Járnviðr

Menelaus had thought often of retirement, recently. The wisdom of it. The necessity of it. There were many differences between Menelaus and the emperor, but foremost in his mind today was that the old Caesar had exercised great prudence in making way for the new Caesar. When his master had asked him whether he wished to retire, Menelaus had dodged the question. Despite his advancing age, Menelaus still loved racing. He worried that he might die the way so many did, ignominiously, at the wheel of their own chariot. He no longer feared the outcome the way he had years ago, nor could he scoff with unearned confidence at the prospect, the way he might have at the start of his career. None of these thoughts took purchase in his mind today, though. The excitement of the spectators and his opponents was infectious. Menelaus particularly eyed Azarion as they lined up at the carceres; the boy seemed uninterested in the more boorish behavior of the other charioteers. Menelaus noted that with a hint of pride- there was no reason for him to take credit for the boy's success, and he would not, if asked, but there was a kind of vicarious joy at seeing the up-and-coming star of the races using the same strategy he once had. Avoiding the distractions of other racers had earned him numerous victories. This boy would go far, Menelaus thought approvingly. If he were to retire...well, Menelaus would need to see Azarion earn a victory today, before making any such decision. The boy did seem to have a fighting spirit, even at rest- he gave one of the Blues the finger. He just hoped that Azarion’s injuries today would be minor- and that he might make a fine showing despite any setbacks. Menelaus reminded himself that, no matter what his future plans might be, he certainly had not retired yet. He shook off thoughts of his potential successor and focused on the race. When the horn sounded out over the circus, Menelaus flattered himself that, despite his momentary distraction, he was keeping up with the hale and hearty youngsters. @Atrice, @Chevi, @Sarah, @Sharpie

Menelaus waited for his master's answer. Rather than offer empty platitudes, Marcus seemed to seriously consider his question. Menelaus appreciated that his master. Eventually, when Marcus did speak, he spoke of Quintus Caesar's wisdom in retiring. Menelaus nodded to show that he was listening intently. Marcus spoke of the new emperor's council, and why it gave him hope that Rome might avoid conflict and bloodshed. Menelaus had not considered the historical element- he supposed that among certain circles, there might be men comparing this rise to power with the previous one. Menelaus himself had never troubled himself with these things, until now. He wondered what this successor would be like. What was a future emperor like, before ascending to the throne? And how did his destiny shape him? Menelaus had been shaped by his own life- he supposed this Titus Augustus must be a wise ruler, having been been raised by one. "May we all see a peaceful succession, then, and a new Caesar as wise as his father. Thank you for gracing me with your time and your wisdom." And with that, Menelaus waited to be dismissed. @Sharpie

Regardless of his future (which was always up in the air, for a charioteer), Menelaus was grateful for the compliments. Marcus was kinder than most masters. He offered such honeyed words to his slaves, but unlike other masters who might do so at their whims, Marcus offered them only when they were deserved. It was not soft-heartedness, but a trust in his slaves' strength. It reliably informed him when he had performed well. Menelaus appreciated the structure that it gave to his life; that, certainly, he would regret losing. It was hard to say how he felt about the rest of it- retirement and freedom was a better outcome than death, he supposed, though part of him would always wish he had died in his prime. "If I might ask," Menelaus began, feeling emboldened by his master inviting the question, "what do you think of recent events? The changes in politics are far too complicated for me to follow, but I prefer to be informed of larger concerns than just victory. Thus, I ask, sir, what is your opinion, that I may come to share it?" @Sharpie

Menelaus waited, still and silent, as his master read the scroll. He had spent so much time imagining the end of his career, dying painfully in some way or another. It was a common for charioteers to die young. Whether from injuries sustained during a race or for the hard living of being an athlete, very few lived to grow old. Menelaus was one of the oldest and most successful in Marcus' faction, though, and it seemed that he might just live to see freedom, and a life after the races. All of this, he thought while he waited with bated breath. He had voiced his own thoughts already, and Marcus would have something to say. Indeed, he spoke of the upcoming races. Menelaus would honor the emperor with his performance, and so he needed to be at his best. That was what motivated Marcus to promise him his freedom in exchange for victory. It was- tantalizing, to have his freedom be earned, not through the money he had saved, but through chariot racing itself. He would remember that moment of triumph for the rest of his days. Though Menelaus did not often dream of freedom, the idea of freedom as a rightfully-won reward was too perfect for him to resist. Yes, he would win this race and gain his freedom. He would teach the next generation of charioteers, and watch as they struggled and strove just as he and his own peers once had. “Whether I retire will be a matter for the gods to decide, but as for freedom, and the chance to train the next generation of racers- I would be honored to accept this challenge. Thank you for your generosity.” @Sharpie

Spotting the shift in his niece’s countenance, Secundus held back a snort. The poor thing was trying to catch their host’s attention, as though their interactions had anything to do with success tonight. This was a matter of showing Sergia off at her best, not allowing unfettered flirtation between an established senator and a young woman with no such position. Sergia came from good stock, but she had nothing else to offer- Tertius had dragged their family name through the mud, and the lack of children produced by Livia had only accelerated the fall of their star from the heavens. Besides, the young woman would not be able to convince this more experienced man that he actually held her interest- men knew when women were not interested in them. Before Secundus could attempt to steer the conversation to a more conducive place, his brother suggested that Longinus give them a tour of the house. Secundus bit back a retort; they were united in purpose tonight. He drank more, fortifying himself against a display that would embarrass them further. He smiled at Longinus encouragingly; showing agreement with his brother without having to say as much. "We will all be quite happy to admire the rest of your domus when we've finished with the food. Livia, why don't you tell Longinus the story you told me, months ago." It was quite an open-ended request, but Secundus knew that Livia stored every moment worth remarking on in her mind. He had seen her use this strength of memory against him numerous times, after all. She held onto every scrap of indignation she could wield to make his life miserable; the same tended to be true for more positive events and details, and he was certain there must be something flattering to Sergia that she could discuss. To give her a moment more to collect her thoughts and recall an anecdote, he paused as he sipped his wine. Then, he continued on. "Something about Sergia and that wonderful- was it before we retired once more to a villa? There was the earthquake...my wife tells it much better than I can," he finished faux-apologetically. @Atrice, @Liv, @locutus-sum, @Sara, @Sharpie

Menelaus followed Marcus dutifully. He had not expected the question- Marcus had never asked about the specifics on Menelaus' long-term manumission plans. It was not something that a master would normally take an interest in. He walked just behind Marcus, nearly matching his speed. He had been saving towards his manumission, of course, though not at the rate that another slave in his position might have. He scarcely imagined what life would be like after manumission. He had always known he would die because of the races, so why work against his nature? He had outlived his own expectations. "Not enough to buy my freedom," Menelaus demurred. "I will serve as your charioteer for some years yet." @Sharpie

Secundus' face darkened as his expression shifted. Unable to suppress his anger, he gritted his teeth rather than respond to his wife's comment. Despite the flaring temper, his overwhelming emotion remained pleasure at causing Livia discomfort. He focused on that, managing to produce a smile. Livia's insinuations were lost on him; as far as Secundus was concerned, he was the best among Vibia's men by virtue of his self-awareness. He doubted whether any of the decrepit old fools that thought themselves virile understood Vibia as a reward, bought and paid for. Some likely flattered themselves, pretending that they were offering her something special or unique. No, Secundus knew better than that; what he offered Vibia was a man who understood her, and understood the nature of their arrangement. And in turn, more than the brief bouts of pleasure that she brought him, Vibia's greatest gift to Secundus was this- embarrassing his wife in front of everyone. Leave it to Livia to ruin the impending birth of his child- well, this was her justly-deserved punishment. "Livia has found no fault with you, dear. She allows envy to get the best of her, as I'm sure you well know, given your experience with men and their wives." It was a dangerous sentence to utter, flirting perilously close with deadly honesty. To plainly state what Vibia was, and why he had brought her here- but that was what thrilled Secundus the most. He wanted to get a rise out of her- wanted to see Livia's mask of perfect poise crack. He smiled warmly at Vibia, now, excitement buoying him. "I invited you here to honor us, and the gods- any offense would only come from the fool to question your contribution. A lovely performance. Thank you." @Liv@Sara

Secundus turned to Sergia curiously, watching his niece as she responded to the young senator’s overtures. Perhaps this would go well. A stroke of luck, for once. He mulled that over. He continued to watch her as he ignored the conversation of the others- looking at her now, he could see too much of her mother in her. He wondered if she would be competent to persuade Longinus, or if this entire marriage would need to be arranged by he and his brother. A horrible thought to contemplate; he wished Sergia would exhibit better manners! Somehow, the girl seemed both too willful and yet, not vivacious enough. His attention honed in once again on the conversation at Livia’s mention of the pitter-patter of small feet. His lip curled, a fact which he immediately disguised behind another cup of wine. Perhaps Teutus could distract from Livia’s empty-headed speech and Sergia’s startling inability to display her best features. The boy had remained quiet, though. Sergia blushed, which, Secundus was deeply grateful for. That false modesty would serve her well. He suspected privately that Sergia was as shamelessly independent at heart as his sister, but she had the intelligence not to scupper her chances at marriage with any abhorrent behavior. Longinus continued to acquit himself well. Although his sense of humor galled Secundus, he seemed quite capable of responding to all of their inquiries. He seemed quite willing to engage with Livia and Teutus, where some senators would take pains to be little more than polite. Promising, for a man to treat any of the Varii scandals as unremarkable- there were quite a few of them, after all. At the statement that Longinus would never force his wife to travel somewhere, Secundus all but glared at the man. What a naïve thing to say. Sergia would not cow to him the way a wife should if he did not demonstrate that he was not to be trifled with. Secundus had attempted to leave his wife room for grief, and had earned himself a harpy who refused him time and again. Noticing that their host had begun to eat, Secundus took a piece of bread himself. Finally. He dipped it in oil, barely remembering to pretend manners- it was less an embarrassing display than with the wine, at least. Teutus spoke of imports, and Secundus attempted to listen; while his nephew’s words were unimportant tonight, the senator’s reaction could be. With their clan’s reputation, every move risked pushing them into a precarious position. Clear, direct communication about the boy’s work was unlikely to do any real damage, though. Secundus rarely paid attention to such matters, as politics did not care about the details of transporting spices. As dinner party conversation, though, it piqued his interest. As he ate a perhaps inordinate amount of bread, he finally felt properly engaged. This night was about Longinus and Sergia, however. He would wait for Longinus to respond to Teutus, allowing Sergia time to compose herself, and then he would redirect the focus to his niece. For now, he listened silently. @Atrice, @Liv, @Sara, @Sharpie

Mi. Horatius, honored father-in-law: Of course, we miss Rome, and there is much happening in our absence. We need time to recuperate, you understand. Livia is a charming but delicate creature, and she needs her little moments of reprieve. There is little to occupy our time here, and we prefer it that way. Admittedly, part of our reason for taking this vacation is for the future of our family. We are both eager to extend the family line, as you say. Indeed, I hope that we soon have good news to share with you. Life is quieter here, and my wife’s company keeps me from succumbing to the torpor of idleness. She is a welcome distraction from the vagaries of age which encroach upon me. I am glad to hear of your efforts in the public sphere. I do hope to join you in our political endeavors, yet I simply cannot rush back home on the account of anything but my family. The young Caesar may be as promising a prospect as you say, but I have the state of my own fate to consider- a man of my age needs a son to carry out his legacy. I will rejoin you as soon as we are able, but now is not that time, no matter how much Livia and I both wish it to be so. Perhaps you should visit us, when you can find the time. Livia is somewhat disinterested in frequent visitation, as she requires a break from the din of Rome, but we would be glad to welcome you when she has recovered more from the stress plaguing her constitution. I would hope that when you visit us, I can offer you news of a grandchild. Perhaps in a few months, when we have such glad tidings to share? My dearest apologies that I cannot give you what we have all hoped for, and my fondest regards for the man who introduced me to a woman such as Livia. Vale. @locutus-sum

Menelaus had long worried that he would never make an impact. Slaves did not tend to affect the future. Charioteers had a unique problem, in that they lived short lives, in most cases. Menelaus had outlived many of the young men he had come up with, and he was hardly the oldest charioteer- for now. Sometimes, he dreamed of that. The oldest charioteer, dying only when none would ever dare to beat that record. Him, as a trainer? It would afford him the chance to mark the sport. Charioteers would remember his training, and it would carry them forward. He could become part of this on a level that no man before him ever had. He couldn’t keep the gratitude out of his voice, a fact which he supposed Marcus would appreciate, having made the offer at all. “It would be a great honor to serve you in this way, sir.” @Sharpie

Yes, everyone was quite pleased that Tertius had arrived. Secundus smiled politely as they all exchanged pleasantries about Teutus’ arrival. Secundus ignored the envy that curdled in his stomach. He had nothing to offer as Livia launched into a digression about her father’s favorite wines. It was all very insipid, but that was part of the game. Longinus had invited them here to perform for his benefit. They were accessories for Sergia, who the young senator was evaluating for suitability. Perhaps Livia had said the right thing- Secundus could hardly distinguish between polite conversation and empty-headed nonsense; from Livia’s lips, it all sounded the same. When the conversation briefly turned to children, Secundus allowed himself a slight smile. He would have a son, soon enough. Their arrangements would ensure that the boy would not be plagued with the same controversy and scandal that Tertius had foisted upon his family. He hoped Longinus would only be half as wise, in his dealings with Sergia. A flare of protective anger filled him, for a moment, as he looked at the man. His clumsy joke soothed Secundus’ anger; this man lacked the guile to harm Sergia, he thought scornfully. Attempting to distract himself, Secundus drank his wine; quick, greedy gulps, rather than the genteel sips of his brother or his wife. He hardly registered the taste. Sergia began to respond, a demure smile on her lips but fire in her eyes. Secundus tuned her out completely as he reclined. Whatever his niece was saying, he imagined it would be lacking in the caution which women ought to speak, yet none the less charming for it. He had no idea where she had gotten that charisma from; certainly not from her mother. Instead, he only rejoined the conversation as he realized Sergia, face fixed in a pleasant smile that was now fading, was looking to him for a response. Now, what had the girl been saying? “Yes, as my niece said,” whatever it was that she had said. He hoped Livia had been listening, at least. “It is an arrangement with its challenges, but between the domus here and the villa in Tibur, it is not quite so crowded as you might imagine.” @Sara , @Liv , @Atrice , @Sharpie

Secundus nodded curtly to Tertius at his greeting. He could play civil for the length of this dinner. He had done it so many times in his youth, even though he had been a wild young man, impetuous and carefree. He had known how to put up a proper front for everyone respectable enough to demand one. He could do this here. It had been more difficult holding his tongue around his brother since his return, but he was no barbarian. He placed a hand on Livia’s waist- the touch was designed such that it would linger on his wife’s body for seconds at most before pulling back. It would seem like a loving gesture between man and wife, to anyone who did not know the couple well. A performance, for one man and one man alone. “Yes, a wonderful surprise, brother,” Secundus said with seemingly genuine warmth. He soothed his temper as it flared under the ignominy of Livia’s and Tertius’ judgement. Instead, he trained his vision on Longinus, who was meeting Sergia for the first time. He studied the young man’s expression for anything that boded poorly for the union. His good humor seemed to relax Sergia, but she retained the proper grace and poise for such an occasion. Secundus relaxed ever so slightly, the fist of fear and rage crushing his heart unclasping. He let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding. At Longinus’ direction, the dinner party moved as one through the space. Their host seated himself and finally offered them wine. Secundus gestured dismissively for Livia to sit before himself, as was only right. He also whispered to Sergia, that she might sit opposite Longinus. It seemed most appropriate for the two prospects to have clear sight of one another while keeping their distance, and Sergia should not join Longinus in the highest place, not yet. They were not yet married. Sergia hesitated and glanced at Livia, as she always had a habit of doing when Secundus bid her do anything. The girl doubted her uncle’s advice in all matters. Rather than prolong the awkwardness, Secundus sat down on the middle couch. He tried to steal Longinus’ attention to give the women time to decide where to sit. “Longinus, have you met Teutus? My favorite nephew,” he added in an undertone with a wink at Tertius, as he took a swig of wine. @Atrice, @Liv , @Sara , @Sharpie

Menelaus hesitated for the barest of moments before answering. Taking an opportunity from a newcomer to the races could be selfish, if it benefitted him, but if his honest assessment was that the boy had potential but was not ready- no, it was not. The boy was ready. “The expectations will be good for him. He will learn. Some boys would not, but if my measure of him is correct, he will not buckle under pressure. Speak with him yourself to form your own opinion, of course, but I believe you will find the same.” While the bigae were less prestigious, they were no less stressful on a beginner charioteer- and yet, Menelaus believed that Azarion would benefit from the experience, even though it might cripple the progress of a lesser athlete. “Let him race in the bigae, and you’ll see a man emerge with the right talents to entertain a crowd, despite his inexperience.” @Sharpie

Secundus had long awaited this day. Sergia fussed and preened and otherwise seemed to want to delay and tarry on the way to this dinner; for what reason, Secundus could scarcely imagine. She seemed reluctant to arrive there with him. Perhaps the girl missed her mother, who had declined to attend, citing her weak constitution. Secundus would have confronted her on the matter, but he had given up on trying to overrule both mother and daughter together- they were both too stubborn to listen to reason, and he needed to argue them around to his point of view by catching one of them alone. Tonight was the night to arrange Sergia’s marriage to Longinus, so Secundus was happy to leave his willful sister behind. His niece barely spoke to him, during the day before the dinner, and Secundus happily accepted the silence. Her petulance would soon become tiresome, but hopefully Longinus would not see it before their marriage was finalized. Secundus had not seen his wife’s own flaws, until after he had married her. It was an easy mistake for a man to make, when his interests were aligned with preserving his family line and name. Livia had been beautiful and the proper lady, someone who would be an excellent wife to a senator. If only he had seen what lie beneath her mask. He had asked Livia whether she would come, but of course, the choice was up to her. In fact, with Livia delaying as she did, simply to avoid breathing the same air as him, Secundus was rather inclined to simply leave her behind, as well. He waited, though, and the three of them left together. Both women spoke amongst themselves, quietly, while Secundus avoided making conversation with either one of them. He only said one thing to Sergia, which was that she should make a good first impression on Longinus. As the three of them followed Longinus’ man into the atrium, Secundus’ eyes swept over the place in undisguised, unapologetic judgment as he catalogued the changes from their previous visit: what had been moved? What was new? What looked worn down? It was only a full minute of taking in the décor that Secundus smiled thinly at Longinus. “Thank you for extending the invitation, Longinus. This is Sergia, my niece. And this is my ravishing wife, Livia.” @Sara @Liv

“Azarion? Performing well beyond my expectations. He’s taken to it quite naturally- use him before he has a chance to weaken with age- most who burn that brightly do so quickly.” Menelaus frowned thoughtfully. Most of the young charioteers had an attitude that concerned him, but it wasn’t his place to question these things. After all, he had most likely once been like them. He still enjoyed the thrill and the excitement. Perhaps it was normal, until they earned some wisdom. “What are your plans for him?” @Sharpie