Tertius Quinctilius Varus

Senatore

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399
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Player
Atrice

About Tertius Quinctilius Varus

Praetor

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Craig Parker
Location
Rome

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My will, your hands
Face Claim

Craig Parker
Location

Rome

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Surprise Visit

Started by Tertius Quinctilius Varus · Saturday at 12:13 PM

April, 77 AD
It had been a good, long while since that dinner with Wulfric, Teutus, Charis and Tertius of course. A good, long time. Since then, he’d met Varinia again. And it wasn’t like he never heard from Teutus or that they never met, but Varinia had taken upon her the task of bringing messages to Tertius’ household and she was always welcome. It was less and less awkward with her there, even after Charis had been freed and made his wife. Of course he would always wonder, what if he did catch up with her again, properly… but it wouldn’t be right to Charis, he would not treat her like that. Even if he was sometimes unsure whether she actually treated him with respect or if it was all still just pretense. She did visit Teutus and got herself a dinner invitation, with Peregrinus, before she’d said it to Tertius. But he’d never know her mind. He’d never know.
But what he would know, at least now, was how his son’s business was coming along. He heard a bit about it now and again, both from Varinia and then when Teutus sometimes did decide to see his father, although he never spent much time in the domus anymore. But now was the time. Tertius had decided he wanted to see the warehouse for himself and see what Teutus was importing and what he would sell.
And he decided to do it unannounced, to surprise Teutus with the visit. Hopefully it would be a good surprise. He’d made sure to bring an amphora of his best wine to greet his son with. And then off he was, with a litter of course, all the way to the warehouse near the river. He could smell it before he saw it but decided to not be annoyed by it.
At last the litter came to a stop and Tertius stepped out, before the thing was lowered to the ground. The slaves and the guards would wait outside and meanwhile Tertius approached the crude looking beast of a guard by the door to the warehouse. He looked somewhat familiar? But Tertius couldn’t place him in this setting.
“Greetings… I am here to see Teutus.” He said with a friendly smile to the guard, who looked him over while gathering his hands on his back, standing more straight as he did, “Of course you are.” The guard said, but didn’t move and seemed to take a few moments finding the next words, “Does he know you’re coming?” He then asked and Tertius arched a brow, “He does not. I meant for this to be a surprise.” Tertius said, still trying to sound friendly, “Do you even know who I am?” He continued and the guard inhaled a breath and nodded, “You’re his father. Tertius. Well, see if you can find him.” The guard finally said and stepped aside. Tertius wasn’t sure he liked the way the man spoke to him or even looked at him. But Tertius walked past him inside to find his son.
@Sharpie
At Your Service, Senator

Started by Aulus Lartius Florianus · June 8

A little before dawn and the slave boy Meno knocking at the door. A discreet sound. A cautious sound. Just like the boy. The sound is rhythmic, like the drumming of a musician some little way off. Rhythmic. Insistent. The sound rings out in the still air, clanging in his ears like a host of bronze bells. Under his breath he utters a curse. A mild one, and even that he regrets. It is too early for curses. It is not Meno’s fault. The boy had been given his instructions, and now the boy carries them out. What matters the hour? What matters the state of his head?
Two nights without sleep. What little rest he’s had is a credit to cretic wine and exhausting himself swimming in the Piscena Publica. Too much river traffic and filth to swim in the Tiber.
The knocking ceases for a moment and silence resumes. In the pale light leaking in from the window he can trace the progress of motes of dust, like drunken dancers at a festival. He lays unmoving upon the narrow bed, eyes wide open, breathing in, breathing out, breathing in again. It does little for the pain in his head. It does enough to bring him to something like himself. Not the highest states at the best of times.
These are not the best of times.
From beyond the door a quiet cough. Meno is assiduous in his tasks. It speaks well for him. It would speak better for him if the boy vanished and left him alone in his discomfort. No. That is not fair. The discomfort remains regardless of the presence of others. “Come,” he says, voice sluggish with weariness and the effects of the crectic. The latter should at least have stolen away his pain. His pain remains.
On silent hinges the door opens, beyond, in the corridor, Meno occurs. Slight, owl-eyed, and clothed in a tunic too large for his lanky frame, the slave-boy wears a mask of cultivated disaproval upon his face. Disapproval at being required to awake at this hour, of being required to awaken others himself. Where this a play, the boy would offer some pert remark, some comment calculated to make an audience laugh. Instead he steps on silent feet into the room and shakes his head.
“Your breakfast is in the peristyle, Master F. Probably gathering flies.”
“Did you leave it out all night then?” He rises a little, cradling his head in long-fingered hands.
“I put it out only a little before I started knocking on the door. Can’t knock with hands full of dishes , now can I? But flies love honey Master F. Best to hurry before they take it all away with them.”
A groan and he rises, bare feet hitting the cold tile floor. There had been a rug once. He is sure of it. Perhaps it is for the best that it has vanished. The chill of the tiles shocks him into something more like alertness. “My thanks. Can’t let the flies have all the fun, now can we?”
“Don’t know if having my feet stuck to a sticky fruit is all that much fun.”
“You should try it first. You never know.” He looks down, cracks a small smile. “Though with feet like yours, I’d think treading on wine grapes might suit you better.” All adolescents have feet they must grow into. Meno’s are sizeable enough that he might make a small fortune being passed around during the crushing season. Meno wrinkles his nose at the prospect. Reasonable enough. Like himself, Meno is a city boy.
A city boy leaving his city behind.
In two days more the household will remove itself from Rome. A comfortable retirement at Baiae: sea air, warm breezes, and boating in the Bay of Neapolis. A fine life for a Senator growing long in the tooth. At least that is the appearance the Old Man is trying to cultivate. Camillius Laco, the Old Man himself, can play the part of the cheerful retiree. The Old Man is still bitter, still suspicious. Any Senator worth their salt has enemies, and Laco is as salty as they come. There are enemies, sure enough, even if not all their names are known.
The Old Man has ruffled too many feathers, has made one too many flowery speeches, has stuck his beak into the private affairs of other men. Corrupt men, useless men. Useless at anything other than securing their own position. Dangerous men. Perhaps it is all to the good that the Old Man is getting out of the city. Perhaps it is best if he really try put public life behind him.
He laughs at this, shaking his head. Meno looks over, still disapproving.
The peristyle garden is still dim and cool. A little light through the blossoms of the wisteria overhead tinting the green gloom a shade of pale purple. By the little fountain that never quite worked right, that sputtered and gurgled like a dyspeptic dinner guest, Meno had placed the bowl of apricots.
The Old Man has taken the place of any flies.
Camillius Laco, broad-faced and cheerful, is picking away at the Syrian apricots, the mellified delights. This morning he seems cheerful enough. Perhaps he is glad to at last be rid of his uncomfortable secretary. The half-smile on the Old Man’s face seems to indicate otherwise.
“These apricots are excellent. Who put you on to these things? That lady friend of yours. What’s her name?”
“Cybele,” he says, ignoring the lack of a proper greeting. “From the wine shop.” Cybele who seemed to have a knack for finding delicacies. “The Elephant.”
The Old Man nods, then gestures for him to sit. And so he sits and like his patron, picks at the mellified fruits. “You are sure that I cannot tempt you to come with us after all?” The question is only a pleasantry. The Old Man will go and he will stay. “No, I suppose not. Nothing for you in Baiae after all.” The Old Man cocks his head, a wicked smile upon his face. “Besides.”
“Besides, you need a man in Rome.” It is nothing official, nothing sinister. The Old Man merely wants news of the city, news of the names of his enemies.
Laco takes another apricot and for a moment looks at it in the growing morning light. “You need to be a man in Rome, Florianus. The city will do you good. Find your footing again, and leave Greece behind.” Greece, where he has been the Old Man’s secretary. Greece where Laco had acquired his enemies. Greece where he had killed a thief in the Old Man’s study. Leave Greece behind? Even now it flashes behind his eyes; bright, hot, and beautiful. A dangerous beauty. Then, the face of the dead man on the study floor. Then, the bloody stylus in his hand. How can he leave it behind? His hand strays to the satchel he always wears, and his fingers close around a long brass stylus. His best stylus. His deadliest stylus.
“My thanks on securing this new position. How many strings did you have to pull? How much debt am I really in?”
The Old Man laughs. “Far fewer strings than you’d like to think, Florianus. You always want to seem more devious, more essential, that you really are.” That is true enough. But then a man must have his ambitions. “But perhaps one or two. Varus needs a secretary. You need to be in Rome. And I had better begone. All very natural enough. Nothing is going to come back to bite you.” At least that is the intent. He takes up another apricot, considers it, then takes a bite. A burst of flavor, like eating a candied sun. He can only eat so many at a time. A pleasure then, that he has a little time.
A hour passes, the sun now shining bright and clear in the peristyle, and the fruit bowl lies empty. He cannot linger for much longer, it will not do to be late. Not today. “I must go Old Man,” says, rising. “I have another Senator to torment with my scribblings.” And so the Old Man rises too. An embrace, avuncular, comfortable.
“Off with you Florianus.” The Old Man taps Meno on the shoulder. “Meno can carry your bag and show you the way.” Meno nods, almost eager. Perhaps he needs a day in Rome as well. “Though I do expect,” The Old Man says with a sly wink of an eye, “the occasional scribble from you. You are, after all, my man in Rome.”
* * *
Three hours before noon and the sun climbing higher. “Just here Master F,” says Meno, pointing to a well-made and solid door. “I’ll knock then, shall I.”

He looks at the door, and Meno, and the door again. “Carry on Meno.” The boy knocks for the second time today, a less decorous knock than earlier. It is not the polite knock of a well-known servant. No, this was the dignified drumming of a herald. First sound, and then inevitably silence follows on.
His hand strays again to his satchel. Long fingers wrap around the long thin stylus. His best stylus. His most deadly one. He turns it over and over between his fingers, rolling it to and fro like a coin in a conjurer's trick. It makes its passes, over, under, over, under, and over again, each one marking the passage of time. One pass, then another, and another still. At last there is sound. The door porter scowls out at him.
“Lartius Florianus,” he says, trying to seem as though surly porters were a common part of his life. “The secretary. I am to meet with Quinctilius Varus. I was led to understand that I was expected.”
Sacrifice and Stalemates

Started by Tertia Charis · May 15

January, 77AD
Charis stirred softly in the early morning light, grumbling against the pillow as it disturbed the peace of her sleep. She would never quite get over how comfortable this bed was, or how people lived in such ardent luxury all their lives. Even as a free woman, back in Britannia, she hadn't been able to afford anything like this. She doubted they even had beds like this in Britannia...at least not amongst her people. No doubt the Romans who colonised it imported this sort of stuff for fun. Still, she was fully prepared to bask in the luxury in Rome, at least for ten more minutes.
But life had a manner of getting in the way and the sun was burning against her closed eyes. She grumbled again and turned her back to the shutters window to the sound of Tertius sleeping next to her. She blinked one eye open sleepily, and then the other. Even after a month it was still...uncomfortable for her. New. Not altogether un-pleasureable, but that itself brought a whole host of complex feelings to the fore. To see him sleeping there, it was difficult to imagine that such a man could inflict such cruelty and such joy on a woman such as herself. He had forced her, locked her up, given her a son, freed her and married her. Not even the greatest authors could imagine such twists and turns she was sure.
Sighing softly, she pulled the sheet up, tighter around her chest and shifted to sit up a little as she reached for the cup of water on the side she usually slept on. She felt him stirring next to her and offered a soft smile down. "Good morning."

TAG: @Atrice
Terms for the Concubinatus between Tertia Charis and Tertius Quinctilius Varus

Started by Tertius Quinctilius Varus · May 2

A scroll stating the terms for the Concubinatus between Tertia Charis and Tertius Quinctilius Varus.
The scroll exists in 4 copies – one kept in the domus, one given to Tertia Charis to keep, one kept in Tertius’ office he uses as a praetor and one delivered to an archive holding such documents in Rome, since authorities are also notified of the union.

Terms for Tertia Charis she must uphold upon entering Concubinatus between her and Tertius Quinctilius Varus
18th of December, 76 AD

·       Tertia Charis must stay in Rome and in the house of Tertius Quinctilius Varus
· If Tertius Quinctilius Varus leaves Rome, she is permitted to follow if he tells her to do so
·       Tertia Charis must act as Tertius Quinctilius Varus’ wife in all matters
·       Tertia Charis must remain faithful as a wife to Tertius Quinctilius Varus
·       Tertia Charis must be addressed as Domina by household slaves
·       An allowance is given to Tertia Charis , for her to spend as she pleases. Given monthly
·       Tertia Charis is not allowed to leave the house or Rome with Peregrinus Quinctilius Varus without his father’s permission
·       Any sons gained from the Concubinatus also follow the term stated above
·       Any sons or daughters from the union are not considered legitimate heirs to Tertius Quinctilius Varus unless he chooses to adopt them
· Should Tertia Charis fail to live up to the terms of this document, Tertius Quinctilius Varus has the authority to do the following:
The authority to send Tertia Charisa away The authority to keep her allowance The authority to keep their children with him the authority to remove the title of freedwoman from Tertia Charis · Should Tertius Quinctilius die or fall ill, Teutus Quinctilius Varus is to be the guardian of Peregrinus Quinctilius Varus until he comes of age
· Only Tertius Quinctilius Varus is allowed to change the terms of this document

Signed by Tertius Quinctilius Varus and Tertia Charis
Unexpected Arrival

Started by Hilda of the Chatti · April 27

April, 77AD
Hilda peered curiously at the door, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips and Gerfrid - the man that had accompanied her on the journey - standing nervously by her side. It didn't look like much to her - a door in a wall, but one of the men they'd spoken to had assured the pair that this was indeed where Varus lived. Whatever a Varus was (besides a fool who doomed some legions long ago). Well...she knew exactly who Varus was. Her mother had kept it from them for years, but it explained why she looked very little like her supposed brother. Half-brother. Gerfrid didn't know and she could tell his curiosity was piqued about why Wulfric would have come all the way to Rome to meet an important Roman citizen. The cover story she'd spun was weak at best, thready and full of holes and so to save any further questioning, she knocked firmly on the door.
She flinched as a slot slid open to reveal the beady eyes of somebody looking her over. "Yes?"
She cleared her throat. The benefit of marrying into a tribe so close to the Romans was that she'd learned Latin (out of necessity, mostly, to overhear conversations between her tribe and their neighbours). She wasn't perfect at it, but could hold a conversation; "I am here to see Varus. Tertius." She arched a brow, "You can tell him Frieda sent me." The man gave her a once over and Hilda scoffed. She knew her fashions weren't the Roman style but she was unmoved. She stepped a touch closer to the door and offered the slave a smirk. "I'm not a very patient woman." The man slammed shut the peephole and Hilda scowled, knocking harder until, after a long few moments it finally swung open and the harried looking man gestured for her to come inside. She glanced fleetingly at Gerfrid and spoke in their language; "Wait here." He was under no obligation to do as she bid him, but he did so all the same, staring gormlessly after her as she stepped inside.
Well. This was not what she was expecting. She tried not to let the wonder show on her face.

TAG: @Atrice
Take a chance on me

Started by Tertius Quinctilius Varus · March 11

Late August, 76AD - the day after I just called to say...
Tertius sat alone in his bedroom. Hector had been there, but Tertius sent him away, he wasn’t in the mood for pampering and his body slave trying to make himself important to Tertius. He had a lot on his mind. Varinia had been here, yesterday. He had not seen her since his brother sold her, so many years ago. And now Teutus had apparently found her at a slave market, bought her and of course freed his mother. Seeing her again brought up old feelings in Tertius, but honestly he wasn’t quite sure what to do with those feelings. Especially after their conversations concerning marriage… and why he had not married again.
Ever since his wife died, he’d thought that he should marry again. But it was difficult to find a woman as perfect for him as Antonia had been. Varinia could be perfect, he’d thought. Still beautiful, they had something together once, they even had a son… and he was sure that if he dared to take the step, there might be a spark there. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought it would be too weird for Charis and Peregrinus, if he married the slave he had a fling with, when he was so young? Then she would act like Peregrinus’ mother. And yet his actual mother would still live here, but as a slave. It felt wrong somehow. He couldn’t do that. Not to any of them. And his thoughts came to the point where he wondered, if he even could give Peregrinus another mother than the one, he already had.
He couldn’t, could he? It wouldn’t be right. Which meant there was just one option left, one had considered before, then forgotten and now it came back to him again. But he would have to talk to Charis about it. Because if he picked that option… everything would change, for both of them. For the entire household, really. And he had to know that he could trust her.
And so he went out in the hallway, where Hector was naturally lurking close by his own chamber… and he asked Hector to fetch Charis for him – without their son, if possible. Then Tertius went back into his bedroom and waited for her to show up.
@Sara
What Happens Next

Started by Tertius Quinctilius Varus · December 3, 2021

Late March, 76 AD
Life was pretty ordinary at the moment. Nothing big was happening, Rome was functioning well and so was the household. Teutus had moved out towards his new insula – a large one, of course, if Teutus was to move out, it better be to a good place. He was trying hard to make amends for all the wrongs he’d done Teutus over the years. He didn’t know if it worked. But at least he tried, right? And he also tried hard to do his best for his new son, Peregrinus, who was growing and looked like he had strings bound around his wrists at the moment. But that was only because he was nursed so well by Charis.
She had not gotten back to him yet, concerning what they spoke about last time they had a serious talk without Peregrinus there. She wanted to meet Wulfric and they had agreed she should try and find out what he was up to. Wulfric, his third son… with whom he was not trying hard to bond with at all. He didn’t trust his German son, didn’t know him and wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d shown up so suddenly and he had brought chaos into something that was almost going well. Peregrinus was to be his heir, Teutus was freed and moving on to do his own thing, since he could not be made to inherit Tertius… so all was well, really. And then Wulfric came into the picture and ruined it all.
He often found himself sitting in the tablinum, just looking out the nearest opening but not really looking at anything. Lost in thoughts. Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was something else, he didn’t know. There was so much to think about. He’d almost forgotten what he was doing, when someone came in to block the view through the doorway. Charis. He shook his head, as if shaking off the thoughts and then focused on her. She was waiting politely, as the well-behaved slave she had become. Tertius smiled. At least one thing was going well.
“Charis, please, come in… and tell me what’s on your mind.” Tertius said in a friendly tone and waited. He’d not get more paperwork done now anyway. And he’d much rather talk to Charis than do that anyway.
@Sara
I just called to say...

Started by Teuta Varinia · November 30, 2021

Late August 76AD
She had to do it. It had to happen. Probably it would amount to nothing, but it would at least close a chapter in her life. The young girl she had once been, the one who still carried a torch for the young man who had seduced her, who had fathered her child, demanded it. The more pragmatic woman knew that the young girl was likely to get her heart broken one more time, but at least it would be the end of it.
She had to see him.
Prosperpine had done her hair in an elaborate and very modern style and even applied a little make-up. Not too much, she didn't want to look like she was negotiable, even though she was still an attractive woman with a good figure, just no longer an adolescent girl. But he knew that, they'd basically grown into adulthood together, or at least in the same household. Being unwed she wore not the stola but a rich, brown chiton, offset by a pale blue palla that she wore draped around her shoulders and pinned with a polished bronze fibula. It was the finest clothing she'd ever owned, and thanks to her son and her body slave, she felt like an Augusta.
That feeling slipped for a moment as she approached the family domus where she had been a slave for so many years, but she reminded herself that she was a slave no more, and importantly had not been freed by Tertius, so was not beholden to him. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up, caught the drape of her palla up in her left hand, and rapped smartly on the door.
@Atrice@Sara
I Have Something To say

Started by Tertia Charis · October 23, 2021

Mid-February, 76AD
Charis glanced across to her son, sleeping soundly in the crib next to her. He'd be down for at least an hour, or she hoped so given the night she'd had with him. The afternoon sun was low in the sky as she glanced out of her little room into the gardens. She missed it, working out there. As much as she loved her son and tending to him, her fingers still itched for something practical and useful to do. She'd been that way since she was a girl, always planning her next scheme or enterprise or pitching in when somebody needed a hand. Now she was left to care for her son as her primary duty, she often found herself at a bit of a loose end. Take now, for instance. Peregrinus would be sleeping for a while and she had nothing else to do. His clothes were folded neatly, his toys were organised and stacked away. So she simply sat on the little stool next to his crib and watched him.
She glanced again at the garden. This time of day, she trusted she could count on one visitor who she needed to see. Running into her dominus in the gardens was far less formal than a conversation in his tablinum - and in any case the place held too many sour memories for her to ever be comfortable visiting it. She glanced back down at Peregrinus briefly before deciding he was content to snooze in peace. Pushing herself up, she padded silently through the bustling house into the winter sun. It wasn't as cold as Britannia in the winters, far from it, but she still felt a chill and wound her arms around herself. Maybe this was a sign she was finally getting used to being in this city. It'd be two years in a couple of weeks time, after all, since the day Tertius had sprung her from her cage.
She studied the winter foliage and flowers, pursing her lips at the poor job the general household slaves had done in her absence from the garden, at least to her trained eye. She was distracted a moment later, however, when the target of her venture out here came into view. She flourished a soft smile and then dropped her eyes and inclined her head, speaking quietly in greeting. "Dominus. I trust you had a good morning?"

TAG: @Atrice
Any Way the Wind Blows

Started by Tertius Quinctilius Varus · June 24, 2021

January, 76 AD, the day after Everything I Wanted
He’d told his son from Germania that he could come back for a proper meal and a talk. Why on Earth did he do that, again? Wulfric’s arrival was sudden and unexpected and he wasn’t at all sure what to do with it. Tertius didn’t return to his work right after Wulfric had left, but instead sat thinking, for quite a while. Drank a sip of wine or two, tried to comprehend it all. Finally though, he returned to his chores, only to be interrupted by Hector, standing by the entrance to the tablinum. Tertius put down the papers and looked at his personal slave, wondering what he wanted.
“I thought I would tell you, that your guest lingered. He spoke to Charis in the garden.” Hector explained and Tertius arched a brow. Why would Wulfric speak to Charis? Why would Charis speak to Wulfric? Was there something they both kept hidden from him? Did they know each other, one foreigner and another? Hector knew Tertius probably had questions and added, “I couldn’t hear what they talked about.” Hector said and Tertius nodded again. So Hector only knew they talked. Tertius should not draw conclusions, it was a bad habit of his. He’d find out about it all tomorrow. And maybe he should invite Charis to share the meal with them. The mother of his newest son and then Wulfric. He wondered if he could convince Teutus to come, but his oldest son seemed so… distant, lately, he couldn’t figure him out. But Tertius made sure to inform Teutus there would be a dinner with a guest the following evening and Teutus was more than welcome to attend. He would not pressure his son. He hadn’t told Teutus that Wulfric was his brother either, because it appeared that Teutus was already disliking Peregrinus. What would he feel if he learned that he had another brother, without Tertius being present? Tertius, Hector and possibly Charis were the only ones who knew and it had to stay that way until he chose otherwise.
The following evening happened sooner than he would have thought - but everything had been arranged. Some good, traditional Roman dishes to be served and the best wine. Tertius waited in the atrium for their guest and for Charis to show up too, if she could make Peregrinus relax a little. He’d been in quite the mood all day.
At long last a slave entered the atrium followed by Wulfric, dressed as finely as yesterday. A handsome young man, Tertius caught himself thinking. Pity he too was born out of wedlock and in a faraway country. But he could not focus on all that. He had to find out what Wulfric wanted, because he still seriously doubted his newfound son came all this way just to meet him.
Wulfric gave him a polite nod when he entered, “Father… I am glad you invite me.” He said in a friendly tone and Tertius glanced around. Thankfully the only other person he could see nearby was Hector. So he stepped a little closer to the younger man, his son.
“Well, I am glad that you chose to attend, Wulfric.” Tertius said, “I would prefer if you did not announce our relationship out loud like that.” He paused, looking at Wulfric, making sure that comment was understood, before he continued, “We are to be joined tonight by my slave Charis, whom you met yesterday, and possibly my other son, Teutus. Now please, come with me. The triclinium is this way.” And together they silently moved through the domus to the dining arena, where cups, wine and plates were already ready for them.
@Sara @Sharpie