Járnviðr

Menelaus had thought often of retirement, recently. The wisdom of it. The necessity of it. There were many differences between Menelaus and the emperor, but foremost in his mind today was that the old Caesar had exercised great prudence in making way for the new Caesar. When his master had asked him whether he wished to retire, Menelaus had dodged the question. Despite his advancing age, Menelaus still loved racing. He worried that he might die the way so many did, ignominiously, at the wheel of their own chariot. He no longer feared the outcome the way he had years ago, nor could he scoff with unearned confidence at the prospect, the way he might have at the start of his career.

None of these thoughts took purchase in his mind today, though. The excitement of the spectators and his opponents was infectious. Menelaus particularly eyed Azarion as they lined up at the carceres; the boy seemed uninterested in the more boorish behavior of the other charioteers. Menelaus noted that with a hint of pride- there was no reason for him to take credit for the boy's success, and he would not, if asked, but there was a kind of vicarious joy at seeing the up-and-coming star of the races using the same strategy he once had. Avoiding the distractions of other racers had earned him numerous victories. This boy would go far, Menelaus thought approvingly.

If he were to retire...well, Menelaus would need to see Azarion earn a victory today, before making any such decision. The boy did seem to have a fighting spirit, even at rest- he gave one of the Blues the finger. He just hoped that Azarion’s injuries today would be minor- and that he might make a fine showing despite any setbacks. Menelaus reminded himself that, no matter what his future plans might be, he certainly had not retired yet. He shook off thoughts of his potential successor and focused on the race. When the horn sounded out over the circus, Menelaus flattered himself that, despite his momentary distraction, he was keeping up with the hale and hearty youngsters.

@Atrice, @Chevi, @Sarah, @Sharpie

Menelaus waited for his master's answer. Rather than offer empty platitudes, Marcus seemed to seriously consider his question. Menelaus appreciated that his master. Eventually, when Marcus did speak, he spoke of Quintus Caesar's wisdom in retiring. Menelaus nodded to show that he was listening intently. Marcus spoke of the new emperor's council, and why it gave him hope that Rome might avoid conflict and bloodshed. Menelaus had not considered the historical element- he supposed that among certain circles, there might be men comparing this rise to power with the previous one. Menelaus himself had never troubled himself with these things, until now. He wondered what this successor would be like. What was a future emperor like, before ascending to the throne? And how did his destiny shape him? Menelaus had been shaped by his own life- he supposed this Titus Augustus must be a wise ruler, having been been raised by one.

"May we all see a peaceful succession, then, and a new Caesar as wise as his father. Thank you for gracing me with your time and your wisdom."

And with that, Menelaus waited to be dismissed.

@Sharpie

Regardless of his future (which was always up in the air, for a charioteer), Menelaus was grateful for the compliments. Marcus was kinder than most masters. He offered such honeyed words to his slaves, but unlike other masters who might do so at their whims, Marcus offered them only when they were deserved. It was not soft-heartedness, but a trust in his slaves' strength. It reliably informed him when he had performed well. Menelaus appreciated the structure that it gave to his life; that, certainly, he would regret losing. It was hard to say how he felt about the rest of it- retirement and freedom was a better outcome than death, he supposed, though part of him would always wish he had died in his prime.

"If I might ask," Menelaus began, feeling emboldened by his master inviting the question, "what do you think of recent events? The changes in politics are far too complicated for me to follow, but I prefer to be informed of larger concerns than just victory. Thus, I ask, sir, what is your opinion, that I may come to share it?"

@Sharpie

Menelaus waited, still and silent, as his master read the scroll. He had spent so much time imagining the end of his career, dying painfully in some way or another. It was a common for charioteers to die young. Whether from injuries sustained during a race or for the hard living of being an athlete, very few lived to grow old. Menelaus was one of the oldest and most successful in Marcus' faction, though, and it seemed that he might just live to see freedom, and a life after the races. All of this, he thought while he waited with bated breath. He had voiced his own thoughts already, and Marcus would have something to say.

Indeed, he spoke of the upcoming races. Menelaus would honor the emperor with his performance, and so he needed to be at his best. That was what motivated Marcus to promise him his freedom in exchange for victory. It was- tantalizing, to have his freedom be earned, not through the money he had saved, but through chariot racing itself. He would remember that moment of triumph for the rest of his days. Though Menelaus did not often dream of freedom, the idea of freedom as a rightfully-won reward was too perfect for him to resist. Yes, he would win this race and gain his freedom. He would teach the next generation of charioteers, and watch as they struggled and strove just as he and his own peers once had.

“Whether I retire will be a matter for the gods to decide, but as for freedom, and the chance to train the next generation of racers- I would be honored to accept this challenge. Thank you for your generosity.”

@Sharpie

Spotting the shift in his niece’s countenance, Secundus held back a snort. The poor thing was trying to catch their host’s attention, as though their interactions had anything to do with success tonight. This was a matter of showing Sergia off at her best, not allowing unfettered flirtation between an established senator and a young woman with no such position. Sergia came from good stock, but she had nothing else to offer- Tertius had dragged their family name through the mud, and the lack of children produced by Livia had only accelerated the fall of their star from the heavens. Besides, the young woman would not be able to convince this more experienced man that he actually held her interest- men knew when women were not interested in them.

Before Secundus could attempt to steer the conversation to a more conducive place, his brother suggested that Longinus give them a tour of the house. Secundus bit back a retort; they were united in purpose tonight. He drank more, fortifying himself against a display that would embarrass them further. He smiled at Longinus encouragingly; showing agreement with his brother without having to say as much.

"We will all be quite happy to admire the rest of your domus when we've finished with the food. Livia, why don't you tell Longinus the story you told me, months ago."

It was quite an open-ended request, but Secundus knew that Livia stored every moment worth remarking on in her mind. He had seen her use this strength of memory against him numerous times, after all. She held onto every scrap of indignation she could wield to make his life miserable; the same tended to be true for more positive events and details, and he was certain there must be something flattering to Sergia that she could discuss. To give her a moment more to collect her thoughts and recall an anecdote, he paused as he sipped his wine. Then, he continued on.

"Something about Sergia and that wonderful- was it before we retired once more to a villa? There was the earthquake...my wife tells it much better than I can," he finished faux-apologetically.

@Atrice, @Liv, @locutus-sum, @Sara, @Sharpie

Menelaus followed Marcus dutifully. He had not expected the question- Marcus had never asked about the specifics on Menelaus' long-term manumission plans. It was not something that a master would normally take an interest in. He walked just behind Marcus, nearly matching his speed. He had been saving towards his manumission, of course, though not at the rate that another slave in his position might have. He scarcely imagined what life would be like after manumission. He had always known he would die because of the races, so why work against his nature? He had outlived his own expectations.

"Not enough to buy my freedom," Menelaus demurred. "I will serve as your charioteer for some years yet."

@Sharpie

"Livia has found no fault with you, dear. She allows envy to get the best of her, as I'm sure you well know, given your experience with men and their wives."

It was a dangerous sentence to utter, flirting perilously close with deadly honesty. To plainly state what Vibia was, and why he had brought her here- but that was what thrilled Secundus the most. He wanted to get a rise out of her- wanted to see Livia's mask of perfect poise crack. He smiled warmly at Vibia, now, excitement buoying him.

"I invited you here to honor us, and the gods- any offense would only come from the fool to question your contribution. A lovely performance. Thank you."

@Liv@Sara

Secundus turned to Sergia curiously, watching his niece as she responded to the young senator’s overtures. Perhaps this would go well. A stroke of luck, for once. He mulled that over. He continued to watch her as he ignored the conversation of the others- looking at her now, he could see too much of her mother in her. He wondered if she would be competent to persuade Longinus, or if this entire marriage would need to be arranged by he and his brother. A horrible thought to contemplate; he wished Sergia would exhibit better manners! Somehow, the girl seemed both too willful and yet, not vivacious enough.

His attention honed in once again on the conversation at Livia’s mention of the pitter-patter of small feet. His lip curled, a fact which he immediately disguised behind another cup of wine. Perhaps Teutus could distract from Livia’s empty-headed speech and Sergia’s startling inability to display her best features. The boy had remained quiet, though. Sergia blushed, which, Secundus was deeply grateful for. That false modesty would serve her well. He suspected privately that Sergia was as shamelessly independent at heart as his sister, but she had the intelligence not to scupper her chances at marriage with any abhorrent behavior.

Longinus continued to acquit himself well. Although his sense of humor galled Secundus, he seemed quite capable of responding to all of their inquiries. He seemed quite willing to engage with Livia and Teutus, where some senators would take pains to be little more than polite. Promising, for a man to treat any of the Varii scandals as unremarkable- there were quite a few of them, after all. At the statement that Longinus would never force his wife to travel somewhere, Secundus all but glared at the man. What a naïve thing to say. Sergia would not cow to him the way a wife should if he did not demonstrate that he was not to be trifled with. Secundus had attempted to leave his wife room for grief, and had earned himself a harpy who refused him time and again. Noticing that their host had begun to eat, Secundus took a piece of bread himself. Finally. He dipped it in oil, barely remembering to pretend manners- it was less an embarrassing display than with the wine, at least.

Teutus spoke of imports, and Secundus attempted to listen; while his nephew’s words were unimportant tonight, the senator’s reaction could be. With their clan’s reputation, every move risked pushing them into a precarious position. Clear, direct communication about the boy’s work was unlikely to do any real damage, though. Secundus rarely paid attention to such matters, as politics did not care about the details of transporting spices. As dinner party conversation, though, it piqued his interest. As he ate a perhaps inordinate amount of bread, he finally felt properly engaged. This night was about Longinus and Sergia, however. He would wait for Longinus to respond to Teutus, allowing Sergia time to compose herself, and then he would redirect the focus to his niece. For now, he listened silently.

@Atrice, @Liv, @Sara, @Sharpie

Mi. Horatius, honored father-in-law:

Of course, we miss Rome, and there is much happening in our absence. We need time to recuperate, you understand. Livia is a charming but delicate creature, and she needs her little moments of reprieve. There is little to occupy our time here, and we prefer it that way. Admittedly, part of our reason for taking this vacation is for the future of our family. We are both eager to extend the family line, as you say. Indeed, I hope that we soon have good news to share with you. Life is quieter here, and my wife’s company keeps me from succumbing to the torpor of idleness. She is a welcome distraction from the vagaries of age which encroach upon me.

I am glad to hear of your efforts in the public sphere. I do hope to join you in our political endeavors, yet I simply cannot rush back home on the account of anything but my family. The young Caesar may be as promising a prospect as you say, but I have the state of my own fate to consider- a man of my age needs a son to carry out his legacy. I will rejoin you as soon as we are able, but now is not that time, no matter how much Livia and I both wish it to be so.

Perhaps you should visit us, when you can find the time. Livia is somewhat disinterested in frequent visitation, as she requires a break from the din of Rome, but we would be glad to welcome you when she has recovered more from the stress plaguing her constitution. I would hope that when you visit us, I can offer you news of a grandchild. Perhaps in a few months, when we have such glad tidings to share? My dearest apologies that I cannot give you what we have all hoped for, and my fondest regards for the man who introduced me to a woman such as Livia. Vale.

@locutus-sum

Menelaus had long worried that he would never make an impact. Slaves did not tend to affect the future. Charioteers had a unique problem, in that they lived short lives, in most cases. Menelaus had outlived many of the young men he had come up with, and he was hardly the oldest charioteer- for now. Sometimes, he dreamed of that. The oldest charioteer, dying only when none would ever dare to beat that record. Him, as a trainer? It would afford him the chance to mark the sport. Charioteers would remember his training, and it would carry them forward. He could become part of this on a level that no man before him ever had. He couldn’t keep the gratitude out of his voice, a fact which he supposed Marcus would appreciate, having made the offer at all.

“It would be a great honor to serve you in this way, sir.”

@Sharpie

Yes, everyone was quite pleased that Tertius had arrived. Secundus smiled politely as they all exchanged pleasantries about Teutus’ arrival. Secundus ignored the envy that curdled in his stomach. He had nothing to offer as Livia launched into a digression about her father’s favorite wines. It was all very insipid, but that was part of the game. Longinus had invited them here to perform for his benefit. They were accessories for Sergia, who the young senator was evaluating for suitability. Perhaps Livia had said the right thing- Secundus could hardly distinguish between polite conversation and empty-headed nonsense; from Livia’s lips, it all sounded the same.

When the conversation briefly turned to children, Secundus allowed himself a slight smile. He would have a son, soon enough. Their arrangements would ensure that the boy would not be plagued with the same controversy and scandal that Tertius had foisted upon his family. He hoped Longinus would only be half as wise, in his dealings with Sergia. A flare of protective anger filled him, for a moment, as he looked at the man. His clumsy joke soothed Secundus’ anger; this man lacked the guile to harm Sergia, he thought scornfully. Attempting to distract himself, Secundus drank his wine; quick, greedy gulps, rather than the genteel sips of his brother or his wife. He hardly registered the taste.

Sergia began to respond, a demure smile on her lips but fire in her eyes. Secundus tuned her out completely as he reclined. Whatever his niece was saying, he imagined it would be lacking in the caution which women ought to speak, yet none the less charming for it. He had no idea where she had gotten that charisma from; certainly not from her mother. Instead, he only rejoined the conversation as he realized Sergia, face fixed in a pleasant smile that was now fading, was looking to him for a response. Now, what had the girl been saying?

“Yes, as my niece said,” whatever it was that she had said. He hoped Livia had been listening, at least. “It is an arrangement with its challenges, but between the domus here and the villa in Tibur, it is not quite so crowded as you might imagine.”

@Sara , @Liv , @Atrice , @Sharpie

Secundus nodded curtly to Tertius at his greeting. He could play civil for the length of this dinner. He had done it so many times in his youth, even though he had been a wild young man, impetuous and carefree. He had known how to put up a proper front for everyone respectable enough to demand one. He could do this here. It had been more difficult holding his tongue around his brother since his return, but he was no barbarian. He placed a hand on Livia’s waist- the touch was designed such that it would linger on his wife’s body for seconds at most before pulling back. It would seem like a loving gesture between man and wife, to anyone who did not know the couple well. A performance, for one man and one man alone.

“Yes, a wonderful surprise, brother,” Secundus said with seemingly genuine warmth. He soothed his temper as it flared under the ignominy of Livia’s and Tertius’ judgement. Instead, he trained his vision on Longinus, who was meeting Sergia for the first time. He studied the young man’s expression for anything that boded poorly for the union. His good humor seemed to relax Sergia, but she retained the proper grace and poise for such an occasion. Secundus relaxed ever so slightly, the fist of fear and rage crushing his heart unclasping. He let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding.

At Longinus’ direction, the dinner party moved as one through the space. Their host seated himself and finally offered them wine. Secundus gestured dismissively for Livia to sit before himself, as was only right. He also whispered to Sergia, that she might sit opposite Longinus. It seemed most appropriate for the two prospects to have clear sight of one another while keeping their distance, and Sergia should not join Longinus in the highest place, not yet. They were not yet married. Sergia hesitated and glanced at Livia, as she always had a habit of doing when Secundus bid her do anything. The girl doubted her uncle’s advice in all matters. Rather than prolong the awkwardness, Secundus sat down on the middle couch. He tried to steal Longinus’ attention to give the women time to decide where to sit.

“Longinus, have you met Teutus? My favorite nephew,” he added in an undertone with a wink at Tertius, as he took a swig of wine.

@Atrice, @Liv , @Sara , @Sharpie

Menelaus hesitated for the barest of moments before answering. Taking an opportunity from a newcomer to the races could be selfish, if it benefitted him, but if his honest assessment was that the boy had potential but was not ready- no, it was not. The boy was ready.

“The expectations will be good for him. He will learn. Some boys would not, but if my measure of him is correct, he will not buckle under pressure. Speak with him yourself to form your own opinion, of course, but I believe you will find the same.”

While the bigae were less prestigious, they were no less stressful on a beginner charioteer- and yet, Menelaus believed that Azarion would benefit from the experience, even though it might cripple the progress of a lesser athlete.

“Let him race in the bigae, and you’ll see a man emerge with the right talents to entertain a crowd, despite his inexperience.”

@Sharpie

Secundus had long awaited this day. Sergia fussed and preened and otherwise seemed to want to delay and tarry on the way to this dinner; for what reason, Secundus could scarcely imagine. She seemed reluctant to arrive there with him. Perhaps the girl missed her mother, who had declined to attend, citing her weak constitution. Secundus would have confronted her on the matter, but he had given up on trying to overrule both mother and daughter together- they were both too stubborn to listen to reason, and he needed to argue them around to his point of view by catching one of them alone. Tonight was the night to arrange Sergia’s marriage to Longinus, so Secundus was happy to leave his willful sister behind.

His niece barely spoke to him, during the day before the dinner, and Secundus happily accepted the silence. Her petulance would soon become tiresome, but hopefully Longinus would not see it before their marriage was finalized. Secundus had not seen his wife’s own flaws, until after he had married her. It was an easy mistake for a man to make, when his interests were aligned with preserving his family line and name. Livia had been beautiful and the proper lady, someone who would be an excellent wife to a senator. If only he had seen what lie beneath her mask.

He had asked Livia whether she would come, but of course, the choice was up to her. In fact, with Livia delaying as she did, simply to avoid breathing the same air as him, Secundus was rather inclined to simply leave her behind, as well. He waited, though, and the three of them left together. Both women spoke amongst themselves, quietly, while Secundus avoided making conversation with either one of them. He only said one thing to Sergia, which was that she should make a good first impression on Longinus.

As the three of them followed Longinus’ man into the atrium, Secundus’ eyes swept over the place in undisguised, unapologetic judgment as he catalogued the changes from their previous visit: what had been moved? What was new? What looked worn down? It was only a full minute of taking in the décor that Secundus smiled thinly at Longinus.

“Thank you for extending the invitation, Longinus. This is Sergia, my niece. And this is my ravishing wife, Livia.”

@Sara @Liv

“Azarion? Performing well beyond my expectations. He’s taken to it quite naturally- use him before he has a chance to weaken with age- most who burn that brightly do so quickly.”

Menelaus frowned thoughtfully. Most of the young charioteers had an attitude that concerned him, but it wasn’t his place to question these things. After all, he had most likely once been like them. He still enjoyed the thrill and the excitement. Perhaps it was normal, until they earned some wisdom.

“What are your plans for him?”

@Sharpie

Menelaus comported himself respectfully as Marcus entered the stables. The warm openness in his bearing smoothed itself into a patient receptiveness. The question was a simple one. Menelaus only gave himself a moment to consider it. Regardless of the details, the overall answer would be the same.

“Well enough. I believe I can keep up with some of the youngsters who have joined our ranks, despite my advanced age,” Menelaus quipped. More seriously, he added, “I cannot speak much on the others’ progress, at such an early stage.” It was not that early, though, as they both knew. Training needed to proceed at a rapid clip in order for the racing team to reach peak performance on time.

@Sharpie

With celebrations soon to commence, so too does the appetite for races increase. The charioteers, then, must prepare for battle. Each race is a battle against themselves as well as the other contestants. A chariot, loosed from one man’s control, is a weapon of instant annihilation.  The sport takes a toll on their bodies. Meanwhile, the hungry watchers take in the spectacle. All of this would be enough to make any patrician balk- but Menelaus is not a patrician. He adores the attention, relishes the spectacle, and craves the toll. He plans to live a hard life, even though he dreads the end of it. Why choose caution over bravery? That would hardly be the appropriate path for a charioteer.

Instead, Menelaus prepared for the upcoming races. He did not yet know the details, but they would certainly be expected to participate in the ongoing celebration in some fashion. For now, he had returned from the latest round of practice, and had a moment of quiet in the stables. He felt the rush of it, still, even now that he was at rest. Menelaus took a moment to breathe deeply, smiling, when he heard someone else approaching. He turned to greet the newcomer, curious to see who would be here to speak with him when there was no race in progress.

@Sharpie

Secundus smiled sharply as Livia impugned Vibia’s skill level. How condescending his wife was, and at a party, in front of the entire senate! He wondered why she thought she could get away with this kind of mockery. This had been the motivation behind tonight’s festivities, and his choice to include Vibia in them. A ‘subpar musician’? He would happily parade his wife in front of the entire room and see how she fared if asked to play. He admittedly did not know much of Vibia’s musical talents, as his appetites did not tolerate much indulgence of music when there were other, more tempting fruits on offer. While Livia insulted him with puckered lips as though she needed to judge every action he took, Vibia laughed in genuine amusement. Oh, how he regretted that the mother of his children was such a sour woman. His smile curled up as Livia made a jab about Vibia’s other skills. Yes, he would need to remind Livia which of them held the power.

“Skilled with her hands? You jest, surely?”

Before Secundus had a chance to provoke his wife, though, Vibia took the cue from her suggestion and decides to begin playing. Forgetting the innuendos and barbs which had flown between the two women, Secundus simply watched the performance. He did not look at or touch his wife, instead smiling lecherously at the woman as she sang and played the Carmen Saeculare. Secundus had little understanding of music, of what was virtuous or beautiful or enjoyable to listen to. He appreciated Vibia, though, and the way that she had given him exactly what he had wished for tonight. She had stirred up the hornet’s nest, and now Secundus braved the stings.

“Magnificent,” he said breathlessly, surprisingly himself in how genuine the comment was. Secundus watched Vibia, wondering how a woman had learned to destroy others of her kind so effortlessly. The only reason Livia had not crumbled had been her own harshness; a gentler woman would have rushed off crying at such insults. “Isn’t she, Livia? A goddess among women.”

@Liv, @Echo

Happily cutting his brother out of the conversation, Secundus glanced at him in open disdain when he did finally speak. His words seemed helpful to their shared goal, though, and did not prick at any of his own insecurities or pet peeves, so he let the matter lie. As far as Secundus was concerned, all that mattered in this conversation was ensuring that they left with this marriage prospect secured for their niece. Longinus seemed approving of the woman they described, which gave Secundus hope that they might perhaps achieve their aim in coming here.

Longinus spoke again, turning the conversation to logistics. He asked what date Secundus recommended, and insinuated that he might enjoy hunting in Tibur. Secundus smiled thinly, ignoring the flare of anger at having to spend the day entertaining someone. Hunting with other men rarely required much talking, so he could survive such a situation with minimal reputational damage.

“We would not dare to waste your time,” Secundus lied confidently. He valued the other man’s time very little, but he valued his status as a potential match for Sergia highly indeed. “In fact, let us arrange something as soon as possible. Early next month, if you are willing.”

@Atrice @Sara

Vibia tossed her hair, a gesture that drew attention to her beauty more easily than any other. He wondered how long it had taken her to perfect it. As Livia called to him, Secundus responded immediately. He made his excuses to the senators and moved to join his wife and her tormentor. Vibia held her cithara, offering to play. He wondered just what Vibia had said to offend Livia, or if it had been the woman’s presence itself. That had been why he had invited Vibia, after all; to test his wife’s patience. It seemed that whatever they had discussed had incensed Livia enough to call him over.

Secundus joined the two women, hearing the tail-end of her biting remark about her smile. He supposed that comment had been intended for both him and Vibia- who he suspected would not be bothered by it. She was a resilient woman, perhaps because her position invited criticism from many women like Livia. He joined their conversation, nodding respectfully at both women. When Livia asked him about which piece Vibia excelled at, he smiled thinly. Everyone involved knew exactly which services Vibia had most often provided him.

“I am no connoisseur of music, Livia. Perhaps you should partake of Vibia’s talents yourself, so that you may judge more accurately?”

@Sara, @Liv

Early March, 76AD

Returning to the stables after a grueling day often helped Menelaus return to a state of comfortable relaxation. The rush of having survived another day as a charioteer still filled him with pride. He’d proven himself, time and again, but each day he lived felt like a victory. Today, he would join a few of the other charioteers at the poppina; the older ones, who had lasted almost as long as he had. He didn’t have anything to speak with the younger ones about. It felt disorienting, talking to them and seeing their hope that would soon be dashed underfoot by hooves or wheels. He would enjoy the company of men his own age, who at least had some understanding of reality.

Speaking of men his own age, Menelaus was surprised to see one of the charioteers standing with a woman by the stables as he arrived. She was speaking with him in a very familiar manner, which left very little room for misinterpretation; it was clear why she had come here. Menelaus snuck past them, not wanting to interrupt a spot of fun. Inside, though, he noticed something on the floor. A shawl, which could only belong to a woman- and there was only one woman whose shawl could have been left here without one of the charioteers noticing it by now. He picked it up, rushing back outside to catch the woman before she left.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, but you dropped this. None of my fellow charioteers would have worn something this fine, and it’s best if you escape with it now, before they get any ideas about how to use it.”

@Echo

Secundus made a conciliatory “hmm” but could offer no more. He stood, looking at the exit rather than the man in front of him. He sensed potential enemies everywhere, and Wulfric had, for the moment at least, joined that number. Further conversation only heightened his sense that the man must want something he would not admit to. There were no more questions, a fact for which Secundus was marginally grateful. Apparently, it had been good to meet him. How nice for Wulfric. Secundus  

"Thank you for paying us a visit,” Secundus said, somewhat smoothly, in spite of his frustration. “Tell your employer that we appreciate his concern for our well-being.”

He waved to one of the slaves and she moved to escort Wulfric out of the room. As he sent the man off, back into Rome, Secundus wondered why a man from Germania had so sorely wished to speak with him. It was impossible to believe he had simply been asked by his employer. No. Something more sinister was at work, and he intended to find out what.

@Atrice

 At the smile, Secundus rolled his eyes, impatiently tapping his foot. Everyone always aimed to appease him, as though his mood mattered more than their trespasses against him. He would not be angry if there was nothing that provoked his anger. The man deflected from the question, saying something about how he was not the type of customer his employer sold to. He would need to have his slaves check the food for him, instead. Just as well. It had been a mistake to publicly air his paranoia in the first place. He would keep further such questions to himself.

“Of course. My apologies for casting aspersions on your employer. I am sure he is a good, honest man.”

Secundus was sure of no such thing, but it seemed the polite thing to say after his accusation. He continued, not believing a word of it.

“Thank you for answering my questions, Wulfric. Was there anything else that you wished to discuss?”

@Atrice

Before Secundus could say anything they would all regret, Tertius swooped in to speak instead. He complimented Sergia and Livia, which calmed Secundus down somewhat- even if his brother’s audacity provoked in him the urge to respond. He could resist picking a fight in another man’s domus. It was in his own where his loss of control over his own emotions truly showed. Tertius suggested that Sergia might prefer the city- perhaps, but Secundus had reasons for wanting to retreat to the countryside. Speaking of which, it might be better for Longinus to meet Secundus without Livia or Aglaea there. He had, in haste to push Sergia upon the younger senator, momentarily lost his wits. He could not allow Longinus to join them at the villa.

“My wife is charming enough company, though a bit acerbic. She would have quite a bit to say about you, I’m sure,” Secundus said, chuckling slightly. “Sergia has never quite appreciated her wittiness,” he added, hoping to draw a clear line. If Longinus didn’t like Secundus, and didn’t expect to like his wife, placing Sergia in opposition to them only flattered her- and would discourage Longinus from coming to the villa. He needed to nip this in the bud before the problem he’d created became even bigger. No one could discovered Aglaea’s pregnancy until Livia had one of her own.

“Sergia will appreciate your disinterest in the city. She finds much of her uncles’ interests insipid, as well. Young people like yourselves do tend to. Are you certain you won’t come to like Rome more, in time? It has much to offer.”

@Atrice, @Sara

Secundus exhaled in lieu of further commentary. Something in him demanded a discussion of meat, in absence of the thing itself. Thoughts of Germania always made him crave meat, for reasons he did not wish to interrogate too deeply. The man spoke of his employer quite calmly and reasonably, stoking the fires of Secundus’ temper. As though he were the one being unreasonable! He had allowed this man into his home, and in return, he had been insulted! Additionally, the man knew where little about how his employer acquired the food. Once again, someone who should have served him, failing in their duty. It had become a common theme over the past year, and he did not like it. He wanted answers; if not about his food, about this man’s intentions, his motivations, his origins. Secundus did not believe in coincidences; if this man had decided to speak to him, there was some reason.

“I am only curious. It seems important to know where a man’s food comes from, when he is not the one growing it himself. Food is the thing that gives us life, after all. What if my life were sustained on poisoned soil? The poison would seep into me without my knowledge. Perhaps it would slowly kill me, and I would not have noticed. Useful, to know where one’s food comes from. What of you? Do you eat what your employer sells? Does that warehouse contain your meals as well?”

@Atrice