Why I get second place no one has explained. But I am second. It has taken me some time to get my thoughts corralled. Lucumo was part of my life from that day I tumbled into his lap at the wrestling matches.
Mother and Father had given me permission to go alone, without the supervision of the slave whose task was to keep me safe from or for something never explained to me.
My letter to him who stole and held my heart.
Lucumo, the day we entered the mud hut, mud mentality of that horrid village called Rome we agreed you would never again be Lucumo. Romans liked to think three impressive names was the way to go. That day you became Lucius Tarquinius Priscus. We agreed you would never again be called Lucumo. But in my most vulnerable moments you always remained Lucumo, the Greek who never quite measured up to Etruscan standards. But you knew, and I knew you were destined to greatness. It was foretold by the eagle on Mount Janiculum; it was your drive, your vision, your ambition that made you what you were, that made Rome what she became.
We entered that mud hut village. To the north the Etruscan alliance wielded great power. To the southeast Greek colonies thrived with no decline in sight. To the southwest Phoenicians ruled with little challenge. Rome, that mosquito infested land of backward thinking people was at the mercy of three powers, any one of which might one day control the whole area.
But you set Rome on the road to greatness unequaled for so long, valued for even longer. You my dear unappreciated Greek alien were a nation builder. Julia, Cartimandua and Jewellee will, if asked, give testimony to your legacy. A legacy that has stretched from our time to Jewellee's.
I cherish the day you stuck out your foot and toppled me into your life and into a life only princesses can dream of.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Letters to our Mates
How does it happen that I, Julia, am coerced into writing the first letter to my dead husband? But I did agree. So here is my letter. First I had a serious decision to make. Since I was married three time, which husband would I address?
I decided.
Here is my choice and my letter.
To Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa
We both know that few marriages in our age were born of love. The majority were negotiated for economic considerations - for the upper classes economic and political considerations. Never more so than in our marriage. On your part and mine.
When I was married to Marcellus I was caught up in the passion of young love. I was so sure of my destiny. I would be the wife of the Emperor of Rome -- the First Lady of Rome. The first lady of Rome-- equal to or greater than my step mother, Livia. Marcellus was Augustus's nephew, and lacking other offspring he was destined to succeed him.
But Marcellus died and with him my dreams. Until you. You were second only to my father. Augustus may have inherited his position from his uncle Julius Caesar, but it was in great part your military and administrative genius along with your loyalty that catapulted him into the power he had. Therein lies our alliance.
You needed a secure link to the imperial power. What better way that a marriage connection to Augustus? And who was available but me?
What better chance did I have to achieve my dream of being First Lady than to be married to you? We met each other's political needs.
Ours was a complicated relationship. You so much older -- my father's age. You were gone so often and for so long to far flung corners of the Empire. I was alone at home with the children. I, fun seeking, sexually adventurous and restless was not faithful to you. You knew. You, who unlike most other men were never unfaithful to me.
But my dear Agrippa, amid my rashest moments I knew no one who so calmed my restless spirit, who checked my careless behavior. For all your gruffness-- and we both know you could be gruff-- you made me feel like a woman, a wife, a mother. Your death was my downfall. Would that you had been allowed to live into real old age. I would have had a different destiny. I would not have have compelled my father to exile me. You may believe that of all the men in my life I truly loved you with a love that surpassed mere sexual passion.
I decided.
Here is my choice and my letter.
To Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa
We both know that few marriages in our age were born of love. The majority were negotiated for economic considerations - for the upper classes economic and political considerations. Never more so than in our marriage. On your part and mine.
When I was married to Marcellus I was caught up in the passion of young love. I was so sure of my destiny. I would be the wife of the Emperor of Rome -- the First Lady of Rome. The first lady of Rome-- equal to or greater than my step mother, Livia. Marcellus was Augustus's nephew, and lacking other offspring he was destined to succeed him.
But Marcellus died and with him my dreams. Until you. You were second only to my father. Augustus may have inherited his position from his uncle Julius Caesar, but it was in great part your military and administrative genius along with your loyalty that catapulted him into the power he had. Therein lies our alliance.
You needed a secure link to the imperial power. What better way that a marriage connection to Augustus? And who was available but me?
What better chance did I have to achieve my dream of being First Lady than to be married to you? We met each other's political needs.
Ours was a complicated relationship. You so much older -- my father's age. You were gone so often and for so long to far flung corners of the Empire. I was alone at home with the children. I, fun seeking, sexually adventurous and restless was not faithful to you. You knew. You, who unlike most other men were never unfaithful to me.
But my dear Agrippa, amid my rashest moments I knew no one who so calmed my restless spirit, who checked my careless behavior. For all your gruffness-- and we both know you could be gruff-- you made me feel like a woman, a wife, a mother. Your death was my downfall. Would that you had been allowed to live into real old age. I would have had a different destiny. I would not have have compelled my father to exile me. You may believe that of all the men in my life I truly loved you with a love that surpassed mere sexual passion.
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