Domina Victrix

Chapter 2: October, 19 AD, Antioch, Roman Syria

Smoke wafted over the open campus martius or parade ground of the forum of Antioch. Victoria Antonia braced herself for the stench as the wind blew in the direction of the bema, a raised dais where her family and other dignitaries were seated. Her nose tingled with the odor of burnt pig, one of many animals sacrificed before the pyre containing the body of General Julius Caesar Germanicus could be set alight.

A local orator, who had been chosen to represent the city, mounted the tribune, a small platform set up between the dais and the pyre. She was sure she would know what he was going to say. For days they had heard nothing but the late General's daring exploits in battle, his exalted ancestry on both sides of his family, etc., etc.

Victoria let her mind wander, knowing there was one ancestor they would not be mentioning. She and Germanicus were cousins and their common forebear was Marcus Antonius, cavalryman, general, consul, triumvir, rebel, and traitor. Mark Antony had been married to four different women in his rise to glory and infamy. Years before, though, when he was just a trooper in the cavalry contingent or ala attached to Legio XII Fulminata, the Thunderbolt Twelfth, he had incurred a mound of debts from gambling and needed a quick fix. He struck a deal with a local freedman turned banker and merchant and entered a mismatched concubinage with the man's daughter Fadia. Of that marriage a son was born.

Victoria glanced over at her grandfather, Marcus, Jr., himself a general of cavalry and later Proconsul or Governor of Syria. In due time, Antony needed to make a better match and dismissed Fadia and their son. He married Hybrida, his own first cousin, and had a daughter with her. That girl, aunt to both Victoria and Germanicus, later married into the royal family of Pontus and her daughter was Victoria's mother, Tryphaena, seated ahead and to the right of Victoria on the dais.

Soon enough, Mark Antony took another step up in the world, marrying a wealthy Roman noblewoman named Fulvia. She would bear him two sons and was his equal in daring. It was Fulvia who, in the aftermath of Julius Caesar's assassination, threw her money and political support behind Octavian and Antony, even helping to raise part of their army. In time, though, the men tired of Fulvia and she either became ill and died, was poisoned or killed, no one knew for sure. Antony then married Octavia, sister of the man who became Augustus Caesar. Octavia and Antony had two daughters, the youngest one being the mother of Germanicus.

Germanicus had earned his cognomen on the battlefields of Germania, while still in his twenties. Like their grandfather, he too, lived hard and married well. His wife Agrippina sat in the first row on the women's side of the dais, her two eldest sons, Drusus and Nero, on either side of her. Caligula, the youngest, was already a terror at seven years old and had been left home.

In time, Germanicus was dispatched to Syria where he soon developed a feud with Marcus, Jr.'s successor as Governor, a man named Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso. As Germanicus was the nephew and adopted son and beir of Emperor Tiberius, he was able to have Piso removed from office and himself installed as Governor of Syria. Weeks later, he caught a fever and died. Agrippina, in her fury and grief, swore he had been poisoned by someone acting on behalf of Piso. Just who, no one knew for sure.

The oder of charred pork and incense laden with spices wafted over the bema as the mourners wailed, flutes shrilled, priests chanted, and Agrippina led her older sons, ages thirteen and eleven, toward their father's body on the bier. She was the daughter of Vipsanius Agrippa, Augustus' top general, and, through her mother, the granddaughter of Augustus himself, and she never let anyone forget those facts. A haughty, stern woman, she was in her element as the center of attention. Someone handed her a torch and she touched it to the bier to set it on fire. Returning the torch to an attendant, she came back to her seat.

At this point in a funeral, a family could choose to stay until the cremation was complete, or return later to collect the ashes. Agrippina planned to stay, which meant that her sons and the Antony family, as her husband's nearest relatives, had to stay, too. Victoria swallowed as the first wisps of a cloying sweet odor wafted over them. Burnt pig was bad enough, charred flesh was even worse. Other guests around them took their leave until the forum was almost empty. Angered by the perceived slight, Agrippina turnd in her seat.

"Where are they all going?" she snapped.

"Lady, the weather is cold and windy," Tryphaena said. "They've gone home to rest and will come for the feast."

Agrippina shot her an angry glare, not appeased by the answer. Tryphaena had the height and bold facial features of her Antony heritage. She looked like a princess and a goddess, which irked Agrippina even more. Another gust of incense blew over the bema, causing Old Marcus to cough and sneeze. That, too, earned a reproachful glance from Agrippina. Her son Drusus rubbed his watering eyes, but she nudged him to stop. Tryphaena offered the boy a handkerchief. Seeing it, Agrippina's fury increased and she pursed her lips as she thought of what to do.

"Prima!" she called out, then turned to Tryphaena, seated on the otber side of Drusus. "That oldest girl of yours? What does her father call her?"

"Victoria is her name," Tryphaena said.

"She should be Prima Antonia," Agrippina snapped. "Girls take only their father's name."

"In Rome, perhaps," Tryphaena kept her tone level. "But my husband and I wanted our girls to have names."

"Well, Victoria, where are you?" Agrippina snapped.

Victoria stood and walked round the row of chairs to bow before Agrippina on the very edge of the dais. Agrippina looked her over. She was thirteen, short, scrawny, but had somehow managed to sprout a woman's breasts and hips. She was pretty and she knew it. She was also too quiet and Agrippina thought her selfish and rude.

"I'm here, Lady," Victoria said.

Agrippina pointed to the burning pyre.

"What do you see there?" she asked.

Victoria watched the flames engulfing Germanicus' body, knowing it would seem impertinent to state the obvious.

"I hope, Lady, that I'm not seeing my future," she said.

"Well, that's exactly what it is," Agrippina said. "You think I'm something for following my husband to his campaigns. Hah! I know you've got a handsome legatus prancing on a desert stallion round and round your silly little head. Well, that right there is where he'll wind up and you'll be in my place."

Victoria shuddered and glanced at her mother, reading sudden fear and anger on Tryphaena's face.

"I hope not soon, Lady," she said and turned to go back to her seat, her knees knocking. Another gust of odor blew over her as her head started swimming. She felt herself falling and heard her mother scream.

"Victrix!" Young Marcus cried out. "No! Father?"