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At the Disii Villa, Rome
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Cassandra Disius stood in the entrance to her living quarters looking out over the courtyard where Cassius played. He had grown so much in the three years since his father had left to join the legions. She felt a tug at her gown and looked down to see her daughter Felicia. The little girl raised her arms, and Cassandra bent down and picked her up. The little child started speaking the language that only little children can speak and mothers can understand, relating a story about a horse riding across the meadow. Cassandra smiled. It was good that even the youngest of the family had retained some of the memories from Hispania.

Cassius was now fighting his servants off with a wooden sword. The slaves looking quite displeased with the vigor that their charge struck at them. Though only ten, Cassius dreamed of following his father to the legions. The privilege of being the grandson of a Consul would afford him opportunities that even he did not realize. Being in Rome alone had given the young man advantages most Roman boys his age did not have. He had taken to calling Consul Vitellius Uncle Quinus and often times would try to engage in discussions of military importance with his grandfather.

Tacitus, having never served in the legions himself, could offer the young boy no personal experience, but at night before bed he would regale the boy with tales of Rome’s legendary soldiers: the fall of Titus at Alexandria, the brave victories of Marius Vitellius in Germania, and others. But Tacitus also shared the dark stories of Roman misfortune: the loss of all lives in the foolish endeavor to liberate Cappadocia, the treachery of Vibius the snake, the treason of his own flesh and blood Maximus Disius as well as Julius Daia. Tacitus reasoned that the boy would learn enough about other Roman leaders in his history lessons and that it would be best to add flare to the men that he had known and conversed with, giving the boy living legends to model his life around.

Cassandra called out to her son, “Cassius! Be careful with that gladius that you may not splinter the hands of the house servants. Run along and wash for dinner.” Cassius looked at his mother across the courtyard. Disappointed with his mandatory break, Cassius turned his wooden sword over to the servant who gladly took it by the hilt so that the boy could not resume his attacks. Cassius thought of saying something to his mother, but had learned long ago that she was a force to be reckoned with. She had since ceased punishing him by physical means as though he were nearly a man, yet his mother’s tongue remained sharp and her words often stung more harshly than had her hand.

**After Dinner**

Dinner had been uneventful. There were no guests this evening and very little conversation. Tacitus had come home from the Senate with a stern look on his face and everyone knew not to discuss the business of the State at the table unless guests brought it up. He maintained a pleasant demeanor at the table as Cassius replayed his battles for all to hear and Felicia struggled to get her food to her mouth without dropping it for the hounds.

Tacitus now sat in his study looking over his latest reports. Financially the state of the Empire was holding steady, but the military costs of the war were beginning to take a toll on the economic outlook. Despite rigorous debates within the Senate halls, there were still those opposed to his latest plans for economic stability.

Tacitus heard a slight knock at his door and looked up from his scrolls to see Cassius standing there, politely awaiting approval for entrance. “Come my, boy. What mischief are you up to this night?”

“Nothing grandfather. I come not in jest. I have had my fill of play for the day.”

Tacitus laughed at the response. “Indeed. I have heard that you nearly cost me the better portion of the house servants. If you were to dispatch them, I should have to replace them. If not for play, what reason brings you to my study?”

“Forgive me, grandfather; I know that this place is sacred to your work.” Cassius turned to leave.

“No, no. I suppose you are old enough. You shall soon be a young man. It is best that you know the workings of the Empire before I depart for Elysium. I trust that your studies go well?” Tacitus had hired tutors to teach his grandson the basics of Roman education. From what his tutors reported, Cassius would soon be ready for more organized education, far ahead of his peers.

“They are well, sir. I much like studying history. Someday I hope to be a hero of Rome.” He spoke with such conviction and childhood ambition that Tacitus could not help but smile. “I can read and write Latin and have already begun reading some of the great works of literature and the works of Plato.”

“Indeed. I should find you a tutor that can teach you in the words of the Greeks so that the stories of Alexander may come to life.” Tacitus was speaking mainly to himself and then startled back to his audience. “So, what is it, dear Cassius that your old grandfather can do for you?”

Cassius faltered. “I….uh…”

With a smile Tacitus broke in. “Here is a lesson before your time. When you speak, speak with authority lest someone read fear, or worse yet ignorance, into your stumbling.”

The young boy took the lesson to heart and puffed up his chest. “I come to ask if you have received word from my father.” When he had finished the statement an audible sound of exhaust came from his mouth as though he had been holding his breath while speaking.

Tacitus looked his grandson in the eye. “Oh. Well, I have never had direct communication with him. That is a question better served of your mother.”

“She won’t discuss it with me. I ask her nearly every day, yet she does not answer my question beyond, ‘he is doing well.’ When I ask if I shall see him soon, she simply says, ‘he will be gone for a long time.’ Then she changes the subject on me to my studies or my habits of chewing my cuticles.”

Tacitus pondered on the boy’s comments. It was not like Cassandra to shift conversation unless something was wrong. He made a mental not to discuss it with his daughter later. “I promise you that I shall speak with her.”

“Thank you, grandfather.” The boy’s eyes strayed to the reports lying on the desk. “What word is there from Aegyptus?” Cassius loved to hear the tales of the great battles in Roman history and he considered it the blessing of the gods that he should live through an actual war and hear legends as they were born.

The elder statesman’s eyes grew dark. He stood and took the boy by the shoulder and led him to the wall where a map of the entire ancient world had been created. Tacitus had no way to know the actual events of the day, but he enjoyed embellishing the story. Perhaps he would arrange for Marcus Sabaco or Fortunus Julianus to visit his grandson to tell the true story. “It was early in the morning, the mist hovering over the dark waters of the Nile. The legions of Proconsular Legate Marcus Sabaco stood ready to ford the murky waters to face the gathered masses of Seleucid archers, phalanxes, elephants and most dangerous, the Companion cavalry…”

**Later**

“…Emperor Pertinax sat upon his mount surveying the battlefield. The Roman and Seleucid dead littered the sandy ground, stained blood-red. Despite the heavy losses, the Romans held the day and her eagles flew high above the earth that day.”

There was a small cough from the doorway. “I think that is quite enough blood for one evening. Cassius, run off for bed, I shall see you in the morning.” As he left, she stopped him and kissed the top of his head.

She watched him make his way down the corridor. It seemed like just yesterday he had to be carried wherever he went and soon he would leave her, just as her husband had. She turned back to her father. “I wish you wouldn’t encourage him. He gets quite enough from his tutors.”

Tacitus looked at his daughter’s face. There were lines of worry and fear that he had not noticed before. “Cassandra, what is troubling you?”

“Nothing father. I am just tired. Sleep has not been coming well.”

“What news about Servius bothers you? Unfortunately I have been so busy with work that I have failed to notice, but the children can tell, especially young Cassius.”

At hearing this Cassandra stiffened. She was a woman who wept in private. “It is nothing, father.”

“Dearest daughter, have you not carried the burden of your responsibilities for too long? I should not have let you take such close care of your mother in her last years. I robbed you of your childhood at such an early age, something I pray you will forgive. But I sense that something is wrong, and you are too stubborn to admit it. Even the armor of such a stoic woman as you has its weakness.”

Cassandra heard the words of her father and pondered them. Slowly and softly she began, “I have not received word from him for near to 7 months. When he left for the legions he told me that he would join up with the units in Africa so that he might be of most use. Since the fall of Alexandria I dream of his face. He comes to me at night and bids me pray for his soul. As he comes closer I see it; his face has been washed of the stains of battle, but there is no mistaking the blood that soaks his brow. When he comes to me, sleep departs and I lay in my bed soaked in my own sweat.”

Tacitus, hearing the words of his daughter moved closer and took her in a strong embrace. “Dear child, when last did you hear from him?”

A tear now rolled gently down her cheek. “I received word from him after the Libyian engagement where the Aegyptians were destroyed. He was with Marcus Sabaco, the Augusta Legion. But I haven’t heard a word since.”

Tacitus knew that after the battle his son-in-law’s legion marched toward the Nile. He also knew, after reading the latest dispatches, that the Augusta Legion had been decimated in the battle he had just retold for his grandson. There was no way for his daughter to know of what events had transpired. He held his daughter at arm’s length. “Cassandra, I shall write to Legate Justius Alus of news of your husband. Dry your tears, the gods will protect him, wherever he is. Now go. Tuck your children into their beds. They need there mother right now, and I am sure you need them.” Tacitus kissed his daughter on the forehead and she quietly turned and exited the room.

The oil lamps cast light across the room and the flicker caused a slight ache in Tacitus’s head. He sat at his desk and picked up the dispatch from Aegyptus bearing the total casualties from the battlefields. It would be a while before the lists reached Rome, bearing the names of the soles ferried into the afterworld. The dead now totaled 45,610 Romans. Nearly one-third of the wounded had not lived to celebrate the so called victory. Tacitus could not help but sense that his daughter’s husband was among them.

He pulled out some parchment and began his letter:

“Legate Justius Alus, Hero of Rome and Friend,
Dispatches have begun to arrive in Rome of the costly victory of the Nile, including a nasty rumor that you have lost one of your eyes to a Seleucid spear. If that is the case, I think all Roman women may have a fighting chance against your straying glances. And no doubt your wife will be the most relieved of all of them.

My prayers to Venus have lifted the souls of the men that fought and died that day. And it is of that day that I write. One of the men under your command was my daughter’s husband. Truth told I have never met the man, nor had any communication with him, but it was my son that finalized the signing of the marriage contract. His name is Servius Maxus. I know not his rank, nor his status. As a favor to me, Justius, would you check with your men to clarify the whereabouts of my son-in-law? My daughter senses something is awry, yet I have not told her of the outcome of the battle and the losses suffered by your legion.

Signed,
A. Tacitus Disius
Senator of Rome”

**During the Night**

Cassandra tossed in her bed as the vision of her husband appeared once more to her. She saw his face, only this time there was no sign of battle or blood. He leaned closer and spoke to her while she dreamed, “My dearest, pray you now for my soul and fear not for your beloved. For I ride my horse in Elysium. The fields are fair and remind me of our Hispania. Cry not for me for I have found peace. I shall always miss you, my darling. Tell young Cassius that his father died a hero of Rome and fell at the Battle of the Nile protecting the eagles of the Roman Legion. Sleep well and let not your soul be troubled.” Cassandra rolled in her sleep, tears gently fell to her pillow and yet a slight smile crossed her lips. She would sleep soundly for the first time in months.

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By: A. Tacitus Disius

AD 63