hands in his. “We have to stay together in this, you and me, whatever may come. Severus and Valerius have been the two pillars of the city for four hundred years. You and me, our betrothal, is a symbol of the strength of Amorr united. And if we have to go to war against our allies as well as the rebel provinces, Amorr is going to need every last bit of that strength.”
She looked up at him, surprised at his intensity. How strong he now appeared to be! It seemed to be some long distant past in which she’d looked over him, examined him, in this very garden, and seen the potential of the man hidden underneath an aristocratic wastrel. But she’d been right to perceive the Valerian steel hidden underneath the softness and weakness of the hedonist’s mask that he wore as a habitual defense, and he’d proven it the awful night of her father’s assassination.
“I am already yours,” she told him sincerely. “And you are right: If there is to be war, then our two houses must stand together as one.”
There was, however, at least one House Martial that, in the absence of her father, now mattered almost as much as both their houses combined, and its leader was walking down the steps toward them, followed by her brothers and father-in-law to be. With four legions at his disposal and enemies surrounding them in three directions, Falconius Metius was now both the leading auctare and the most important man in Amorr, the S
anctiff and the three consuls notwithstanding.
“I would apologize for having kept the two of you waiting, my lady Severa, but your fiance does not appear to have been overly troubled by our absence.”
The Falconian was a handsome man in his middle fifties, and while his shoulders were nearly as broad as Valerius Magnus’s, he was lean where the other ex-consul was fat. He reminded Severa a little of her father, if her father had ever had a full head of hair shot through with grey on the sides and temples. It was in the way the two men carried themselves: Metius gave off the same sense of calm and self-assured superiority that had made it so easy for men to follow her father. She wondered if his sons took after him, or if, like Sextus and Aulan, they found life to be difficult in his shadow and sought to make their own way.
“I was telling her of this morning’s news,” Sextus replied, a little stiffly, provoking a smile from the older man.
“Valerians are such hopeless romantics.” Regulus shook his head, and Severa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the look on her fiance’s face.
For all his easygoing manner, Sextus clearly did not like being teased in front of his father.
She went to his rescue by taking his arm and asking about her very real fears with concern in her voice that was only slightly exaggerated.
“Is it true? Are the allies truly going to go to war against us? Why would they ever do that?”
“Because with your father gone, they have no hope of being peaceably joined with us. Their philosophy would appear to be: If you can’t join them, beat them.” Magnus shook his head and looked at Metius. “Severus Patronus was a more farsighted man than I ever knew. He saw this coming, but we didn’t believe him. How many times did I rally the Senate against him? Why didn’t we listen?”
