Letter 10

This is a letter written by Tacitus around 323 YBCE, detailing the months it took to march the legion back to Exeter, as well as the aftermath of their return, and the public and bureaucratic reactions. In it, Tacitus observes the camaraderie amongst the men they led: the relief, sadness and joy all simultaneously upon their faces, and, most notably, the sight of the princeps showing something other than vengeance. According to other accounts, the legion barely suffered any casualties on the way home, and Julia took it upon herself to make sure the army was well-fed and sheltered during their marches. Some scholars admit that their ease on the way home could be attributed to lower numbers, but as Tacitus and other accounts also observed, Julia herself was much more involved in their welfare—and their celebrations. We also see Julia begin to understand her own position as Emperor, and begin the process of listening to others, even if it was difficult for her. We also see Tacitus and his comrades be offered a unique authority that they otherwise never had previously, which was a choice that Julia was likely both grateful for administering, and partially regretful.

- E. Celestina

In our march home, I recall rations had improved across all remaining cohorts. Thanks to her decree, all hydration would be received either by ale or by stews and broths, with raw water ingestion being discouraged unless the source was directly from the Lake District. It had been surmised by Cassian and other nightsmen that the surrounding Dragonkin knew of our victory over Gomorrah, as they declined to assault us directly and only attempted at night. Lighting barrels of tar kept the Wyverns away.

As the sun fell, before every supper, I as a senior officer took part in the funeral rites. Drusus had told us how these rites went during our classes at the Gardens, but never I expected to participate in one so soon. The helmets, which were carried by the cartful, heavy and numerous but necessary for our customs and our honor, were handed to the top twenty or so senior officers as we noted the name branded on the inside back of the helmet and spoke their name aloud around the central pyre of our campgrounds. Despite there being a good number of us, doubtful did I believe we would be able to address every single soldier who fell before we could return. I said my prayers regardless, my quota of one-hundred for the evening, before participating in a central prayer around the fire as our surrounding soldiers took part. I found this prayer strange, even when Drusus informed us of it in the Gardens. Exetia never really held much weight toward the gods. Though, upon asking for Augusta’s word, she said “We may not follow any one God, but THEY still watch us and our dead. We must respect, even if we do not follow.”

After the evening rites had concluded, the night camps turned to celebrations. Ales, meads, and other brews were pulled out for our men to celebrate. Augusta had ordered that no alcohol be drunk until Gomorrah had fallen, for there was no purpose in celebrating before victory, but now she had let her restrictions loosen. I remember, one evening, Augusta sitting amongst her men, watching as they cheered and chattered and celebrated and smashed their ales together, while she remained with just a bowl of stew that every ordinary soldier was issued. Even when it came to cooking, the princeps never wanted to elevate herself above them. I gave her a little exception, I remember, and handed her a small branch of grapes that I had found growing by a riverside. They were the same color as her eyes.

“Trying to poison me, Tribune?” she had asked. I only laughed, I believe, and wrapped my coat around her. Though she was good at hiding it, her smaller frame made it clear she was cold in the cool air of the north. She had told me, a day after slaying Gomorrah, that her Path power felt weak—perhaps overexerted, and so she felt almost the same exposure to the elements as any normal person. I ate one grape to prove my loyalty, and she only shoved me on the shoulder and said I did not have to bother before quietly eating them.

I had asked if she had drunk any ale yet. She denied it, and that is when I knew it was time to address my thoughts. We were halfway home, and thus I felt, at the time, it was good to properly debrief on our expedition. “Shall I speak the truth, Lady Augusta?”

“Speak.”

“This expedition was reckless and unprepared. I did all I could in a week’s time, but half of our men were lost to slay that beast. If this were against a human army, I fear I may need to reprimand this journey harder. Against monsters, it is tougher to quantify. Yet, even so, despite that factor, Princeps, your path of vengeance cost the lives of twenty-five-thousand.”

Augusta, then, took a sip of her broth and stared at the campfire and not at myself. I could not read her, both then and now. “I could perhaps inform you of all of the logistics, though I imagine you bore of those reports from the other Junior Tribunes. What I must ask, instead, is this: was this worth it, Augusta?”

She may have taken one or two more moments to gather her thoughts. Yet, they were short and succinct. “Yes. The beast has been slain. The town was liberated. Exetia’s biggest concern has been eliminated.”

“I understand. Then was this worth it, Julia?”

At this, she must have taken much more time to gather. I felt her lean on me, if ever a little. “I do not know.”

For some reason, I felt my heart ease, for the same uncertainty clouded my own head and judgment. “Then let us return, Princeps. Perhaps when we see what the world thinks, we will find out what the answer is.”

“Or, perhaps, it will just become further clouded by all the voices.”

“Choose the ones to listen to, then,” I had said.

“I am.”

The homecoming, as I recall, was held with much grandeur. When the gates of Exeter opened, lined were the streets with our citizens, shouting and cheering the name of Augusta as she silently watched on horseback with her officers. Banquets were called, celebrations were requested to be had, yet Augusta, once she returned to the Exetian Square, denied all wishes to formally celebrate yet. She told her people that, like her father always did, honoring the dead would come first. Indeed, we had not finished naming the over twenty thousand helmets that we bore with us on our march back, so Augusta held an impromptu funeral rite right then and there, and ordered her men to get all helmets returned to the families that deserved it. From my estimate, we had recovered and returned ninety percent of them, which was much more than expected, yet for her, myself, and all of our senior officers, it still was not enough.

Only after the pyre calmed and the helmets named and returned did Augusta accept a city-wide celebration. I recall the loud, boisterous clamoring of instruments from drunken men, the laughter of women and children, and my own joking with Marcus and Cassian, who, much to my chagrin at the time, questioned why I had given my coat to the Princeps on our march home. She had not returned it, nor did I ask for it. I recall declining to elaborate, and ordered my friends as their superior to drink their ale with more haste. Alas, Cassian we had to carry home to his parents. On that subject, my mother, once I found her in the busy streets, was tearful yet proud. To her, seeing her son of fifteen years march away must have felt like the world was leaving her. If you are reading this, my apologies, mother. Yet, I recall the joyful wrinkles upon the corners of your eyes when you embraced me. At that moment, I believe, we had little to apologize to each other for.

In the days that followed, the celebrations turned to a quiet scrutiny. While much of Exetia was satisfied with her victory, there were a few quiet yet disturbing dissenting voices. As I did my rounds of marching around the streets, which yes, I acknowledge as my rank of Tribune made such a job unnecessary for me, but my boredom as a child left me eager to walk around outside of my offices, I overheard peoples with all manner of opinions of the conquest we took part of. Knowing that the Princeps would benefit from hearing the people’s voices directly, yet careful not to bring her to any unnecessary risk, I asked my officers to gather letters from all varieties of peoples to write to her. Some of these letters, which I and Augusta found most poignant, I have reserved in this journal for those who come after.

A Senatorial Hearing was conducted, two weeks after our return, and allegedly after the Senate had reviewed all of the reports of our conquest, my own included. Their role before Augustin would have been to adjudicate the Consul(1), and debate on whether they have a right to remain or be expunged from their office before their two-year contract was finished. Yet, after Augustin’s reforms, their power had been reduced substantially, and as I recall, Augusta merely had to hear them out as if they were simple advisors. Still, as a partaker of the hearing, their words were powerful, as even though they did not have the direct leverage over the Princeps, these debates were open to the public forum with a certain price(2), and as such it could very well alter the public opinion of the reigning Princeps. Senator Pubicus(3), whose name, I must admit, was amusingly appropriate considering his position, said his word upon Augusta that many could have interpreted as slanderous. Though his manner of speaking was calm, he declared her, effectively, a butcher of twenty-five-thousand lives, and demanded that she question the laurels upon her head if she were to consider her reign further. Senator Quintus, hunched and elder in age, asked if her youth was a hindrance or a help to Exeter, and heavily pontificated afterwards that she was the former. Dozens of those old crows said their piece, and after four hours of hearings of which Augusta had accepted she not speak back, for it was a custom older than the Principate itself, she appeared exhausted as we returned to our quarters.

Augusta knocked upon my quarters later that night requesting an evening discourse, though of course as her inferior I could not decline. She emerged and hastefully took part in my bowl of grapes, yet because of the usualness of her company yet the peculiarity of her at this hour, I dared not question her. She told me, instead, of when she returned to her palace and fell into her mother’s arms, and the two cried, by her account, hours. Then, after the tears ceased, Lady Alexandria put her at arm’s reach and slapped her, admonishing her for her recklessness. Augusta continued, and if I may attempt to recall her words verbatim:

“She said that she did not live through the deaths of nine sons and her husband, simply to see her daughter be burned away, too.”

Though she could not overcome the rank of Princeps, the power of motherhood, I thought, could not be overridden by any official title. It was then that Augusta had realized how much she had lost for her vengeance, and, as so it appeared, was starting to understand the words I had given her at camp during our marches back. I told her that she could partake in the rest of my grapes, if she were to accept reading the letters my officers had compiled for that night. Reluctant, she took them. I did not see her for three days after that, and after asking other officers, it appeared she had left the city temporarily to visit her old wet nurse Andromeda in Thebia. I did not learn of what occurred on this trip until weeks later, yet it was apparent that Andromeda had told her something to change her sense of mind. She had, in essence, asked her what the true strength of the Principate was, because vengeance, as she had learned, was certainly not one of them.

“Slaughtering Gomorrah and thousands of its monsters for the trade of twenty-five-thousand soldiers did nothing to revive Constantinus. What will you do now, Julia?”

Upon her return, she gathered her highest ranking officers within her receiving quarter(4), and gave us a direct order that she promised she would not rescind: the order to veto her if the situation was deemed appropriate. There were six officers in the room: myself, the Tribune; Cassian Gaius Agrippa, Junior Tribune; Marcus Gnaeus Juno, High Praetor; Hadrian Secundus Hagia, High Praetor; Trajan Claudius Sophia, Junior Tribune and the eldest; and Perseus, Scholar Advisor from Thebia. She declared that if we felt she made a decision that made us uncomfortable, that we had a right to veto and alter her decision if all of us, including Augusta, came to a majority vote. If ties were ever to occur, whether it be due to death, sickness or general absence, then it would be settled through how all of us were trained since we were children: martial combat, until one side could no longer continue fighting. While we were reluctant, she told us this power she gave us was absolute, “until my body empties of its blood”. From that, we could not question her further. She then tested us with this newfound authority we had, as she informed us of the decree she would make the following morning.

I recall standing by her at midday, watching her in her imperial stola, which no doubt made her uncomfortable both emotionally and physically in the Exetian sun. Her decree that day, upon the Exetian Square, was to abolish male primogeniture, male-only military enrollment, male-only education in many fields, and a slew of other legal discriminations. Her order was, as a woman holding the foremost office, to allow those of her sex equal opportunity in military and education. Across the streets I recall not immediate jubilation, yet I know she further asked:

“If you all accept me up here, and celebrate my victories, then celebrate the lives and victories of your daughters as well! Allow them the chance to wield the same sword, and slay the same monsters as I have. Your sons I hold in high honor: both the living and the dead. I wish to grant your daughters that very same honor. Otherwise, this position I hold is hypocritical.”

Over the following weeks, while the changes were tenuous and uncertain for many, I was informed of an influx of female students taking part in the Pedagogue Gardens where I had once studied. For every three boys there was a girl, which proved to me that Augusta’s wish was not her own. Within Exetia, it seemed there were countless young women who desired to reach her, and she had granted them the opportunity. There were, as I noted, the dissenters who publicly protested, and only thought she made this choice so that she could replace the lives of the twenty-five-thousand she had lost. Yet, before one particular dissenter, I remember her unfurling a scroll and handing it to him, to which she consecutively listed five-hundred-and-seventy-three names from that scroll that she had personally handwritten; names that were personally a part of her battalion. She told him he was free to despise her choices, but she would not forget those who died for that choice. The dissenter spoke not a word and, according to hearsay, left Exeter that same night.

Footnotes: 

1. Consul: an elected office chosen by the Senate back when Exetia was primarily a Senate-run nation. Two consuls were elected, and while both held immense public power, they only held it for two years and the Senate could impeach them by ¾ majority.

2. "these debates were open to the public forum with a certain price...": The price to watch a Senatorial hearing was beyond a common citizen’s budget; upper-class often attended.

3. Senator Pubicus: In other surviving records, the name was actually Publicus, but perhaps Tacitus was making a joke because of his low opinion of the Senator.

4. "she gathered her highest ranking officers within her receiving quarter...": Julia’s room in the Imperial Offices was two-layered: one for receiving guests and officers, and one deeper that contained her sleeping quarters. Both were guarded by hand-picked legionnaires.