Gil

I hope this will reach all the people I have open threads with. I apologize but work and life leave me without muse at the moment. This has been going on all summer and now we're heading into Fall. So I wanted to let everyone know (again) I'm alive and well but stressed and kind of blah. So whatever my characters are up to with yours, I give you my permission to move along and do whatever works best for your character(s) plot wise. Again, apologies for the inconvenience.

I just finished reading an Inspector Lynley crime/murder mystery - "This Body of Death" - which happened to turn around the discovery of some Roman loot in the New Forest of England. So that was kind of fun!

I've never watched the TV show (BBC?) made from the books. But I can HIGHLY recommend the entire series of books by Elizabeth George. (If you like contemporary "murder mysteries")

Caia Lupa - 20 - Gil

Tamm (Apius A.L. Ursus) - 55 - Gil

In her father's wake, Caia had moved, noiselessly at first, trying hard to avoid the notice of any malevolent spirits. She had risen when he had, and as he had washed and prepared himself for the ritual, she had fetched a pot of hot water, kept ready for just this purpose since when they had gone to sleep earlier. As Caius moved from room to room, Caia took the pot and a spoon and spun about in his wake, cleansing each room with the water, casting it about in a circle. By the time her father was done, her sister and the slaves who slept in the apartment with them were all awake and ready, and they each began to beat upon metal pots or cups or plates - whatever was available, doled out between them. Caia joined in, beathing her spoon against the now empty pot she carried, as they all began to howl and make a great noise, to scare away any last remaining spirits who might have lingered. Then they all fell to, with more water and soap, and began to wash every nook and corner, every surface and piece of furnishing, missing nothing until the sun was well risen and the house was pure and clean from top to bottom.

Then it was the time to pay homage to their ancestors with offerings set before the lalarium. It would be a bittersweet day for Caia, as the loss of her mother was brought home in such a marked way. Yet knowing too that her spirit watched over them brought great comfort to the young woman. With this in mind, she approached her father and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Alright, father?" she asked quietly, looking into his familiar face. She was certainly old enough to note how it had aged, as she had grown. It was lined with hard work and toil, cares and setbacks, not the least of which was the loss of his wife. But it was rugged, and strong, and inspired a great deal of faith and certainty in Caia. She always believed her father would be there for her, and take care of her, and her sister. When it came to family, Caius was in every sense of the word a good Roman family man.

@Gothic

Tamm, otherwise known as "Ursus" to most in Rome, looked up as a shadow fell across the open doorway. "You're the medicus?" he asked expectantly, a clear note of hope in his voice.

His gaze dropped back to the inert form stretched on the table before him. The gladiator, brought fresh from the arena, lay without movement, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with a definite hitch in each and every breath taken. The back of his head, well, it was a bloody mess, and blood had already soaked into the stained surface of the table which had seen the same scene repeat itself many times over, in the few years it had been in service as the de facto operating table. Some of the patients laid there had risen of their own accord. Others had been carried off to mend and heal successfully. A fair few had been carted off to be buried, their life extinguished by the severity of what Roman medicine could not ameliorate.

"An unlucky blow," Tamm said, probably unnecessarily, for what blow that landed to affect was ever anything other than unlucky, to the recipient? "Our man said there was nothing to be done. But..." The doctore, old by Roman standards, sighed and for a moment looked almost... saddened. But surely death was as much a part of his days as life was?

"He's a good lad. One of my best. I just wanted....to be sure." No, it wouldn't do to get too emotionally attached to these men who went out to face their own death whenever called upon to do so. It was always there, hovering, like a jackal - ready to rush in and snatch a soul away. He should be used to this tableau. Yet for whatever reason, this one hurt, more than the others.

Maybe he really was just getting old.

@Chevi

Looking perhaps as drawn and fatigued as he felt, Titus entered the baths with no smile and a heavy heart. Working hard to forget his pain, he was beginning to wear himself out. But he wouldn't have admitted it. A "desk job" in Rome could hardly be as taxing on a man as life in the frontiers, with the constant threat of hostilities and the lack of creature comforts. This was Rome, a city of marvels, such as these opulent public thermae! Even though he felt more exhausted than ever he could recall, under the most arduous of assignments, he refused to allow himself to see the toll Caesennia's death was taking on him, both emotionally and physically. He wore a month's worth of beard that was a sign of mourning, and he had a thought to have it removed. It was yet just another reminder of the grief he kept bottled inside, and it was itchy now that the weather grew warmer. A good soak and a massage seemed to be in order, a way to cleanse himself of mental distress as well as what little actual dirt and perspiration might now adorn his body since he had bathed the day before, in his own home. Every such banal activity served as a reminder of the domestic bliss that had been, and which now seemed to have been rent, leaving a large, gaping hole in the fabric of his daily existence. It was better, easier, to do as much as he could away from his home, despite knowing that really, he should be there for more hours of the day than he was. Attia at least needed him, needed to be comforted by him. The twin boys were only infants and knew only their nursemaid's comforts.

But, for now, he would bathe here, and as he entered and moved to the vestibule where he could pay the small fee and expect to be taken in hand by one of the slaves.

@Atrice

Gaius was content to watch affably as the stable boy calmed the mare, patting her. He had no place to go and was in absolutely no hurry. When Azarion finally came back out of the stall, Gaius moved, to take a peek in the adjecent one. "And who do we have here?" he asked, rhetorically.  Once again, he stretched out his hand, the apple on his palm, hoping to coax this other resident of the stable to come partake of the offering the mare had disdained to accept.

He turned his head to glance at the other boy - perhaps not wisely - and said with a sigh, "I wish you could tell me their names."

@Chevi

Calvunus shot the other two a look and asked with a grin, "Delos? Isn't that where they have all those statues of gigantic pricks?"

He snorted in amusement as he stuffed some bread in his gob.

@Chevi

Phaedo listened with rapt attention, as Calvunus began attacking his food with gusto, and a good amount of lip smacking, chewing and slurping at the wine that had been delivered to them. Against this backdrop of noise, the slave murmured appreciatively, "...But when I saw the house of Artemis that mounted to the clouds, those other marvels lost their brilliancy, and I said, 'Lo, apart from Olympus, the Sun never looked on aught so grand'."* He smiled, bemused, at Theodorus. "You are fortunate. I was close to Ephesus, once. When I was brought from the northern shores of the Euxeinos Pontus, and then by ship to Delos, where my first master bought me. But, I was only a small child. Even if I had the good fortune to see the temple, I would not have known it for what it was. My master had seen it though. He told me of its wonder and taught me those words."

*from Antipater of Sidon, a Greek poet of the second century BC, found in the Greek Anthology IX.58

@Chevi

That hug...lingered, longer than a more normal, every day, commonplace greeting type hug. Titus was not given to much in the way of outward displays of emotion. But for a moment, he clung to Octavius, his older cousin, a man who was like a brother to him, really. Their bond was one of family, but it ran deeper than just that, much deeper. Men who serve together, fight together, face death together, form ties that tether soul to soul. He clung to Octavius, his fingers briefly twisting in the dark fabric of his tunic. It was not over long. But it was telling, and as he pulled back out of that embrace, the lines on his face deepened. He nodded, in acknowledgment of Octavius' words - words that never could say enough - but Titus had been there himself. Offering condolences where pain was deep and palpable always seemed so inadequate. But words, and the comfort or presence, was all one could offer.

He knew too that Octavius himself had once, years ago, gone through what he must now endure, and he knew, Octavius really understood, and was sincere in his sentiments.

"Yes, you are right," he replied, as he gestured for Octavius to sit. "Life remains. Precious life. That must be the focus now." His words were not empty. His children were the reason for moving on, moving forward, trying not to dwell on the past. Like so many in his family, he had lost so much, a decade before. All a man could do was to keep his eyes turned towards the future, and do what he could to make sure his children, and grandchildren, and their children, would have what they needed to carry the hopes and dreams of their ancestors forward into time.

He took his seat again and smiled wearily. "Twin sons. I have indeed been blessed." It didn't quite feel that way, but he supposed he should be feeling that way. Perhaps in time, when the pain of loss eased (if it ever did) he would find more joy in his boys.

"Titus Flavius Alexander Minor and Lucius Flavius Alexander Caesennius." He had a bemused look on his face. "Another Titus for the family," he said with a tiny smirk. "I think I shall call him Flavius, otherwise we'll never know which Titus we're talking about."

@Gothic

"Africa," he had replied briefly. "And from there I came to Syria with Jullus, to support Quintus." His tone reflected the somber feeling such memories evoked. He left them there, to return to dust as the bones of his family had, all those years ago. For a moment, he caught an image of Caesennia, as she had stood, bidding him good bye, no more than a girl then. It would be several years before he'd been able to return to her, marry her, bring her back to Rome with him. And now...

"I do believe a drink is in order," Titus said, changing the subject to something less painful. "I'm sure you must owe me one or two. Come. I can't remember when last I ate. It might be a good thing to put some food in me as well." And it was true - he would lose himself so thoroughly in his work that he would forget to eat, or ignore the food brought to him by the slaves, either at his house - which he was avoiding - or here at the Basilica. He had risen and clapped Aulus on the shoulder, smiling, working through emotions he chose not to show.

"And so how is Horatia? And the children...?" he asked as he let his friend precede him out of the office he too had once occupied.

@Sharpie

The suggestion had Phaedo's eyebrows rising with mild surprise. He wasn't at all sure his own mistress would be pleased for one of her slave's to be quite so free as to stay out all night, somewhere else. Yet it was Saturnalia - a festival when roles reversed and slaves could act as masters, for one night. Lexus was not his master, so Phaedo was not quite sure it applied in the same way to the two of them. They were friends, or so he liked to believe, whilst burying any realization that their status was worlds apart. But it had seemed like the domina of the Venus had pretty much given them all liberty, to go out and enjoy themselves. So perhaps...it would be alright if he stayed away, just this one night.

Besides, the offer made by Lexus would still have to be approved by his mother too. So in response, Phaedo said, quite truthfully, "I would enjoy that. But come, first we must get there." He grinned and with his arm about his friend, they continued to make their way through the dark streets, heading towards Lexus' dwelling.

It seemed to Phaedo that were coming close to their destination, although he wasn't entirely sure that the alley they had chosen would empty out into the street they needed to be on, when a dark shape loomed up out of the shadows, joined by another right beside it. A gruff voice sounded. "Here, now. Who are you?"

@Atrice

Life was a bastard sometimes, and Calvunus had not been a happy man these last few weeks. Oh, yes, he should have been grateful that damn bitch hadn't ripped his balls off - there was that. But the bite wound had been painful and its placement on his inner thigh had been the source of both extreme inconvenience and amusement - the amusement of his friend Marcus, that is. Calvunus had been in a right terrible mood for too long, and even as the wound continued to heal as it should - without complication - he still felt abused by fate and the gods and dogs and his fellow man in general.

Possibly the worse part of his ordeal had been being forced to spend far more time at his own domicile than he'd ever wanted to. His wife was a nag and she'd shown him no sympathy. Of course, he'd not told her the details of how the dog had happened to come upon him, and Helios, in that alley - or more precisely, what they'd been in the middle of when the protective mother canine had attacked. But even without such information, she had been able to disparage and scold, and he was thoroughly sick of her voice, and the sound of his many young children running in and out of the insula constantly.

So he was at least a shade more pleased than he had been when he could quit his home and return to mostly hanging out at the Venus and finding any excuse to sleep there as well. Thus it was that early morning found him in need of relieving himself and then hunger prompted him to go poke about in the kitchen to see what he could find to still the rumbling in his belly. What he found was Helios, the golden haired minx that was now so interwoven into that tale of woe. Yet Calvunus laid no blame at the whore's feet for what had happened. In fact, Helios had been the hero that night, getting him back to the brothel and attended to by their drunken quack of a medicus. Calvunus was indebted to the man. He acknowledged that. And upon seeing him, he grinned in response to the teasing greeting.

"And such a beautiful sight to behold so early in the morning!" he said, clapping Helios on the back and then sliding his arm around his shoulders as he sat down beside him. He gave him a squeeze, looking at him. "Our lovely ray of sunshine," he quipped, a play on the slave's name.

"How have you been keeping? I've seen little of you these past few weeks," he asked in a genial tone, his mood improving already, for that was Calvunus' way - he wasn't a man to stay down and bitter for too long. He reached past Helios for a slightly blighted pear that someone had abandoned in a wooden bowl, and brought it to his lips, biting into it heartily, the juice wetting his lips.

@Atrice

Like granite. Yes, an apt comparison, for granite does not float. Had it not been for the spare spar that his desperate fingertips had - at literally the very last moment - managed to just only brush against, and then somehow claw themselves into, Tamm would have sunk to the bottom of whatever part of the mare nostrum they had been blown to. Of the three possible explanations - serendipity, fate or punishment - he was definitely feeling the latter. As he clung to the piece of wood, plunging up and down in the high seas, a plague of memories of times past, wherein he had perhaps stepped over the line of what a decent man might have hesitated to dare, in the face of the gods, had him whispering inaudible prayers of promised repentance and mending of ways. Such is the way of humankind, where, when death draws close, vows come easily.

In the end, though, this human chunk of rock did find his way to safety - whether through the further intervention of gods who seemed always to be as capricious as a pretty maid, or simply due to the set of the current and the storm blown winds, Tamm could not have possibly said. But it seemed prudent to acknowledge the possibility of the former, and so as he lay, like his two companions, soaked and battered on some bit of the shoreline, he gave thanks first, that he was alive.

But crowded right to that realization was the same fear that had gripped him throughout the ordeal, from the time he and Ario and Turia had awoken to the sense of a rising wind, to the moment he had lost his grip on his erstwhile niece's wrist as she had slipped from his grasp. Worse than even the dread of his own descent into a watery grave, he had shrunk from the idea that anything had happened to her, or his life long friend, her father. For Ario he held less concern. If Tamm was granite, Ario was built like a bit of straw - all wiry limbs, and still lithe and nimble. Perhaps he'd float to shore like a gull's feather, or so Tamm desperately hoped. The girl though...

As he lay in the sand, a sound came to him on the wind. Was it a bird cry? Some realization that it was not forced him to lift his head and listen, hard. There! It came again, faint, but upwind, such that it was carried to his water filled ears. "Turia!" he mumbled, as he forced himself upright. Then, "Turia!" more loudly, in his deep bass. "Turia! Here! I'm coming, lass!" and he was - making his legs work, regardless of fatigue, blinking sea water and sand out of his eyelashes, plowing his way across the beach towards her voice.

@Kit

@Gothic

Phaedo had awaited the answer with a forced pushing away of any hope or expectation as to what that answer might be. Even if Ario had been, or was, a tutor, that meant little to nothing, as regarded his own situation. There was no reason to think the man came to the brothel in search of possible students, who had no ability to either pay or assist him. Yet when the man stated that he had from time to time instructed others, Pheado could not help the cautious optimism that arose in his breast. Still, he would have to have summoned his courage to actually make any request - it seemed so outlandish a one that hovered there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be given voice. Fortunate for him that it wasn't even necessary, for Ario made the offer directly - and Phaedo felt a sudden warmth suffusing his core, and then spreading out to limbs and digits. His eyes goggled in wonder and his lips parted, thinking finally, finally, Fortuna was smiling on him!

"Oh! Domine! Would you....would you really consider it?" he gasped, leaning forward to put his hand on Ario's forearm, his expression intense and hopeful and joyous and wary all at once.

@Kit

Bumping because I just added my new Doctores secutorum (trainer of secutores[a type of gladiator]) Tamm aka Ursus

"I had heard that you were stationed there," he replied to the information supplied, regarding Raetia. "We were practically neighbors! You should have hopped aboard a river barge and come for a visit." His light hearted tone was accompanied by a small grin, and he chuckled over the comment about Caesar's lapse in judgment. "Well, good thing you're here now, Aulus. You can set me straight. By Jupiter, these legal cases make my head swim. You'll have to tell me how you managed to keep your sanity, hearing all these endless suits!"

Yet, when Aulus put that last question to him, Titus' expression tightened and at least in his eyes, the strain of what had transpired showed clearly. He sat on the edge of the desk, fingers twined together, hands resting loosely in his lap.His gaze dropped to the floor. "I've been better," he said, in a candid tone edged with some hint of the sorrow he felt. "Admittedly, I've been worse too, I'm sure. Though I can't recall when. At least...not since the purges."

@Sharpie

Titus' head jerked up at the sound of someone entering his little cubicle of space. It was unexpected and he was ready to be grouchy about it - especially at whatever slave hadn't managed to catch the intruder before he'd made it this far without accompaniment or introduction. But at the sight of his old friend, the irritation evaporated instantly and instead he smiled broadly. It had been a rough month - perhaps the hardest he'd had since the purges of the civil war. Yet he was the kind of man who threw himself into work in order not to dwell on grief, and to look at him, one would not necessarily know how deep his recent loss had pierced his heart.

He rose with arms outspread and moved from behind the table at which he had been working. "Aulus! You old dog! Where did you pop up from?" His voice, like his expression, gave no hint of sorrow, only perhaps a faint edge of weariness. Long hours in his new position helped to keep the sadness at bay, for the most part.

@Sharpie

Titus was a stoic man. He had not cried, not once - since the first moments when it became clear that the bleeding was sucking the life from his poor wife, until the moment Caesennia's ashes were gathered up, to be placed in a funerary urn and buried beside the marker he had commissioned. He had not cried, but he had grieved, and he grieved still. It had been a week to the day since his twin sons had come into the world, hale and healthy, bawling lustily and hungry for life, while their mother fell deeper and deeper into a lassitude that would never raise. As he held first one and then the other, his eyes had glanced only briefly at their red, wrinkled, squalling faces, and then returned to fix on his lovely wife, her beauty drained and fading, as the physicians and mid-wives tried in vain to staunch the hemorrhage brought on by the birthing process. There was as much blood as he had ever seen, flowing from dying men on the battlefield. He had known almost right away that she was leaving them, that fate was taking her from him, and their children. Little Attia had not even a chance to say good bye, Titus choosing to keep his young daughter from the sight of all that gore, as the others worked to try to save her. All in vain. She had exchanged her own life to bring two others into the world. That was the lot of women, and the men who had participated in the beginning of their end, by creating life, could only watch and mourn.

Titus sat in the atrium, a cup of wine held idly in his hand, unconsumed. He had eaten very little in the past seven days. He had kept busy with making what arrangements were needed. Now Caesennia was truly gone from the house, except for the new tablet in the small alcove dedicated to his ancestors. Tia, his daughter, was off somewhere with her nurse, still uncomprehending and almost inconsolable for missing her dear mother. His sons were in the care of a nurse and a wet nurse, a slave hastily purchased for having a baby at her breast and seeming ample milk to spare for two more mouths. He would rouse himself, soon. It was not within him to sit and despair. He had loved his wife dearly. She had been a treasure. But he was not given much to outward displays of feeling.

When the slave came to announce that his cousin had appeared, Titus lifted his head and nodded, saying to bring Octavius there, to the atrium, and giving order for more wine and another cup to be brought. He set his own, untouched, on the small table beside him, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the spot where his cousin would soon step through under the covered porch. It was a sad time indeed. But he welcomed Octavius' company. He had news to share beyond what was already known - news he'd not had the chance to relay to his cousin, although he suspected Quintus would have already filled his younger brother in on the appointment which had occurred literally the day before Caesennia had gone into labor.

@Gothic

Calvunus followed suit and when they were both more presentable, he lead the way back to the room where it had all started. The others within were still for the most part oblivious to the comings and goings of the two erstwhile lovers. The table was still on its side. Calvunus moved to right it, and stopped to retrieve the dice, and the cups, whose contents had spilled and pooled on the floor. "Such a mess. If you were at home, your wife would have your balls for it - and make you clean it up!" he teased, with a smirk.

@Gothic

"First, to the stalls of those who sell fresh vegetables and herbs. We need to buy some basil," Caia replied, going over in her head what supplies needed replenishing today. "And onions and we might as well buy garlic too." The two young women walked along together, Caia leading the way, for the dual reasons that Soraya was new to the market and because she was a slave and Caia a free woman. But working shoulder to shoulder with the slaves her father owned, Caia was not one to stand on such ceremony over much. She chatted freely with the other woman as they walked.

"I'm not surprised it seems that way to you," she replied with a small smile. "Many days you have to take care you don't get stepped on, there is such a press here. But, you get used to it. It's all I've ever known. I've never set foot outside the city." She shrugged. "I'm sure it must be strange to you, having lived in such a wild frontier. How did you come by your food? I mean, the things you needed to cook with? Spices and fresh vegetables? I suppose you had to make do, when you could not lay your hand on them?"

She was curious. The idea of living among soldiers seemed...frightening. Caia would not have enjoyed living rough - not because she was used to being spoiled. But feeling unprotected by the city walls was an unsettling idea.

@AzraelGrim

Making an attempt to tear his thoughts away from what he'd witnessed a short while ago, before he'd had the sense to close his eyes, Phaedo asked Theodorus, "What parts of the Empire did you see, domine? Were you able to do anything besides march and camp and care for the others?"

He was not filled with wanderlust himself. But he had always enjoyed hearing others speak about their travels throughout the known world.

@Chevi

"Ah, good. A little civilizing influence then - bet your comrades taught you how to fuck properly!" Calvunus said with a laugh. In his mind, of course, the Romans, being far superior to the Greeks, were the ones to bring "civilization" to the world, and not vice versa. Also, the idea that either soldiering or fucking had anything to do with being "civilized" did not seem in the least bit ironic to him. His thought processes were simple, and far from logical, and in absolutely no way intellectual or appropriate. For Calvunus, life was all about the simple things, like...violence, sex and getting drunk. That's was about the extent of his existence. Oh and trying to somehow get rich.

The woman was bringing the food to their table, and before she had even set it down, Calvunus was reaching for it with one hand while grabbing himself with the other, leering at her. "If it doesn't taste like pig shit, I'll give you a little something extra for the effort." He was the type of man who thought that any woman would count herself lucky to get a taste of him.

@Chevi

Phaedo threw a consoling arm about his friend's shoulders. "That is true. But we cannot know how it is for her, in her life, as slave to the household and to her young mistress. Perhaps it is that which makes her sour and selfish. Don't take it to heart too much. Her words were probably not directed solely at you." He gave Lexus a friendly squeeze. "Come. It's time to get you home. Otherwise your mother will never let us out together again." He was teasing, but that thought was sobering enough to make Phaedo hurry Lexus along. Besides Helios, Lexus was his only real friend, and he did not want to jeopardize that by making his mother upset.

@Atrice

To the teasing question, Phaedo responded with a look of shock and dismay, not taking it in the light hearted way it was voiced. "Oh no, domine! Not strange! Just...rare. In only a very good sense." By the time he'd blurted all that out, Phaedo could better see the expression on the older man's face, and knew he'd been joking. The slave relaxed, and blushed a bit to think he'd been silly enough to think Ario might really have thought that he thought him odd.

He did listen, to Ario's encouraging words, though he felt in his heart that the man was wrong. He could hope, and dream, but such ideas held no real substance for him. He was happy, then, to move on to the reintroduced topic of his first master, and replied readily, "I was quite young, but he tried. He taught me first to read, and write, and mathematics. Then he began to show me his art and I observed, and then could assist, somewhat. But I was taken from him when I was thirteen and nowhere near being trained up." He felt a wave of sadness about that but kept his face from showing it. "They were the best years of my life, domine. Perhaps...you are right. Perhaps one day I will have the chance to take up learning once more." As stated, he was not optimistic on that point. But he would not give up hope entirely.

"We do have time when there are no patrons to serve," he replied to the last question asked. "In the mornings, usually. There are chores that need doing, cleaning and such, but usually I have a few hours that I can use to my own benefit. I sometimes spend it with a friend, who I am tutoring," he admitted, almost shyly. More shyly still, for an idea had occurred to him that seemed far and away too bold to actually voice, he asked, "Have you ever tutored another, in your art? As a healer?"

@Kit