Legio XIII Gemina: The Rubicon

V- Sulla Reborn or Marius Incarnate?

      Caesar brushes dirt off of his knees and shins after spending the waning hours of the evening crouched on the floor of the Temple of Saturn. His stomach growls. It's too late to get food at one of the shops in the Forum, but as the newly elected Dictator, he surely could find someone to entertain him and provide food. Caesar ambles past the Pool of Curtius along the Via Nova, before turning southward to return to his home. He looks up at the Palatine Hill and spots Cicero's illustrious domicile, complete with a bountiful garden, wide-reaching trees to meditate under and most definitely a library large enough to be bigger than the home that Caesar had been born into. Beyond the Palatine, Caesar could spot the packed Aventine on which he had lived as a child, surrounded by poets, philosophers and anyone else too poor to afford a place on their own. He recalls bitterly how hard he worked to acquire more money to help move his mother into a better home, and how she died before he could begin the more lucrative positions in the Cursus Honorum. Her death and funeral had been a chance for Caesar to nail the flag of the common man to his mast, waving images of his uncle, Gaius Marius, before his enemy, Sulla, had even left power. A dangerous game, to be sure, as Caesar was on Sulla's proscription list prior to then. But Sulla, like Caesar's enemies now, couldn't get a grip on the slippery nature of Caesar's person.

     Caesar sighs, he couldn't find a home with the occupants still awake and socializing. "Time to go home, it seems," he thinks. "It's been a few months since last I saw my wife, and I'm sure that she would be overjoyed to have me return home."

     Calpurnia sprints from an adjoining room into the atrium to greet her wayward husband. She notices that something hangs behind Caesar's eyes, almost as if it were self-doubt, frustration or just exhaustion. She thusly comforts him with a tight hug, waving to her cooking slave to prepare a quick meal for her unusually terse husband. She leads him to one of the couches in the atrium, pushing him down onto it. He sighs in relief.

"You must be parched, dear. Let me get you some water," Capurnia soothingly states, brushing Caesar's cheek before walking over to the storage room, populated with amphoras of wine and water she collected from the aqueducts. She picks up a goblet and pours water in, reaching less than half the height of the receptacle, then fills the rest with the assyrian wine. Returning with the wine-heavy drink, she presses it into Caesar's hands, which he happily drains.

     Bright rays from the rising sun shine onto Caesar's bed and invade the space on his eyelids. He opens them slowly, blocking the light to find his way out of floor-level sleeping arrangement. Caesar motions over one his slaves to assist him in donning his toga, purple-striped for the second time in his life. He straightens the part draped over his left forearm, nodding to his slave and departing. On the way out of the front door, he grabs a piece of bread and drizzles honey over it. Digging his teeth into the stale crust, a lictor escort of men comprised from the first cohort of the XIII jog to cover Caesar's flanks. Caesar greets his men and offers them some of his bread, despite there not being enough for everyone there.

As the Capitoline hill looms over the Forum, Caesar leans over to one his soldier-lictors, "Summon Marcus Antonius for me and tell him to meet me at the Aedes Iovis Optimi Maximi Capitolini. We have much to discuss."

"Ave, Caesar! It shall be done!" He shouts, sprinting off to the citadel housing the soldiers.

     Caesar ascends the road leading to the meeting spot, striding like a general on triumph between the palatial temples that line the heart of Rome. Once the statue of Jupiter proudly calls out its presence, Caesar spots Antonius loitering outside the doors, idly chatting to the soldier Caesar sent to get him.

Antonius approaches, "Ah, fair Caesar! May you be well, friend! What is it that clouds your mind so as to need my assistance?"

"Good morrow, Antonius. Please, accompany me inside," Caesar smiles, clapping his hand on Antonius' shoulder to lead him through the towering wooden doors. "My friend, for you I have a task which is suited to only your command," Caesar's voice echoes off the walls and rings its melody to the roof.