One Nation, Under Jupiter

APRIL 21, 2766

"Kings o'er their flocks, the scepter wield! E'en kings beneath Jove's scepter bow!" sang the woman on stage. "Victor in giant battlefield, he moves all nature with his brow!" Everyone else in the forum, even Servius, bowed their head to the national anthem. I wonder if anyone paid any mind to me simply standing there. To the average Roman, Parilia was a day of supreme reverence, of honoring the man who founded our country and the gods that protect it, of celebrating our heritage, of games and feasts in the street. To me it's nothing but our already unhealthy nationalism taken to a ludicrous extreme. I had half a mind to stay in bed and leave the ceremony to my imagination, but duty drew me here. Duty and free food.

I bit into my loaf of bread, the dry, unvarnished bite floating in my mouth before I could muster the will to swallow it. Awful stuff, but it was edible. I supposed the government was good for the rations, if nothing else. The less money I spent on food, the longer I could keep the apartment.

"What joy, for fatherland to die! Death's darts e'en flying feet o'ertake!" rang the singer. Pollux, is she going to sing the whole thing? At sports games they usually just stick to the first verse. "Nor spare a recreant chivalry, a back that cowers, or loins that quake!" Servius' head was bowed along with everyone else's, his hands folded by his waist. I shook my head and finished off the last of my bread, washing it down with a swig of Burranica. I grimaced as I swallowed the sickly drink. I'd like to know the name of the moron who decided we had to mix milk and wine on Parilia. I might as well be drinking cough syrup. Now there's an idea.

"When Caesar's self in peaceful town, the weary veteran's home has made, you bid him lay his helmet down and rest in your Pierian shade!" I raised my bottle for another sip of wine. A strange spot on my hand caught my eye. I raised the hand to my face, getting a closer look at the bump. I gently prodded it with my other hand. Didn't hurt. A wart, maybe? Wasn't important, I decided. Had to put my attention back on the ceremony.

"Jove rules in Heaven, his thunder shows! Henceforth Augustus earth shall own, her present god, now Briton foes and Persians bow before his throne!" Unseen by the bowing crowd, workers started to gather behind the singer, preparing a magnificent pile of timber doused in lighter fluid. It was a little weird, having them prepare it while the anthem was still going on. Then again, at the rate things are going I doubt the song would end anytime soon. Part of me hoped once they got the fire going, they'd throw the singer into it. Nobody would forget that Parilia anytime soon, I bet.

"What has not cankering Time made worse? Viler than grandsires, sires beget ourselves, yet baser, soon to curse the world with offspring baser yet!" The crowd erupted into applause. The grinning singer took a bow. Soon she left, leaving the stage for Verus and Falsa, the latter with a plate of frosted cakes in her hands. Odd. Usually it's the Emperor giving the address on Parilia. It was probably for the best, though. I don't want to be near the Emperor. The governor may have let me go free for my blasphemy, but I doubt Piissimus would be so generous. Would he even know I was here? Would he be able to pick me out in the middle of a crowd? I bet he could. He definitely knows my name, I can promise that much. Pollux, I'm a wreck. I can't leave the house anymore without thinking someone's after me. I took another swig of the wine.

"Don't take it all, sir," complained Servius, finally back in the real world.

"Eh...sorry, sorry." I handed the bottle to my slave. Barely a second passed before Servius was happily downing the stuff himself. "Knock yourself out. It's that milky shit anyway. Wonder if they're giving any normal wine here."

"Great Pales!" spoke Verus. "From time immemorial, when mighty Rome was no more than simple farmland, you watched over her shepherds. Two thousand, seven hundred, sixty-six years ago, to the very day, Romulus, son of Mars, looked upon your land and used it to birth the city on seven hills. Just as you protected the shepherds and their flock, you looked over great Romulus, and all his followers." Falsa raised the cakes above her head. "We pray these offerings please you. We give, that you may give. May the gods look after the followers of Romulus, as they have in all the millennia past. May our brave soldiers risking their lives in the Orient triumph over our enemies. May Nova Roma continue as a shining example for all the world to follow, just as Romulus' ancient city had done in the past. Great gods, hear our prayer."