The Mark of Rome

xxi / king of kings

There was nothing for Julius to say. He couldn't, in good form, come against my husband for the disappearance of his friends, not without revealing himself.

Instead, he endeared himself further to the happy general, knowing he was not in the same good graces as before.

It weighed upon my conscience that I exchanged my family's lives for all those men, but I had to be a strong soldier for Rome and live with it. It was either them or my husband and child, and there was no question of what lengths I would go to for my flesh and blood.

I played with Adrian in my lap, cradling him on my knees while Marius' war council went on. The baby cooed softly and drooled over the front of his small woven tunic, but it was pertinent that the men see him and know him. It was how we would raise him in their favor. He was a child borne in blood of a good Roman name.

I would make him his uncle's favorite and then we would see who would challenge him.

"He's a good, strapping boy, is he not?" Julius grinned down at me and I couldn't be bothered to play nice. He grasped Adrian's hand to jostle around and I looked at him with a withering glare.

If I could, he would have lost that hand.

When I didn't reply, he took his cue. He was reckless, but he wasn't stupid.

"Alba," I called. She stepped out from the corner and was ready to take the baby from my arms as soon as she was called.

I smiled then and thanked her. She left with Adrian and on the way out, Marius stopped her to take a look at him. The general grinned as he pulled back the baby's loose swaddle, years falling from his face in that one uncharacteristic movement.

It warmed my heart to see them interact. Beside him, Alexander beamed, "Beautiful boy."

As they left, every trace of lightness left the room. The men turned stony faced once more, and Marius leaned over the maps and letters skewed across the table with stiff shoulders.

Octavian sat forward with his hands on his knees in deep thought. Alexander leaned up against the table, facing away from the five men in the room. His arms were crossed and he stared in one corner of the room intently.

I sat on my divan, not unusually. I knew my place. I listened more than I spoke, but when I did say my piece, it was often what was followed. I knew I was lucky to have a husband who considered my contributions in conversation.

I didn't fault them for the most part. These aristocratic men were taught to be wary of a thinking woman. Even Alex had been guilty of such a thought. He thought I was too clever for a woman, but his song and dance changed immediately as he saw result from my counsel.

"The Parthian king requests an audience with you, Marius," Alexander reminded. "We have to give him an answer soon."

"He expects him in Ctesiphon?" Octavian inquired.

"That's madness. He's spent half a decade razing Roman villages and intruding on our land. On what grounds should he expect peace?" Julius scoffed.

"On the grounds that he is a king of a powerful people. If we can make peace, we save our men and theirs. We'd be merciful," Gaius Claudius of the Claudii spoke as a man of age. He was an old politician and one of the only ones of his profession that my husband trusted. He was sent by Marcus Aurelius as a balance. He was moderate in his views and conservative in his war efforts. He was the opposite of Julius and not so similar to me either, but he was a kind, fair man that I trusted.

"What use is mercy in war? It's hardly victory," Julius countered.

"To be the general to end the war, one way or another, makes for a hero," Octavian answered evenly.