Chapter 12

Caesar’s Quarters In Rome

When Caesar entered his chamber, he found Portia quietly sitting in a chair, an air of calm resolve surrounding her and looking every bit a queen, as had her mother. His thoughts wandered to happier times for a moment. He could find no anger at her disobedience. They were allies with a common purpose. They both loved Flavius. It was time to find a solution. Caesar never leaned on others to find solutions. He might look for suggestions and consider them, but always the decision was uniquely his. Here, however, confusion filled his heart.

His jaw was slack and he asked her what options she could see. “Let us step away together and close the book,” she said. “You can always find some answer to quiet tongues that wag like dog’s tails.”

He was quiet for a moment and then said slowly, “You are a healthy woman. Flavius is a virile man. Wouldn’t it seem probable that there can be issue from his seed?”

She replied, “I promise by the gods, if my womb would accept his seed, I would not end the issue. Its eyes would see the light of day. I could not kill his child.”

Caesar said, “You and your lover can leave if you allow the state to confiscate your issue. I cannot allow my bloodline to be used as an attempt to ridicule Rome, or somehow used for some sort of intrigue. Rome has many enemies.”

“That seems fair to me, but I’m not so sure Flavius would agree. He is so high-principled and may not see the value of this compromise. Can you see any other options?”

Her father pointed out; “No one could argue the outcome if the gods were allowed to direct.”

She understood that completely - a duel to the death. The combatant must be closely tied to the offender but, since there was no family living in Rome, that would mean he would have to fight a comrade-in-arms that was like a brother to him. She knew the challenge. She knew his honor and integrity. “That may be a possibility,” she said, “but I don’t see Flavius choosing that one. Is there another?” she asked.

“The only other possibility that I can give you is judgment by military tribunal. But since this is a state matter, the decision of the tribunal must be unanimous for him to be freed.”

She pondered that and asked, “Considering the faithfulness of Flavius’ duty and effectiveness as a commander, is that not a good choice, father?”

When she said the word ‘father,’ she noted a slight intake of breath on his part that was barely perceptible. He felt she didn’t notice, so deep was she in thought. He may be her father, but he was always Caesar.

He puffed out his chest in a pose and said, “Woman, you are so naive! You don’t understand the inner workings of power and intrigue. Bribes and obligations are always available. While the tribunal may seem like a good choice, there is always an unknown. Even Flavius does not understand the possibilities. He is a simple man, uncomplicated by intrigue. He says what he means. He moved through the ranks by honest work, loyalty and courage, and does not understand the ambitious. That choice is possibly the most dangerous. Many an ambitious young officer sees him as a competitor and would wish his downfall.

“Woman, I have given you the three choices. You may discuss them with Flavius. You can see him in my quarters and you have one day to make up your minds. You will be alone and there will be no prying eyes to your decision-making. Remember, though, if he chooses the tribunal and you two do not like the outcome, it cannot be changed. The judgment is irreversible and out of my hands.”

He stood up and walked over to her. Today, she seemed so frail. He did not ever remember her looking like this before. Caesar or not, there was a pain and foreboding inside of him. For a moment, he wished he could take off the heavy crown and just say, “Go your way. Have many babies. Lay together, join your loins in love,” but he could not. That was the curse of the privileged. He had been cursed when he chose to struggle for power and gave up her mother. Now he was passing the same curse to her, for he would not take off Caesar’s crown.

She walked to his private quarters alone and let herself in. She remembered when Flavius had stood outside the door and asked her if this was what she wanted? Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell to the ground. If she hadn’t seduced him, he would still be a centurion. He had taken off his armor for her and this was the result. She remembered the first time he appeared in the garden wearing only his tunic, a simple man giving her a heart full of love.

Even in her sorrow, her nipples started to push out against her silk gown as she thought how full his member would become when she nursed upon it. She lay down on the bed and cried in the pillow until exhausted. Then she fell in a deep sleep.

 Flavius stood at the doorway watching her and the tumble of hair, as her chest slowly moved up and down as she slept. Her dress was pulled to the side, revealing one perfect breast. He sighed, wishing it were another time and place. He remembered the first time he’d guarded her at the villa. She didn’t know he was watching her as she allowed her gown to drop as she was getting into bed, the moon bathing her porcelain skin. He had never seen anyone like that before. All the women he had lain with him passed before his eyes and none compared to her.

Many were experienced temptresses but none had her innocence and sweetness. She seemed to have a slight blush when she served his food and he just wanted to follow the curve of her shoulders with his tongue. Already his member was feeling the tingle of arousal.

He wanted to passionately scoop her up and pound his love into her. He overcame the urge and moved to her side and stroked her hair. He knelt down beside her so she suddenly woke up.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my love,” he whispered. She pulled him toward her, exposing the other breast. His clothes were off and he was beside her. Even though he wanted to enter her quickly, he said softly, “I want to savor the moment as we don’t know if the gods will give us more time. I want to do to you what I was never able to do in the past. To slowly prolong your pleasure. I want you to remember me.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” she said.

“We need to discuss some choices. My sweet love, I have been a soldier for many years and I know the choices available. We can talk later. For now, I want to pleasure you and you to pleasure me.”

She looked into those dark passionate eyes, unable to refuse them. She took the soft tips of her fingers and slowly started to explore his stomach. She wanted to hear that sudden intake of breath that would always arouse her completely. Tonight he would not rub his finger on her hill of pleasure until the very end and that would not be for a long time.

 The sun was almost up and their time together was almost over. She asked him, “Now can we talk?”

After she had laid out the three options her father had defined, he told her, “I will not kill a brother in arms and I will not give up a child of ours. What my seed would grow, I will not steal from you. I have no other choice but the tribunal. I feel I have some virtues and have been a faithful son to Rome.”

“Caesar thinks there are some dangers here. The outcome is binding.”

“There have been dangers every time I have gone into battle yet the gods have smiled on me. Maybe they will smile once more. We have some time yet. I want to lie here with your head on my chest and I want you to hold my member.”

She did not like the foreboding feeling gathering around her but she did what he asked and placed her head in the middle of his chest.

No knock on the door announced their arrival. Two centurions simply burst through the door. At least Caesar had allowed men from another legion to fetch him. They gave him time to don his tunic and shoes. For this one time, she wished he had worn his armor and then none of this would have happened.

 Flavius sat in his cell on the hard cot and thought about what was before him. He wasn’t feeling desperate because he knew he had some influence in the matter. Rome owes me much, he thought. Caesar owes me much. I trained men to win battles for Rome, important battles that brought much glory to Rome. Good fortune sat on my shoulder. The gods were always there, enticing me, putting me in the right place when so many were felled by the sword and the knife. I can’t believe that the gods will cut me down now after I survived all those battles. I can’t be brought back there to have eight men, all my lesser, judge me guilty. I will have a chance to defend myself and there must be justice. These men come from the same background as I and are not puffed up with dignitas as the Praetorians are. As a soldier, I have done nothing to disgrace the face of Rome. On the contrary, I have only added to her wonders, and her treasury. Surely Rome knows that she needs me. Caesar loves me like a son. Will he speak in my behalf, or will I be cast away because of some political intrigue? I have done much for him; how will he state his will in the matter?

He stood and began to pace the tiny cell, his mind working furiously. Oh, Portia if only we could have found one another in some other place and time. If I lose, what will become of you? Who will love you as I do? Who will give their heart to you as I wish to give mine to you? So many marry and do not give each other their hearts. Soldiers give their all, only to find there is little in return except a blade to the hilt. On the field of battle, that may be acceptable, even honorable, but not in a situation such as this. Not to take me from you because of some man’s folly. There is so much that could have been. There is so much in my heart for you.  You remind me so much of my mother and the love my father had for her.

They had so little, they worked hard, yet I remember when my father came in from the fields, tired and discouraged, with little to place on our table for us to eat. I can remember my mother leaning over his shoulder, filling his cup with water and placing her hand on his arm. She would hold it there for a few seconds and kiss his head as he was seated at the table. I can remember seeing into his eyes and how they lit up. After dinner, he would follow her into their room, apparently no longer fatigued. I remember the slight smile on her lips as she closed the door. I have had many women, but not until I met you, my dear Portia, did I understand what brought that smile to my mother’s lips, for I have seen that smile upon your lips. With all this before us, the gods cannot close the book on my life.

 Before Flavius walked into the tribunal he had considered that he knew most of the tribunes and their duty was to consider the interests of the common man and the best interests of Rome. I have done nothing to these eight men, he thought, yet they seem anxious to judge me. I can see it in heir eyes. It makes someone feel powerful if they can bring down someone greater than they. Some are serious, some smirk, some seem as if they have already made up their minds. Is this a farce? Have their minds been made up for them and this is a formality? I cannot believe there is no chance. I will try and, by the gods, I will die fighting if that is what it takes. By all that is holy, I cannot believe that there is no justice in Rome.

 No matter how much she begged, Caesar would give Portia no details of the proceedings. The waiting was agony, made worse by her premonition that things did not bode well. She had no idea how the tribunal was progressing, whether there was any hope or how long it might be before she would know the outcome. She couldn’t remember anything so difficult.

The door opened quite suddenly. When he entered, his face said it all. “We have three days ….”

His voice trailed off and she knew the answer. He need not have said more. He knelt at her feet and put his head in her lap as she sat. She put her hand on his cheek and stroked his curls. He lay there for a while, then got up and carried her to the bed. Lying beside her, they held one another until they both fell asleep.

They woke up together and found that someone had left food on the table. They ran their hands over each other’s bodies as if they were trying to store the memory in their fingertips. He quickly stiffened his member and made violent love to her in a way she never experienced before. He saw tears slip from her eyelashes and quickly kissed them away.

They made love as many times as possible but she didn’t count. “I want you to remember me. You are my heart and I will never forget you,” she said, choking back the tears.

“Flavius, I need to know what role my father played in the tribunal.” Portia asked. “I am aware that my father has given speeches in the senate arguing that life imprisonment was a more severe penalty than death when he wanted to save real criminals; and you have done nothing.”

“My darling, the gods have smiled on you so you could live in the country away from the intrigues and brutality of the city.” Flavius said. ‘I love your father.  I know he loved Rome and wanted to guide her to new heights in glory.  The ability to lead does not come without a high cost though. When I came to your villa to guard you it was not necessary to give you all the details lest I frighten you.  It doesn’t matter what led up to the events, or what was justified, but a man by the name of Cataline was disgruntled.  He was kept from being consul, so he decided to take the course of rebellion and raise troops to seize power.  He planned to murder certain leaders of the government. The insurrection broke out and the senate declared war. Your father was accused of being aware of the situation and plotting with Crassus to take advantage of the events.”  “But what does all of this have to do you Flavius?” Portia pleaded.

“My darling the tentacles of treachery go wide and deep. Mark Antony is a young man of ambition, even though he hasn’t advanced his career at this point because of his lack of self-discipline.  However, he was able to notice opportunity to advance himself at the expense of someone who was innocent, and he was in the right place at the right time. His step-father Sura was the judge at the trial.”  “But Flavius, I don’t see the connection between you and Mark Antony, how could this happen?” Portia asked. Flavius responded,  “ At some point it will become public knowledge that Sura was involved with Cataline and was aware of Caesar’s connection. Mark Antony wanted my post.  Not my post darling, but a promise from Caesar that he would make him magister equitum when he was able.  When your father finishes serving as praetor, he will surely govern a province as propraetor.  As a propraetor he is able to appoint a Master of Horse. Caesar has discussed these possibilities with me many times as we saw eye to eye as to how the common man should play a part in government, and the opportunities that should be theirs.  Magister Equitum is a way to political power in Rome without working your way up the political latter and needing to be elected to the offices of power.  Mark Antony understood the problems of the electorate because so many of his family members had been murdered or executed in their path towards leadership.”

 Tears streamed down Portia’s cheeks as she put her arms around Flavius’ neck and sobbing through the words,  “Why couldn’t my father save you? He understands the bribe and political pressures.”  Flavius held her close and said to her, “My darling, I know he worked in my behalf, Caesar loves me. However, the tribunes know that Caesar will be off warring or governing someplace, but the judges, like Sura, will be here with the authority to grant them their wishes.  Mark Antony expects to be Master of Horse and hold the power here in Rome and made promises also.  The tribunes lined up with those interests they felt would be more beneficial to them. These are troubled times, many good men have been murdered or executed for political reasons.  Innocent blood is on the hands of many here in Rome.”     

 Flavius continued, “I thought the charges would only be leaving duty, which is serious enough, however, it was not a post of guard, and I thought my service to Rome would have some weight in the matter.  I was expecting a fine or imprisonment, maybe both.”  By now the tears streaming over Portia’s cheeks were making a pool of moisture on her dress and her face had become like stone and there was no expression in it.  Flavius started again, “The complete charges were adultery; Caesar signed the charge though your name was not mentioned.   He felt he had to do this because the situation was reported to the garrison and would be made public if it went unanswered. Caesar starts as praetor shortly. Sura knew what strings to pull. Things become complicated.  The state added their charges since Venus is a Roman goddess and your family trace their lineage to her.”   Without looking at him, she added in a flat tone, “You’re saying my father was blackmailed, cooperate, or we will interfere with your post.”

As he was relating the events to Portia, he was speaking as a man without emotion as if he were distracted looking into some event of his past that was shrouded in mists.  As he finished his thoughts, he looked deeply into her eyes and he said, “My darling, none of this matters now, it is over; I can do nothing to change any of this and neither can you.  As a soldier I have been in some of the fiercest of battles and have had comrades fall around me, never knowing when and if my turn might be next. At this moment, I know we have some time left that the gods have given us.

With a somber face he said, “For my sake, I want you to lay aside your sadness, there will be enough time for morning later.  I want you to pleasure me and allow me to pleasure you for the time we have left.”  She thought she would have no heart for love making as she thought of her father, the power that Caesar loved, the city that was taking her love from her.  But she looked into his eyes and he put his arms around her pulling her to him. They were one, she would always be a part of him. It seemed that together they had dropped out of time and space and the evil this place.

And so she took the tips of her fingers and slowly, gently, barely touching his chest moved them downward until she heard that sudden intake of breath that would always arouse her completely.

 It was at that moment that she vowed that when they took him away, she would control herself and not cry. She didn’t want him to close his eyes in death with her crying image as the last he had of her.

 When they finally came for him, their eyes were in a locked gaze. All she saw was his eyes. She noticed nothing else. Not to scream and clutch him and faint at his feet took every once of her composure. The last thing she remembered was the sight of his curls as they took him away. That was the last thing she remembered before she slumped to the floor unconscious.

She awoke to find a linen sheet covering her nakedness. Caesar sat across from her. She bolted upright and screamed, “You son of a jackal!”

He composed himself and rearranged his robe, then said softly, “You will not see the body, nor know where it is buried, but he will receive a burial appropriate to his station.”

She screamed again, “You son of a jackal!”

He stood over her and said, “You will not speak to Caesar in that manner.”

She screamed hysterically, “I am not speaking to Caesar. I am speaking to my father.”

With steel in his voice, he said coldly, “If you wanted your father to help you, perhaps it would have been prudent to share this with him before it came to Caesar’s attention.”

With that stern admonition ringing in her ears, he swept out of the room.

 Caesar's Daughter and the Centurion © 2001

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