locutus-sum

Marcus let out a hearty laugh, his blue eyes shining with amusement as he looked at his daughter’s earnest expression. “Well! You always were a bright little shrew, weren’t you, my dear!” he chuckled, patting her hand. Dear Horatia. He’d always been amused to see that owlish look she assumed whenever talk turned to matters of State. “With a mind like yours, there’s not much I or your mother could have done to prevent you picking up an interest in literature! Well, so long as you don’t give any of the other ladies any… ideas. It always goes the same way, you see. Women who read start getting funny ideas. Now, I know you are aware of your duty - you look after your family admirably, support your dear Aulus in his career - but unmarried girls can be so impressionable. First they’re reading, next thing you know, they’ve got it into their heads that writing is a good idea too,” he said seriously. By force of habit, Marcus switched into didactic mode, as he always used to when he wanted to impress a point upon one of his children. One hand he placed firmly on her right shoulder, preventing her from turning away. His chin dipped slightly, and he turned his eyes, wide and blue, upwards to look at her from under his brows which crumpled in the middle with fatherly concern, not breaking the gaze for a second. But most devastating of all was the way he lowered his usually raucous voice to a flat, quiet whisper. Horatia had learnt by now that he wasn’t to be interrupted in such moods. He felt pleased as he saw her react in deference to his will. He continued: “And the thing with women is, however great the poetic genius they’re blessed with, they’re deaf to the call of Calliope. They only seem to want to write vulgar little Ovidian poems. I don’t have any time for that sort of stuff. A debasement of the Latin language, I say. And what Rome needs, my girl, is a nation full of women who raise good, virtuous children and support their husbands in their own work instead of lounging around the place sharing their mediocre poetry.” Something in Horatia’s face sent a sliver of doubt through a gap in his usually self-assured demeanour. Oh, he hadn’t wanted to hurt the poor girl. It was just necessary for her to understand. Sometimes it was hard, but paternal duty obliged him to say something. Sighing, he returned his hands to his lap and looked away for a second before breaking the silence. “But I don’t mean to say, my dear, that this little scheme of yours isn’t a very good idea. Yes, it is,” he said with increasing conviction, peering into Horatia’s face to make her understand. “You’re a brilliant consul’s wife, yes, and what a good politician needs is a wife who understands what’s going on in public life as well as private. Because private life, people, connections, are the foundation of politics! Yes, in fact, when I was younger, you’ll remember that your mother was like that too, so… so very shrewd, such help to me…” All the energy had drained from his voice. He lapsed into silence and stared at the grass as if forgetting Horatia was even there. @Sara

Having a brimming goblet of wine in his hand wasn’t going to stop Marcus embracing his daughter. For once in his life, he said exactly what was in his head - something he and his eldest daughter didn’t often do - “Livia, my dear, how glad I am to see you again!” There was a chuckle in his voice as he released her from his grip and held her at arm’s length to look at her. The girl was slightly messily coiffed, her outfit hastily arranged (ordinarily he would have expected better presentation from a daughter of his, but Livia was simply… well, it wouldn’t do to go nagging her about this kind of thing. She had a spark about her, dear Livia, and the last thing Marcus wanted to do was extinguish it. A parent can be overly harsh, anyway). And she was smiling, thank the gods, she was smiling that smile that filled his heart with a kind of warmth and paternal pride. Genuine amusement crossed his face as Livia ushered him impatiently over to a couch and sat down next to him, leaning across to grip his hands in hers and grinning girlishly. He was reminded of how, as a girl, she used to grip one of his fingers tightly in her little fist and rush madly around the house, pulling him behind her, to show him something she’d written, or an interesting beetle in the garden, or to hear her mama tell him something clever she’d said, or the like. Livia was a young woman now, but to see her with that same old expression on her face filled him with a kind of relief that almost moved him to tears. Swallowing, he said warmly, “News from Rome? Oh, life's slow, thank the gods. Run-of-the-mill business in the Senate, I'm afraid. It's simply a question of establishing one's relationship with the new regime." He paused, then changed the subject. "And how’s my little girl doing these days? Though I suppose you’re not a little girl any more, are you, my dear? Newly wed for the second time! I hope Tibur’s agreeing with you. It’s absolutely lovely around, isn’t it?” @Liv

“Oh yes, I’m filling my days quite nicely,” replied Marcus, glad for the change of subject. “As much as I’d love a nice stay somewhere far away from here, now's an important time. It's in these early days that the precedent for the future relationship between the Senate and the Emperor is formed." He paused briefly to take his daughter's slender hands in his. "Besides, what is left for me at the villa without you and Livia there? No, my dear, I would have to spend hours reading and walking. I think I'd go mad not being in the thick of things," he admitted. Usually quite a solitary man, Marcus had found that his own company tended to lead him towards his more gloomy phases since… well. Best to distract himself. Make a bit of difference. A pause. "And you, my girl, must also have your fair share of duties on your plate, even if those duties lie in the home rather than the Senate. I know it must be an honour to be the consul's wife, but you women face your own share of challenges. How have you been getting on? I'm sure you're doing admirably." @Sara

Marcus felt a hint of rage swell up in his gut as his daughter reminded him of his powerlessness over his beloved grandchildren, but he could see she meant well. Frowning at her, he saw a plea in her face, felt the mollifying hand she placed gently on his arm. Her reasonable, calm attitude irritated him slightly, mostly because he knew he himself didn’t really have cause to get angry - the poor girl wasn’t at fault. Besides, shouting wasn’t always the best way to express displeasure. He didn’t have the energy these days, and he knew withering disappointment worked just as well. He looked away for a moment, let out a deep sigh of frustration, then turned back to his daughter. “Of course, Horatia, my dear, I know all that. I respect Tiberius’ judgement, and I wouldn’t dream of ignoring his… legal right. I merely want to let you know that all my resources and contacts are at your disposal if indeed any attractive military posting were to arise for the boy.” That’s it, Marcus, you're doing well, he thought to himself. A man of your standing shouldn’t have such a fragile ego that a gentle reminder from his daughter should send him over the edge. Still, Marcus shifted restlessly, rearranging the folds of his toga before continuing. “Of course I have been doing some thinking of my own on the subject of possible husbands for Calpurnia: what loving grandfather wouldn’t? Let me see… yes, L. Sempronius Atratinus’ son, Gaius, is around the right age. Seems a pleasant sort of lad. I wouldn’t mind securing ties with that family. Appius Cornelius Scipio has a couple of sons, as does Q. Sulpicius Rufus. Or if… well. Many members of… the Imperial family have sons of the right age too. I am close to the new Caesar, and my reputation is good. Perhaps if I…” Marcus broke off, grinning. “But you must think my ambitions are ludicrous, my dear! Tell me the truth, now.” @Sara

“Aha! Yes, dear Titus. You’ve done well with that one, my dear, I have to say. He’s a promising young boy. You know, I was awfully worried about him, growing up without a father for so long in his formative years, but it seems your love, and my own efforts to serve as a male role model, so to speak, have made a good soul of him in spite of it all.” Marcus saw Horatia’s face twitch, but he ignored it. After all, he did help to bring the child up. Surely he was entitled to a say in Titus’ future as well as Aulus? “Yes,” continued Marcus, gazing absently at a statue on the other side of the garden, smiling despite himself as he spooled through his memories of his well-mannered and vivacious grandson, “the boy absolutely must get some military experience as soon as he can. In fact, my dear,” Marcus clapped his hands, “I have several friends in mind whom I could persuade to take young Titus under their wing, some really fine military men.” Already, Marcus’ machiavellian mind was zipping around his web of contacts, and he wrung his hands in glee at all the wonderful possible futures his grandchild could have, all thanks to him. “And of course dear Calpurnia, as you say, absolutely must get betrothed as soon as possible,” he rattled on before his daughter could reply, gripping Horatia’s shoulders and looking into her eyes, his own shining bright with ideas, “yes, I shall have to be searching out a nice young man for her. Only the best. She’s a wonderful girl, and I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of suitors. Of course, your lovely husband Aulus must have his say too, but with his consulate, I’m sure he has much more important matters of state in mind. But my dear, I’m sure you also have made plans for the darling girl! Tell me, who are you considering?” Marcus looked keenly at his daughter, awaiting her answer. He tried not to feel hurt at her expression - somehow, she didn’t seem to be as full of enthusiasm as he did about this particular topic. Horatia was a dear doting mother, but she simply didn’t understand the need for action on such matters. And, Marcus reminded himself, she really ought to appreciate his help in this area. She herself owed everything she had now to his pragmatism and devotion. @Sara

Early 76CE. Horatius Justinus is in Rome; Quinctilius Varus and his wife are in Tibur. @Járnviðr Marcus Horatius Justinus warmly greets his son-in-law Secundus Quinctilius Varus I hope your little stay away from the hustle and bustle of the Urbs is agreeing with you, mi Quinctili! - we all deserve a nice break every now and then! I hope you won't resent me feeling a little bitter you have my darling Livia all to yourself! I trust her good nature and sweetness is brightening your spirits just as much as the locale. And I must admit, if you'll allow me to say so, that your own presence here in Rome is also very much missed. You are perfectly justified in taking your little holiday now, as this is as close to a quiet period as we have had in the city for a long time, but I am working ever so hard to make sure our new Caesar (a promising boy, in my opinion) learns that he can trust in me and my friends and that it is essential to cooperate with the leading men of the Senate, and I can think of no advocate for our dear values sounder or more respectable than your good self. By no means do I want to foreshorten your leisure by excessive nagging; I do not wish to be the type of father-in-law who considers that his son-in-law should be at his every beck and call. My desire to see you back in the city is motivated merely by my high opinion of you, your position and your connections. I am, as I am sure you know, very glad to have you as part of my family. If you cannot return to Rome, I would at least be very glad of an occasion to visit you and my dear daughter in your delightful residence in Tibur (though not for long - as I say, I am needed at Caesar's side). Every day I long to be in Livia's sparkling company again. If you'll permit me to say, every time I visit I secretly hope that I will find her a mother-to-be at last! But I'm sure you are just as keen for the family line to be extended as I am, and I trust that you will inform me of any news as soon as such a happy occasion is upon us. Do write and let me know as soon as possible of your situation. My very best regards to you both. Vale.

"What shall we toast to, father?" What, indeed. He was probably supposed to say something like 'the health and prosperity of our new Caesar!'. Looking steadily at his daughter now, her eyebrow raised as she awaited his answer, what he wanted to say was 'to loved ones lost!' - though Marcus knew she'd never really lose her, not when her memory was etched in every feature of the face he was now looking at. But Horatia also looked a great deal like himself, and she shared his sense of duty. "To the consulship of your Aulus," he pronounced heartily, "May it be a glorious chapter in the annals of our fatherland. And to you, my girl, who are everything a consul's wife should be." After exchanging a warm grin with his daughter, Marcus closed his eyes and filled his mouth with the wine. A fine Falernian with a subtle fruity note to it, noticeable even though the draught was watered down. He sat for a moment in silence, feeling the sun on his face and the tartness of the grapes in his mouth. Eventually, he took a deep breath and swallowed. "And how is our illustrious new consul these days, my dear?" @Sara

“Horatia, my dear!” @Sara Marcus had been feeling rather at a loose end of late. Business had been tiring - adjusting to a new Caesar was never an easy thing - and so some quality family time was exactly what he needed. Livia’s carefree giggle was just the thing to perk up his spirits right now, but she was in Tibur, and besides, she hadn’t cracked a smile for a long time. No, Horatia would do just as nicely, he reminded himself as he entered the spacious atrium of his elder daughter’s domus, a nicely decorated room fit for her husband’s social status, bright and welcoming as his own had been at the height of his career. He loved his eldest daughter too, very much so, in fact, and he was far too honest and respectable a man to have favourite children, of course, he reminded himself. Horatia had become a particular source of pride for him recently, with her husband starting his year as consul (a good choice, he had been, that Aulus. Lesser men would have baulked at such a hasty match, but Marcus was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The boy had potential, he had seen it immediately, and Horatia would clearly be happy with him. He had been right to give his approval). In fact, as he spread his arms in greeting now and looked his daughter over, a sense of pride stirred in him. Horatia was looking even more beautiful than she did in her youth (she’d inherited her mother’s almost startling good looks, the type that even the years couldn’t steal away), and she was wearing a lavish stola Marcus had never seen her wear before (one of the numerous fruits of her husband's thriving career, no doubt). Marcus always been harsh on her, he knew that, and this was why he’d done it - with his guidance, she had become an impressive woman, matronly and refined. Marcus’s own face creased into one of his increasingly rare but utterly sunny smiles as he let his sudden sense of satisfaction show itself. Must let the girl know she’d done him proud. “It is lovely to see you again. You know, you look wonderful. I’m so glad things are going well for you. Shall we sit down?”

MARCUS HORATIUS JUSTINUS 63 y/o | born 12CE | Senatores | Senator | Heterosexual | Wanted | Played By: Robert Hardy Personality In public life, Marcus is an imposing figure. His voice is loud and grave, perfect both for long senate orations and barking orders at soldiers. Marcus always likes to remain inscrutable. He makes no effort to cover the fact that he is balding slightly, or that he has tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Privately, Marcus is a doting father. He is quick to show disappointment but also just as willing to show warmth on occasions when his children live up to his exacting standards. His voice is the kind you can hear ringing through the whole house at dinner parties, his manner gruff and forceful but his words kind and observant. Marcus' goal in life is to ensure his children are the best they can be: he is exceptionally good at observing others' natures and flaws, but is totally oblivious to his own, and this hypocrisy can be a source of conflict with his family. Marcus is a very private man, but when he chooses to open up to those closest to him he reveals that, really, he is deeply sensitive. In fact, he has been in a state of constant depression for fifteen years, aching inside behind his outgoing public façade. But Marcus can't keep it up forever. At some point, the façade will crack and all the grief will come pouring out. Marcus put a lot of pressure on his children. Though motivated only by love, his domineering personality overshadowed all his offspring's childhoods and resulted in them growing up to be rather meek and humourless. Even now, Marcus has a great deal of control over their lives. Now they are in adulthood with children of their own, some of his children are starting to harbour resentment towards him as a result now they realise how their father's influence has affected them. Appearance Despite his unusually short stature, Marcus' stockiness and general poise make him quite the imposing figure. His eyes are a brilliant, incisive blue. Despite his age, he still has a reasonable amount of straw-yellow hair, and he has passed this fair complexion onto his children. His face is that of a wise Roman senator, lined with years of grief and thought. On his right hand, he wears a garnet signet ring, given to him by Livia Calavia when they were young. He never takes it off. Family Father: N/A Mother: N/A Siblings: Gaius Horatius Justinus Spouse: Livia Calavia (deceased) Children: Lucius Horatius Justinus, Livia Justina, Horatia Justina, Publius Horatius Justinus Extended family: Secundus Quinctilius Varus (son-in-law) Aulus Calpurnius Praetextatus (son-in-law) Titus Calpurnius Praetextatus (grandchild) Calpurnia Horatia (grandchild) Lucia Gaia (daughter-in-law) Spurius Horatius Justinus (grandchild) Lucia Justina (grandchild) Other: History Marcus comes from a family greatly marked by the age of upheaval they lived through. His grandfather had been with Cato the Younger, his close friend and mentor, when he disembowelled himself at Utica. Marked for slaughter on the Triumvirate's list of prescriptions, the staunchly traditionalist Marcus the Elder had only narrowly escaped by going into hiding. He went on to unwillingly serve Octavian at Actium in order to preserve his life. This is precisely the attitude his son and his grandson inherited after him - while deeply nostalgic for the old Republic, the family owes a debt to the mercy of the Caesars. Better to work to keep Caesar in check and preserve the old values than to try aimlessly to restore a Republic now irretrievably lost. With all this high-flown talk being bounced around his home, the young Marcus didn't have much time to be a child. As his father's heir, the values of integrity and duty were impressed on Marcus from an early age. He learnt to speak fluently and eloquently in both Latin and Greek - the precocious young Marcus was a source of amusement and wonder at his father's dinner parties, where he would discuss earnestly and maturely any subject with the writers and advocates his father surrounded himself with at these occasions. However, once his father was posted to serve under Germanicus in the 10s CE, Marcus left the literary climate of Rome to follow his father there. While not naturally drawn to soldiering, much of his childhood was spent in Germania in Germanicus' camp. Marcus soon learned to shed his rather dour disposition somewhat in the company of soldiers and their sons, developing the reserved but occasionally persona he has to this day. While in Germania, he met his best friend, Decimus Tullius Germanicus, a jolly boy more interested in wielding a sword than a pen, and his betrothed, the young Livia Calavia, more literary and pensive than her intended husband, to whom the young Marcus took quite a shine. in 30 CE, Marcus, having now earned his toga virilis, returned to Rome and soon was elected to the vigintiviri thanks to his quick mind and his father's many contacts. After this, he served as tribunus laticlavius under his friend Decimus Tullius' father. For a while, Marcus lived happily, overjoyed to be able to spend more time with his dear friend and his new wife, Livia Calavia. Though not necessarily a natural military strategist, Marcus worked hard and earned recognition for his efforts. Throwing himself into his work was important - to live up to his father, to stave off the longing to be back in Rome and, most importantly, to distract himself from the fact he was quickly falling in love with Livia Calavia, his childhood friend and best friend's wife. When Decimus was unexpectedly killed, therefore, it felt like a blow from the gods, cruel but sweet. Out of respect and love for his late friend, Marcus tried to distance himself from the now available Livia, but within two years his willingness to resist the hand of Fate decayed. On his return to Rome in 35 CE after his term as tribune, Marcus married Livia Calavia, with whom he was very much in love. The couple spent the next six years in Rome. Both in public life and at home, Marcus was perfectly happy: with his father's respect, a purple-bordered toga and a lovely, intelligent wife, Marcus quickly moved on from the guilt and loss he felt over Decimus' death. He established himself as a firm successor to his father in the Optimate faction. In 40 CE, Livia finally fell pregnant and produced a healthy son, Publius. He loved the boy very much and showed it by giving his all to set him up to be a great man and an heir to the family's legacy. Though he hated to admonish his son - he was bright, athletic, quick-spirited and everything he'd hoped he'd be - Marcus knew that to spare the rod was to spoil the child. After all, he owed his own success to the exacting standards his own father impressed upon him. In 42CE, the family moved back to Germania, well known to Marcus from his boyhood, where he served as legate. His second child, Horatia, was born shortly after. In 48 CE, he received the news of the birth of his two twins, Lucius and Livia, with great joy, but this feeling was not to last long. The birth had had its toll on Livia, who fell gravely sick. The gods took mercy, however, and Livia recovered, albeit greatly weakened and unable to bear more children. Having come so close to losing the woman he loved more than anything filled Marcus with an even stronger desire to protect and cherish his family. During the 50s CE, Marcus split his time between shaping his children into the successors he wanted and advancing his own career, including a stint serving as a dependable leader in Hispania under Jullus Alexander to quell the popular uprising that broke out in the province. In 52 CE, he backed the consul Scipio's appeal to restore the old powers of the senate. The unrest spreading through the Empire throughout the decade worried Marcus, and he tightened his grip on his family's lives even further, desperate to protect them from the lethal power games of the Imperial family. The formation of the Quinquevirate also worried Marcus, who is acutely aware from his grandfather's stories the danger of such alliances. Unwilling to back either Darius or Camillus, Marcus was overcome with a feeling of powerlessness, his traditional views of the power of the Senate lost in the clamour. Eventually, the riots and murders in the city presented too much of a threat for Marcus and his family. He was among the first of many traditionalist senators to flee Rome for Antioch in early December of 60CE. Deciding cautiously to return to Rome in mid 61 CE now the threat of civil war seemed to have died now, he was one of many who advocated severe punishment for Cyprianus and all who would compromise the institution of the Senate for their own personal ends. Then, in December of 61 CE, disaster stuck for Marcus. His beloved wife, Livia, was accidentally caught up in one of the many plebeian riots taking place in the city while she was out on an errand. When Marcus arrived back from the Senate, he found friends gathered round her in the atrium. Her body was mauled and bruised. Overcome by a sense of horror deeper than anything he thought he could feel, Marcus sank to his knees, lying next to her mangled corpse for twenty hours without once moving. Despite his pleading in the Senate, his sense of duty and honour, he had failed to protect the one thing that mattered to him more than his ideals. Grief-stricken, Marcus retired from public life and took refuge once again in Antioch until news of Cyprianus' downfall was confirmed, whereupon he was persuaded by his son Publius to return to Rome. From then on, Marcus has remained in Rome as a stalwart figurehead of the Optimate faction. His ambition, though, has been entirely quelled by his loss, and he never seeks the consulship, preferring instead to devote his time to helping his children progress in both public and private life. His children recognise he's never quite been the same since Livia's death. Marcus refuses to so much as look at another woman, let alone remarry. His attitude towards his children is more doting and overbearing than ever. Now, the year is 76 CE, and old conflicts seem to be stirring within the family. What part will Marcus play? Player: locutus-sum | GMT | locutus-sum #9606

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ANTHEIA Born 41 AD | Slave | Tutor of Claudia Caesaris | Greek | Unknown Orientation | Wanted | Face claim: Marina Sirtis Now awaiting approval by @Gothic. Is this name change OK? Personality. Antheia is the type of person who has her head both set firmly on her shoulders and high in the clouds. On practical matters, as well as matters of the heart, she is a reliable source of judgement-free advice, a quality which allows her to establish close bonds with those she serves, if they're willing to confide in her. She views the world with a certain detachment, however, preferring to spend time in her own head, dealing in ideals and abstract concepts. At heart, she is a poet, a philosopher - a thinker. Though her disposition is always friendly, one gets the sense that one never really knows Antheia, or what goes on in her head. She has no close friends, no family in Rome, her former mistress is dead and, despite no shortage of male attention, she has never shown any interest in men. Though she speaks well about philosophy, she never claims to follow any particular school of thought or expresses her own view, instead preferring to play devil's advocate in all discussions. Appearance Antheia is of average height, with an olive complexion and dark brown eyes. Her hair is dark, a very dark brown, and naturally thick and curly. Family Antheia has never spoken to anybody about her true family back in Greece. The only connection she has to speak of is Aristo, the old Greek tutor of her former mistress, who is now absolutely ancient. She goes to visit him once in a while but never discusses these meetings with anyone. History Antheia was only ten years old when Athens was sacked. Not much is known about her life back in Greece - she doesn't like to speak about it - but she was taken into slavery and sold in Rome to a renowned philosopher and poet. She served as a personal maid and eventual friend and confidante to the man's daughter, a girl of a similar age to herself. It was during her time here that she was privileged to share in the tutelage of her mistress' own Greek teacher, Aristo. The older Greek took her under his wing somewhat, and she would sit with the wizened old man for hours in the garden, talking in their native tongue about life, the world, literature and philosophy. After the unfortunate death of her young mistress giving birth to her first child, Antheia's services were no longer required. When, therefore, she was brought by the mistress' father to entertain at a dinner party with members of the imperial family (as a female philosopher, she was met with a mixture of wonder and amusement) and attracted the attention of one of its members, she was taken on to the imperial staff as tutor to Claudia, daughter of Caesar in early 76 CE.