#and he let himself be carried by the glory of rome | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexandralyman · 3 months ago

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Marcus Acacius x Original Female Character

General Marcus Acacius is the great hero of Rome, and weary of being sent to fight another war after the victory at Numidia. Before he must depart again and lead more young men to die for the glory of the empire, he steals away in the night to visit the temple of Fortūna to make a secret offering to the goddess of fortune and fate. An offering received by none other than the Sacaracirix Fortūnae, the High Priestess herself.

I had this idea for a Marcus/High Priestess fic before the movie came out and even though I loved his relationship with Lucilla, I still wanted to write it. This is an AU, he's not married and there's no infidelity involved. Many thanks to my partner in crime, @meanderingcaptainswanmusings, who helped me work out some of the details in this and brainstormed with me!

Word Count: 7,027, Rating: Mature

AO3 link

......................................Fortunate One........................................................

No matter the lateness of the hour, the city at the very centre of the world was never fully quiet.

Rome was the capital of an empire that stretched from exotic lands to the east of spice and silks, all the way up to that barbaric isle in the north where tin to make bronze and rain that could soak you right to the skin were both in plentiful abundance. As the capital, it was a metropolis full of senators, citizens, soldiers, traders, nobles, and slaves all drawn from across the great expanse, where torches burned all hours for illumination and business was as brisk at midnight as it was at midday in certain quarters. When a lone figure slipped unnoticed from the opulent Imperial palace that ruled over it all into the streets below it was late, very late, and yet people still milled about under the watchful eyes of the ever-present Praetorian guards. Men of all ranks, even women of the lower classes, out running errands and seeing to more personal needs. They visited the bathhouses to perform ablutions for a reduced fee from the daytime rates, filled the taverns to overflowing to eat, or more commonly, drink, and packed the brothels to slake other thirsts behind the distinctive red doors that marked the many houses of pleasure from more reputable establishments.

Amidst them all Marcus Justus Acacius, general and commander of the Imperial army, muffled himself in a hooded cloak to avoid being recognized beyond the palace walls and melted unseen into the crowd. Rough wool hid his tunic from inquiring eyes and concealed the blade he carried in case of thieves or assassins as he made his way across the city in the back of a tradesman’s plain cart. It was a far cry from the gilded chariot he had ridden to traverse the same streets in triumph only a few days prior, blessed by the gods themselves with another glorious victory. It was a far bumpier ride too, jolting along with no adoring masses lining the route and tossing flowers to soften his path tonight. There were only drunkards gone too deep in their cups staggering about, whores with painted faces beckoning from dark alleys where one was far more likely to find a cold knife waiting at the other end instead of a warm cunt, and slaves scurrying around on illicit errands for their masters. With his face hidden behind his hood Marcus saw hollow eyes and sunken cheeks on many, more than he ever remembered seeing before in a city rich with Egyptian gold and silver from Hispania. He’d watched the twin emperors let entire feasts rot uneaten back at the palace while they played their juvenile games of constant one-upmanship in front of a captive court and spend lavishly on whatever nonsense had caught their fancy that day, and his own fine meal sat heavily in his stomach as the cart lumbered past beggars with empty bowls and urchins looking for scraps.

The people needed bread, not battles.

He gave the owner of the cart another coin when they arrived at his destination, enough to buy food for both himself and his horse even at the current prices. As it rolled away Marcus looked up at the face of one of the temples that were as abundant in Rome as trees in a forest, each dedicated to a god or goddess. Neptune. Venus. Apollo. Just like the oaks and the beeches and the spruces, they all tried to stretch closest to the heavens and eclipse the others with their splendor. He’d already made the expected and very public visit to one of the large temples devoted to Mars, bringing extravagant offerings to the god of war. All soldiers worshipped Mars and Marcus had been a soldier since the age of fourteen. It was his destiny since birth to serve Mars, named as he was in the god’s honour and Mars had blessed him generously over the years in return. He’d risen to command the Imperial army on campaigns across the known world and brought back glory and honour for the empire. New lands conquered. Spoils of war. Rival dynasties crushed to dust. All for Rome.

The temple he stood in front of now under the cover of his cloak was not dedicated to Mars, or even his father, Jupiter, at whose main temple wealthy Romans competed with each other to offer the most ostentatious gift to the king of the heavens. He had not come to make a showy display of devotion for a gossipy audience as General Acacius, he was here in secret for reasons of his own. With his face still hidden he made his way up the steps and found no bar to the door despite the lateness of the hour, the temple welcomed any and all, day or night. Marcus pushed his way inside and found himself alone in an empty chamber, it appeared he was the lone worshipper tonight. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous room as he crossed the distance to the main altar, where a marble statue with the form of a beautiful woman presided over it to receive her due.

Fortūna

Goddess of fortune, luck and fate.

He glanced up at the sculpted face from under his hood before kneeling down on the stone floor and bowing his head. The altar was laden with gifts, a small jar of honey, a length of cloth dyed a rich ochre yellow, a bundle of dried herbs carefully tied with a bit of twine. Offerings left for the goddess in hopes she might bestow good fortune in return, during harvest time, at the gaming tables, in a marriage bed. He placed nothing on the altar, waiting on his knees with the patience that had seen him through marching endless miles across the empire with the army and listening to grandiose speeches by the emperors that seemed to last even longer. Fortūna watched him from behind her stone eyes until she saw fit to send one of her priestesses into the near-empty chamber, a woman in a stola the pale green of a new leaf and as young as a sapling herself. He sensed her regarding him for a moment and kept his head bowed, looking down at the floor.

“What do you seek?” she asked. “One who has come to the temple of Fortūna at this hour?”

“I seek an audience with she who speaks directly to her, Fortunate One.”

“She does not receive most who wish her to intercede with Our Lady,” the priestess warned.

Marcus looked up at her. “She’ll receive me.”

Whether it was the conviction in his voice that commanded five thousand men or because the priestess could tell he would stay kneeling on the floor all night if she wouldn’t take him beyond the public area of the temple, she finally nodded and gestured for him to follow. He rose to his feet with less grace than he would have preferred, silently thankful his joints wouldn’t have to take any longer on the unforgiving stone. He wasn’t a brash young soldier anymore who thought himself as invincible as the gods, his bones ached now when it was damp and there was more and more grey in his hair with each passing season.

At least he’d lived long enough to see grey hair. He’d known many who hadn’t been as blessed by the goddess of fate.

The priestess led him past a heavy drape hung behind the altar and further into the temple. While the building was narrow when viewed from the front, it was surprisingly long and they passed through several of the inner chambers before she finally stopped.

“Wait here,” she instructed, not pausing for a response before disappearing through a door and leaving it open just enough that Marcus could make out the murmur of feminine voices inside without hearing what was actually being said about the late-night visitor. Only women were allowed to serve Fortūna directly, to reside in her temple and perform sacred rituals in her name. No men could join their ranks, not even eunuchs, while their worship was welcomed and their offerings accepted, men were forbidden from joining the goddess’s inner circle, her Fortunate Ones.

The door opened a fraction more and the young priestess came back out, followed by others in identical dress. The handmaidens of fate, chosen from across the empire because they were born with Fortūna’s gifts, the second sight, prophetic dreams, could read palms and see what was to come in the lines and grooves and he could feel their eyes all on him as the lone man in their midst. His rough wool cloak was in sharp contrast to the light stolas that fluttered so gracefully when they briefly surrounded him as they silently moved past as one, like butterflies alighting from a bush.

“You may enter, Citizen,” the priestess said, either not realizing who he was or choosing not to address him by his name or title. He suspected it was the former rather than the latter, it was far from his first visit. “She will receive you now.”

Marcus knew what the priestess meant, and yet there was a lump in his throat as if the goddess herself was waiting for him on the other side of the door. In a way, she was. He didn’t hear the rest of them depart fully, melting back into the deep shadows on silent feet so that he found himself alone in the temple of fate. He raised a hand and traced the shape of a wheel carved into the wood, the Rota Fortunae that the goddess spun and changed the fortunes of kings and plebeians alike. None were spared the turn of the wheel. He gave a slight push to the centre of it and the door opened fully, while his hood slid back seemingly of its own volition when he stepped into the chamber within and left his face fully exposed.

There was no need to conceal his identity before her. Both Fortūna, and the Sacaracirix Fortūnae, the High Priestess who ruled over the rest of the Fortunate Ones and served as keeper of the goddess’s temple.

She was arrayed as finely as any queen of the lands Marcus had conquered for the empire, in a close-fitting robe embroidered all over with more symbols of luck and fate and trimmed lavishly with snow-white fur. Large gemstones adorned her ears and her vermillion-stained lips curved in a smile while her ringed hands reached out for his in welcome. Marcus went to her and took the offered hands in his own, bending his head to press his forehead to the backs in supplication. In the presence of the emperors he barely even dipped his chin anymore, offering only the most token homage to that pair of spoiled children in their ill-fitting crowns. With her, he kissed each hand in turn with reverence, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of sweet perfume on her skin.

“General Acacius,” she said, her tone formal and without a hint of familiarity. “I greet you, on behalf of Our Lady.”

She’d greeted him thus when they’d first met, during the annual mid-summer festival honouring the goddess. That year the festival was a special one, when the former High Priestess had chosen her successor from among the women who served in the temple. A larger than usual crowd watched as the choice was made and the rest of the Fortunate Ones surrounded the two women, one old and one young. They raised their arms high in the air, joining their hands and panels of cloth attached to their shoulders and wrists unfurled like wings to conceal the two in the centre from view while the crowd clapped and cheered. Once they lowered their arms and stepped back again they knelt down to reveal their new mistress, who was dressed in the attire of the old while the woman she’d succeeded had vanished entirely as if by magic.

Marcus had watched it all from the prime position he’d secured on the temple steps, entranced by both the spectacle and the woman at the heart of it all. He wasn’t a general then, just an ordinary soldier newly returned with the army in time for the festival thanks to a favourable wind that had seen them arrive back in the city a day earlier than expected. He had brought an offering for Fortūna to thank her for the luck she’d brought him during the campaign, a small but brilliant blue gem that was like a drop of ocean turned to stone, plundered from the once independent kingdom that belonged now to Rome.

“I greet you, on behalf of Our Lady,” she’d said when it was finally his turn, shoved forward by the press of the people behind him so that they were standing closer than decorum allowed. His cheeks were warm with drink, or at least that’s what he told himself when he placed the little jewel in her palm.

“And who has brought this gift from such a great distance?”

“Marcus Acacius, my lady.”

Her skin was as soft as a rose petal when she rewarded his offering with the touch of her free hand to his cheek, looking up at him with a smile far more brilliant than any gem.

“Marcus Acacius,” she repeated, as if committing it to memory so not to forget him. “Thank you.”

When he raised his head from the hands that were still as delicate and soft as that day so long ago she lifted one and touched it gently to his cheek.

“You have returned again from a great distance, or so I hear,” she said. “Fortūna be thanked.”

“I have, my lady.”

He didn’t know the name she was given at birth or the name of her family, all priestesses gave up both when they left home and pledged themselves to serve in the temple. As Vesta had her Vestals, the eternal virgins who tended her sacred flame day and night, so did Fortūna with her Fortunate Ones. They were forbidden from marrying, couldn’t bear children, they could do nothing that took away from their duty to the goddess. In return they answered to no one, not their fathers or brothers, not a general like him, not even an emperor could command one of Fortūna’s priestesses. As one beholden to the whims of not one, but two emperors, he considered that privilege a very fortunate one indeed.

She moved to a table already set with a jug of wine and goblets, pouring the sweet gift of Bacchus into two of them. Marcus accepted the drink when she held it out to him, waiting until she murmured a brief incantation of thanks before he lifted it to his lips. The wine was honeyed on his tongue, the words he spoke next were not.

“Caracalla and Geta have declared war.”

One of her arched brows lifted even more, though there was no surprise in her voice. “Again?”

What was spoken in the temples was sacrosanct, meant only for the gods. But that didn’t stop mortal ears from listening, and in Rome information was as much a trade good as salt or silks. He wouldn’t speak freely in any temple of Mars, or Jupiter, and trust that it wouldn’t be repeated halfway across the city within the hour. Here though, Marcus was in the one place where he didn’t have to guard his tongue so carefully and the words flowed like the wine.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough. They have designs on India, Persia, more cities to be brought to heel no matter the cost. I am to lead the army on another campaign while the blood spilled during the last one has barely dried.”

“For the glory of Rome?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“For the glory of Rome,” he echoed, in a hollow voice. Glory bought with death and destruction, children orphaned and wives made widows so that the most glorious empire the world had ever seen could sink greedy, grasping fingers into another bit of stained earth and take it for its own. The wine soured into vinegar in his mouth and he set the goblet aside, finished with the pretense of the hospitality required by their ranks.

The High Priestess followed suit, facing him with her small hands folded in front of her. ”Why have you come here tonight?” she asked quietly. “Do you want me to tell your fortune? Assure you of another grand victory?”

Her eyes were fathomless pools in the flickering candlelight, skin turned golden as if Fortūna herself was now speaking directly to him through her chosen vessel. Perhaps she was. He answered them both.

“I seek Fortūna’s blessing, to ensure victory for the glory of Rome and a safe return home for me and my men.”

Please, let them come home. No more dead soldiers for Charon to ferry into the afterlife, please, Lady Fortūna, spin your wheel and bring them back alive.

Her expression didn’t change as she considered his request. “You ask much of the goddess, General Acacius. Not one gift, but three…and if you had to choose just one turn of the wheel? Which would it be?”

Marcus felt his shoulders slump under his cloak. He knew the answer he should give, the one expected from the commander of the empire’s grand army. He knew the answer he wouldn’t give, as selfishly as he wanted to. If he could beg only a single boon from the hands of fate herself, then there was only one answer.

“I ask for the safe return of my men.”

If he could even call most of them men. He’d thought himself a man at fourteen, old enough to fight and fornicate alongside the other soldiers on the battlefields and in the brothels. Poorly, in both respects, far more lucky than skillful back then. Now, he looked at so many under his command and saw that they were still children, barely grown and yet considered old enough to die for the greed of those who had anything and still thirsted for more.

He met the High Priestess’s shadowed gaze and said it again, so that the goddess lurking behind her eyes would have no doubt.

“My only request of she who spins the wheel of fate is to watch over my men and guide them back home.”

“And what will you give in return?” they asked. Both the priestess, and the goddess.

One did not ask favours from the gods without offering something in return. When he’d knelt in his full armor before the towering statue of Mars he’d brought magnificent gifts for the God of War. A pair of newly forged blades with gilded hilts thickly studded with jewels. Quivers full of arrows fletched with the feathers of exotic birds. A bull in its prime to be slaughtered in Mars’s name, worth the cost of half a dozen slaves. He had presented the gifts and asked the god for victory in a booming voice that all who crammed into the temple to watch could hear, soldiers, senators, and ordinary citizens who came to see the spectacle for themselves.

He had anticipated this, and he had a gift for the goddess too. Something that had cost him no coin, and yet was the most valuable thing he could offer.

“Me.”

It came out as barely more than a whisper, far from the near battle cry he’d given Mars when laying the blades on his altar. To the God of War he brought an army of a crowd to worship him, to the Goddess of Fate he gave over himself with no audience save one.

“I pledge myself only to her, for the rest of my life.”

He spoke softly and yet the words seemed to echo against the stone walls, repeating over and over again. Or maybe that was only in his own mind. It was as solemn a vow as he’d ever made, and an unbreakable one. The gods were greedy, avaricious, and didn’t let go of what was theirs.

“General, are you-“

“Will you accept, Fortunate One, on her behalf?” he interrupted before she could finish the inevitable question. Are you sure? He was. This time when she reached out and touched his face he turned his head and placed a rough kiss on the inside of her palm, his eyes closing as she began to speak.

“General Acacius,” she intoned, “you shall join the blessed of Fortūna tonight. May you bask in her light and find shade in her shadow, always. Reveal yourself, and receive her blessing.”

He reached blindly for the clasp on his cloak and let it fall to the floor with a thump, leaving him in the simple tunic he’d worn underneath. That would ordinarily be all that was required but it wasn’t enough, not tonight. Not for either of them.

The tunic quickly followed the cloak, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside too. The room was warm enough that he felt no chill as he stripped everything off until he was as bare as a newborn babe. He had worn no jewellery, no adornments, had not applied any cosmetics to his face or body. Standing completely nude, he offered himself exactly as he was to the goddess and her priestess. His arms hung loosely at his sides and he made no attempt to conceal anything with his hands, though they twitched a little against his thighs. Still in her rich finery, the High Priestess began to make a slow circle around him while assessing his offering like he would inspect his centurions. He stood in place like a good soldier, eyes straight ahead, hearing a faint rustle from behind him that made his hands clench into fists and other parts of him twitch in anticipation. When she appeared again on his other side she had shed her outer robe and was clad in nothing but the sheerest of drapes that clung to her body like the seafoam clung to Venus when she arose from the waves and gave glimpses of the rosy tips of her breasts and the dusky triangle of hair between her thighs through the filmy material.

He couldn’t stop the blood from rushing straight to his groin at the sight, thickening his flesh with the vigour of a far younger man. Like the one he’d been the night of the festival all those years ago, when wine flowed like the Tiber and out of all of those who’d come to honour Fortūna and her new High Priestess, she had chosen him. Fate and luck had both been on his side then, to the envy of his fellow soldiers when he was pulled from the crowd by the Fortunate Ones to join their mistress in a much more private celebration. While the revels continued on without them outside the temple they had worshipped together amid the sheets until the break of dawn.

On this night she chose another vessel next to the wine from the table and spoke an incantation over it before removing the stopper. It was filled with oil, slick and fragrant when she dipped in her fingers and began to anoint him with it. Her thumbs pressed first to his chest, drawing lines and symbols on his skin that marked him as the goddess’s own. He stood as still as the statue by the altar while she carefully worked the oil into his shoulders, his arms, her touch delicate and gentle yet sure and true. She went down his stomach next, still muscular but perhaps a little less firm then it had been the first night he was invited into her bed. First, but far from the last. It flexed under her touch and he couldn’t stop his smile and slight noise of mirth when she found the sensitive spot to the left of his navel. His amusement was mirrored on her face, as her serene expression melted and she failed to stop her own girlish giggle.

“You always were touched by the humours there,” she smiled, poking him again.

“Only when touched by you, my lady.”

He was no stranger to taking lovers, Roman noblewomen, concubines, foreigners with whom he shared a pleasant night while quartered with the army in distant lands and never saw again afterwards. Yet he always found himself returning to her over and over, after other affairs and dalliances were over and long forgotten.

Her eyes met his at the admission, small hands still pressed to his skin. The anointing was finished, her duty as Fortūna’s chosen one to mark him for her was done. As High Priestess she could choose to dismiss him now and he would leave without protest, ever the obedient soldier.

As his lover she chose to draw the tips of her nails across his stomach and he inhaled sharply, the urge to laugh again at the sensation mixing with the far stronger urge to tear the drape from her body and have her right there on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time for that, either. His face must have shown his thoughts, or maybe it was the way his cock was twitching at the prospect because she took a step back. Not in fear or trepidation, merely to put the stopper back in the oil. It had left a gleaming trail on his skin, burnishing it like armor polished to a high shine. Even when it faded away the other gods and goddesses would be able to see the claim laid on him, and he swore he could almost feel unseen hands tracing possessively along the lines. Though there was no breeze in the stone chamber, the candles all suddenly flickered as one.

Fortūna making her presence felt while she spun her wheel.

Light melted into shadow and silk whispered against skin when she beckoned him to follow her to the waiting bed. Her soft hands wandered over his chest again, this time in a different ritual while he grasped her by her shapely hips and stroked his thumbs along the curve of them. The silk whispered even more when he pulled it off completely and left her as bare as he was. She stood in front of him unabashedly nude, just as she had that night as the newly crowned High Priestess with a young soldier still a bit clumsy and unsure with a woman. He was neither of those things now, slipping a hand behind her neck and tilting her head back to kiss her. It was far sweeter than the wine to press his lips to hers, feel them part under his mouth as his chest met her breasts and his hard cock pressed hot to her belly. A low groan rumbled through him at the contact and he lifted her from under her thighs with her arms around his neck, climbing onto the bed and settling her down against the sheets. Marcus greedily drank in his fill at the glorious sight underneath him, her skin was as fine as a noblewoman’s and unmarked by scars like the ones scattered over him like cities on a map. Lutetia. Londinium.

She reached up and touched one on his shoulder that hadn’t been there the last time, tracing over the marred bit of flesh with gentle fingers.

Numidia.

He pushed that memory aside in favour of making a much more pleasurable one, stroking along the curve of her waist so that the shadowed dip of her navel was framed perfectly between his thumbs. Then he went down to the gentle rise of Venus’s mound and lower still to the curls that concealed her most intimate place. The skin there was even more delicate, and already as slick under his exploring fingers as the oil. His blood flared hot and he urged her legs apart, spreading her thighs to fully reveal her sweet cunt to his gaze. His cock throbbed at the sight of it, as pink as the rose petals that had lined the city streets in his honour and damp with the dew of her arousal.

“Marcus,” she whimpered, when he teased against her entrance with the tip of his finger. Not General or Acacius, he could be Marcus here, with her, in the sanctuary of her bed.

“Patience, sweetling,” he urged, wishing not for the first time that he knew her actual name. It belonged to Fortūna but this was all his, the graceful arch of her back and the gasp that escaped her lips when he slipped his finger in to the second knuckle and added another to press along the velvety inner walls. He wasn’t going to rush the ceremony of this, preparing his lover for his cock and he took his time until he finally knelt before her and pumped a hand along his shaft to whet himself to full readiness. Anticipation shone in her eyes, looking up at him, and thrummed hot under his skin as he positioned himself and began to push in. He may not know her name, but his body knew hers and hers knew his, taking his full length in a hot slide with only the barest resistance. Marcus rested his forehead on hers for a moment with his eyes closed, sheathed to the hilt in her warm depths while her hands wandered up his arms and her fingers buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. It was only the experience of his years that kept him from spilling immediately like an overeager youth, gritting his teeth and fighting that baser urge to merely take his pleasure with no regard for hers. A low curse fell from his lips as he held himself still, he was still a common soldier at heart and he swore like one. Far from being scandalized at his coarseness, he felt her clench deliciously around him while her legs wrapped tighter around his waist

“Move…please!” she urged in a breathy plea.

Like any good soldier he followed the order, drawing his hips back until he was almost completely withdrawn from her slick heat and then plunging back in. Her breasts bounced with the movement, while a cry tore from her throat as her head fell back to the pillow and put the long column of her throat on display. He did it again, and again, and again, drawing more of those intoxicating sounds with each drive of his hips. She clutched at his shoulders as tightly as she was clutching him from the inside and he’d wear the marks from her nails more proudly than his armor while leaving the echo of himself behind as his thrusts grew harder, faster, deeper. He sucked his own livid brand into her neck, uncaring what the other priestesses would think of it in the morning. It bloomed dark on her skin and he was proud of his handiwork, while he still held back from finding that final satisfaction, desperate to make what could be their final coupling last as long as possible. Fate had led him here, and fate would take him away again, the gods were petty and cruel.

Their lips met again when he buried himself to the root and didn’t withdraw, sharing each other’s breath as he held fast against the waves of pleasure that crashed through him like sea meeting shore and tried to pull him under. It wasn’t enough, not tonight. He needed more. With battle-hardened strength he reared up and brought her with him, lifting her with an arm under her back as she let out a startled squeak. The one who told fortunes hadn’t seen that coming, and he grinned in smug satisfaction.

“Domina mea,” he grunted. My lady, my lady. Mine! “So beautiful, to watch you take your pleasure on my cock like this. Want…want to make you drip with me.”

He was still inside her, and the flex of his hips had her head falling back as her body arched into a perfect bow and his name was shouted for all the gods and goddesses to hear.

“Marcus….Marcus….don’t stop!”

Her breasts thrust as high and proud into the air and he couldn’t resist ducking his head to capture a pebbled nipple in his mouth, as hard as a pearl and even more precious. It made her gasp again, fingers digging into his hair to hold him close and her fine skin flushed all over and bearing his marks. His own hands moved to the flare of her hips, working her up and down his cock to meet his thrusts. Each plunge into her silken heat was almost enough to undo him completely, she took him so deep. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and he reached between them to brush his thumb against that swollen bud just above where they were joined while holding her flush to his groin. The effect was immediate, her whole body shook as she tried to both pull away and get closer at the same time. Her hips pressed closer to his while her head tipped back and her thick curls finally tumbled free of the pins holding them up to spill down like a waterfall. He held on as long as he could, until the unrelenting siege of her cunt squeezing and rippling along his cock finally forced his surrender. This was a battle he was happy to lose and he emptied himself in hot pulses with a deep groan against her sweat-slicked neck until there was nothing left to give. Part of him preened with smug satisfaction, while the rest was ready to collapse.

His lover looked down at him with hazy eyes like fog on the distant horizon. Instead of a poised and regal Fortunate One she looked more like a debauched follower of Bacchus now, lips swollen from his kisses, her skin flushed and his release still warm between her thighs. Marcus knew he probably looked the same, he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead, the sting where her nails had dug into his back and the taste of wine and woman in his throat to carry him through the days to come. A gift, and not one from the gods. From the woman whose name he could never know, and would never see again.

They fell back to the rumpled bed in a heap of tangled limbs, still joined in the most intimate of ways. It didn’t last, nothing ever did, and soon he softened and slipped out. He needed to get up, find his discarded clothes and leave while it was still dark so he could return to the palace before his absence was noticed. He belonged at the head of Rome’s army leading the way to another victory, his place in her bed had only ever been, fleeting, temporary, and fanciful wishes that it could ever be more were just that. Dreams that would never be.

Gentle fingers brushed the hair back from his brow and trailed along his cheek while a soft voice whispered in the dark.

“Sleep, Marcus Acacius. Sleep.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but his eyes were already closed and he could feel Somnus, the God of Sleep, tugging at the edges of his mind and pulling him under. It was too strong to resist, or he was too weak to give up the comfort of her touch just yet, and he drifted off into the netherworld to the feel of his lover stroking his hair.

************

The stone floor was cold and rough under her bare feet, there were no plush rugs here in the small room to cushion them like the ones in her own chamber. The whole room was empty and unadorned save for a niche carved in one wall, and what it contained made it the most sacred in the entire temple. She knelt down in front of it, dressed not in her own rich satin robes but in one of the thin linen stolas worn by the youngest and newest priestesses.

“I have given you everything my lady. Everything. My service….my name….my devotion. My life.”

The little figurine was nothing like the grand statue that presided over the temple’s public altar for worship and admiration. It was much older, passed down over the years from High Priestess to High Priestess and was said to have been given by Fortūna herself to her first worshipper, the very first Fortunate One. It was chipped in places, the features were smudged and indistinct as finer details had been lost to time. Still, it was more precious than any jewel and was hers to guard and keep until the day came that she too would pass it down and bestow the mantle of High Priestess to another.

“Please, hear me and grant what I ask.”

Marcus was still in her bed, locked deep in slumber. Once she was certain he was fast asleep she’d carefully maneuvered out from under the arm draped possessively over her waist and slipped from his embrace. He mumbled something she couldn’t decipher and buried his face back into the bedclothes, never waking fully. It was so tempting, to stay wrapped in his arms for the small amount of time the goddess had granted them. The Fortunate Ones were not forbidden from taking lovers, it was even expected for the priestesses to choose a bedmate during the festivals from among those who flocked to the temple in celebration and share their good fortune for the night in the most intimate of ways. But that was all it could be, they were bound by their vows to serve the goddess above all others and none more than her as the most fortunate of them all.

“Bring him back to me.”

One did not need the gift of second sight to see what was coming. The two emperors might rule as one, but they had already made twice the declarations of war as their father did and as the leader of the army, Marcus was the one to carry them out. It was inevitable that he would have to leave again so soon after his triumphant return, only this time…..

This time….

“Spare him.”

It came out as a sob, begging on her knees to the one who could alter the course of fate. When Marcus had first pressed the little gem into her hand with a shy smile his fortune had been bright and shining, she knew then and there that the young soldier in front of her with the dark curls hanging on his forehead was bound for greatness. That foreknowledge was her blessing from Fortūna, and her curse. To look at a radiant new bride and see her dead in childbed within a year, to know which of the children who ran and played outside the temple would be taken by illness before their lives even truly began….to watch soldiers leave who would never return.

She couldn’t read Marcus’s fortune at all anymore, and that scared her more than anything.

As High Priestess she was not meant to interfere or intercede directly with the turn of fate. Perhaps it was the goddess’s way of ensuring that she couldn’t warn him, or maybe Fortūna was being kind, sparing her the knowledge of what lay ahead.

His very first offering was clutched tight in her palm. The blue gemstone wasn’t the largest, or most valuable jewel given to her in the goddess’s stead. Those decorated the bracelets and the earrings and the necklaces she wore in public and to receive those who came to beg for favours from fate, displaying the wealth of Fortūna’s temple to show how worshipped and adored she was that she was showered with rubies, diamonds, amethysts, gems from across the whole empire and beyond. It was all Fortūna’s, none of it was hers, and yet she’d always kept the little sapphire to herself.

Marcus wouldn’t ask on his own behalf, so she would do it for him. He was far less selfish than she was.

She set the gem down carefully in front of the figurine, whispering more prayers and pleas. There was no response from the goddess, no omen or vision, good or bad. There was only silence, and the ghost of his touch on her skin.

When she returned to her private chamber Marcus was still asleep, sprawled across the sheets with his thick, greying curls in complete disarray and his face looking younger in the light from the small oil lamp she carried. Without the weight of his station creasing his forehead with worry and pulling his lips into a frown he could almost be that young soldier again, the one with the glorious fortune that awaited him. She’d thought of him as her gift that night, bestowed by the goddess to her new high priestess in celebration. There were other men she could have chosen to share her bed, more suited to her new station. Men who were more polished, more practiced, who could recite Greek poetry from memory and held illustrious positions at court or in the senate. Marcus wasn’t poetic, but he was so eager, practically ripping off his clothes in his haste with a boyish grin and nearly tripping over them when he reached out with those large hands to touch her. He was both wonderfully rough and surprisingly gentle in turns, using his powerful body instead of pretty words like the soldier he was.

When she discarded her stola and slipped back into bed he found her in his sleep, his body curving around hers. Broader now, than it had been, and not cut quite so sharply around his stomach as it was in his youth. Still eager though, his passion never waning with time. She’d known he’d come to her tonight, had dressed and prepared for him.

Marcus Acacius was still her gift, and she wasn’t going to give him up.

#marcus acacius x OFC #marcus acacius fic #gladiator II fic #my fic

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yhwhrulz · 4 months ago

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Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for December 10

Morning

“Brother, let me have joy of thee in the Lord.”

Philemon

This has been called “the polite epistle,” for Paul used great courtesy and tact in writing it. Onesimus, a slave, had robbed his master Philemon, and had then run away from him. Hoping to conceal himself best in the metropolis, Onesimus had fled to Rome, where he heard Paul preach and became converted. The apostle sent him back to his Christian master with the following letter of apology. Although its first object was only to restore a runaway slave to his master, it is a weighty letter, and every syllable has substance in it.

Philemon 1:4-6

Paul knew Philemon was a true believer, and therefore prayed that others might feel the power of his piety, by seeing how he acted in the present case.

Philemon 1:9

This is the best of pleading. Philemon’s heart would be sure to yield to it.

Philemon 1:12

who is so dear to me that he carries my heart with him wherever he goes.

Philemon 1:13 , Philemon 1:14

Though he felt sure that Philemon would have been glad to spare his servant to care for his aged friend, yet Paul would not take the liberty of using his services, but gave Philemon the opportunity to do it of his own accord if he thought fit.

Philemon 1:16

Providence suffered him to run away that he might come under Paul’s influence and become a Christian: the gracious purpose of God overrules evil for good.

Philemon 1:17-19

partner or true comrade in Christ

Philemon 1:21

Is not this a graceful way of putting it? Who could have the heart to resist such pleading? Yet every word is gentle and quiet. Mild language is mighty.

Our Father in heaven, we hallow thy name,

O’er earth may thy kingdom establish its claim!

Oh, give to us daily our portion of bread;

It is from thy bounty that all must be fed.

Forgive our transgressions, and teach us to know

The humble compassion that pardons each foe;

Keep us from temptation, from weakness, and sin,

And thine be the glory for ever. Amen.

Evening

“Unto the Son He saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever.”

Hebrews 1

We have now reached that wonderful part of Holy Scripture which is found in the epistle to the Hebrews. Fully to understand it we ought to study closely the Book of Leviticus. Diamonds only will cut diamonds; the Word of God is its own expositor; the New Testament is the key of the old.

The epistle opens with the declaration that whatsoever was communicated by the prophets was spoken by God. He spoke whatsoever was uttered by his prophets. The Scriptures are very jealous on this subject; how different from the language of many who seem desirous to exclude God from being the author of his own word!

Hebrews 1:1 , Hebrews 1:2

Ours is the clearest of all revelations. In Jesus we see far more of God than in all the teachings of the prophets.

Hebrews 1:3

The priest stood while he performed service, and only sat down when his work was done. Jesus enthroned in glory enjoys the honours of his finished work.

Hebrews 1:5

But he does say this to Christ in the second Psalm.

Hebrews 1:5

And again speaking to Solomon as the type of Christ in the Second Book of Samuel 12:14

Hebrews 1:6

Or “worship him all ye gods,” Jesus is by nature infinitely superior to the noblest created beings, for he is essentially God, and to be worshipped as Lord of all.

Hebrews 1:7 , Hebrews 1:9

And of the angels in Psalms 104:4

Hebrews 1:7 , Hebrews 1:9

Psalms 45:6, Psalms 45:7

Hebrews 1:7 , Hebrews 1:9

Angels are servants and not kings, they fly upon the divine errands like flames of fire, but they do not sway a sceptre, neither have they a throne existing for ever and ever. Jesus is the anointed king, and though we share in the anointing yet is he far above us. Christ is infinitely greater than Christians. We are right glad to have it so.

Hebrews 1:10-12

again we read in Psalms 102:25-27

Hebrews 1:10-12

Since the Messiah is thus described as immutable and eternal he must be divine, and to deny the Godhead of the Saviour is a deadly error. Dr. Owen most comfortingly remarks: ”Whatever our changes may be, inward or outward, yet Christ changing not, our eternal condition is secured, and relief provided against all present troubles and miseries. The immutability and eternity of Christ are the spring of our consolation and security in every condition. Such is the frailty of the nature of man, and such the perishing condition of all created things, that none can ever obtain the least stable consolation but what ariseth from an interest in the omnipotency, sovereignty, and eternity of Jesus Christ.”

Hebrews 1:13 , Hebrews 1:14

They are servants of God and our willing guardians; but they are not to be worshipped. Jesus is Lord of all, and we are bound to adore him, and him only.

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 1 year ago

Text

18th November >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saturday, Thirty Second Week in Ordinary Time

Dedication of the Basilicas of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Thirty Second Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))

First Reading Wisdom 18:14-16,19:6-9 The Red Sea became an unimpeded way.

When peaceful silence lay over all, and night had run the half of her swift course, down from the heavens, from the royal throne, leapt your all-powerful Word; into the heart of a doomed land the stern warrior leapt. Carrying your unambiguous command like a sharp sword, he stood, and filled the universe with death; he touched the sky, yet trod the earth.

For, to keep your children from all harm, the whole creation, obedient to your commands, was once more, and newly, fashioned in its nature. Overshadowing the camp there was the cloud, where water had been, dry land was seen to rise, the Red Sea became an unimpeded way, the tempestuous flood a green plain; sheltered by your hand, the whole nation passed across, gazing at these amazing miracles. They were like horses at pasture, they skipped like lambs, singing your praises, Lord, their deliverer.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 104(105):2-3,36-37,42-43

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done. or R/ Alleluia!

O sing to him, sing his praise; tell all his wonderful works! Be proud of his holy name, let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done. or R/ Alleluia!

He struck all the first-born in their land, the finest flower of their sons. He led out Israel with silver and gold. In his tribes were none who fell behind.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done. or R/ Alleluia!

For he remembered his holy word, which he gave to Abraham his servant. So he brought out his people with joy, his chosen ones with shouts of rejoicing.

R/ Remember the wonders the Lord has done. or R/ Alleluia!

Gospel Acclamation James 1:21

Alleluia, alleluia! Accept and submit to the word which has been planted in you and can save your souls. Alleluia!

Or: cf. 2 Thessalonians 2:14

Alleluia, alleluia! Through the Good News God called us to share the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 18:1-8 The parable of the unjust judge.

Jesus told his disciples a parable about the need to pray continually and never lose heart. ‘There was a judge in a certain town’ he said ‘who had neither fear of God nor respect for man. In the same town there was a widow who kept on coming to him and saying, “I want justice from you against my enemy!” For a long time he refused, but at last he said to himself, “Maybe I have neither fear of God nor respect for man, but since she keeps pestering me I must give this widow her just rights, or she will persist in coming and worry me to death.”’

And the Lord said ‘You notice what the unjust judge has to say? Now will not God see justice done to his chosen who cry to him day and night even when he delays to help them? I promise you, he will see justice done to them, and done speedily. But when the Son of Man comes, will he find any faith on earth?’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

----------------------------

Dedication of the Basilicas of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(There is no choice between ferial and memorial readings today, because all readings are proper to the memorial)

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 28:11-16,30-31 So we came to Rome.

At the end of three months we set sail in a ship that had wintered in the island; she came from Alexandria and her figurehead was the Twins. We put in at Syracuse and spent three days there; from there we followed the coast up to Rhegium. After one day there a south wind sprang up and on the second day we made Puteoli, where we found some brothers and were much rewarded by staying a week with them. And so we came to Rome.

When the brothers there heard of our arrival they came to meet us, as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns. When Paul saw them he thanked God and took courage. On our arrival in Rome Paul was allowed to stay in lodgings of his own with the soldier who guarded him.

Paul spent the whole of the two years in his own rented lodging. He welcomed all who came to visit him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching the truth about the Lord Jesus Christ with complete freedom and without hindrance from anyone.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 97(98):1-6

R/ The Lord has shown his salvation to the nations.

Sing a new song to the Lord for he has worked wonders. His right hand and his holy arm have brought salvation.

R/ The Lord has shown his salvation to the nations.

The Lord has made known his salvation; has shown his justice to the nations. He has remembered his truth and love for the house of Israel.

R/ The Lord has shown his salvation to the nations.

All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God. Shout to the Lord, all the earth, ring out your joy.

R/ The Lord has shown his salvation to the nations.

Sing psalms to the Lord with the harp with the sound of music. With trumpets and the sound of the horn acclaim the King, the Lord.

R/ The Lord has shown his salvation to the nations.

Gospel Acclamation cf. Te Deum

Alleluia, alleluia! We praise you, O God, we acknowledge you to be the Lord. The glorious company of the apostles praise you, O Lord. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 14:22-33 Jesus walks on the water.

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he would send the crowds away. After sending the crowds away he went up into the hills by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, while the boat, by now far out on the lake, was battling with a heavy sea, for there was a head-wind. In the fourth watch of the night he went towards them, walking on the lake, and when the disciples saw him walking on the lake they were terrified. ‘It is a ghost’ they said, and cried out in fear. But at once Jesus called out to them, saying, ‘Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.’ It was Peter who answered. ‘Lord,’ he said ‘if it is you, tell me to come to you across the water.’ ‘Come’ said Jesus. Then Peter got out of the boat and started walking towards Jesus across the water, but as soon as he felt the force of the wind, he took fright and began to sink. ‘Lord! Save me!’ he cried. Jesus put out his hand at once and held him. ‘Man of little faith,’ he said ‘why did you doubt?’ And as they got into the boat the wind dropped. The men in the boat bowed down before him and said, ‘Truly, you are the Son of God.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

-------------------------

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

Either:

First Reading Genesis 3:9-15,20 The mother of all those who live.

After Adam had eaten of the tree the Lord God called to him. ‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘I heard the sound of you in the garden;’ he replied ‘I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.’ ‘Who told you that you were naked?’ he asked ‘Have you been eating of the tree I forbade you to eat?’ The man replied, ‘It was the woman you put with me; she gave me the fruit, and I ate it.’ Then the Lord God asked the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman replied, ‘The serpent tempted me and I ate.’ Then the Lord God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this,

‘Be accursed beyond all cattle, all wild beasts. You shall crawl on your belly and eat dust every day of your life. I will make you enemies of each other: you and the woman, your offspring and her offspring. It will crush your head and you will strike its heel.’

The man named his wife ‘Eve’ because she was the mother of all those who live.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

OR: --------

First reading Genesis 12:1-7 All the tribes of the earth shall bless themselves by you

The Lord said to Abram, ‘Leave your country, your family and your father’s house, for the land I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name so famous that it will be used as a blessing.

‘I will bless those who bless you: I will curse those who slight you. All the tribes of the earth shall bless themselves by you.’

So Abram went as the Lord told him, and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he left Haran. Abram took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all the possessions they had amassed and the people they had acquired in Haran. They set off for the land of Canaan, and arrived there. Abram passed through the land as far as Shechem’s holy place, the Oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. The Lord appeared to Abram and said, ‘It is to your descendants that I will give this land.’ So Abram built there an altar for the Lord who had appeared to him.

OR: --------

First reading 2 Samuel 7:1-5,8-11,16 The Lord will make you great; the Lord will make you a House

Once David had settled into his house and the Lord had given him rest from all the enemies surrounding him, the king said to the prophet Nathan, ‘Look, I am living in a house of cedar while the ark of God dwells in a tent.’ Nathan said to the king, ‘Go and do all that is in your mind, for the Lord is with you.’ But that very night the word of the Lord came to Nathan: ‘Go and tell my servant David, “Thus the Lord speaks: Are you the man to build me a house to dwell in? I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, to be leader of my people Israel; I have been with you on all your expeditions; I have cut off all your enemies before you. I will give you fame as great as the fame of the greatest on earth. I will provide a place for my people Israel; I will plant them there and they shall dwell in that place and never be disturbed again; nor shall the wicked continue to oppress them as they did, in the days when I appointed judges over my people Israel; I will give them rest from all their enemies. The Lord will make you great; the Lord will make you a House. Your House and your sovereignty will always stand secure before me and your throne be established for ever.”’

OR: --------

First reading 1 Chronicles 15:3-4,15-16,16:1-2 They brought in the ark of God and put it inside the tent that David had pitched for it

David gathered all Israel together to bring the ark of God up to the place he had prepared for it. David called together the sons of Aaron and the sons of Levi. And the Levites carried the ark of God with the shafts on their shoulders, as Moses had ordered in accordance with the word of the Lord. David then told the heads of the Levites to assign duties for their kinsmen as cantors, with their various instruments of music, harps and lyres and cymbals, to play joyful tunes. They brought the ark of God in and put it inside the tent that David had pitched for it; and they offered holocausts before God, and communion sacrifices. And when David had finished offering holocausts and communion sacrifices, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord.

OR: --------

First reading Proverbs 8:22-31 Before the earth came into being, Wisdom was born

The Wisdom of God cries aloud:

The Lord created me when his purpose first unfolded, before the oldest of his works. From everlasting I was firmly set, from the beginning, before earth came into being. The deep was not, when I was born, there were no springs to gush with water. Before the mountains were settled, before the hills, I came to birth; before he made the earth, the countryside, or the first grains of the world’s dust. When he fixed the heavens firm, I was there, when he drew a ring on the surface of the deep, when he thickened the clouds above, when he fixed fast the springs of the deep, when he assigned the sea its boundaries – and the waters will not invade the shore – when he laid down the foundations of the earth, I was by his side, a master craftsman, delighting him day after day, ever at play in his presence, at play everywhere in his world, delighting to be with the sons of men.

OR: --------

First reading Ecclesiasticus 24:1-4,8-12,18-21 From eternity, in the beginning, God created wisdom

Wisdom speaks her own praises, in the midst of her people she glories in herself. She opens her mouth in the assembly of the Most High, she glories in herself in the presence of the Mighty One: ‘I came forth from the mouth of the Most High, and I covered the earth like a mist. I had my tent in the heights, and my throne in a pillar of cloud. Then the creator of all things instructed me, and he who created me fixed a place for my tent. He said, “Pitch your tent in Jacob, make Israel your inheritance.” From eternity, in the beginning, he created me, and for eternity I shall remain. I ministered before him in the holy tabernacle, and thus was I established on Zion. In the beloved city he has given me rest, and in Jerusalem I wield my authority. I have taken root in a privileged people, in the Lord’s property, in his inheritance. Approach me, you who desire me, and take your fill of my fruits, for memories of me are sweeter than honey, inheriting me is sweeter than the honeycomb. They who eat me will hunger for more, they who drink me will thirst for more. Whoever listens to me will never have to blush, whoever acts as I dictate will never sin.’

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 7:10-14,8:10 The maiden is with child

The Lord spoke to Ahaz and said, ‘Ask the Lord your God for a sign for yourself coming either from the depths of Sheol or from the heights above.’ ‘No,’ Ahaz answered ‘I will not put the Lord to the test.’ Then Isaiah said:

‘Listen now, House of David: are you not satisfied with trying the patience of men without trying the patience of my God, too? The Lord himself, therefore, will give you a sign. It is this: the maiden is with child and will soon give birth to a son whom she will call Immanuel, a name which means “God-is-with-us.”’

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 9:1-6 A Son is given to us

The people that walked in darkness has seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone. You have made their gladness greater, you have made their joy increase; they rejoice in your presence as men rejoice at harvest time, as men are happy when they are dividing the spoils.

For the yoke that was weighing on him, the bar across his shoulders, the rod of his oppressor, these you break as on the day of Midian.

For all the footgear of battle, every cloak rolled in blood, is burnt, and consumed by fire.

For there is a child born for us, a son given to us and dominion is laid on his shoulders; and this is the name they give him: Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 61:9-11 I exult for joy in the Lord

Their race will be famous throughout the nations, their descendants throughout the peoples. All who see them will admit that they are a race whom the Lord has blessed.

‘I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God, for he has clothed me in the garments of salvation, he has wrapped me in the cloak of integrity, like a bridegroom wearing his wreath, like a bride adorned in her jewels.

‘For as the earth makes fresh things grow, as a garden makes seeds spring up, so will the Lord make both integrity and praise spring up in the sight of the nations.’

OR: --------

First reading Micah 5:1-4 He will stand and feed his flock with the power of the Lord

The Lord says this:

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, the least of the clans of Judah, out of you will be born for me the one who is to rule over Israel; his origin goes back to the distant past, to the days of old. The Lord is therefore going to abandon them till the time when she who is to give birth gives birth. Then the remnant of his brothers will come back to the sons of Israel. He will stand and feed his flock with the power of the Lord, with the majesty of the name of his God. They will live secure, for from then on he will extend his power to the ends of the land. He himself will be peace.

OR: --------

First reading Zechariah 2:14-17 'I am coming', says the Lord

Sing, rejoice, daughter of Zion; for I am coming to dwell in the middle of you – it is the Lord who speaks. Many nations will join the Lord, on that day; they will become his people. But he will remain among you, and you will know that the Lord of Hosts has sent me to you. But the Lord will hold Judah as his portion in the Holy Land, and again make Jerusalem his very own. Let all mankind be silent before the Lord! For he is awaking and is coming from his holy dwelling.

EITHER: --------

Responsorial Psalm 1 Samuel 2:1,4-8

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

My heart exults in the Lord. I find my strength in my God; my mouth laughs at my enemies as I rejoice in your saving help.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

The bows of the mighty are broken, but the weak are clothed with strength. Those with plenty must labour for bread, but the hungry need work no more. The childless wife has children now but the fruitful wife bears no more.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

It is the Lord who gives life and death, he brings men to the grave and back; it is the Lord who gives poverty and riches. He brings men low and raises them on high.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

He lifts up the lowly from the dust, from the dungheap he raises the poor to set him in the company of princes to give him a glorious throne. For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s, on them he has set the world.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Judith 13:18a-19

You are the highest honour of our race!

May you be blessed, my daughter, by God Most High, beyond all women on earth; and may the Lord God be blessed, the Creator of heaven and earth.

You are the highest honour of our race!

The trust you have shown shall not pass from the memories of men, but shall ever remind them of the power of God.

You are the highest honour of our race!

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 44(45):11-12,14-17

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words: forget your own people and your father’s house. So will the king desire your beauty: He is your lord, pay homage to him.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendour, her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold. She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy; they pass within the palace of the king. Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers: you will make them princes over all the earth.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 112(113):1-7

May the name of the Lord be blessed for evermore! or Alleluia!

Praise, O servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord! May the name of the Lord be blessed both now and for evermore!

May the name of the Lord be blessed for evermore! or Alleluia!

From the rising of the sun to its setting praised be the name of the Lord! High above all nations is the Lord, above the heavens his glory.

May the name of the Lord be blessed for evermore! or Alleluia!

Who is like the Lord, our God, who has risen on high to his throne yet stoops from the heights to look down, to look down upon heaven and earth? From the dust he lifts up the lowly, from the dungheap he raises the poor

May the name of the Lord be blessed for evermore! or Alleluia!

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Luke 1:46-55