The summer sun rose in the sky over the Orontes River Valley as a somber procession formed in the atrium of the Antony family's country home. An urn containing Ex-Consul and General Marcus Antonius Armenius' ashes sat on a draped table near the statues of Mark Antony and his son, former Governor Marcus Antonius Creticus. Augurs poured libations at a portable altar set up beside the table, and determined that the final commitment could proceed.
The late General's brother, current Governor Lucius Antonius Armenius, Proconsul of Syria, picked up the urn and faced his family. General Marcus had had three daughters, but Victoria and Fortuna were with their husbands in Judea and Galatia, respectively. Diana was the only one at home. The family was on vacation when Marcus passed in his sleep and they had decided on a private funeral in the country. Diana nodded at Lucius. She was ready.
The family filed outside to the mausoleum, a brick outbuilding at the end of the back garden. Romans believed death and the dead to be impure and separated cemeteries, catacombs, tombs, and mausoleums from anything having to do with the living. The mausoleum was surrounded by tall cyprus trees and hedge rows to block it out of sight and provide a secluded space. Like most of the estate, it had been built by Antony, but he was buried elsewhere in Egypt. Plenty of other loved ones reposed here, though. Old Governor Marcus and his wife Princess Glaecerys of Chalcis, General Marcus' first wife, Princess Tryphaena of Pontus and Armenia, and Old Marcus' middle son, General Gaius Antonius Armenius. Lucius entered the Mausoleum and set the urn in a niche between Glaecerys and Tryphaena. In time, a plaque would commemorate Marcus' name, dates, and many achievements. Diana wound her arm through that of her husband, Legate Hamilcar Barca, as their four older children gathered around them. Fourteen year old Urracca, considered an adult since the age of twelve, eleven-year-old Tryphaena, Seven-year-old Malchis, and five-year-old Hamilcar. Malchis turned to his father.
"It won't be the same without Saba," he said.
"You're right," Barca said.
"Truer words were never spoken," Bolt said behind them.
The Commander of Rome's forces on the Eastern Frontier, Marcus Antonius Armenius, the Younger, was called Bolt by his family. He and his wife, Princess Eleni of Emessa, were getting closer to an empty nest. Their son Marcellus and his wife Melita were still in Caesarea. Marcellus was a Tribune of the Italian Band there along with Fadia's husband Cassillus Longinus. Gaia and Glaecerys were married to civilians and also in Caesarea. Young Gaius, at twenty, recently joined III Gallica as a Tribune and was now stationed in Raphinae. He had been able to come home for the funeral, along with his cousin Lucillus, Lucius' son who was a provisional cadet with that Legion. They joined Gaius' brother, sixteen-year-old Lucillus, a civillian courier, and his sisters fourteen-year-old Iotapa, and eleven-year-old Annia.
The family trooped back to the house, their minds and hearts with so many who were far away. Lucius' daughter Epona was still in Antioch along with her husband, now General Lucas Vorenus, as was Antonilla and her husband, Tribune Aius Tirienus. Little Layla was married to a young Rabbi in Antioch. Only seventeen-year-old Marcellus, a provisional cadet with VI Ferrata, was at home. Fortuna's son Marius Gallinus, now Prefectus Equitum or cavalry commander of XII Fulminata, represented an unbroken line of officers leading back to Antony himself.
They settled down at trestle tables spread in the back garden as servants laid out the feast. General Marcus' funeral instructions were as specific as his battle plans. Mourning and long faces were for the public aspects of his funeral, which would take place in Antioch soon enough. In private, he wanted his family to do what they always did. Cookouts were a highlight of their summer months at their farm on the banks of the Orontes River. A bonfire was lit and sausages and chops sizzled on grills. Lucius found a plate and started down the food line.
"We've been through so much," his wife Layla said.
"And more on the way, I'm sure," Bolt responded.
A servant handed Bolt a tablet. He recognized his stepfather's seal, the bear paw of the Arverni royal family, and set his plate aside. He broke the seal and read Senator Bricius' message.
"No!" Bolt cried out. "Damn it! No!"
Tears spurted as he handed the tablet to Lucius. Layla and Eleni read over his shoulders.
"What?" Young Gaius asked.
"I hope not Grandmother," Iotapa said. "She's been sick."
Bolt nodded and sat down on a bench, sobbing, head in hands, as Young Gaius, Marius, and both Lucilluses went to comfort him. Eleni gathered Diana, who was crying again. The younger girls clustered around Layla, all weeping.
"Not Aunt Sejana!" Diana cried out.
...
Rome sweltered in the late summer sun and nobody was outside if they could help it. Senator Artorius Bricius unlocked a cabinet in his wife's sitting room and placed the urn containing her ashes inside. Celts and Romans both celebrated death, but Sejana had been the niece of Aelias Sejanus, Tiberius' hated Praetorian Prefect, and the current Emperor's orders were that her funeral should be strictly private. That was fine by Bricius. There were few family members around to share it with, anyway.
He locked the cabinet and sat staring at the door, his mind still a muddle. Death came in threes, and he tried not to wonder who might be next. He was pushing seventy, had turned sixty-six this year, and was feeling his age. He had buried two wives, both with lumps in their breasts that spread throughout their bodies as cancer. He was too damned old for another relationship, and wondered how many more years would pass before he could join them. Sejana would no doubt reunite with Gaius Antonius, and Bricius would give anything to be with Appia again. He picked up a shell cameo showing her profile, thinking of what needed to be done next. He had already notified Bolt and Artos. Sejana would want her ashes to repose with Gaius' in Syria, but that would take some doing, as would sorting her jewelry and personal effects. He would get to it in time. His older brother Artorianus walked into the room and handed him a tablet. It bore the seal of Iolarix of Gaul, who had at one time been Castus Artorius Bricius, Jr.
"He's your son," Artorianus said. "He works himself to death."
Artorius broke the seal and read.
...Father, so much is happening here. You get the provincial bulletins, I know. After we return to Lugdunum, I will progress to Divona, Bibracte, and later to Avaricum. We have new fabricae in all three towns and I require that they be staffed with paid labor. I am still sick at the amount of Gaulish people enslaved in our own country and am working on freeing them, at least here, and giving bonuses to free Gauls who come home from other provinces. I am instituting universities in Bibracte and Lutetia and building up the port at Burdigala. You will receive a separate report on my work with Britannia and Scania. Antipas passed a month ago and I had him buried in Lugdunum by Jewish rite. The August One has invited me to Rome for a speech to the Senate, so I will come in late fall to see you...
Artorius reread the letter. Gaul was booming. Factory production of wool, iron products, and pottery grew leaps and bounds each year. Cattle and horses, grain and wine, cheeses, and dried fruits and vegetables pumped out of the province to the rest of the Empire. It boasted four major ports, two universities, several army bases and supply depots. Druids were a thing of the past. The people spoke Latin and Greek along with Gaulish, worshipped the Roman gods alongside their own, and saved their wild ways for the battlefield. Leading this advance was an energetic young King who had the respect of his people and the esteem of colleagues throughout the Empire, including the Emperor.
And therein lay the problem. Ptolemy of Mauretania had been such a ruler, and had been assassinated for his trouble. Herod Antipas was a lout on a personal level, but had also been an effective ruler, until he was deposed and his cousin Agrippa installed. The Julii-Claudii were a paranoid bunch and their history of doing away with capable and effective people was well-known. Claudius was an improvement on Tiberius and Caligula in many ways. Unlike Tiberius, he remained in Rome, and personally directed his government, often presiding in the Senate and receiving petitioners. On the minus side, he was as pleasure-mad as Caligula, but at least his pleasures were women and wine, not children and fantasies of being a god. He had balanced the treasury, conquered Britannia, and pacified Germania. So far, so good. But, like his predecessors, he depended on others to help him rule, and in Claudius' case it was his wife Valeria Messalina, and his niece Agrippina, named after her late mother. Both women were bitches of the worst variety. Claudius also depended on two freedmen, Pallas and Narcissus, who were as greedy and suspicious as anyone. If their suspicions turned on the King of Gaul, what would Claudius do?
"I can't tell him not to rule his province to the best of his ability," Artorius said. "I can't tell him not to represent our people as a king must."
"I'm not saying you should," Artorianus said. "I just hope he's careful."
"Artorius? Artorianus?" a voice called out.
"In here, Beaky!"
Senator Julius Antonius came in the room,
holding a tablet out to Artorius.
"You're a consul now, so is Vinicius. You start this coming January."
Artorius took the tablet.
"Lovely," Artorius said. "How's Vinicius taking this tragedy?"
"We'll know soon enough," Beaky said. "That's why I came over. Artorianus and I are the suffects, so Vinicius is coming for dinner at my home so we can commiserate and plan. Valerillus Messala, Domitius Lepidus, and some others may, as well. I hope both of you can join us."
...
Fourteen-year-old Antonillus Bricius opened the kitchen door of his family's country home on the banks of the Elaver River not far from Gergovia. In a few days, they would pack up to head back to Lugdunum for the winter. Until that happened, Antonillus hoped he would get some time to enjoy what to him was home. He was now a civilian courier linking the military bases and government installations in Massillia, Lugdunum, Gergovia, Alesia, and Lutetia, and had not got time off yet.
"Urracca?" he called.
His sister, ten-year-old Urracca, came and he handed her two leather dispatch cases.
"Father needs these," he said. "I want to eat and take a bath before I see him."
"I'll tell him," she said.
Pulling the straps of the heavy cases over her shoulders, she made her way to her father's study. The door was open. She tried to heft the cases onto the work table. Coros, her father's longtime assistant, took them from her.
"Antonillus brought these," she told Coros. "He's eating and he needs a bath. He stinks."
"He's been going since we came out here," their father said. "I'm pulling him off rotation for the rest of the week for some time off."
"He'll just sleep," Urracca said.
He laughed as she left to find her mother. Antylla was chopping dried herbs in her stillroom, stocking up on medicinals while she had access to her country garden. Two-year-old Aelia played with a rattle in her basket nearby. Urracca picked up a mortar and began grinding seeds in a pestle.
"Antonillus is home," she said.
"He needs some time off," Antylla said.
As they worked, Antylla quizzed Urracca about herbs and their uses.
"Peppermint?" she asked.
"Coughs, upset stomach, and bad breath," Urracca said.
"Aloe vera?"
"Burns, scrapes, and cuts."
Artos knocked on the door, a tablet in his hands. Coros and his wife Beuta were with him.
"You need to sit down, mo chridhe," Artos told his wife.
Antylla saw her father-in-law's seal and guessed the news as she found a chair.
"Mother's dead," she said.
"And your Uncle Marcus," Artos put his arm around her. "I am so very sorry, My Heart."
Antylla gulped out a sob and put her head down in her arms on the table, crying. Urracca brought her a cup of water and a clean cloth. Twelve-year-old Nervillus wandered into the room. He had never met either Marcus or Sejana and they were just names to him. Urracca told him the news.
"Then he's all right," he said. "Do Antonillus, Gavillus, and Iullus know?"
"I haven't told them yet," his father said. "And I will. This is for me to let them know."
Nervillus shrugged.
"I'm sure your mother would appreciate your condolences," his father said.
"Well, I'm sorry, I guess," Nervillus said. "Though I don't know why."
Artos' temperature rose.
"Sejana was your grandmother and Marcus was your great-uncle. Both are irreplaceable and you are sorry for your mother's loss, whether you knew them or not."
"Yes, Sir," Nervillus said.
He turned to leave.
"Nervius Artorius Bricius!" his father said.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Nervillus muttered.
"Go to your room until you can mean that," Antylla said. "She was your grandmother and he was your great-uncle."
"And, remember, I will tell your brothers," Artos said.
"Yes, Sir," Nervillus said and muttered under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Antylla asked.
"It's not like we can do anything about it," Nervillus snapped.
"In your room! Now!" Artos said.
Nervillus left. Antylla composed herself as Urracca stood by her, leaning against her shoulder.
"He's getting more defiant by the day," Antylla said.
"Tell me," Artos said.
"But he's right, there's nothing we can do about it from here. I need to write to Bolt, Uncle Lucius, and your father."
Urracca went to the desk in the room to find some tablets and a stylus.
"My writing case is in my sitting-room, Love," Antylla said. "But I need to think, first, and we need to finish up here."
Artos kissed his wife as he heard Nervillus cry out.
"You punched me!"
"I'm sick of your damned attitude!" Antonillus said. "Just because you don't know them doesn't mean Mother didn't. They mattered to her."
"I need to go kill somebody," Artos snapped.
He left the stillroom and headed for the bathing area. Antonillus stood by the tepidarium, wrapped in a towel. Nervillus flipped him off. His temper boiling, Antonillus grabbed him and pushed him into the water, then dropped his towel and jumped in.
"Don't you ever do that to me!" Antonillus shouted. "I will be King one day, not you! And I will knock your ass clear back to Egypt and you can tell Great-Grandfather's ghost why your head is stuck so far up there you can see your own guts!"
Nervillus fought back, swinging at his brother, who stayed out of his reach.
"Screw you!" he shouted.
Antonillus splashed water in his brother's face, and reached to push him under the water.
"Stop!" Artos said. "Antonillus, take your bath. Nervillus, ass out of the pool, front and center."
Nervillus climbed out of the water and stood in his dripping clothes.
"What did I tell you?" his father asked.
"That you were going to tell everybody about Grandmother," Nervillus said.
"So why did you tell him?"
"I just saw him so I told him Mother was upset about it."
"Your room is down the other colonnade. You wouldn't have come across him if you had gone to your room. So you disobeyed me twice over. You will stay in your room tonight and all day tomorrow. You won't go to the picnic. And, if you do anything else, I will take a strap to you. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Nervillus said.
"I'll bring you some books and you will write an essay on your Great-Uncle. A priceless man has gone from this side, and you will honor his memory as you should."
...
Fadia looked around the dining area of the Governor's Residence in Caesarea. Rome had restored the Kingdom of Judea under King Agrippa, succeeded now by his son, Agrippa II, but the commander of the garrison lived in the empty Residence and represented Rome's interests. Fadia loved entertaining, but to Victoria it was an obligation only. At least, while the family mourned, they could step back for a bit.
Fadia was twenty-two and already had three children of her own. The eldest daughter of Bolt and Eleni, she was married to Tribune Cassillus Longinus, of Cohors II of the Italian Band. Victoria was her father's cousin, but he regarded her as a sibling. His children called her and her husband, Legate Flavius Messala, Aunt and Uncle. Right now, Aunt Victory was aching under a double loss and Fadia knew just what was needed, a quiet family dinner.
The water clock read four in the afternoon and Fadia began greeting guests. Her husband's parents, ex-Centurion Cassius Longinus and his wife, Aula, and two other former officers, Publius Cornelius and Julius Verus with their wives. Julius' daughter, Melita, was married to her older brother Marcellus, now Tribune of Cohors I and Broad-stripe or second-in-command of the garrison. Their sisters Glaecerys and Gaia were married to Marcus Publius Cornelius and Young Publius respectively. Her uncle by marriage, Decius Messala and his family, and Eli Burris, a longtime family friend. Aunt Victoria entered the room with Uncle Flavius. Julia Vera and Decia Crispina came over to her.
"How are you?" Julia asked.
"I'm not," Victoria said. "We knew Aunt Sejana was sick but Father's passing came out of nowhere."
"Those are the worst kind," Eli Burris said. "Your father was a good, decent man who helped a lot of people."
Several older men gathered around Flavius.
"He never gave up on anyone," Cornelius said.
Flavius watched his wife as they took their places at the table. She was relaxed and as happy as she could be, hearing from people who loved and respected her father as much as she did. He caught Fadia's eye and nodded. The doctor was getting the best medicine possible.
...
Senator Marcus Vinicius settled in his litter for the ride from his home on the Caelian Hill to the Antony townhouse on the Esquiline Hill. His life had taken another strange turn and he was not so sure he was ready for it. Born in the shadow of Vesuvius, in the farming town of Cales, he was the son, grandson, and great-grandson of men who traveled far up the cursus honorum, the expected career track for ambitious Romans. All his recent forebears had been Senators, serving multiple terms as Consul or presiding officer. All had commanded legions, and Marcus' father had been Governor of Cappadocia for years.
Marcus' life followed suit. He had attended university in Corinth before joining a legion in Thrace, V Macedonica. He later posted to the Guard, and was given command of his own legion, III Augusta, stationed in Alesia. He was also assigned an Imperial wife, Julia Livilla, sister of Caligula. The marriage disintegrated when Caligula became Emperor and ordered Julia Livilla home. Marcus was the father of two boys with Imperial blood and prayed daily that it did not come back to haunt them. Marcellus was twelve and Publius was ten. They knew who their mother's family was, and why they needed keep it quiet. Both were healthy, smart, well-behaved, and unspoiled. He hoped to keep them that way. The litters arrived at the Antonius home and Beaky greeted his guests.
"I'd say congratulations, but I doubt this is a good thing," Beaky said.
"It isn't," Vinicius said.
There was a time when being a Consul of Rome was the pinnacle of the cursus, capping off an illustrious career. That was before Emperors made killing Senators a hobby. Vinicius wondered when his time would come, and who would look after his boys. The men reclined in Beaky's dining room. Vinicius found himself next to Artorius Bricius.
"Condolences and congratulations," he said.
"It's just condolences all the way around," Artorius said. "I'll serve my year, and maybe he'll let me go home to Gaul. It's time."
...
Nervillus lay in his bed, stewing over the events of the day. Little did his parents know that he was far from being punished. They could keep their silly picnic. He knew who his Great-Uncle Marcus was, just like he knew who Mark Antony was, and Germanicus, Agrippa, Augustus, Sulla, Marius, Catiline, Scipio, Tiberius, and so many others. He also knew about Vercingetorix and Arminius, who were much more fun. He could write the essay without even trying, and read the rest of the day. He heard his mother's footsteps come to the door and turned over in bed. He hoped she would think he was asleep and just go away. She came in the room and leaned over him.
"I know you're not asleep," she said.
He did not respond.
"Nervillus, what's wrong?" she asked.
He stayed where he was.
"Your mother asked you a question," his father said.
Nervillus knew he was had and sat up.
"I love Father," he said. "I don't like you, Antonillus, or Urracca."
Antylla gasped.
"Why?" Artos asked. "Nervillus, is there something going on we should know about?"
"Antonillus thinks he's a big shot because he has a job. Urracca sucks up and she's a tattle-tale. And, I can't ever make Mother happy."
"I'm happy when you behave and are polite," Antylla said.
"No, you're not, ever!" Nervillus said and laid down. "I don't want to talk about it. You don't understand."
"Maybe things will look better in the morning," Artos said.
He and Antylla checked on the others. Antonillus was still awake in his room.
"Are you feeling better, Mother?" he asked.
"Yes, for now," she said. "Thank you for asking."
They went to see Gavillus next. He reached up for a hug from both parents. Urracca called out a goodnight from her room, as did Iullus. They went to him next as he sat up.
"Don't be sad, Mother," he said.
"It'll take time, Sweetheart," Antylla said.
Antylla kissed him and tucked him in. She checked on Aelia, still in the nursery. She and Artos then went to their room and made ready for bed.
"We're losing Nervillus," Antylla said.
"The irony is, it was Antonillus we always worried about," Artos said. "He was just so damned ornery and into everything as achild. But he's levelling out. Gavillus reads all day and doesn't bother anyone. Iullus just plays and amuses himself. Nervillus has all the growing pains now."
"Urracca wants to be a midwife," Antylla said. "Aelia finds things to explore. All of them are happy and fall in line, but him."
Artos turned the problem over in his mind. Difficult personalities ran in both families and defiance of customs and other people's values and norms was common. Antylla's Uncle Lucius personified the trend. Brilliant, a daring officer and commander, a talented governor, who could be dangerous if anyone or anything stood in his way in the slightest. Artos' Uncle Nervius, who helped Celtic slaves escape their owners while still in his teens and whom no one ever got close to. And a distant cousin, Titus Paulus, who was a deserter and rebel. Artos got out of bed.
"Where are you going?" Antylla asked.
"I need to talk with General Marcus and General Gaius," Artos said.
He pulled on his braccaes or trousers and went to the lararium or shrine in the atrium. He poured a libation of wine to the ancestors of his wife's family, and knelt with an open heart and mind. As he prayed, a shadow in the colonnade caught his eye. He stood up to investigate, having an idea who it was.
"Nervius, come out from behind that cabinet," he said.
Nervillus stepped forward, a school satchel stuffed with clothes over his shoulder.
"Going over the wall?" his father asked.
Nervillus ducked his head, tears coursing down his face. Artos sat down on a bench.
"Come here," he said.
Nervillus sat down beside him.
"Son, what's wrong?"
"I can't behave," Nervillus sobbed.
Artos held the crying boy close.
"Yes, you can," he said. "We just have to figure out a way."
"Mother doesn't know anything and it pisses me off when she thinks she does," Nervillus said.
"What do you mean?"
"She doesn't know that Uncle Marcus is in the Land of the Young, not Dubnos. He's a hero, with all the others. He's free and he's happy. They're all hunting and feasting, surrounded by pretty women. That's the best part. But she thinks it's sad."
"Your mother wasn't raised like we were," Artos said. "She's Syrian and Italian, not Celt."
"Then, why did you marry her?"
"Because I loved her and I still do," his father said. "And now she's far from home. And she needs us to keep loving her, as she does all of us. Nervius, you are smart, but you forget that life isn't all books. You need to cut your mother some slack. And you need to see things as others see them, not always from your point of view."
Nervillus cried harder.
"How?" he whispered.
"By listening to what we tell you."