"There are as many stories as there are stars, and as many gods as there are stories," your father had once said, leaning against the gnarled olive tree that stood proudly in the center of your home, resembling Mars Sylvanus' Throne. You, with your hazel nest of hair and dirt-streaked face from playing in the yard, looked up at him, curious. "Do you know why that is, Claudia?"
"No, tatta," you replied, your voice filled with innocence. "Do they grow like olives from a great tree?"
He paused for a moment, contemplating your question. Then he shook his head gently. "Not exactly, but that's a closer analogy than what most people believe. You see, the reason there are so many stories is that unlike the gods, we, humanity, do not possess a perfect memory."
He looked up at the young moon in the twilight sky, lost in his own memories of family and friends long gone. After a moment, he turned his gaze back to you, and his wise eyes seemed to reflect the essence of Jupiter.
"But that, my dear Claudia, is another story for another time," his voice rumbled softly, reminiscent of his days training the youngest members of his legion. "Tonight, I want to share with you the story of Mars Pater, the God of Rome and all its children, as passed down by my father and his ancestors before him."
"In a time long ago, when Terra was still healing from the Titan War and the Gods of Olympus had divided her realms among themselves, Jupiter Tutator discovered the treachery of his first wife, known as Metis to the Greeks and the mother of Bellona and Minerva. Before their victory, she had conceived their first children and learned of a prophecy that one of them would overthrow Jupiter, much like he had done to his own father, Saturn."
"Fearing for the life of her child, she turned to her father, Oceanus, the Titan of the Sea, and made a deal with him to protect their offspring. Betraying Jupiter, she sought to safeguard her own interests. It wasn't until the war was over, and the Titans were defeated and imprisoned in the depths of the Underworld, that Jupiter discovered this deception. Although nothing had come of Metis' actions, Jupiter was faced with a choice between his duty to his family and his allegiance to the nation."
"Despite the pain it caused him, his first act as Deus Imperator, the God of Justice, was to put Metis on trial as a traitor to the gods. Once she was found guilty, he transformed her into her favorite flower, the lotus, and ended her life. Every day, even after he married Juno, he would visit Metis' Lotus in the garden before attending to his duties. This continued for so long that it eventually angered Juno Moneta, the newlywed, and caught the attention of Nemesis, Fortuna, and Discordia, who sought to redirect Jupiter's affections towards Juno."
He paused briefly to take a sip of posca from a nearby chalice to quench his thirst. Then, with a knowing smile, he continued, "And my dear Claudia, what happened next is a lesson in paying heed to the advice of friends, for their words can reveal much about a person's character, just as their actions do."
"Now, where was I? Ah yes, Juno and the others conspired to regain Jupiter's attention. After several failed attempts, they stole Metis' lotus and incorporated it into a grand feast on Olympus. For a while, the disappearance of the lotus succeeded in capturing Jupiter's attention... until the day when many of the gods and goddesses who had attended the feast fell ill. Among them were Ceres, Juno, Latona, and strangely enough, Jupiter himself."
"In great distress, they all suffered from a worsening illness, but it was Jupiter who was plagued by an unbearable headache, unlike anything ever seen before or since. Unable to bear the pain any longer, he split his own skull open, hoping to find relief. To his astonishment, the source of his agony was revealed as the goddess Bellona Minerva sprang forth fully formed from his mind. In that moment, Jupiter learned of the fate of the stolen lotus, and his heart was filled with both anguish and rage."
"At the same time, Juno discovered the consequences of her own actions. Each of the goddesses afflicted by the illness gave birth to a new generation of gods and goddesses. Juno herself brought forth Mars Silvanus into the world."
There was more to the story your father had shared that night, but you remember very little of it. Your eyes had grown heavy, and eventually, they closed as you succumbed to sleep. You recall the comforting rhythm of your father's heartbeat as he held you close to his chest, and the gentle way he woke you for your bath before tucking you into bed.
It was some time later that they found themselves hidden under the shade of their orchard, a grove tucked away in a corner of their property, away from prying eyes. Baskets of ripe fruit sat near their luncheon spread, almost filled to the brim, as they took a brief pause to escape the worst of the midday sun.
"Tata," she asked, nibbling on a piece of bread, "Why does Mars have so many names? How are we to know which one to pray to?"
Her father, seated across from her, pondered the question as he slowly sipped his cup of posca.
"He earned those names," he said at last, placing the cup aside and reaching for some cured meats, "and each name represents a different aspect of Mars. To call upon a specific name is to invoke a particular attribute or seek a specific favor. Calling upon his name alone is a way to show reverence, but to call upon him by his deeds is to ask him to become your patron and place yourself as his client."
She listened intently, her curiosity piqued as she reached for slices of pear, her eyes fixed on her father.
"Remember when I told you the story of his birth? When he was known as Mars Silvanus?" he asked, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
She hesitated for a moment, feeling a slight pang of embarrassment, but then nodded, not wanting to disappoint her father.
"Well, my dear Claudia, he was named Mars Silvanus because he was born in the forests that skirted Olympus," he explained, his voice filled with warmth.
"But how does being born in a place earn someone a name, Tata?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in contemplation.
Her father chuckled softly and replied, "In much the same way you are called Claudia because you were born in Roma, even though you could have been named Thaïs if you were born in Graecia. Different places and times give different names to individuals based on their origins."
He paused for a moment, observing his daughter's thoughtful expression, before continuing, "And young Mars deserved the name Silvanus because he spent his early days in those forests, where he had many adventures with his brothers and sisters. It was a place where music was born under the guidance of Faunus Mercury, where the art of healing flourished under Apollo Arcitenens, and where the secrets of nature were discovered. But we are getting ahead of ourselves."
He wiped his face with a cloth and took another sip of posca before resuming the tale.
"After Juno's handling of the Lotus, several Lotusborn children were born, bearing the features of both Jupiter and Metis. The most prominent among them were Bellona Minerva, Triton Arion, Proserpina Puella, Faunus Mercury, Apollo Acersecomes, Diana Trivia, and Mars Silvanus. These children marked the dawn of the Silver Age, as they taught mankind various skills and crafts."
Her father paused, gathering the remaining food as they prepared to return to their work. She joined him, a sense of appreciation in her eyes, and they stood side by side.
"While the other gods taught mankind their crafts with pride, Mars was different. He toiled alongside us, working as we did to not only better himself but also to help us. He taught us how to tend to the land, how to make crops grow and tame wild beasts for companionship and sustenance."
As they finished gathering their belongings, her father concluded their mealtime tale, "But as it often happens with gods and humans alike, this peaceful coexistence did not last, for both gods and humans were not meant to toil in this world alone."
With that, they bid farewell to their shaded sanctuary and returned to their respective duties, her father to the fields and her to her lessons. The story of Mars, the multifaceted god, lingered in her mind, and she found herself eager to explore more tales of the gods and their intertwining destinies.
It is early fall, and the chill in the air prompts her to wrap her shawl tightly around herself as she walks toward the front of the wagon train. There, she finds her father hunched over the architect's plans for the expanded vineyard and its cellar, his discontent evident as he mutters under his breath.
As he catches sight of her, his expression shifts from overcast to stormy.
"Tell me the truth," his voice remains calm but barely, "Who?"
"Does it matter, Father?" she responds stiffly, the metallic taste of blood still lingering on her lips, "They are certainly worse off than I am."
The brief silence warns her of her mistake before he orders one of the nearby servants, Brennus if she remembers correctly, to have a boulder removed by twilight. He firmly yet gently takes her arm and leads her back to the villa. Along the way, he stops near a copse of trees about fifteen paces from the eastern wall and seats her on one of the stone benches scattered throughout.
"Does it matter, daughter?" he rumbles, his silhouette framed against the hidden sun, transforming him into a shadow of his usually genial self, "When it is I who must rectify your mistakes. Again I ask, who?"
"Father, I..." she begins, but stops when she sees his narrowed eyes, even with the sun behind him.
"Three times I ask, daughter, and not once more. Who?" he insists.
"Floriana and her friends," she whispers, averting her gaze.
"...the Marian girl?" he asks, his tone incredulous, and she can only nod without trembling.
Silence hangs heavily between them before he turns away momentarily. Kneeling beside her, he gently cups her face in his hands and begins wiping away the blood and grime.
"Claudia, the words of one little girl, regardless of her family, mean nothing to me," he says, his words cutting sharply, disappointment palpable, "But the words of my own daughter mean everything. So why must you lie to me? Have I been a bad father?"
"No!" she cries, her heart breaking as tears stream down her cheeks, "I did not mean to lie. I am the one who has failed you. I know you don't care, but I do. You are nothing if not kind and wise, and I am reckless and-"
Her ramblings are abruptly silenced as her father pulls her into a tight embrace. She can't recall how long they stay that way, but when he finally releases her, she feels a sense of relief.
Sitting beside her, he becomes a comforting presence as he untangles her hair from its messy state and begins to clean the wound on her right temple. He then resumes the story of Mars, his voice soothing and familiar.
"During the Silver Age, Mars, then the least of the gods, worked as a farmer, cultivating the crops that sustained Olympus. Among his siblings, he was the hardest worker, ensuring the prosperity of the realm and acting as a mediator in times of strife. One day, upon returning home, he found his residence adorned with exquisite tapestries. Intrigued by their meaning, he sought his sister Bellona for answers and discovered that she had cursed a young girl named Arachne, who had dared to surpass her in skill."
Horrified by this revelation, Mars delved into the truth of the matter, gathering accounts from various witnesses to unravel the heart of the issue. It was revealed that Arachne, despite being mentored by Bellona in the craft of weaving, had created tapestries of superior quality and depth. Enraged by her own inferiority, Bellona had punished Arachne for her perceived hubris, transforming her into the first spider, contravening her own rules. Mars presented the evidence to their father, Jupiter O. M., who swiftly determined Bellona's guilt. However, by the time they could lift the curse, Arachne had already passed away, leaving behind a legacy of spiders.
Her father finishes his task, satisfied with his work, and stands to his full height, stretching his back with a satisfying crack. He turns to her, about to ask a question, but she beats him to it.
"For this reason, among others, he earned the name Quirinus," she recites distantly, "And though other gods have claimed the title, it was Mars who brought peace not only to his own household but also to Arachne's. Though it did little to prevent the tensions that ultimately led to the end of the Silver Age. If there's a lesson to be learned, it is to be mindful of the consequences of our actions, as some cannot be undone. Therefore, we must act with forethought and justice in our hearts and minds."
"Not quite in those words, but the sentiment is there," her father nods, his expression momentarily stern before a slow smile spreads across his face, "So...they were worse off?"
A smirk forms on her lips, and her father responds with a hearty chuckle.
The distant howling of the hounds jolted her awake, the fading echoes of a piercing cry still ringing in her ears. Disoriented and covered in a cold sweat, she searched for a lamp in the darkness, her movements clumsy yet determined. Unable to find her father in his usual places, she made her way to the foyer, hoping to quench her thirst and await his arrival.
In the flickering lamplight, her mind wandered through a whirlwind of thoughts and blank spaces. Time seemed to lose its meaning as she sat there, adrift in her own contemplations. Suddenly, her father materialized from the shadows, startling her to her core.
"Tata," she called softly, her voice filled with surprise, "May... may I speak with you?"
He stared at her for a brief moment before responding, "I see you've inherited yet another one of my peculiarities, Claudia. It seems sleep eludes you as well in these late hours. Come here, child."
With hesitant steps, she approached him, finding solace in his presence as he drew her close, enveloping her in his embrace. Silence settled between them, and then he began to speak, his voice carrying a weight of ancient tales.
"There are countless paths to Olympus, just as there are to the Underworld. One of the most traversed routes is maintained by Faunus Mercury, who transports the bounty of the Lotusbourne from their fortress-home in Mykḗnē. This path stretches from Sparta in the South to Corinth in the North, and from Olympia in the West to Argos in the East."
He continued, recounting the meeting of Vulcan Mulciber and Bacchus Liber on this very path as Bacchus returned from his far-flung travels in the East. Bacchus, initially hesitant to prolong his journey back to his birthplace in Thebes, eventually agreed to meet his newfound brothers and sisters among the Lotusbourne. There, he shared his knowledge and secrets, leaving a lasting impression on Mars Silvanus and the others.
"When Bacchus Triton departed, he had become beloved by all, and his untimely death ignited a flame of wrath within the hearts of the Lotusbourne," her father narrated, his voice brimming with intensity. "Mars Silvanus, wielding Bacchus's blade gifted by Vulcan, embarked on a vengeful quest alongside Proserpina Puella and Diana Trivia. They hunted Prometheus and Epimetheus, driving away monsters and rallying good men and women to war. Mars Silvanus earned the name Mars Ultor, the Avenger, and in the aftermath, he lost his mortal family, sparing only his infant demigod son Alcaeus, who would later be known as Hercules Enyalios."
He paused, the flickering lamp casting elongated shadows across his face, lending him an air of ancient wisdom and sorrow. She longed to reach out and console him, but she remained silent, engrossed in his words.
"In the wake of his rage, Mars Silvanus sought atonement, bathing in the ashes of the fallen," he continued. "But he discovered there was no way back to a time before peace shattered. He temporarily withdrew, hoping to avoid further conflict, but he realized he had set a poor example for his son, Hercules Enyalios, whom he had left to be raised by his mortal grandfather. It was only when he took Hercules under his tutelage as the centaur Chiron that he sought to instill discipline and prevent a repetition of his mistakes. And thus, his son became a renowned hero, his deeds immortalized even as the Second Age was swept away by the Great Flood."
As he spoke, the interior of the villa began to brighten, as if the dawn was breaking within its walls.
"Na eisai kalyteros anthropos apo ton patera soy," her father said, the ethereal quality in his voice intensifying as his piercing gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul. "That is the lesson of Mars Ultor and all fathers who came before and will come after— we must strive to be better."
With that, the dream faded once more, and she gasped, jolting back to reality. The remnants of the dream clung to her consciousness, but the image of her father's eyes and the faint memory of a proud smile remained etched in her mind. No longer a child, she rose from her bedroll, her eyes distant yet filled with determination.
