Gil

Titus could not have said that he was surprised to see both Gallus and Rufus within. Both turned to acknowledge his entrance, Gallus with a nod of his head and a polite enough "Sir" before he turned back to the task he was busy with. Theirs was a relationship of familiarity bred of time and adversity. He was a very good servant, and Titus valued him for his skills. The past three days had set the differences between Gallus and Rufus into a markable contrast, though. Gallus was far more...comfortable...with his master, and prone to being just a little more...familiar. Not in a disrespectful way, but the boundaries were perhaps the slightest bit...blurred. It suited Titus. he'd have sold the man off it hadn't suited him. Yet having been tended to by a fresh, new face these past days, that smudging had become more apparent to him.

Rufus also greeted his master's guest with due respect, yet waited before returning immediately to what he was doing. These were the tiny things that set the two apart. Gallus, knowing Titus almost as well as he knew himself, knew there was no error in getting on with his job. Rufus, more unsure, took great care not to trespass and presume what the man might want of him. The boundary was sharp and clean. That could play both ways, simply depending on the circumstances and what Titus needed of a personal slave in any given moment.

Yet he hadn't really expected both to be present, either, although he was actually pleased they were. He could kills two birds with one stone. "Ah, good. You are here Rufus. You can wait on me at table tonight. Gallus will benefit from one last night getting to sleep early. His cough lingers as well and is like to be disruptive during the meal." Neither man would question his decision, of course. It wasn't their place to do so.

"Gallus, see that all is in order for our departure tomorrow. I look to you to make sure we are ready to depart no later than a half hour past sunrise. We have a long ride ahead of us." A long ride of several days and more letters to deliver - but they would be on a well maintained road for the most part, and travel much faster than he had during the trip inland.

"Once you have seen to everything, you may retire. I want you well rested, and make sure you bring along whatever treatment you've found for your coughing." It went without saying that the last was prompted by Titus' desire not to be plagued with having to listen to his slave's hacking as much as it was to inure to the benefit of poor Gallus' health.

Gallus took the orders without comment or any visible sign that he was either pleased or displeased by the arrangements. In truth, he was glad to have the night off. Once he'd seen to things, he did indeed mean to crawl into whatever "bed" he'd found for himself in the house and get a good night's rest. All he said was, "Yes, sir," with another nod and not even a pause in what he was doing.

"I need a bath. Rufus, you can attend me while Gallus makes all ready for tomorrow."

Things might not have been expressly decided upon, between Titus and Gaius, as to the use of Rufus, for one more night. But Titus felt that his host would make no objection, and that he was not trespassing too far himself upon Gaius' hospitality in making the decision for himself.

@Sharpie

"Oh, no Domine. I meant what I said," Phaedo assured the man, with sincerity in his voice. Phaedo was quick to praise, without guile, where he saw something praiseworthy in others. But his inherently kind nature did not equate to handing out false flattery, just to salve a wounded ego or balm a bruised self-image. And it definitely did not go so far as to beguile with compliments where none were merited, for the men he serviced. It just wasn't in him, that gilded tongue of the seducer. Poor lad, he could bend over and take it with the best of them, but the skills of flirtation and seduction were, and probably always would be, still beyond his grasp.

This was mainly because he was handsome enough that men already wanted his body  - they had little use for his wit. It was also because he couldn't bring himself to learn the art, much to his friend Helios' despair. Helios was a master of it, and seemed to enjoy it too - enticing with his charm as much as his physique. He'd tried to give Phaedo some pointers, some suggestions - mainly with the thought that if Phaedo's popularity increased, the younger slave would be promoted by the mistress, and given a better room and maybe a few nice things to wear, maybe even some jewelry, and make up. And he would probably get gifts from "his admirers" as well.

But Phaedo didn't want those things. He yearned for intellectual stimulation, and, yes, Ario was right - love. He did long for it, and hope for it - but he never really believed he would find it here, as a prostitute in a brothel. That didn't stop him from dreaming though, and when Ario asked if he had written a love poem, he had the grace to blush and look sheepish. His eyes dropped again, and he visibly hesitated. Then finally he shifted, to roll onto his belly, and he reached under the simple mattress, withdrawing two sheaves of paper. Hard to see in the very dim lighting, a minute hand covered every millimeter of their rough surfaces. With first a quick, guilty glance at Ario, Phaedo dropped his eyes, pretending to examine the neat lines of text.

He hadn't stolen the paper, or the ink used. But he wasn't sure the madame would be pleased to know he had "borrowed" her pen occasionally, and "rescued" some scraps of very low quality papyrus - the type used to wrap the better, writing quality kind in. He'd discovered them one day after a winter storm, blown from the gods knew where to land in the alley behind the brothel. They were his treasure! And he did not bring them to anyone else's attention. Not really meant to be written on, still, he had dried them  carefully and then planned their use, agonizing over every square centimeter used. He wanted to be sure each word laid down with such deliberation was worthy of commitment to such preservation. Well, worthy only in so far as they were his words, and therefore probably laughable in comparison to those of other brighter, more creative, more intelligent minds.

Ario had already said he couldn't see to read in this poor lighting. So, with great trepidation, Phaedo nervously cleared his throat and said quietly, "I have, sir. Would you like to hear it?"

It was to be wondered at, how soundly he slept, when, weeks from that night, when he'd be once again living in the lap of luxury, in a very fine home in Rome, the most wondrous city in the known world, and surrounded by every comfort a man could wish for, he'd wind up passing night after night suffering fiercely from insomnia. But some combination of the weariness of travel, the excitement of peril, the scant sleep of the night before, and a good blow job followed by a warm body to snuggle up against, was the magic potion Titus needed to sleep like the dead the night through, despite the cold and the hard ground. He hardly stirred a muscle, and when Rufus roused him the next morning, he was literally amazed. Pleased, and amazed.

He woke in high spirits and somehow, the day that followed that magical night was every bit as good. The clouds had cleared. The sun shone down upon the little party, as they rode from the hills. There was only the lightest of breezes, and their way was over much more forgiving ground. They reached the last farmstead on Titus' route in good time, and passed an hour or so there, then were on their way again - home. Rufus' home at any rate. For Titus, passing one last night with Messala would be...something of a true last night. In the morning, he'd leave for Rome, finally. He'd been gone six months this time - hardly a personal record. But his appointment in Dacia was up. He'd not be making a quick visit of a month or so with Caesennia and then back, or off to some other new position in some far away point of the Empire. He too would be home, although by this point in his life, it hardly felt like it.

It was just coming evening when Gaius' villa hove into view. Within the half hour, Titus was closeted with the old man, sharing what he'd heard, discussing plans, whispering secrets. As soon as he was finished, he went to check on Gallus and then to the stables, to find out if his other two had returned to the fold. They had and Gallus had assured him he was doing much better. All was in order. It was time to change into clean clothes, and do his hostess honor by looking like a proper guest at her table.

As he walked to the same room in which he'd passed the first night of his sojourn, hand on the door, he thought of Rufus, and a small smile played about his lips. Gaius had asked after his slave and if he'd given good service to Caesar's cousin. Titus had praised him to his master, as he had said he would. Gaius had been pleased. There had been no specific talk then of Gallus. The idea of whether at this point Rufus was officially "returned" and no longer on loan hadn't been discussed. Gaius had not asked if Titus had any further need of him; and Titus had not requested that he be "on loan" this last evening. However, he had a mind to, if the redhead did not appear at supper to serve him.

He shoved open the door, not knowing which one, or neither, might be inside the little bedroom.

@Sharpie

As Rufus settled in beside him, his back to Titus' side, the patrician shifted so his chest was now to the slave's back, just as it had been the night before, in the barn, after the excitement of earthquake and fire. "You do. You please me very much," he mumbled, his voice low and laying on the edge of sleepiness. With his forearm across Rufus' chest, he pulled the slave back against him, for warmth, and companionship, if it could be called that. Titus was not a man who needed someone in his bad every night. But when it was convenient and the opportunity presented itself, and the night was cold, why not?

His arm slipped down a bit then, so the inside of his elbow rested on the slight curve of Rufus' waist. Titus pressed his nose and cheek against that warm russet hair, and with a calmed mind, slid quickly into slumber.

@Sharpie

"Titus Flavius Alexander. The cousin, not the son, of course. No Caesar in my name." Titus smiled. It was said without rancor or envy. He had no aspirations that high. Being cousin to both Caesar and Caesar's son was enough to fairly well guarantee he'd get far. Consul would be something he'd very much like to hear before his name. One day.

"So, yes, this Crescens had better not try to sell me my cousin's stolen wine."  He laughed with good humor.     "Although I cannot say with certainty that my cousin drinks Falerian. But I thank you for the recommendation." 

Titus took another swig of the humble vintage. "So you're an auctioneer? You should come round to my house, talk to my wife. I'm sure she'll want to buy loads of new things. Women like that sort of thing. After the baby is born, of course. Which should be any day now."

@Sharpie

And it did, in short order, with the warm liquid goo filling the slave's mouth, seeing as it was also already full of Titus' cock. Titus stretched and clenched his muscles, the fingers to one side of him digging into the dirt of the ground upon which he lay. The other fingers held Rufus' head still, as his hips pitched and thrust upwards several times. He groaned again, louder this time, a series of grunts as the orgasm took him, and then let him go. It was no pinnacle of passion. But he felt it all to his toes and he was completely satisfied.

Relaxing back into the felt cloak beneath him, he let his hand slip, to Rufus's cheek, and then to his chin and then, away. It came to rest on his own chest. "Ah, gods, you know what you're about, Rufus," he said in a low voice, into the dark space between them.

@Sharpie

By the gods, that felt good. So. Damn. Good. Titus thought as Rufus's lips found their way to his cock. And when the murmured words were accompanied by the touch of the slave's hand, and the lifting of his own hand to that soft hair, that felt good too. It did please him. He was finding that Rufus pleased him, in all ways, so far as the past three days went. He was obviously well trained, and bright - and good in a crisis. He was the type of slave to anticipate a man's needs and get things done promptly, much as Gallus did. He was modest, and yet comely, and the two traits were a mixture Titus had always found alluring. And of course, the red hair was simply a big bonus. So his fingertips moved through the strands and almost caressed the side of Rufus' head. It seemed to elicit a response because, even if the slave was no skilled prostitute or concubine, he approached his 'job' with a rather endearing earnestness. Stroking his hair seemed to prompt him to... give that much more of himself, as his head bobbed up and down.

With his other arm flat on the ground beside him, his fingers splayed, providing leverage, Titus began to roll his hips, in rhythm to the movements of that mouth on his cock. It was a primal instinct, one which needed no thought and no will. It simply...happened. And as his pelvis rose and fell slightly, the fingers in Rufus hair ceased the more gentle caress and stilled, pressing and pulling his head down, not forcibly, but firmly, as Titus' arousal grew. He groaned, but low, not that he cared two figs who might hear him.

@Sharpie

If Titus sensed that reluctance to elaborate with details - of how Alucio came to make the decision to get out, and why his Tribunus had gone along with it - he was polite enough not to act as if he had. He smiled and instead answered the question put to him. "What am I doing with myself? Waiting for my second child to be born. Cooling my heels. Sitting on my ass. Going a bit stir crazy." He laughed. "Yes, they are well. My daughter is already five. I can scarce believe it." And it was true - time flew by. The last time he'd been off soldiering with Alucio, Titia had not even been born.

Nodding in the general direction of the villa he'd been looking at, he expanded, "And looking at country homes. I plan to buy one as a sort of...thank you present, for my wife. In celebration of the birth, of our soon to be child. And for waiting so patiently for me, all these times I've run off and left her to play at war. And for putting up with me, when I get back and all I can seem to do is pace until she begs me to go find something to do." He laughed again.

"And you? How long have you been in Rome? Well, I mean, here, outside the city. You are from Baetica, if I recall correctly. Did you not wish to return there, for your...transition into civilian life?"

@Gorgon

It was arousing - he had certainly grown stiff under that stroking - but Titus felt the growing need for more. Yes, the cramped tent and the hard, stony ground were probably not conducive to anywhere near a comfortable coupling. The slave's question was an easy one to answer. Titus brought his hand from Rufus' hair to rub the ball of his thumb across the slave's lower lip. "This will do quite nicely" he said with a smirk, that was probably lost in the dark. "I seem to recall from the other night, you know exactly what to do with it."

Titus reclined onto his back, eyes closing. It was almost pitch black inside the tent. There would be no added visual stimulation here. So he would just lay back...and enjoy it.

@Sharpie

Phaedo was quite happy to be allowed to enter with the two men, and would have been content to stand off to the side while they ate. But it was very like Calvunus to include him in the little "party" and so he was happier still when the bouncer literally put a big paw on his shoulder and steered him to the table and bade him to sit. He wound up sandwiched between the two and he hoped Theodorus would not take offense at that. He remained quiet for a moment as the woman approached them and asked what they'd eat. He wouldn't ask for anything for himself. But perhaps Calvunus would order something that he'd be willing to share.

As the bouncer began to flirt with the woman - typical - Phaedo screwed up the courage to turn to Theodorus and ask "Domine, may I ask you, where did you learn the skills of a medicus? And how did you wind up working at a Ludus?"

@Chevi

Calvunus was a thug, there was no disputing that. But, like any profession, the men who populated the gangs of the Aventine came in all varieties. Was it a good trait, or a ghoulish one, that he could happily slit a man groin to gullet and yet still smile over a cup of cheap wine and a dice game a half hour later? Well, in any case, he certainly had no intention of making Phaedo stand out side, just because he was a slave. Calvunus was the "nice guy" bouncer at the Venus, and always had a grin and a joke for all the others who worked there, as well as the customers. Besides, if he left Phaedo to his own devices, the slave might get into trouble or be bothered by someone, and then what would have been the point of Calvunus coming with him to play chaperone? So as he waited for Theodorus to step inside, he clapped Phaedo on the back and with a nod indicated that the whore should join them.

The three wound up sitting on a bench at a table. Because it was a seedy joint, no-one seemed to be bothered by the slave mingling with the two citizens. In response to the question asked, Calvunus grinned and nodded. "Oh yes! Love it. A man can make himself a packet of money, if he knows what he's doing." He did not say directly that he was one of the ones that did know, what to do, or that he had ever made a "packet of money." He let the assumption linger that he was, and he had - when in fact he was really a pretty lousy gambler. Sometimes he did well. But then, like many of his ilk, flush with the heady rush of success, and convinced fortuna was on his side, he'd lose it all right back again. Still, being an eternal optimist, he always looked on the cup as being half full, and truly believed fate held a great fortune in store for him. Of course, he needed to do his part too, and it seemed like cultivating the friendship of a medicus who tended to the brutes upon whom he'd lay his coins - or not - was definitely a step in the right direction.

Almost as soon as they sat down, a reasonably attractive serving woman showed up at his elbow and asked "What can I fetch for you, gentlemen?" She used the word with only a slightly sarcastic tone and a playful look in her eye, as Calvunus smiled at her.

"A taste of you wouldn't go amiss, darling.."he teased, reaching to give her bum a pinch.

@Chevi

"I lost my mother as well, in the purges at the beginning of the civil war. My father too," he said, in a low voice, which was neither sad nor angry, just very matter of fact. In truth, he had felt the loss of his parents like a white hot knife in his chest. His younger sister had been murdered as well, and a brother-in-law and young niece. Many other relatives had fallen too, and the rage he had felt had helped to drive his sword and shore up his strength and energy, throughout the bitter fighting that resulted in his cousin Quintus, finally claiming and holding the rule of the Empire. Twelve years later, it still felt like a lump of hot lead in his stomach, to think on his losses. But on the outside, he would never let such emotions show.

The sense of hard muscles rubbing against his cock was a good distraction to such unhappy thoughts. His fingers rubbed at Rufus' scalp, through the soft hair, and in response to that unfinished suggestion, or offer, Titus found the slave's mouth with his own and together they stretched out on their rough makeshift "bed" - the ground underneath hard and cold, with the occasional poke of stick or rock jutting up under the felt cape. For a good few moments, Titus simply kissed Rufus, enjoying the taste of a warm, moist mouth against his own, their tongues dancing together. He was happy that the slave was willing to respond somewhat and not just lay there like some dead fish. He pulled the hems of his several tunics up, and then Rufus' as well, to rub himself more openly against Rufus' crotch, and then took the slave's  hand and placed it fully on his cock, encouraging him to stroke it.

The pleasurable flush of arousal swept through him, and for the moment, gone was the cold, and the rough circumstances, and the events of the preceding night and the fatigues of the travels of the two days. They'd been interrupted the night before. He hoped the gods would be so kind as to let him get in a good orgasm tonight.

@Sharpie

The evening tasks were done quickly and in an efficient manner. This would not be a night for lounging about the fire and taking his ease. It was cold. At least the snow had stopped, and there was little wind. It was if the world was holding its breath, which led Titus to wonder what the night might hold for them. The watch had been set, between the two soldiers. Even more than Titus, they were accustomed to getting little sleep and yet still being expected to go the distance the next day. He nodded to the slave, who he'd certainly be taking "to bed" - or more accurately - to "bedroll" - with him, for warmth if nothing more. He stood and let Rufus work at removing the belt and sword at his waist, as he observed, "Although I'm not sure how much I'll be wanting to part with, given it's as cold as Minerva's tits."

Wrapped in multiple layers of tunics, and with his cloak pulled about him, he went to the small canvas tent and crawled inside. It was darker within even than outside. He'd take off his cloak, and use it as an extra covering. But he was debating about just leaving his boots on, in case there was any more earthquake activity. He wouldn't like to be barefooted should he have to run about. He sat and crossed one leg under him while bending the other knee up, to allow Rufus access to his right foot, but then he decided. "I'll leave them on, in case we have more excitement - please Neptune that we do not ." He said with a bit of a chuckle. "Just the cloak, then," he said. There'd be no room to move closer to the slave, to let him fumble at the pin. As it was, the two of them together took up almost all of the space within. But that would serve its purpose, by allowing for some accumulation of their combined body heat. Though how much of a barrier to the dropping temperature that would be was anyone's guess.

As Rufus shifted about to comply, Titus lifted a hand to the slave's hair. He couldn't see it, of course. He could only imagine it. "Quite the little adventure we've been having, hm?" He smiled into the dark. "Something to tell your mother about when you get back."

Between them, they somehow managed to carry the unconscious girl along, following the other one. It was horribly difficult, and the fact that Lexus had consumed maybe a bit too much wine himself wasn't helping any. But what could they do? They had to persist, and eventually Persephone stopped and pointed out that they had arrived. Thank the gods!

Like most nice homes in Rome, this one was secured behind a gate. There was no watchman set. But in all probability it would be locked, Phaedo thought with dismay, struggling to keep hold of Prima's lower body. He was never so glad when Persephone said, "They're all out celebrating. We can go along to the back of the house. There's an alley. I know a way we can sneak her in. If my master and mistress find out she's gone and got drunk, it'll be me that's made to pay for it!" Her look was sour and her voice bitter together.

She led them along the street and then around a corner. It was very, very dark and Phaedo hoped they wouldn't trip and drop the poor girl. Once around the back, Persephone opened a postern type door cut into the back gate. "The lock is broken. Lucky for us the major domo has been too lazy to see that it was fixed," she hissed in a low whisper.

Oh gods, Phaedo though to himself, as they stealthily crept inside. It was hard to creep silently with the awkward burden they had to carry. He was now terrified that they would be seen and stopped and questioned, and possibly accused. He was a slave! A whore! He had no business sneaking around a rich man's home in the dark, his drunken daughter in his arms! Persephone's whispers that the entire household was gone out to celebrate the night gave him little comfort.

He kept looking at Lexus, hoping the effects of the wine would be wearing off, as opposed to intensifying, though the latter seemed more likely than the former.

@Atrice

He wasn't passed out, just lying there with his forearm thrown over his face, his eyes closed, hoping to hell someone who knew something about tending to such injuries would hurry the hell up and get there soon. At the sound of Helios' voice, Calvunus grumbled, "No. Here...give me the wine." He shifted, to raise up on one elbow. He took the cup and downed half the contents, feeling a bit sick.

"Where the fuck..." As if on cue, the door behind Helios opened again and here came the girl, and the medicus. The girl gestured to Calvunus, said an unnecessary "Here he is sir," and turned and fled as quickly as she could. It seemed they would be getting no assistance from her. The medicus came forward with no qualms, though, smelling slightly of alcohol infused sweat. His reputation for drink was matched by his odor. But he was mild mannered and polite to a fault.

He turned to Helios first. "Could you fetch several lamps, please? And have someone bring some cloths and hot water?"

Next he turned his attention to his patient, setting a little leather satchel filled with the tools of his trade down on the couch beside Calvunus. With no compunction, he lifted the blood soaked tunic out of the way and in what light there was, coming through the door he began his examination. He made no sound. Sitting back up to wait for the lamps, he turned to poke about in his medical kit, pulling out some healing herbs, and a large needle and some suturing material.

In the space of only a few minutes, there was light to see by and hot water to wash the wound with. Some herbs had been put to steep in some boiling water in the kitchen, with which to both bathe the wound and make a poultice, to try to stave off infection. An entire jug of wine was at hand, with another cup fetched for the medicus, whose hand was actually steadier when at least partially drunk. Calvunus had been trying to get as much wine into himself as possible as quickly as possible, in hopes of being drunk enough to either feel less pain or pass out altogether. As the cleaning began - sending shards of pain through his leg and into his groin - he reached to grip tightly at Helios' shoulder, to steady his nerves and to keep from crying out. That would be such an unmanly thing to do.

@Atrice

It was not an arduous trek back down to the foot of the ridge, as much as it was a mildly treacherous one. They went on foot, leading the animals, and here and there, the track was damaged enough that getting their four footed companions across was something of a trick. In the end, they managed it all without mishap. Once it was safe to do so, they mounted back up and were off, traveling through a landscape changed instantly overnight. Their destination was the better part of a day's ride away, always inland, always eastward. Throughout, there were tell tales signs of the earthquake's destructive force, although such evidence grew less and less as they moved on. Twice they had felt the earth tremble under them. But for no more than a few seconds. Still, it made Titus hold his breath, each time, and exhale with relief when the tremor stopped.

They seemed to finally leave the zone of destruction behind, and they were climbing again, through higher, steeper terrain, the hills looming above them. After several hours - during which they ate a quick meal in the saddle - they began their descent. By early-afternoon, they had reached the fourth of the five stops that were on Titus' agenda. This was a sprawling villa, which, once they had halted and been greeted and shown inside, turned out to be quite a luxurious place. Here they were closer to Aquara, and apparently this allowed for more frequent commerce and thus, the ability to bring luxury items to the farm. It was not as big as the latifundia seen elsewhere, but there had to be a combined staff of at least...three dozen slaves and servants. Many mouths to feed meant the master must be making a nice profit from his farming, or other business concerns perhaps.

It was very tempting, of course, to linger there and pass the night in such comfortable surroundings. But they had lost a bit of time already. Titus had one more man to speak to, and it would be a push to reach his lands and then make it back to Messala's farm by nightfall, on the following day, which was Titus' goal. So after the now rote hour or so spent in private conference with the master of the farm, he ordered his little company to mount up and they were once more on their way.

Unfortunately, for them perhaps, this meant once again heading into the hills. Titus pushed them and they made good progress, even as a light snow once again began to fall. Once the light had faded to the point it was no longer safe to travel the unfamiliar paths, he ordered a halt. Camp would be made, and they would sleep in two small tents. A cook fire would need to be started and someone sent to fetch some water from a nearby stream, which would be set to boil so they could cook some barley gruel. By the light of the fire, once it was going, Titus sat and wrote notes to himself, about this last meeting, as the three men moved about him, seeing to their various tasks.

@Sharpie

"Tch, tch, tch." Caia made the type of sound one makes when trying to get a cat's attention. How ridiculous humans can be when it comes to felines.

She was bent down, crouching, looking anxiously under the low cabinet on legs. She saw him - the rascal! "Felis!" she whispered. "Come out here! Now!" She sighed and glanced quickly over her shoulder. "Please!" she inveigled, keeping her voice low, and sounding rather desperate.

The scruffy looking tabby cat paid her no mind, as cats are wont to do, other than a twitch of the tip of his tail. In his mouth was a nice, fat pigeon, already plucked and ready to be cooked. It was clearly not a trophy he'd won for himself, unless you count opportunistically scavenging from the cook pot in which he'd found it, along with a dozen more.

"I turn my back on you for one moment..." the young woman scolded, but softly, looking around once again with a worried look at her father, some dozen or so feet away. Crouched down as she was, she was in peril of being tripped on by one of the slaves, or her sister, who were all bustling about. That would really cause a ruckus, and draw her father's attention, which was the last thing she wanted. With one last anxious frown, Caia rose and looked about, to see if anyone had noticed her. All seemed busy. She picked up a knife to go back to chopping some leeks, when a furry brown stripey form streaked out from under the cabinet, prize firmly between his jaws.

She should really just have let him go, and enjoy his ill gotten gains somewhere private and away from her father's eyes. But the cat was boldly, and stupidly, making a beeline for the gap whereby the interior of the food stall gave way onto the street beyond. Right where her father was standing! If he should look down for any reason!

Caia did not rush forward and give the game away immediately. She set the knife down quickly and walked the few steps to her father's side. He was just taking an order from a young man who was seated on a stool on the far side of the counter. The cat, wary of foot traffic, was now crouched right at the end of the counter, on the ground of course, ready to make a dash out and away.

Oh Juno, please do not let my father look down! Caia prayed silently.

"Father, do you need some help?" she asked, coming to stand beside him, right at his elbow, trying to block his view. With her foot, she attempted to shoo on the thieving cat. Her eyes went to the customer, and she smiled politely. "May I fetch you something to drink, sir?" She was shy and not one for idle chit chat. But she did know a thing or two about good service.

@Gothic @Sharpie

Phaedo listened, with real curiosity. Life in a ludus - it was something completely alien to him, and something he'd never thought about before. So this was how Ario trained to learn the healing arts - with men who were forced to rend one another's flesh, with weapons, as entertainment. It sounded horrible. In an odd way, the slave was glad to hear that this older man had been able to move on from that life, even if he didn't know whether Ario himself had been pleased to do so. But it sounded as if he had been. He spoke of it almost as a form of a gift, that his friend, or lover, had helped him make that transition, away from the blood and gore of the arena. Was that part of love too? Helping the one you loved to...grow? Phaedo wondered about this man, Decimus. Dead now. He wondered, did Ario miss him? Surely...

The younger man listened more keenly still, as Ario spoke of his experience of love, and the words were lyrical. They were sad in their own way, even... frightening. But they were also beautiful.

"Do you write poetry, Domine?" he asked, rolling over onto his side so he could see Ario's face more clearly in the dim light, propping himself up on his elbow. "What you said...it sounded like a poem." He smiled softly.

If he hadn't been so glum, if he had had his head up, he would have noticed Alucio before the man slid onto the bench beside him. As it was, Phaedo deliberately took no notice of the sounds and other messages that trigger the brain that someone is approaching. He wouldn't balk at being solicited by a customer. He never had so far, ever, since his first day here. But there his sense of what he was bound to do, as a slave of the brothel, ended. No matter the frowns and sour looks from the madame, he could not be cheerful, or feign looking or acting so. He would comply, without complaint. That was all.

The voice made him jump, literally. And although he'd only spent a very brief time in Alucio's company, a month previously, there was enough about the timbre of that voice - and the fact that the speaker knew his name - that his eyes flew to that handsome face. Eyes wide with surprise, lips parting as well, he gaped for a second, his brain trying to test if he was really seeing, really hearing, what he had so longed for, but which he had then despaired of ever seeing or hearing again. It was completely possible, to his way of thinking, in that moment, that such longing had finally tipped him over the edge into madness, and here was some phantom conjured by his poor, sick mind.

But Alucio spoke again and those eyes - those dearly remembered hazel orbs, so full of vitality and  passion - those eyes found his own. Phaedo must have looked a perfect picture of shock, with the melancholia of the past few weeks brushing shadows under eyes and cheek and brow. Yet in the next moment, after only that first breath of near disbelief, he murmured softly, "Domine? I...I..."

He had to stop and swallow and stare still, as light, like a new dawn, spread across his features, lifting the corners of his full lips into an incredulous smile, and from thence to his eyes, which suddenly sparkled.

"Oh.." He gasped. "I had not...had not looked...to see you...return. I..." He seemed completely at a loss, before his eyes dipped and he seemed to pull himself together, at least a little bit. His voice, though still drenched with that secret joy that was bursting in his chest like the Spring without those stone walls, was forced to steadiness, as he finally replied, lying. "Y-yes, Domine. I have been well. I hope that you..."

He let his eyes come back up. It was a mistake. Seeing Alucio here, in the flesh, come back - the tears sprang up, unbidden. They did not fall, but his lips worked in that queer way of one who is trying not to cry. He knew, if he spoke, he would in fact begin to weep - from joy, from sadness, from hope, from fear. It was all a tangle inside of him and choked back the polite words with which he should be addressing this customer.

@Gorgon

Titus took the bowl without complaint. "I'm sure it will be quite a feat to provide meals at all, until they get the kitchen repaired." He observed. "Did you get something to eat? If you haven't, do so. Quickly. And make sure my men have something to eat as well. We'll need to go see if the track down survived the night. It's still my hope that we can be on our way as soon as possible. I'll leave some of you behind to help out here. Bad luck for poor old Frontinius, but I won't turn my back on his misfortune and just abandon him completely."

Titus ate quickly and then assembled his little party. They went on foot, to walk to the trail head and see what lay on the other side of the ridge. Frontinius accompanied his guest. There was much to see to on his farm. But he had a duty as well to his Emperor, and his Emperor's message boy. The dull morning light illuminated the new scars that rent the hillside, where dirt and rock had fallen away, or pieces of the track collapsed. The damage the earthquake had wrought was extensive. The path they had used to ascend to Frontinius' farm and villa was strewn with debris and broken in places. But it looked passable. They'd just have to be careful. All was rimed with the sheer coating of thin ice. The weak sun would help to melt it, but the sky overhead was still grey, and threatened more shit weather. The two men put their heads together for a moment and then they turned.

"There's no sense in waiting, when we don't know if conditions will improve or get worse. Back to the house. I want to be saddled and ready to go withing the half hour. Two of you will stay here, to help our host and his family in any way you can to clean up and repair. Then you can find your own way back to Paestum. Come."

They marched back to the barn and the paddock and once they had reached it, Titus gave his retinue a quick survey. He jabbed his finger at first one soldier and then a second soldier. "Ventulus, Arabo, you will remain here. Help out in any way you're needed. And no bitching. In two days time, make your way back to Messala's. It will be much quicker returning without having to stop along the way. I'll be leaving at dawn on the third day and by the gods you had better be there or I'll send the bounty hunters out after you!"

The two soldiers so warned only smirked. They were loyal to Titus and had no desire to run off into the hills of Campania. They were as eager as he to return to Rome, after years being away.

@Sharpie

And so the remainder of their first night of traipsing through the hills of Campania passed. The exhaustion Titus felt propelled him quickly into a fairly deep sleep. But after a couple of hours, the tension of the event that lingered in his mind had him blinking awake, his heart racing a bit. He was a soldier. He was used to near half a lifetime of waking instantly. It was a blessing and a curse. Once awake, he felt unsettled, and on edge - natural enough for having just been through an earthquake and the resultant fire. He stirred, restlessly, the arm tossed so familiarly across Rufus shifting, his hand moving, with no particular purpose. All around were the sounds of sleep, and also of sleeplessness, such as his own. An annoying, thunderous snoring - a dog's short whine - a cough - the more regular sounds of breathing - and outside the barn, and on the roof, a sussurating flick, flick, flick of snow against stone and wood. The wind was causing a loose board or shutter to knock. The infinite noises of night played in his ears, and he stirred again.

No point in lying there awake and useless. He thought he'd rise and go relieve one of those standing watch, so that perhaps one could get a few hours of sleep before the eastern sky grew light again.

@Sharpie

The next half hour or so was all bustling and business, Titus, Rufus and the soldiers seeing to the horses, the mule and the pony, and their own possessions. The household was busy checking for damage throughout the villa and the outbuildings, and making sure things were secure such that sheep and cattle, such as were kept there close by, would not stray. There were cracks in the walls here and there, and another part of the rook had sank, although not caved in completely. Anything that had been standing or on shelves was on the floor, much of it broken. There would be quite a bit of cleaning up to do, but that could wait until daybreak. For the moment, the question on everyone's mind was - how safe would it be to pass the night indoors? At this point, no aftershocks had been felt. But that meant nothing. Some small tremors might happen. Another significant quake like the first - or any even bigger one - might hit at any moment, or not again for twenty years. There was absolutely no way to know what the gods had planned.

Finally, Frontinius made the decision that, for this night at least, all his household would pass whatever was left of the night in the main barn. It was big enough, and squat enough, that all could crowd together in the middle without too much risk of having a wall tumble on them. The roof was made of wood, so slightly less heavy than stone. Guards were set to be on the look out for the very first hint of another shake up, so they could rouse the others instantly - though many would probably find sleep elusive anyway.

Titus and Rufus and his four soldiers piled in with the others. At least the close proximity to many other bodies created a sort of warmth. Blankets and covering were brought out and Titus was finally able to pull on several tunics and his own cloak - returning the other to his man. He wanted them all to stick together, just in case something more should happen. It would be best if he could know instantly that they were to hand to see to their animals and belongings. Ultimately, he settled down with Rufus beside him, chest to back, seeking what warmth there might be, and striving for at least a few hours of sleep.

@Sharpie

Titus took the precious bag with huge relief, slinging it now across his own shoulders and chest. But there was little time to waste. "Come! Let's see where we can be of help. Poor Frontinius!"

He was already moving, stalking off - almost trotting - back into the house. Rufus could find that safe place to stow whatever else he had with him. Titus had seen the sword and was doubly satisfied with the slave's efforts. The boots were of less importance.

Of course, he would keep to those parts without a roof overhead as he could. Once inside, the front part of the house was now deserted. Anyone who had a free set of hands was dealing with the fire. Titus and slave joined in, and literally, there was a line of many people, family members and slaves and freemen working elbow to elbow, bringing water from the well outside to throw on the fire. The heat made a cruel counterpoint to the cold of the night air, as did the blaze to the darkness around them. The smoke was choking. They did get the fire extinguished, but not before half the kitchen was consumed, and the rest charred and crusted with ash. The roof had collapsed in one corner and threatened to do the same over all. It was a mess. But at least it had been contained and not spread to other parts of the house.

Reeking of smoke and face streaked with soot, and sweating despite the cold, like everyone else, Titus stood with hands on hips, surveying the damage. He'd stowed the satchel on his back, covered by the cloak he still wore, while he'd worked with the others. One of the female slaves of he house offered him a cup of water, which he took and drank off in one long, cold gulp.

He wanted to go check on the horses again, and he looked about to find Rufus.

@Sharpie

It would have been almost comical, if it had been under other circumstances - two men running in the dark and actually colliding. Of course, as it was, Titus was only a bit confused to hear what was already a familiar enough voice to recognize it was his slave’s. His hands had come up to grab the other person, on instinct, to steady himself as much as for any other reason, and now icy fingers gripped and held onto Rufus.

”Rufus! The satchel!” he began, almost ready to release his hold and rush on, to retrieve it. Everything else could be replaced, but delivering those letters was his duty, and he could not let them perish.

But even as his distracted gaze was moving from the slave to the front door of the house just beyond him, his eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness of the night, could make out that Rufus carried… some burden. His eyes focused on their shape and he felt a great relief in his chest.

”You have it?!” It was more statement than question, and the lines of worry in his face eased. The troubles of this night were far from over. But at least it seemed that here was one that had been lifted from his mind.

@Sharpie

It would be untrue to say Titus did not feel the bite of the cold on his bare skin, as he made his way to the barns. It would also not be accurate to say he ran full tilt, for the ground continued its shimmying dance under his feet. He did the best he could, though, ignoring the rising wind and the snow, and went as fast as he could, especially when it came to having to dash under the stone arch of the yard. If he was cognizant of the russet haired shadow that followed in his wake, he gave no sign.

Soldiers and farmhands were all doing their best to get the livestock and horses out into the open, away from quaking walls, and the looming threat of fire, yet also keep them tied up or restrained, lest they dash off and injure themselves from sheer fright or from the shifting earth. By the time Titus had reached the milling swarm of men and beasts, that at least had stopped, for the moment. The possibility of after shocks, or more earthquakes in their own right, went without saying. Perhaps they'd all get lucky, though, and this would be it.

One of his men, seeing his naked captain, undid his own cloak and tossed it to Titus. Throwing this hastily about himself, Titus began to help and order. The horses were quite upset, cows were lowing anxiously. Farm dogs nipped at their heels as the herders tried to make sure they were all accounted for and driven into a withy pen. It was not for several minutes, at least, until those without the villa became aware that the second danger to life and property had indeed erupted. Fire - in the kitchen. Now half of those engaged with seeing to the animals rushed back to the house, the situation with the stable and barn under control, for the most part, for the moment.

Even then, Titus did not immediately think of his dispatches. It wasn't for another few minutes, after he had given his soldiers final instructions, and run to see if an extra set of hand would be needed for what might well become a bucket brigade, that the image of the satchel popped into his head. He veered away, running instead towards the front of the house, hoping that Rufus had kept the good head he seemed to be possessed of and dashed back into the room to make sure his master's things were rescued from any possibility of harm. He hoped too that the slave would not tarry inside. It was still anyone's guess when a damaged or weakened wall or roof might come down in an instant.

@Sharpie