Tweet
Hello all. I'm a newcomer to the forums and I thought I'd try my hand at writing a story. It's my first one - so be kind please. 
Here goes-
“Es Frater Meus, Et Es Inimicus Meus”
(“You Are My Brother, And You Are My Enemy”)
ROME, 14 June in the Year of Our Lord 1377 – It is a joyous day in our fair kingdom. Our Gracious Lord has blessed his Majesty Julius Caesar IV with a second son, Octavian Caesar. “It is truly a miracle that such joy can be brought to a family in the midst of such terrible bloodshed as our current war with the treacherous Egyptians,” said Royal Domestic Advisor Antonius Laurentius.
However, this wonderful news is marred by the tragic death of Her Majesty Lucia during the birth. The late Queen was only 39 years of age at the time of her death. The king has announced a day of mourning throughout the kingdom for the late Lucia, scheduled for tomorrow.
The late Queen gave birth to Julius Caesar V on April 21, 1376. The young Julius is deeply saddened by the loss of his mother but his nurse reported his hopeful good cheer at the arrival of Octavian.
The king promises that he will continue his efforts to lead our forces in combat against the Egyptians despite his recent loss. The war is progressing on the northern front; our legionaries have proved more than a match for the weak “war chariots” of our foes.
Our cities are working to produce more of the new horsemen for deployment to the western front, as our armies there need reinforcement. Our forces in that region consist mainly of (rather antiquated) archers and spearmen but are holding their own against Egypt.
Palace strategists declined to comment on their future plans for the war.
--Cornelius Philippus, Hodie in Roma (Today in Rome)
-----
Royal Palace, Rome
15 June 1378
Prince Julius V was angry.
The two-year-old had just completed his afternoon snack when, having been declined additional cookies, he became irate and demanded to receive them in a loud and obnoxious tone.
When the attendant present in the nursery steadfastly refused, an absurdly loud and shrill scream ripped out of the toddler’s mouth. He stood there in the middle of the nursery, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, face red, screaming like a banshee.
The attendant, becoming flustered, called for Julius’ personal nurse.
“Portia! Julius is throwing a tantrum!”
A portly middle-aged woman came through the doorway. Assessing the situation, she remarked, “Quite a voice for such a small child! He’s throwing these fits more and more often these days.”
The nurse bent down beside the screaming child and picked up his favorite toy, a wooden cart pulled by a wooden horse. The elaborate plaything had been hand-crafted by the palace’s best carpenter, with working wheels and little shoes on the horse’s hooves.
Julius finally stopped screaming and took the toy from Portia, scrutinizing it with a critical eye. He decided that cookies were more important, and subsequently dropped the forgotten horse and cart on the floor, announcing his refusal with a stubborn “No. Want cookies.”
“Oh, you silly boy,” said Portia. “You’ve already had your snack today. Don’t you want to play something else now?”
Julius answered with his stubborn “No,” and was preparing to scream when he looked up to see his father in the doorway.
Forgetting the cookies, Julius ran to his father and clasped him around his toga-clad legs, grinning widely.
“Greetings, Portia, Flora,” the king said to the attendants. “Just come to check on my boy.” The king knelt and hugged his son, the boundless love of a father in his eyes.
“Hello, Your Majesty. Prince Julius was just having another tantrum,” Portia explained.
“What is it now?”
“He wants more cookies, but he’s just had his snack and I don’t want to spoil his supper.”
“Oh, nonsense. He’s simply upset about his mother’s passing, I’ll venture. Give the boy his cookies.”
-----
Royal Palace, Rome
April 21, 1379
It was Julius V’s 3rd birthday, and the halls of the palace were filled with the citizenry of Rome, come to the palace more for the grand banquet than for the birthday of the prince.
The prince sat at the head of the long center table, beside his father and the nurse who held his infant brother. Proudly, he sat regally as the admirers passed, offering their sincere wishes for a happy birthday and their compliments to the king for his recent victory over the Egyptians.
A peace treaty had been signed after Egypt had been pushed nearly off the continent by the king’s armies. Rome now shared the landmass only with the remnants of Egypt, Greece (to the south), and Babylon (to the east).
The prince’s mind was full of joy at the cornucopia of gifts spread over the table beside him. However, there was something in the back of his mind that tugged at him, detracting from his enjoyment of the occasion.
Last year at this time… his mother had been with them.
He could still see her beautiful face, her kind hands. He could feel her loving arms around him, her voice singing soft songs to him at night, and the smile she always smiled when she saw him.
He missed her.
He missed her so terribly badly.
He cried that night, after all the food was eaten, all the well-wishers long gone. Nothing the servants could do would console him. Nothing would ever fill the missing place in his heart.
-----
Palace courtyard, Rome
June 17, 1381
The brothers Julius and Octavian were having their first archery lesson in the courtyard of the palace. Their instructor showed them how to draw the bowstring on their child-size bows, to align the shaft with the dot in the center of the target, and to release the arrow on its arcing flight to the bale of hay ten paces away.
First it was Julius’ turn to try out the bow.
Stepping up to the firing line, Julius drew his bowstring back to his chin, squinting his five-year-old eyes and tugging with all his strength. He let the string go, and the arrow shot forward in an arc, digging its point into the hay bale a few feet off the mark.
The instructor was satisfied with his effort, but Julius was not pleased with himself.
Four-year-old Octavian stepped up to the line, placing his arrow carefully on the string and raising the apparatus up to his torso. He placed his fingers on the string and drew it back to his chin as he was taught, lining up the shot meticulously. When he was precisely in line with the bull’s-eye, he drew in his breath and straightened his fingers.
The arrow flew in a tan blur to the target, striking the hay solidly in the ring surrounding the center, a full two feet closer to the bull’s-eye than his brother’s shot. He lowered his bow and smiled broadly, soaking in the praise from the instructor.
Realizing that he had beaten his brother for the first time, Octavian turned and smiled at his brother. Julius narrowed his eyes, his brow forming a V of anger as he felt hot envy course through him. Octavian wasn’t supposed to win! Julius was the older boy, the firstborn, the one who was better at everything.
Julius was jealous.
-----
It was a feeling he would not feel very often for the next ten years, as Julius showed his prowess at everything from board games to swordfighting to schoolwork. Julius was physically strong, mentally sharp, and fiercely competitive. His brother was not a bad specimen of a boy, but Julius was always showing Octavian up in everything they did together.
Everything, that is, but archery.
The boys grew up together, sharing friends, family, experiences, and relationships with others. They had a deep friendship and loyalty to one another, but there was rivalry between them also, which grew beyond the bounds of simple competition. The two grew farther and farther apart as time went on, to the point where they competed constantly and ardently about anything and everything.
To an outsider, it would have seemed as though they hated each other, but from Octavian’s perspective, there was no hate present at all; the brothers loved each other beyond measure and simply competed as brothers did (albeit continually).
It was in the year of Our Lord 1391, when Octavian was 14 and Julius was 15, that noted scientist and philosopher Democratus of the Roman Monarchy postulated to the kingdom a radical new concept: democracy.
This new form of government was based on the idea that government should be run by the people that are governed, and that the common people have the right to take part in the governing process by expressing their opinions and beliefs. In addition, the people of a nation are entitled to certain rights and freedoms that cannot be taken away by any man, least of all a king or an emperor.
Democratus was bold and, indeed, audacious to suggest his new discovery to the people, since most of the freedoms he believed were ineffaceable were in fact not enjoyed by most of the populace of Rome, and thus he was jeopardizing his reputation, his career, and his standing in society with his insinuation that perhaps the current government was not entirely acceptable.
It was popular opinion that while the king was not as generous as he could have been, he was nonetheless a benign and considerate ruler. On the other hand, radicals in the kingdom known as the Liberators had been urging the people to overthrow His Majesty Julius IV for many years. Democratus offered them a viable alternative to the current government, and their arguments began to carry more weight with the citizenry.
It was the opinion of Princes Julius and Octavian that their father was the best leader that the Romans had ever known, but a chance encounter with the Liberators would soon alert Octavian to the true state of affairs in their nation…
Here goes-
“Es Frater Meus, Et Es Inimicus Meus”
(“You Are My Brother, And You Are My Enemy”)
ROME, 14 June in the Year of Our Lord 1377 – It is a joyous day in our fair kingdom. Our Gracious Lord has blessed his Majesty Julius Caesar IV with a second son, Octavian Caesar. “It is truly a miracle that such joy can be brought to a family in the midst of such terrible bloodshed as our current war with the treacherous Egyptians,” said Royal Domestic Advisor Antonius Laurentius.
However, this wonderful news is marred by the tragic death of Her Majesty Lucia during the birth. The late Queen was only 39 years of age at the time of her death. The king has announced a day of mourning throughout the kingdom for the late Lucia, scheduled for tomorrow.
The late Queen gave birth to Julius Caesar V on April 21, 1376. The young Julius is deeply saddened by the loss of his mother but his nurse reported his hopeful good cheer at the arrival of Octavian.
The king promises that he will continue his efforts to lead our forces in combat against the Egyptians despite his recent loss. The war is progressing on the northern front; our legionaries have proved more than a match for the weak “war chariots” of our foes.
Our cities are working to produce more of the new horsemen for deployment to the western front, as our armies there need reinforcement. Our forces in that region consist mainly of (rather antiquated) archers and spearmen but are holding their own against Egypt.
Palace strategists declined to comment on their future plans for the war.
--Cornelius Philippus, Hodie in Roma (Today in Rome)
-----
Royal Palace, Rome
15 June 1378
Prince Julius V was angry.
The two-year-old had just completed his afternoon snack when, having been declined additional cookies, he became irate and demanded to receive them in a loud and obnoxious tone.
When the attendant present in the nursery steadfastly refused, an absurdly loud and shrill scream ripped out of the toddler’s mouth. He stood there in the middle of the nursery, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, face red, screaming like a banshee.
The attendant, becoming flustered, called for Julius’ personal nurse.
“Portia! Julius is throwing a tantrum!”
A portly middle-aged woman came through the doorway. Assessing the situation, she remarked, “Quite a voice for such a small child! He’s throwing these fits more and more often these days.”
The nurse bent down beside the screaming child and picked up his favorite toy, a wooden cart pulled by a wooden horse. The elaborate plaything had been hand-crafted by the palace’s best carpenter, with working wheels and little shoes on the horse’s hooves.
Julius finally stopped screaming and took the toy from Portia, scrutinizing it with a critical eye. He decided that cookies were more important, and subsequently dropped the forgotten horse and cart on the floor, announcing his refusal with a stubborn “No. Want cookies.”
“Oh, you silly boy,” said Portia. “You’ve already had your snack today. Don’t you want to play something else now?”
Julius answered with his stubborn “No,” and was preparing to scream when he looked up to see his father in the doorway.
Forgetting the cookies, Julius ran to his father and clasped him around his toga-clad legs, grinning widely.
“Greetings, Portia, Flora,” the king said to the attendants. “Just come to check on my boy.” The king knelt and hugged his son, the boundless love of a father in his eyes.
“Hello, Your Majesty. Prince Julius was just having another tantrum,” Portia explained.
“What is it now?”
“He wants more cookies, but he’s just had his snack and I don’t want to spoil his supper.”
“Oh, nonsense. He’s simply upset about his mother’s passing, I’ll venture. Give the boy his cookies.”
-----
Royal Palace, Rome
April 21, 1379
It was Julius V’s 3rd birthday, and the halls of the palace were filled with the citizenry of Rome, come to the palace more for the grand banquet than for the birthday of the prince.
The prince sat at the head of the long center table, beside his father and the nurse who held his infant brother. Proudly, he sat regally as the admirers passed, offering their sincere wishes for a happy birthday and their compliments to the king for his recent victory over the Egyptians.
A peace treaty had been signed after Egypt had been pushed nearly off the continent by the king’s armies. Rome now shared the landmass only with the remnants of Egypt, Greece (to the south), and Babylon (to the east).
The prince’s mind was full of joy at the cornucopia of gifts spread over the table beside him. However, there was something in the back of his mind that tugged at him, detracting from his enjoyment of the occasion.
Last year at this time… his mother had been with them.
He could still see her beautiful face, her kind hands. He could feel her loving arms around him, her voice singing soft songs to him at night, and the smile she always smiled when she saw him.
He missed her.
He missed her so terribly badly.
He cried that night, after all the food was eaten, all the well-wishers long gone. Nothing the servants could do would console him. Nothing would ever fill the missing place in his heart.
-----
Palace courtyard, Rome
June 17, 1381
The brothers Julius and Octavian were having their first archery lesson in the courtyard of the palace. Their instructor showed them how to draw the bowstring on their child-size bows, to align the shaft with the dot in the center of the target, and to release the arrow on its arcing flight to the bale of hay ten paces away.
First it was Julius’ turn to try out the bow.
Stepping up to the firing line, Julius drew his bowstring back to his chin, squinting his five-year-old eyes and tugging with all his strength. He let the string go, and the arrow shot forward in an arc, digging its point into the hay bale a few feet off the mark.
The instructor was satisfied with his effort, but Julius was not pleased with himself.
Four-year-old Octavian stepped up to the line, placing his arrow carefully on the string and raising the apparatus up to his torso. He placed his fingers on the string and drew it back to his chin as he was taught, lining up the shot meticulously. When he was precisely in line with the bull’s-eye, he drew in his breath and straightened his fingers.
The arrow flew in a tan blur to the target, striking the hay solidly in the ring surrounding the center, a full two feet closer to the bull’s-eye than his brother’s shot. He lowered his bow and smiled broadly, soaking in the praise from the instructor.
Realizing that he had beaten his brother for the first time, Octavian turned and smiled at his brother. Julius narrowed his eyes, his brow forming a V of anger as he felt hot envy course through him. Octavian wasn’t supposed to win! Julius was the older boy, the firstborn, the one who was better at everything.
Julius was jealous.
-----
It was a feeling he would not feel very often for the next ten years, as Julius showed his prowess at everything from board games to swordfighting to schoolwork. Julius was physically strong, mentally sharp, and fiercely competitive. His brother was not a bad specimen of a boy, but Julius was always showing Octavian up in everything they did together.
Everything, that is, but archery.
The boys grew up together, sharing friends, family, experiences, and relationships with others. They had a deep friendship and loyalty to one another, but there was rivalry between them also, which grew beyond the bounds of simple competition. The two grew farther and farther apart as time went on, to the point where they competed constantly and ardently about anything and everything.
To an outsider, it would have seemed as though they hated each other, but from Octavian’s perspective, there was no hate present at all; the brothers loved each other beyond measure and simply competed as brothers did (albeit continually).
It was in the year of Our Lord 1391, when Octavian was 14 and Julius was 15, that noted scientist and philosopher Democratus of the Roman Monarchy postulated to the kingdom a radical new concept: democracy.
This new form of government was based on the idea that government should be run by the people that are governed, and that the common people have the right to take part in the governing process by expressing their opinions and beliefs. In addition, the people of a nation are entitled to certain rights and freedoms that cannot be taken away by any man, least of all a king or an emperor.
Democratus was bold and, indeed, audacious to suggest his new discovery to the people, since most of the freedoms he believed were ineffaceable were in fact not enjoyed by most of the populace of Rome, and thus he was jeopardizing his reputation, his career, and his standing in society with his insinuation that perhaps the current government was not entirely acceptable.
It was popular opinion that while the king was not as generous as he could have been, he was nonetheless a benign and considerate ruler. On the other hand, radicals in the kingdom known as the Liberators had been urging the people to overthrow His Majesty Julius IV for many years. Democratus offered them a viable alternative to the current government, and their arguments began to carry more weight with the citizenry.
It was the opinion of Princes Julius and Octavian that their father was the best leader that the Romans had ever known, but a chance encounter with the Liberators would soon alert Octavian to the true state of affairs in their nation…
Comment