**Disii Estate, Tivoli, Latium**

The night air was crisp and cool. A lone figure stood on the portico gazing at the Eastern horizon. Senator Tacitus Disius pleaded each night for a quick slumber, to see Apollo crest the hills of Tivoli and once again bring light to the world. Tacitus had always had trouble sleeping, but since the loss of his close friend and confidant, Tacitus wrestled evermore with the urge inability to find peace.

It had been a year since he had last visited Rome, though dispatches arrived daily. The once tall, proud Tacitus Disius was now frail, stooped, and his eyes sunk deep into his skull, thick bags adding shadow to his already grim appearance. To an outsider, the appearance of this man, standing under the moonlight, covered in a dark cloak, would surely be viewed as an ill omen. To those of the Disii Estate, it had become as regular as the drills that the Aegis continued to practice.

Soon, the elderly man turned and entered his villa leaving the coolness of the night outside. However, the coolness of his lonely spirit remained with him as he entered the light of his study. The daily dispatches from the Senate of Rome had been as small as ever in recent months. It seemed as though that the men of the Senate were contented to tour other parts of the Empire than address the pressing issues of state. And the messages Tacitus received from the Senate were filled with the arrogance and naivety of youth and the unwillingness of experienced politicians to step forward and intervene. Thus, the Senate wandered aimlessly as though a ship without a main mast.

Tacitus read the latest correspondence from Quinus Vitellius and chuckled to himself, not because he found the letter to be humorous, but at the folly and lack of leadership shown by his experienced friend. In the midst of such turmoil over a housing shortage, economic shortfalls, and a pending military crisis, now was not the time to be joking. The only sanity that Tacitus had seen in Rome came not from one of the sitting Senators, but from his old friend and rival, Pertinax Veno, former Emperor and now permanent Proconsul to Hispania. In his latest letter to the Proconsul, Tacitus had wished Pertinax luck in trying to stop the foolishness running amok in Rome. Times had certainly changed since Tacitus and Pertinax served in the Senate.

Tacitus sat down at his desk and began to draft a letter to Rome; he no longer had the strength to fight against the forces that beckoned financial ruin:

“Members of the Roman Senate,
I write this letter to you to inform you of my decision to step down as Curator Fiscus. I have managed the accounts of the Senate Estate for 10 years and in that time have seen 30 million sesterces gained through fiscal prudence. Since my time as Curator Fiscus, the Roman economy has recovered from recession brought about by war and managed to remain steady, though ever delicate, during the latest military excursions. I have been apprising the Emperor of the cash reserves held by the Senate Estate and have also discussed with him my inclinations on how the money is to be spent and the future of the Senate Estate.

The direction of the Senate in recent years has led me to believe that my experience in the Roman economy and the financial markets is no longer needed. This Senate has continually, with minor exceptions, failed to heed my words of caution and has fool-heartedly forced legislation and projects that have done nothing but weaken the economy I have spent the last decade attempting to strengthen. I no longer have the drive to fight against the folly of this body.

Upon the confirmation of a new Curator Fiscus, I shall hand over all records of the Senate Estate and step aside and let this body guide the economy to the demise it has worked so hard to achieve in recent years.

Signed,
A. Tacitus Disius
Senator of Rome”

**The Next Day**

The sun was already pouring through the house when Tacitus awoke. It had taken him many hours to succumb to sleep, but once he had drifted off, he slept peacefully for the first time in nearly six months. He was startled by the lateness of the hour as he entered the dining area.

“Good morning, Grandfather, I was beginning to think you had passed to Elysium last night.” The young man was seated on a chaise and moved to stand. Tacitus waved to him to remain, but the young man rose nevertheless and moved to stand at the elderly man’s side.

“Cassius, it is good to see you, child. I fear that the gods will take me soon enough, but there is much yet I need to prepare for before I depart. Is your mother well?”

Cassius smiled. He enjoyed it, even now, on the brink of manhood, when his grandfather called him child. His father had died many years ago and his mother had never remarried. Tacitus, though his grandfather, was the only father figure the young man had ever known. “Aye, she is well. Daeia and Octavia ensure it. They do not let her rest.”

Tacitus smiled. “And you, what of your engagement? Do the plans progress for the marriage celebration?”

Tacitus noticed a hint of rouge cross the boy’s cheek at the mention of the nuptials. “That is the reason for my visit today. You have already consented to allow Caedria and me to live in the Roman villa. I am here to ask your permission to hold a celebration here, in Tivoli. I know that you dislike visitors in the estate, but…”

“For you, I shall open it to all of Rome.” Tacitus interrupted. “I shall be honored to host the celebration of your marriage. Octavius will need a list of those invited in order to adequately prepare the security.” It was subtle, but a command all the same.

“Of course.” Cassius, now sixteen years old stood shoulder to shoulder with his grandfather. It was not too many years ago that his mother had moved back to Rome, but it was a lifetime to the young Roman. Outside of a few memories of the Disii horse farms in Hispania, Cassius had all but forgotten his birthplace. He had in every way become Roman. Living in Rome with his grandfather had afforded him luxuries that many young men in his situation took for granted. His grandfather had spared no expense to provide the best of educations and his tutors had given him an edge that placed him above many.

As the two men continued to talk about the upcoming celebrations, Frugius entered the room and handed a scroll to the Senator. The elderly man unrolled the parchment and read with steady deliberation. When he finished reading he lowered the scroll, “Send word to Rome of my condolences.” He handed the scroll over to his grandson.

Cassius read the report. When he finished reading, he calmly rolled the scroll back up and handed it to Frugius. “It will stir the city.”

“Perhaps,” Tacitus said matter-of-factly, doubting the truth in his grandson’s statement. “But he was not significant; the people will quickly forget his loss.”

“Yes, but the cowards in the Senate will raise an uproar about their own safety. These ‘random’ acts always get their blood boiling.” At these words, Tacitus looked at his grandson. It seemed like yesterday that he was a young boy who chased after his servants with a wooden gladius, now a young man well versed and quick of wit sat across from him. A wave of pride swept over him as he looked at the man his grandson had become. Tacitus thought to himself, “Gods help the Senate if Cassius decides to run for office.”

**Rome, the Villa of Julius Maxitinus Agrippa**

Saera Caedria Agrippa knelt at the lararium in her father’s villa. The sky had grown dark and oil lamps lit the entire house. Shadows danced on the wall facing her, evidence of the activity of the other room. Tomorrow she would be married to a young man she loved as ever she had loved another. She had known Cassius since they were young children. They had played together while the Senators of Rome hosted grand parties and dinners where children were not invited to take part. She had loved him then, and she loved him now.

She placed her locket upon the shrine, an offering to the lares of her father’s house, her ancestors who had guided and protected her from her earliest memories. On top of the locket, she placed the doll that had been given to her by her mother. In a sign of surrender of her childhood, she prepared for her marriage ceremony.

When she finished, she beckoned her servant to help her as she tried on her tunica recta to secure a good omen. The long gown reached to her feet and elegantly framed her body. “My girl, you look lovely,” said the servant and helped her take the gown off and store it until the morning. Caedria returned to the hustle of the family party in the other room.

**The Next Day**

The omens had been taken and the gods smiled upon the union. The sun was still low in the Eastern sky as Caedria, helped by her mother, pulled her tunica recta over her head and let it flow once more to her feet. Caedria spread her arms wide as her mother tied the tunic around the waist with woolen yarn. Later in the day, once the ceremony was over, Cassius would be the one to untie the knot of Hercules that gathered the tunic to her waist.

As her mother stepped aside, the servants began the other preparations. They draped a veil over her tunic, the bright yellow color of eternal fire, which she would don later in the day. Then they seated her and began to groom her hair. The separated her locks into six sections, using a ceremonial spear tip, the very one her mother had used at her own wedding. In the tradition of the Vestal Virgins, the hair was coiled and held secure by ribbons.

“My daughter, the gods have blessed me with your presence. May they bless Cassius as much.” Caedria’s mother bent down and placed a floral wreath upon her daughter’s head. Cassius and Caedria had gone the day before to the Legionary Memorial Garden, with the permission of Tacitus Disius, and gathered the flowers that they would use to unite in matrimonium.

Caedria stood and embraced her mother. Tears flowed gently down her pale cheek. “Mother, I shall not forget what you have taught me. I shall ever be the true Roman wife, loyal and honorable. But I shall always be your daughter.”

The servants busied themselves making last minute preparations. The time for the ceremony had come. Caedria, escorted by her mother moved to the atrium where close friends and family had gathered, ten in all according to ancient traditions. The villa had been decorated with large bouquets of flowers and boughs of trees. Strings of wool and rich tapestries were hung as well to add another form of décor.

Caedria moved to the seat prepared for her and was joined by Cassius. The two were seated upon the skin of a sacrificed sheep. Cassius tried to look at Caedria, but could barely make out her features through his own and her veil. Their hands were joined together as the small crowd watched and listened as the couple was blessed. Upon completion of the prayers, the priest in attendance offered another sacrifice and pronounced the completion of the ceremony.

The gathered witnesses cheered and congratulated the couple. At the sound of the end of the ceremony other people who had been awaiting the ceremony’s completion moved to congratulate the couple. The house servants began to flood the dining area with extravagant food and drink. The party continued for many hours into the early evening.

Upon time of departure and in preparation for the wedding procession the ceremonial wedding hymn was sung by the visitors as Cassius ceremoniously pulled Caedria from the grip of her mother, and led her out of the villa into the streets of Rome. A crowd had gathered at the gates of the villa as the sounds of the celebration had been evident since early morning.

As the crowd parted, Cassius moved away from the procession and met with his men to distribute nuts, sweetmeats, sesame cake and loaves of bread in the crowd. Behind him, Caedria was escorted by three young boys, two held one of her hands while the third marched in front carrying a lighted torch of white thorn, the glow illuminating her face as night approached. Just behind Caedria a boy carried the camillum, a vase that contained the utensils of the bride as well as toys for future children. Alongside the camillus an elderly woman carried a spindle of wool in one hand and a distaff in the other. Both of these people signified the roles Caedria would play as wife, mother, and keeper of the house.

As the procession made its way to the Disii Villa the crowd sung loudly the risqué songs of tradition and shouted the ancient marriage song “Tallasio!” Many in Rome viewed this particular practice of marriage as outdated and after stopping briefly to watch the procession and perhaps receive some free food from the groom, they went upon their ways. Others, who were more traditional, reveled in the festiveness that flowed through the streets of Rome.

As the procession reached the gates of the villa the guards of the Aegis that had been sent to Rome for this occasion marshaled the invited guests into the compound and closed the gates. Other men, hired by the groom distributed bread and nuts to the remaining crowd and wished them well as they went upon their way.

Inside the walls of the villa compound Caedria had already wrapped the door posts in wool and was now anointing them with lard. When she had finished, two men lifted her from the ground to carry her across the threshold of the villa. When they set her back to her feet in the atrium, Cassius met her with the traditional sacraments of fire and water. Caedria dipped her hand in the water and passed it through the fire, signifying the purification of her heart and her readiness to become head of the household. She held Cassius’s hand and looked into his eyes, “Ubi tu Cassius, Ego Caedria.”

Caedria moved to a chair covered with the same sheep skin from earlier in the day and was presented with the spindle of wool and the distaff. Cassandra Disius, her new mother, presented her with the keys to the villa symbolizing the shift in control of the household. Caedria accepted the keys out of tradition, but knew that she could never take over Cassandra’s house.

Cassius moved to the door; the friends and family had waited outside of the villa while the last ceremonial touches were conducted. “Family, friends, Romans, let the festivities begin!” A great cheer went up from the crowd. Many jovial libations could be heard from the Disii Villa long into the night.
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Written by: A. Tacitus Disius

AD 69