Fallen Warriors

And that was how she had ended up serving by Octavia’s side for three months now. She had expected herself to experience the wonders of ancient Rome, but now she was stuck in the villa most of the time, tending to Octavian’s brother as her handmaiden.

But it wasn’t a bad thing, Hesperia supposed. Octavia was nice enough, and always treated Hesperia like she was her older sister.

Hesperia opens her eyes to another ordinary day, the sky still gray and the birds still asleep. She stumbles clumsily out of her little niche which she had claimed by Octavia’s door, which Arcas, a fellow slave had found her. She treads the floor silently, and it is not long before the halls of the house are full of other slaves milling around. All of them keep silent, not to wake the masters still in bed; they have yet to prepare the first meal of the day before their attendants would need to wake them up.

-

Being tasked as the personal attendant of the lady Octavia herself, Hesperia heads towards a small private library that is rarely used by most of the people living in the household, except for one certain exuberant person with his nose so deep in the books that he visits it almost every morning, and he never fails to arrive on time, even today. He is the one that Hesperia has tried to avoid over the past months, but she now accepts his presence, and she tries not to think about how he was the reason she was bound to this house.

Octavian is already there, a warm orange of his lamp illuminating the scroll he is bent over. The light dances across the page of the book, as well as the freckles that are sprayed lightly across his cheeks. Hesperia presumes his mother is the reason why he is always awake early. Though Atia had never rid him of his books, she has always encouraged him to become more “trained in the masculine arts”, as she puts it.

Hesperia steps into the room, muttering a quick dominus, before looking to find poetry, the kind of literature Octavia favors most. She picks up The Iliad again, as she did yesterday, though it is neglected in the society. Octavian notices her pick up the scrolls, and he raises his eyebrows, amusement unmistakable from the way his lips curls itself into a grin.

“You’re reading the Iliad to my sister this morning.” He states, pointing at the scrolls she has already tucked into her sack. “Isn’t it a little, rebellious, dare I say? Why would you read her a scroll where her nation’s founders were humiliated to such great lengths?”

Hesperia doesn’t like the judging tone weaved under his words. He seems to play a mockery of her, and he has played ninety-nine days already.

It would feel nice to play against him. Especially today, when a party is to be held later today, when nobles of different houses some and mingle, when gossip was spread most.

Hesperia plasters a saccharine smile upon her face, fluttering her eyelashes mockingly, “Would you like me to read it to you, dominus?” She moves closer to the boy, “Maybe we can find out if it’s as rebellious as you believe it to be.” Hesperia reaches for his hand tentatively, but Octavian grabs her wrist and slams it to the wall he was leaning on. She pulls it away, fast, and it burns. She turns back to pick up the books.

“Listen here carefully,” Octavian hisses, “Do not, under any circumstances, make fun of me. I am your master and you know it. I give you this one generous chance as a warning to never, ever, do this again.”

Hesperia shuffles out silently with her sack of scrolls, not trying to incur the boy’s wrath. She would need to find another way. However, time is running out as she can see the orange glow that was not the torch Octavian held but the ascending sun that slowly makes its way over the horizon. Octavia would need to be waken up soon, and time was ticking.

She could almost feel his sharp gaze burning onto the nape of her neck as she hastens down the hall.

-

“Come on, Octavia, the sun is out.” Hesperia shakes Octavia a third time as the other girl rolls to the other side of her bed. “I brought the Iliad again,” Hesperia coaxes her, and the still dazed girl opens her eyes.

“The Iliad?” Octavia rubs her eyes, “I told you not to bring it yesterday! What if my mother and my brother find out? She would poison you somehow, and he would-”

“Bore me to death with all his talk of philosophies and whatnot?” Hesperia suggests, a smile creeping furtively to her lips. “Relax, he’s no harm.” She says it while rubbing her wrist unconsciously. She hopes Octavia doesn’t see it.

“He’s been with the legions before,” Octavia warns, “He’s now of higher status, being promoted by our uncle.”

“It doesn’t matter for me anyways,” Hesperia says, “I’m already at the bottom of the food chain. I have nothing to lose. What can he hold against me?”

“You don’t know of his mind games,” The other girl whispers this time, picking at her fingers, “He is far more contemptible than anyone can imagine when they see his young, innocent face. He is cruel, heartless, and he will tear out what he needs to achieve his goals,” Octavia’s voice shakes, “He is a cold-blooded snake.”

Hesperia flicks her eyes towards Octavia’s. She knows that Octavia is right, but she simply does not care. Nor does she want to believe her.

“Promise me.” Octavia grabs her hand.

“Huh?”

“Promise me that you will keep yourself from provoking him.”

“But I don’t provoke him.” Hesperia protests.

Octavia stares at her, waiting for an answer.

“Fine. I promise that I won’t make him mad as long as he doesn’t make me mad.”

“And if you do,” Octavia adds on, “I want you to remember that no one can save you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want to listen to the Iliad or not?”

Octavia smiles, and Hesperia takes this as a cue to start the second book of the epic.

“Now the great array of gods and chariot-driving men…” Hesperia drones on as she thinks about how long a morning this is going to be.

-

Hesperia was surprisingly let off duty for the rest of the day until the party starts. Apparently, Octavia told her that she wanted to introduce her to everyone, and she wanted her to relax for a while, to loosen her nerves.

She hasn’t read quietly for a long time, and she misses it. Hesperia makes her way to the library. She isn’t even sure if she was allowed in for her own desires, but no one sees her, and so she takes a step into the room she visits daily, but this time, it’s special.

Hesperia turns to the scrolls, and she runs her hands over them. She decides to just pick out a random one. It wasn’t like she had infinite time, after all. The one she pulls out is stored in a slim wooden box. It feels smooth and recently made.

She lifts the lid, and finds a small book bound by string inside it. As she examines the exterior, she finds a little signature scribbled on the bottom right corner of the book.

Gaius Octavius

This only prompts her to open the book.

-

The most prominent aspect of the book that catches Hesperia’s eye is that it is unfinished. She finds only a little more than a dozen pages written, the rest a complete blank. The next thing that she sees that there are dates in the written pages, the first one marked to be the first of January. The text themselves are delicately lined up, each written in careful print. It looks exactly like a diary, and she knows she should not touch it.

But she already has, and who cares what the supposedly future emperor thought?

She thumbs through the pages, back to the first. Hesperia knows that Octavian will not pass through here for until after the party, so she settles down and her gaze leads to the title underlined on January 1st.

The Calendar and Pompey