Sarah

You are right. Teutus is my brother. And you... are family too. She smiled at him warmly and patted his arm. Varinia didn't expect Wulfric to call her mother or anything similar, she was just Varinia. But he was brother to her son and that made him indisputably family in her eyes. For the sake of her son she would welcome him; besides, Wulfric seemed like a nice fellow. He seemed a little uncertain when she invited him home for dinner, asking if that was her wish and whether or not she had business at the domus. "Nothing that can't wait." She assured him easily. "You don't need to come with me if you don't want to, but yes, I would like you to." She clarified with that same, warm manner. Their apartment in the insula was hardly as grand as Tertius's domus, but it was comfortable and warm, and for Varinia the people were more important than the fanciness of the walls. She turned away, heading in the direction of a thermopolia she favoured, assuming that Wulfric would follow her if he wished. @Atrice

The man hadn't raped her. Thank the Gods. And he knew how Jason had become involved, though he'd have the rest of the details out of his slave later. His gaze drifted to the man for a moment; had he chased the fellow off? If so then Tiberius was grateful as well. It sounded like a horrific ordeal, even more so for one who was weaker than her attacker and not trained to fight. Trained to be an ornament. Said a small, rebellious corner of Tiberius's mind, which he ignored, knowing from Horatia Justinia how much power a woman could wield, if her husband and father permitted. He could see the lingering effects of the attacks on her, the way her confidence had been shattered. "I would see the scar for a moment." He said simply, obviously meaning the one on her shoulder. He couldn't imagine Ovinia making such things up, but if he was to sentence this man to death, he had to be certain. What surprised him was Ovinia's admission that she had been summoned by those who had captured the man, before ever he'd been taken to the tullianum, to witness him and to vote on his fate. How ever had she escaped to pose as a pleb, after two attacks? But she had. He knew Ovinia was an intelligent woman, and evidently a wily one as well. Alas but those traits had not served her well, but rather to make her a target. Once he'd heard all she had to say, he nodded slightly. "Thank you, for your attendance and your words. I will weigh your evidence on the matter." Then, before she could go anywhere, Tiberius rose from the curule seat he had occupied, a symbolic gesture indicating that he was no longer acting as a magistrate, and took a step towards Ovinia. The hearing was finished, but clearly Tiberius wasn't. "I'll admit, things might have been easier if you had all killed him that night, and dumped his body in the river." He admitted a touch dryly. "I can understand why you would want to, even as I appreciate that you didn't." A gusty sigh. "By rights he should have a public trial, but with so many of the key witnesses women or slaves, there is no guarantee of his conviction, and if you stood as witness, your persona would be open to attack, as I'm sure you know." So he had no illusions that her father would ever allow her to participate in the trial. "That is why I am intervening, overriding Imperial law to judge the case myself, out of the public eye." He said, hoping she understood the gravity of his actions. "That is why I asked you here, and why the formality." It had to be so. He had to follow as much of legal procedure as he could, and ensure that his judgement was without doubt. He'd been pacing back and forth as he explained, and as he finished he paused at her side, one hand on the arm of her chair. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Ovinia." He said simply. "I hope in time you'll forgive me, and be able to get on with your life." What else could he say? @Sara @Sharpie @Atrice @Chevi

Seeing Ione in her cell at the Elysium drove home her true nature, which he tried to ignore at least a little when she was at his domus. She was a cheap whore, little more. But for some odd reason he liked her. Well, as long as that didn't become leverage for Armenius to use against him, he saw no real harm. The brothel owner slipped away, drawing the curtain and leaving the two of them together. Spurius was all too aware of how thin the walls were, of the fact that there would be whores in the cells on either side, servicing their clients as well. Where would you like me? Last time she'd come to his house, she'd ended up crouched between his knees. It had been entirely enjoyable, but part of her appeal was her freshness and seeming innocence. Right now she just looked tired, which wasn't nearly so appealing, poor thing. Leaning his staff against the wall he sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over the mattress to check there were no damp spots. Finding none, he lay down on the bed on his side with his back to the wall, toga and all. "Come here." He said, patting the space in front of him on the bed. @Sara @Atrice

Ovinia as it turned out was in one of the smaller rooms of the peristyle, the one with the instrument that father had bought her and with which she had a love-hate relationship. Not that she was playing it - Lucius thanks the Gods for small mercies - but rather seemed to be going through her pile of jewellery. Seeing it all - well, he assumed that was all of it - in a heap, he realised that she had quite a lot, but then as the daughter of one of the wealthier senators of the Empire, why should she not? "You'll jangle like an ironmonger if you wear all that at once." He commented as they approached, as much to make his presence clear as for any real opinion on her jewellery. Lucius bent in to accept the kiss on the cheek in welcome, noting the sudden stiffening of her posture as he straightened up. Well, she was going to spot him some time. And...what is this, brother? He grinned at her, in the irritating way that middle and younger brothers tended to have. "This is a present, for my dear, darling sister." He explained, beckoning the new slave closer. "This is Caturix, and he's yours." Lucius announced magnanimously, as though ever well bred young lady should be delighted to receive a slightly smelly, tattooed barbarian as a gift. "I'm assured that he can fight, and he claims to come from a people where even the women fight." Barbarians, obviously. Then his expression sobered for a moment. "I thought that he could serve you as a bodyguard." The words after all that's happened went unsaid, but hung heavy in the air. Then his cheeky smile was back. "I understand that barbarian bodyguards are the height of fashion; even the Imperial Princess has one!" So surely Ovinia should too, right? @Faustus @Sara

I am Marcus Barbatius; I am no slave. I'm a Roman citizen, just like you. Whoever you are. Good. He had a name, which meant he would soon have information on who the man was. Not that he couldn't have had that information from Roscianus and his compatriots, but he wanted to assemble it independently, to check that the story matched. That was important. Had they apprehended the right man? Had he indeed done that which he was accused of. What rank did he hold in society? The prisoner wanted to know who his visitor was. The young prince wondered whether the man's manner would change when he knew, amused by the 'just like you' assumption. Barbatius would never be just like him. "I am Tiberius Claudius Sabucius." He said simply, quite confident that his name would be recognised. "I don't doubt you know what I do." Help run the Empire. "So tell me what do you do, Marcus Barbatius, citizen of Rome. How do you contribute to our society?" Was the man some wastral? Was he gainfully employed? He didn't looked like any Patrician that Tiberius had ever met, so more likely a pleb. That would make things easier. He wanted to talk things over with Marcus - Marcus Julius Silanus - but not in front of the prisoner. @Atrice

Although I doubt your father would be very favorable towards the vigiles... I think he still blames us for ruining his kitchen. That brought a faint moue to Camillus's face and he sighed gently. A family was supposed to be a close-knit unit, working together and cohesively to protect their reputation and the persona of the pater familias, around whom everything centred. One didn't disparage other members of the family to virtual strangers. But as he'd grown older, Lucius Ovinius had begun to chafe under his father's heavy - and sometimes unreasonable in his eyes - hand. "The fire was my sister's fault." He said quietly. "As much as it can be when you put someone who knows nothing of cooking in front of a kitchen hearth." Of course Ovinia didn't cook, she was a well bred young lady who would always have slaves to do that for her. Except on Saturnalia. Why, Camillus was probably a better cook, at least knowing how to fry meat and make oatcakes to bake on a hot stone from his time in the military. He thought that Gaius Ovinius Camillus was being unreasonable, but he couldn't say that to Roscianus. "I cannot speak for my father of course, but I will do what I can." That was all he could promise. As the second son, he would have no autonomy or control save what he was granted in his own household, which was currently non-existant. There probably wasn't much more to say really. "Keep me appraised of any further developments, hmm? And let me know if I can assist." In some way that would actually be useful to their cause. With those words Camillus slapped his knee and rose to his feet. "I won't take up any more of your time, but thank you. It was good to meet you." He said with a polite nod. He could see why his sister liked the man, he seemed quite reasonable and likeable. A shame he'd decided that he had some bizarre higher calling in the vigiles. Well, at least he had some idea of what she might be looking for in a fellow. @Chevi

It will do. She was clearly matching his joking tone, and that set Tiberius a little further at his ease. He didn't have to be nervous, he kept telling himself. A shame that the relevant part of his psych didn't seem to be listening. Vibia at least seem to have the confidence that he lacked. Something he'd rather hoped for, but it was a quiet, gentle confidence, not a pushy one. He appreciated that. She sat down to slip off her sandles, saying that there was no need to rush, and that she genuinly could play. "I remember, Marcus had you play at the party at the palace." He hadn't known then that she was a lady of negotiable virtue, or he might have had something to say to Marcus about his choice of entertainment. But that was all in the past now, and he was oddly glad that Marcus did know Vibia. Or know of her. He hoped his friend was having a good time. "Would you play?" He asked, thinking that perhaps the music would help him to relax. He recalled that she'd been quite talented. Taking a seat next to Vibia on the low couch, Tiberius took his cue from her and undid his own laced sandals, kicking them off into the corner on the unconscious assumption that a slave would deal with them later. He'd forbidden any to come in this night. Thinking of his friend and his seemingly natural way with women, Tiberius dared to lean back on the couch and slip an arm around Vibia's shoulders, hoping that it would work as well for him as it seemed to for Marcus. Thinking, as Vibia began to play, how to phrase exactly what he was aftern. "I understand the idea, of course." He began, trying to put thoughts into words. "And I also know that there's a lot more to it. Or can be." From what he'd heard anyway. There was basic rutting, and there was the lovemaking of legend. "I... have heard that what pleases a woman can be quite different from what pleases a man." He said carefully, in case he'd somehow gotten the wrong idea entirely and she laughed him. "If that's so, then I want to learn what pleases a woman as well." The image of Sosia floated in his mind's eye. He absolutely could not have sex with her, but in his fantasies he did, and she enjoyed it as much as he did. @Sara

I didn't realise you'd met. Varinia gave her son a faint smile over her shoulder, even as Charis explained the circumstances in which they'd met. She'd explained her logic to him, that many people reacted poorly to surprises and Tertius, she felt, worse than most. So she'd taken it upon herself to minimise the surprise, and was glad that she had. One benefit had been meeting Charis and her adorable son. She wasn't oblivious to their similarities either, why if Varinia had claimed to strangers that Charis was her daughter, they'd likely have believed her. Another benefit had been the pleasant and civil conversation she'd had with Tertius. And it has just been that, a conversation. However much she had then wished to reconnect with him at a deeper level, Varinia was glad now that hadn't happened. It would only have complicated things further for all of them. No, it was far better this way. Charis glanced up at her when Varinia asked how she'd been. ...Adjusting, I suppose. I suspect it will take some time. Varinia gave her a warm, motherly smile of understanding. "It will. I'm still adjusting to it myself. But it gets easier, and you can start to enjoy what your freedom means." For her it was simple things like going to market and buying things for the household, and making nice clothes for her son and herself. Perhaps in time it would come to mean more. They settled around the table and Charis seemed to relax a little as she admitted she was worried about spilling something on the fine fabric of her gown. Varinia knew what she meant, she'd felt the same when Teutus had first presented her with finer clothes to wear than the slave's tunica she'd been so long accustomed to. Now she enjoyed dressing up and feeling beautiful. "I've been well, thank you." She replied, meaning every word of it. "I wove Teutus a new tunic." She said, terribly proud that she'd made the whole thing from beginning to end, for her beloved son. It was such a simple thing, but gave her such a feeling of achievement, to express her love for her son in such a way. @Sara @Sharpie

Sosia seemed to be a source of perennial conflict in Tiberius, the natural, easy, youthful attraction warring with the logic and sense of duty which was both his nature and the way he'd been raised. He'd never been one to go against what he knew was right and proper, except perhaps for that one night during Saturnalia, and his time spent with Sosia. How could something so wrong feel so right? At least he could show her some things she might not otherwise see, and he enjoyed watching her look around the Villa, with it's grand construction and decoration. He'd done something else he shouldn't; he'd bought her a gift. A little thing certainly, with a garnet to protect her, but bright and beautiful and perhaps a token of all he wanted to give her, and couldn't. Of course he remembered their meeting; how could he forget? And it was true that, if she'd pinned her palla, she'd never have lost it in the first place. "I should be glad you didn't have a pin." He agreed. "Perhaps keep this one safely, for the right time." For if her father saw it, surely he'd ask questions and get the wrong idea. Tiberius resisted the urge to sigh. Sosia however clearly loved it, and asked him to pin it to her. Right on the front of her dress. Will you help me? Again the faint thought that she could just be a truly fabulous actor flickered in the back of Tiberius's mind, but he didn't think his people instincts were that bad. "Of course." He replied, taking the pin from her, carefully taking hold of the fabric of her tunica and pulling it away from her skin so that he didn't stab her, acutely aware of her shape and the fact that her breasts were just beneath. He made an effort to focus on pinning the little gold fibula to the fine fabric, and not on the fact that his fingers occasionally brushed against her as he worked. He felt clumsy, normally his body slave fitted any pins he might need to his outfit, but there was no way he was calling for Jason or any other. "There." He said, letting his hands fall and looking over his only-slightly-skewed handiwork. "It suits you." He made himself look up at her face, her beautiful dark eyes. @Atrice

They placed their offerings and spoke their requests, each asking for guidance in their own way, and on their own paths. Varinia for the bewildering array of choices that now lay open to her as, in middle age, she suddenly again tasted the heady air of freedom. Marcus for the choices facing a youth of the upper echelons of Roman society, which she could barely begin to comprehend. Oddly there was something comforting in knowing that the Patricians could feel as lost and bewildered as she sometimes did. After an appropriate pause they glanced at each other; clearly there would be no blinding light and voice from the heavens tonight. But Gods rarely worked that way, such was the stuff of legends from when the world was young and potent. Now they were expected to be able to think for themselves a bit. She hadn't really expected anything else, though there was always that tiny glimmer of hope, but she would watch for signs in the coming days, weeks and months. Marcus rose to his feet with the fluidity of youth and offered her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted and the pair moved quietly out of the way so that the next in line might have their moment with the God. Outside the air seemed warm and fragrant, full of promise and potential. It was a heady feeling, and one she hadn't noticed before they'd gone in, though surely the air itself had not changed. Perhaps that was a sign in itself? Tonight is what we make of it. Perhaps life is the same. She took a deep, exultant breath. Where do you live? I can walk you home? She glanced at her companion, slightly amused at his obvious attempt at gallantry in the face of the ribald celebrations in the square. "Oh Marcus, that's sweet but the night has just begun and I intend to enjoy it!" She exclaimed with a broad smile, suddenly feeling excited, like the air was full of promise. "Don't worry, you needn't stay with me if you don't want to, I'm sure you have other places to go." She assured him, certain that a rich young thing like him had better places to be. "Thank you for coming to the Temple with me though, I suddenly feel as though the world is full of opportunities. Perhaps Saturn heard us." Or perhaps the simple act of asking was enough to change perception. "If you could do anything tonight, what would you do?" She asked. Perhaps he would inspiration for some adventure. @Atrice

On asking about his conversations with the blacksmith, Jason disappeared for a moment, leaving Tiberius alone with Ignis. Calm. The young Imperial knew that it was important to be calm around horses, for he'd learned from Jason that they were empathic creatures and mimicked the moods of those around them. He didn't need Jason here to communicate with and control Ignis, he told himself. That was the point. But he made a mental note that, when he had some rare spare time, rather than picking up another scroll to read, he would come down here to spend some more time with the horse. Tiberius had no illusions that he'd ever ride like Jason's people, but if he could at least trust the horse to bear him willingly and not throw a tantrum at the wrong time, that would be a vast improvement. He was, as Jason had described him, a prince among horses. Right now one prince was eating out of another prince's hand, and Tiberius kept up the supply of apple slivers to keep him occupied until Jason returned, carrying a saddle. It was a standard Roman saddle, save for one thing, a pair of iron torture implements, suspended one on each side by leather straps. These had to be the stirrups. Tiberius regarded them dubiously as Jason saddled the occupied Ignis. Would you like to bring him out to the yard, Domine? It would be normal for a slave to lead the horse for Tiberius, indeed do everything until the horse was ready to ride, but that wasn't the point of these lessons. He wanted to know Ignis, and to have Ignis trust him. "Yes, I would." He said simple, taking a grip on the left rein closer to the arm of the curb bit that sat in Ignis's mouth, the right rein passing loosely under the horse's chin before Tiberius's grip. "Come, Ignis." He said, pulling gently on the reins and, without thinking, giving the same slight twitch of the head and shoulder that he would when asking another person to follow him. There was a moment where it looked like Ignis was considering fighting the gentle tug on his mouth, then one hoof stepped forward, and the big chestnut followed Tiberius out into the yard. The quiet moment came with an odd sense of achievement for the Imperial, and he cast a smile that was almost shy in Jason's direction. @Sharpie

"Brothers who want to look after their sisters who seem prone to getting attacked." He corrected, ignoring her imperious tone and likewise oblivious to the similarity of their body language. Lucius glanced at the other Lucius, feeling a little sorry for the man, and for his sister whom he knew was torn between what she wanted and what was expected of her. But however much the man might cheer her up, temping fate by talking in the alley outside the house wasn't a smart thing to do. Why? Are you going to complain to him that I've been conversing with a Vigile unguarded? Camillus rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm not." He retorted. "But someone else might." And wasn't it his duty to protect her honour? Again his gaze moved to the other man, whom Camillus believed was just trying to do his job. "Father was being unreasonable." He agreed, quietly spoken heresy. "I'd have thought he'd be glad to see the end of it." He admitted. It was rare that he'd voice disapproval of their father outside of the family, but Roscianus had just seen the man at his most furious. "Thank you Vigile Roscianus for apprehending the man, for what it's worth from me." He has no real means with which to express his gratitude to the vigiles beyond words. "Would you like something to eat or drink before you go?" He added, thinking that was at least civilised. Unfortunately the man did have to go, they couldn't risk rumours. Go or come inside anyway. In the back of his mind his conversation with his sister over dinner warred with the socially accepted double standards regarding young men and women. On the one hand of course women should keep themselves chaste and not fraternise with men outside their home; on the other hand his sister looked more lively than she had in months. Ugh. He didn't need this, but she'd trusted him with the truth as he knew she had no other. @Chevi @Sara

Ovinia asked for water and Tiberius glanced in Jason's direction, but his slave was already onto it, pouring and serving her. As she settled and composed herself, Tiberius schooled his own expression. This was not going to be pleasant, and he had to remind himself that the fact that Ovinia was a friend was irrelevant. She was a Patrician woman, a lady of status. As she cleared her throat and began her tale, Tiberius gave her his full attention, well aware of Jason watching them both. It didn't show on his face this time, but the fact that she'd been attacked twice was just as shocking as the fact that Ovinia had been attacked at all. Were the man's victims less random than he'd assumed? It was plain that many - though not all - were women, but the simple fact that, out of all the people in Rome, Ovinia had been targeted twice, suggested that there could be more to the man's selection of victims than mere opportunity. Unless it had been opportunity that he'd spotted her in the Saturnalia crowd and recognised her. Saturnalia was chaotic enough; she must have been terrified. H-How much detail do you wish...need to know? He knew what she was asking. Did he really want her to relive the attack, describe it in detail? That hesitation brought an even more uncomfortable thought to Tiberius's mind; had the man violated her as well? Not for the first time he wished that Roscianus - or Alexius, and now he knew how he'd become involved - had simply broken the man's neck, and left Tiberius asleep. Except they hadn't, for the same reasons that he was reluctant to make a ruling on the man's life. Due process existed for a reason. "I don't need gory details." He said bluntly. "But, forgive me, I do need to know what he did." That was the point of the evidence, after all. "Each time he accosted you. Did he hit you? Cut you? Rape you?" He hated to be so clinical, but it was necessary, and still so much kinder than a public trial. "And I need you to describe him to me." He added, after a moment's thought. "How do you know that your attacker is the same man in the tullianum?" He couldn't really imagine Ovinia going down there to see him. @Sharpie @Chevi @Sara @Atrice

Imperial Area - Grown Ups Section I note you didn't actually give your opinion Senator Justinus but it was a very deft politicians answer all the same. Publius looked amused for a moment, called out in front of his peers and family. She'd followed his answer and analysed it quickly, but perhaps he should expect as much from that line. Gaius Ovinius Camillus was a political juggernaut and this girl was clearly her father's daughter. She was absolutely right, of course. "I could say that I'm empowering you to make your own decision." He suggested mildly, since they were only discussing the racers, quite certain that so forthright a young lady would have her own opinions. But of course the truth was that the politicians answer was the one you gave when you didn't know the answer. "I've been away from Rome for a year, I don't recognise half the riders." Publius admitted more quietly, with a shrug. Some uncouth woman in the plebian section of the stand above them clearly had her own opinion on the subject, and voiced it at the top of her lungs. The young woman turned to her age peers and discussed following the enthusiastic pleb's lead; apparently Paullus rode for the Reds. He watched her for a moment before turning his attention back to the race. She was a comely thing and clearly intelligent. He'd admitted to Aulus and Horatia that he was looking to wed again, and a link to Gaius Ovinius Camillus and his family could prove very beneficial to his political career. On the other hand, he wasn't certain that he wanted a wife who was closer to his children in age than himself. The alternative was a woman closer to his own age, probably a widow, or an unusual case, such as Aulus's sister Calpurnia, previously a Vestal Virgin. She was definitely an option, though he wondered how she'd adapt to life in a domus. Even the elegant lady who'd introduced herself as Julia Valeria dressed like a widow rather than a wife. Either of them or someone similar would likely be a good role model for his children... but the probability of another child would be low, and he only had one son. Admittedly Spurius had taken his toga and was still growing like a weed, but things could happen, especially when he began his cursus honorum. If he wanted another son, he would need a younger wife. Even thinking about it still felt like a betrayal of Lucia, his beloved and the mother of his children, but Publius was a practical man; he had to be. Even if it was sometimes at odds with his preferences. He'd allowed himself the luxury of disappearing to Achaea for a year on the excuse of the Quaestorship, and his father had already started making suggestions. Still, he wasn't ready to start closing off options yet. "Aulus, how is your sister settling in? It must be quite the change for her, from her life in Vesta's service." Even more daunting than life outside the military. On his other side the youngsters had apparently settled where their bets were being placed for his race, and the young woman - Ovinia - lamented her choice of attire, even though she looked quite fetching in her chiton. "Perhaps you should take Fortuna's suggestion and bet on the blues then?" He suggested to her, since that's what she was wearing. "The colour suits you." Was he overdoing it? Maybe. He and Lucia had been easy, the attraction had been mutual and his father had done most of the negotiation. Now, whilst his father had final say, he was giving Publius far more freedom to seek out his own bride, and the military man wasn't certain that he wanted it. @Sara @Atrice @Jenn @Sharpie @Chevi @Insignia

The man wolfed down his bread, meat and pickle like one half starved. Perhaps he was. At the very least he wouldn't often see that kind of food. Slaves were usually fed a basic gruel. But Lucius was hungry and it was easier to buy two buns than to seek out something simpler for his new acquisition. It looked as though the man wasn't certain whether or not he liked it from the way he paused, but he ate it all. That was a good attitude to have. Even as a soldier and an officer, Lucius had learned to not look gift food in the mouth, especially if it was hot and fresh. What would father make of him, he wondered? There was only one way to find out. Perhaps more importantly, what would Ovinia make of him? He asked what the man was called, and he gave his name from his homeland. Perhaps the slavers hadn't bothered to give him a new name, or hadn't felt any need to. Or perhaps they had, and the man wanted to use his original name. Whatever. Lucius wasn't particularly fussed. "Cau-tir-," he paused, "Cau-tur-" struggling with the odd vowel sound. "Caturix." That was close enough. The man would learn to like it. Lucius led the way back to the domus, pointing out various landmarks that Ovinia's new slave might need to know as they walked. There might be a test later. Finally they reached the door of the Ovinii-Camilli domus, which opened at his knock. "Is my sister around?" He asked the slave who opened the door pre-emptively, ignoring the look that was cast over his shoulder at the outlandish man following him. @Faustus @Sara

Father was pissed, and he wasn't afraid to let the household know about it. As far as he was concerned every aspect of this had been mishandled by that vigile. Lucius glanced at the braver slaves hovering nearby and bade them make themselves scarce with a flick of his fingers. He would be his father's sounding board as the man ranted, knowing better than to actually interject or argue with him. Gaius Ovinius Camillus was one of the most powerful senators in Rome, and he had got that way through diplomacy, manipulation, threats and bribery, each as necessary. He had a tendency to view anyone with fewer achievements as inferior, and those of lower classes as well beneath him. Lucius himself had been on the receiving end of the man's ire over his own lack of political ambition, though after a shouting match the two had come to a certain level of understanding and agreement. But the younger man still thought that his father was being too harsh on the vigile. The Empire had laws, it had processes, and they were there so that the rest of the population wasn't simply at the mercy of the rich and powerful. He suspected that Gaius saw those laws as a hinderance at times, like now. Admittedly life would be a lot simpler if the man they'd caught last night had simply fallen and broken his neck on the way to the tullianum, but what was done was done. At least Caesar's brother was apparently willing to intervene, and Ovinia had already said that the man was a friend... Finally Gaius's rant wound down. Lucius listened but never bothered to interrupt, filing the information and opinions away for later. He knew better than to argue with his father where it wasn't needed, that just caused trouble for everyone. Eventually the man declared that he was heading to the courts, and stalked out. Lucius pitied those who awaited him there; Gaius Ovinius Camillus in a mood was nobody's idea of a good day. The sudden quiet in the house was a relief, and Lucius looked around, not spotting the figure he was looking for. "Where is my sister?" He asked, sighting Lucia, who was usually her shadow. I'll just fetch her, domine, came the woman's answer, but Lucius's gaze narrowed and he followed quietly at a distance, suspicion pricking at him as he'd half expected Ovinia to be hiding in a doorway, listening. Domina! Dominus is calling for you. A whisper, at the slave's door. Outside was the ally that ran down the side of the domus. Why would Lucia feel the need to whisper, unless something were happening that should not be? With a disapproving glance in her direction, Lucius pushed past the woman and opened the door, finding his sister and Roscianus in the alley beyond. The young man with the nice arms. He sighed, remembering his conversation with his sister over dinner, some months ago now, and her sadness at not being able to follow her feelings, however juvenile and unrealistic they might be. She hadn't been the same since the attack either, and in this moment she seemed brighter for the first time in ages. Lucius sighed and leaned against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest, looking from one to the other. "You know this alley is visible from the roadway, right?" He asked quietly. Not that people generally peered up random alleyways, but technically speaking, someone might see them. @Sara @Chevi

Teutus was a little tense about this evening, his mother could tell. She supposed that all of their positions and relations had changed so much recently that they all now had to work out where they stood in life, and with each other. Varinia of course was happy to welcome almost anyone into her home, but she was sensitive to her son and the difficulties he'd had in his father's household, some of which were represented, and even exacerbated, by the young woman coming to dinner. Not by her own design of course. But if the older woman had anything to do with it, they would all get along swimmingly. They were adults and she maintained that they had that choice. Like her son, Varinia had to fight instinct as there was a knock on the door and let Olipor open it, revealing the new and very fashionable Charis. She let Teutus greet her first, before approaching to take the younger woman's hands in a motherly fashion. "Charis. You look wonderful." But she couldn't help glancing around her in case there was a slave carrying Charis's little one. If she thought Varinia was going to let Proserpina entertain the darling little fellow, Charis would have another think coming. Alas but he didn't seem to be there, and Charis confirmed he wasn't with her. She didn't look happy about it. Varinia gave her fingers a squeeze. "Not at all, it's lovely to see you." She assured her. "Though he's more than welcome, but I'm sure you know that." Getting Varinia to give him back would be the problem. She gestured to the table, silent suggestion that they make themselves comfortable. There was no room for reclining couches here and the fare was simpler, but it was theirs and that was what mattered. Prosperpina set a jug of watered wine and a plate with bread, oil and olives on the table as the first course. "How have you been?" Varinia asked Charis sympathetically, well aware how it felt to have one's life turned upside down by a change in circumstance. Hopefully she was enjoying her newfound status. @Sara @Sharpie

Marcus seemed as full of insecurities as any young man, and she supposed that he was allowed to be. Why not? It was easy to assume that those of high rank had easy lives, but she supposed that they all had their own concerns. As they reached the front of the queue, she offered him a smile and a brief squeeze of the hand, before they stepped forward and were in the presence of Saturn himself, in the form of his statue. Do you want to go first? She'd assumed he would, but it was kind of him to ask. "Kneel with me." She whispered back, before dropping to her knees before Saturn's bare feet. She carefully placed two of her cakes by his toes, hoping that he liked such things. They weren't made with expensive ingredients, but they were made with love and hope, those two things which had kept Varinia going all her life. But what did one say to a God? Especially one who, if he was the same as that she'd grown up with, was worhshipped differently here. "Father Jupiter, whom I called Taranis as a child," she began after a moment, "we two have come before you, equals in your eyes on this night of celebrations, to ask for guidance. The paths before our feet are many and open, and the choice daunting. Tonight your feet touch the earth, we ask you to show us which paths we should take." Did that sound suitable respectful? She looked across at Marcus, wondering what he thought and what he would ask. @Atrice

Romans were certainly creative when it came to ways of killing people. Back home, if someone committed a crime so heinous that they needed to die, the clan chief would generally do the deed, or at least oversee it. Sometimes they'd be held to be sacrificed a little later, often strangled and placed into the waters to meet the gods, other times they'd simply be run through or beheaded. But always it was a solemn matter; an execution was never entertainment. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand Romans... But those cats. He'd been far more interested in the giant cats than the man they ate. All the ferocity of their siblings that roamed the forests of his homeland, but the size and weight of a man, at least. Magic. He and Thessala watched through the grill in the gate as the sands were cleared and cleaned, the two beautiful beasts dragged away. And then their gate swung open and it was their turn to march out onto the sands. Aeneas held his blade high and paraded around, the torchlight causing his pale skin to glow and highlighting the blue tattoos that crawled across his arms and chest. His right arm was mostly covered in leather plates, ending in the shield in his land, but the left was free, holding just his blade. Across from them another gate opened and their opponents also came forth, drumming up their own support and interest in turn. This was the first time that the 'mixed doubles' format that he'd proposed would actually be displayed for an audience, so they'd better make it a good show. Gladiatrices were far rarer than gladiators, and the pairs had to train to fight together, using each other's strengths. In combat Aeneas stayed to Thessala's left, using his shield to cover them both as needed. At least this wasn't the kind of bout where people expected a death at the end. Well trained gladiators like them were generally considered too valuable, though there were always exceptions, especially if an Imperial was in a mood... @Chevi

Normally, among my people, the person who wants to get to know a horse, to ride him, will spend time with him, grooming him. Even the chief. But I don't think that will work here, somehow, domine. No, it wouldn't. "You know Jason, sometimes I wish I did have time to do that." Tiberius admitted ruefully, thinking that it would be a peaceful activity, but it had taken this long to simply get them together for the lesson. As an Imperial there were always more important calls on his time, and whilst he could make time, it was always at the expense of something else. He'd been raised on the premise that the Empire came first. Still, he could see the sense in what Jason said, as he gently offered his hand to Ignis. Then he pulled a piece of apple from a pouch on his belt and offered it to the horse. Yes, he'd been watching, and he remembered. Jason was the teacher for today, so Tiberius had done as he'd been bid, even though he found the braccae close and uncomfortable. They were crude things, worn by barbarians who didn't have access to togas, and not something associated with civilisation, but he trusted Jason enough that if his body slave said he'd be more comfortable, then he'd wear them. Right now though he itched and was resisting the urge not to scratch, or try to dig the fabric out of his butt crack, in what would only constitute a terrible loss of dignity. "I heard you've been talking to the blacksmith." Of course he'd heard, even though the news - for no one would be so audacious as to actually complain - had come in a round about way, and he'd simply confirmed that all was as it should be. Rather Tiberius was interested to know why, though he had his suspicions. @Sharpie

"I bet. I still remember my trip to Aegyptus with my father as a boy. Many of the monuments there are even older than those in Achaea." Primitive, but staggering. Man made mountains and temples of pillars with elegantly carved sculptures in the sandstone. He imagined that coming to Rome and seeing the great monuments there might feel similar, even though Achaea had plenty of it's own. Familiarity bred contempt and anything foreign was exotic. As the pair wandered back into the ludus, wine and food in hand, it was clear that they weren't the only ones who'd decided to hang out there this night of Saturnalia. Lively music floated up from the arena where some folk danced, and lanterns gave a gentle, subtle light. In the warmth of a summer evening it was a very pleasant scene, and as good a place as any to be. Following Theo to the seats, he listened as the medicus related what he knew about Cynane, the ex-gladiatrix he'd met. What he said about the best ones being smarter than they looked made sense. "I suppose they'd have to be." He mused. "And now she's bodyguard to a princess, so she's done well for herself." Slaves of the wealthiest owners generally lived far better than the average plebian, however free. Spurius settled himself onto the steps, lame leg out, staff set within reach to one side and jug of wine to the other. "I wouldn't mind talking to her again, though I suspect she would." He observed, amused. "It's funny how such meetings can change one's views." He said. His comment was probably a little cryptic, but a moment later he patted his lame leg. "I was never interested in forgiving her people for ending my military career before." It had been a Britannic blade that had nearly cost him his life, and his leg. Nearly. Fishing in the bag he used to carry things on the rare occasions he walked along, he pulled out some of the supplies he managed to nab at the crowded popina. "Oyster?" He asked, offering one of the large shells to Theodorus. @Chevi

"Yeah. I don't... I don't drink." That surprised him. Most of the younger students he'd studied alongside had drunk stupid amounts at the pub after class, so he had a mental image of young people being drinkers. After all, he'd been no different until he joined the Army, where one did not want to be found being drunk and disorderly. Which didn't mean that they hadn't drink in their free time. But her explanation made sense. He suspected that this pub got a bit rough, and if she had to watch people making dicks of themselves whilst on the booze - probably with some of it directed at herself, poor thing - then it was no wonder she didn't want to drink. Being exposed to that would put anyone off. "Smart girl." He said approvingly. "Learning from others' mistakes is much better than learning from your own. Trust me." The last was added a little bitterly, but still with a kind of self-deprecating humour. Would she think less of him for the admission? Yes, he'd been an alcoholic, though there'd been reasons. It was still no excuse. So, they lit the beer garden at night. That made sense, especially when the weather was warm. As Iona dashed off to get his soup, he mused that there was probably no real reason he couldn't stop in for a quiet lemonade and bowl of hot chips. He had a few friends he saw regularly and the odd group he attended, but kept to himself a lot, mostly out of habit. But really, what could go wrong? @Sara

The young man's teeth looked sound, and since he presented them well and easily Spurius had no need to grab his chin to see better. Well and good. A cooperative slave was an easy one to work with, and generally found things to be easier for themselves. He listened as the man described his duties; general house slave. Nothing special there. Couldn't read or write. But he apparently spoke Greek - not uncommon - and some Egyptian. The last caught Spurius's attention. He'd learned some Egyptian himself in his youth, since his father traded south across the waters, particularly to Iudaea, Arabia Petraea, and Aegyptus. "Are you from Egypt?" Spurius asked, in that tongue, though his accent was strong. He didn't have cause to use the language very often, though he did receive slaves from time to time from that region. The ones with very dark skin which were traded from the lands south of the Empire were often sought after as a novelty, and they were generally traded through Aegyptus. Coming from that sun-soaked land would explain the youth's distinctive tan. And Davus thought he could learn to read and write? Spurius had of course heard that before. Some slaves even claimed skills they didn't have to improve their value in the hope of finding a kinder master, though this one apparently had the sense not to do that. On the other hand, if he could learn, he could be valuable, or even useful. "What about numbers? If I'm serving three plates of food, each with five figs on it, how many figs do I need?" He asked, watching the young man intently. Even if he wasn't practiced at mathematics, if he was halfway intelligent and had all his fingers and toes he should be able to work that one out. @Sharpie

A room in his private quarters had been set aside for the hearings. The walls of the room were richly painted, the floor patternd, a window let natural light in though it was currently closed against the breeze, but it was largely separated from the busy centre of the Villa. The whole point of this was to be discrete, to shield the senatorial women from both rumour and spectacle as much as possible. Jason was the only slave that Tiberius permitted to be present, since he was already heavily involved in the matter and the Imperial trusted his body slave not to gossip. At the same time, Jason needed to be there to prevent rumours of a completely different kind, which Tiberius didn't care to start either. Tiberius wore his tunica with it's broad, purple stripes and over it the purple-edged toga of a magistrate. He sat on an ornately wrought curule seat, with it's crossed legs of carved ivory supporting low arms of the same and a richly embroidered cushions. This wasn't the Tiberius who wandered Rome's nicer roadways, who chatted about philosophy and society, and made bad jokes. This was Tiberius Claudius Sabucius, Imperial, son and brother of Caesars, holding a special, private hearing for the sake of their reputation. As Jason led the first witness in, Tiberius was shocked to see that it was Ovinia, his peer and friend from their wanderings on sunny days, who wasn't afraid to challenge his musings and have intelligent conversations with him. She'd been amongst those attacked? For the briefest moment, his blue eyes widened slightly, before the young Imperial schooled his features. What a shame that Roscianus hadn't been able to secure a witness to the senator's killing. Why had Ovinia, of all people, had to cross paths with this man? "Ovinia Camilla." Tiberius acknowledged her with a nod as she was presented. There was a second chair, more comfortable, set opposite him, should she wish to sit. @Sharpie @Chevi @Sara @Atrice

You are all going to die! As last words, they were particularly unimpressive. Did Barbatius think he was going to strike fear into people with them? People were born, and people died, and the part in between was called 'life'. Life was where the fun happened, the joy of good company and good wine, sunshine and philosophy, pretty women and pretty landscapes. And Barbatius's life was going to be that much shorter, in revenge for the lives that he himself had shortened, or tried to. The cats were hungry. The criminals' last desperate cry seemed the excuse they were looking for as the lion attacked him from behind, the tiger taking the opportunity once he was pinned. It would be excruciating, but at least it was quick. He was badly maimed, but the cats were hungry and in no mood to play. As soon as he rolled and exposed his throat, it was done. What had been a man became only meat, and the two cats - one from the hot sands of the south and one from the cold forests of the north - made short work of the corpse. Tiberius hoped that in his last moments Barbatius appreciated the expense of his execution; wood was much cheaper but crucifixion was a slow death. A handler appeared at one of the beast doors and looked over at the Imperial box. Were they satisfied? Tiberius nodded ever so slightly and waved his hand in a gesture to indicate that they were done with the spectacle. With a nod the fellow emerged onto the sands, followed by more handlers with poles and ropes, and the two cats were wrangled back into their pens, along with their respective prizes. They wouldn't need feeding tonight, and Barbatius's soul would likely remain restless, without the proper burial rites. Once the cats were contained others rushed out with rakes and shovels to clean the last of the mess from the sands. The sands clean and neat once more, a pair of gladiators walked out, mismatched armour gleaming, raising their arms to stir up the crowds who already seemed whipped to a frenzy by the execution, and the regular games began. Tiberius glanced across at Jason, judging his reaction. It had, as he'd discovered, been his idea to bring the three to Tiberius that fateful night. "Well?" He asked his slave quietly, then glanced over at Decimus, raising his eyebrows slightly to include him in the question. Where Roscianus and Alexius were, he didn't know, but he doubted they'd have missed witnessing the death of the man they'd felt so strongly must die. @Atrice @Sara @Chevi @Sharpie @Sains