Sarah

That slight movement caused Tiberius to glance in Jason's direction, meeting his slave's gaze. To most the young Imperial looked nonchalant, even bored, but it was a studied disinterest. For one standing so close, who knew his master so well, Tiberius's discomfort might register as a tightness around his eyes and mouth. Not for the manner of death, that was fairly standard for the more creative criminals of Rome, but rather the manner in which it had come about.

Barbatius should have had a trial, but the man was either canny or lucky in his choice of victims, and few pater familias would permit the women of their family to stand before a magistrate and give testimony, leaving them open to the slander of the other side's legal representative. It was one thing for a Roman man, with his gravitas and resources, it was quite another to subject a woman to it. But most of the bloody barber's victims had been women. He had heard the testimony of the vigile, the praetorian who even now watched over him, and their accomplice in the man's arrest, he had heard Ovinia and Pinara's testinmonies in private, to spare them the experience of court. And he had made a decision. Barbatius was a danger to Roman citizens and had to die. 

There were times, in the life of the Empire, when the standard laws didn't cover a situation acceptably, and someone had to make an executive decision. That was what the Imperials were for. To guide and govern the Empire, particularly in cases where an exception needed to be made to the usual rules. He knew this, he accepted it as his duty as an Imperial, but it didn't mean that he had to like it. Tiberius was certain that his decision was justified, but he knew that out there somewhere was the invisible line, beyond which decisions were unjustified and selfish, and there lay the path of the path of the tyrant. History rarely tolerated tyrants, and he sought to avoid that path at all costs. 

Nearby Pinaria came to sit with Ovinia, the two comforting each other. Funny how no one actually involved looked pleased to see the man's fate. But it must be witnessed. To order it, to desire it, and then to walk away from the reality... that too was unacceptable. He had made the decision, and he would witness the man's end.

Tiberius rested his chin on his hand and sighed, hoping that the cats were hungry and this would be over soon. 

@Sara @Atrice @Chevi @Sharpie @Sains

Imperial Area - Grown Ups Section

He had a moment to offer a brief, tight smile of acknowledgement as Julia Valeria introduced herself in turn, before Tiberius was introducing him to some of his young companions. Publius supposed he'd been away for a year and so missed Caesar's stepping down and the young bloods who had risen like saplings when the great tree falls. He took note of the names, nodding to each in turn. 

Fortunately it wasn't to be only him and Julia amongst the youths, as his sister and brother-in-law arrived, their two eldest moving to join his in a teenaged huddle whilst the adults settled into each other's company.

I'm beginning to feel surplus to requirements. So where are you putting your money, then?

"If you are then we all are Aulus, and I don't think we're that past-it yet." Though looking at the extreme youth gathered around Sabucius, he did wonder. "I used to follow one of the blues charioteers, but I've no idea how he is on horseback." He admitted. This wasn't a racing style he'd watched much of, preferring the technical complexity of the chariots. "Surely you'd know better than I who's hot?" He suggested. Then again, as Consul Aulus probably had more important things to do than follow the chariot racing. 

Now that the race was running, the question of whom to bet on seemed to be on everyone's lips, including he young lady seated with her brother, both of the Ovinii-Camilli line, as she asked he and Aulus for their thoughts. The way she arched her brow when she asked, then threw the question open, quite convinced him that she was more interested in the conversation than the advice. Fair enough. "That depends. Would you prefer the surer win, with the shorter odds, or the outside chance? The latter will get you more return, if they win."Not that he had a clue who either of them were, he was just making conversation. She was a fetching thing, though she looked older than many girls when they were wed. 

Just then someone in the plebian section nearby screamed rather indelicately at the straining racers. "Of course, some people have quite strong opinions on the subject." He observed dryly, with a glance at Aulus as well. 

@Sara @Atrice @Jenn @Sharpie @Chevi @Insignia

Imperial Box - Young Things

The advantage of the way he'd arranged the seating around him was that they could talk between groups, he simply had his age peers closest. Tiberius introduced Publius when Ovinia asked who the most recent arrival was, and gave a warm smile to the woman who settled herself not far from him; Julia Valeria. Perhaps the closest thing to a mother that he actually remembered, it was good to see her out and about. It had been too long since they'd spoken. Two more familiar faces joined the group and Tiberius returned the bow of Calpurnius Praetextatus with a respectful nod. Seeing those around him made him realise how many people amongst Rome's elite he was coming to know. It felt like a reassurance that he was doing the right things politically. Almost everyone here he could call a friend.

Discussion fell to betting on the races. Tiberius had already expressed his opinion to Marcus, but he listened with interest since Ovinia had asked Publius and Aulus. How would the older senators respond? 

Someone in the plebian seats screamed at the riders as they surged forwards on their horses. 

So passionate! You think she's onto something?

Tiberius snorted with amusement, but he regarded the racers thoughtfully. "Maybe. He's certainly holding his own against the White fellow." That was the one he'd recommended to Marcus.

@Sara @Atrice @Jenn @Sharpie @Chevi @Insignia

Who wishes to know? Am I going to get a trial?

Tiberius glanced in the direction of sudden movement as Marcus arrived at his side. He supposed he probably should have told Marcus he'd be coming, or sent Jason since he'd slept in after the events of the night and Marcus had been gone when he'd a woken. Not a great look but he had a reason. He gave his friend a brief smile. "Yes and no, and I'm sorry for springing this on you." He added. His new role had given Marcus purpose and it showed in the way he moved and carried himself; he had a gravitas he'd lacked before. 

Then he turned his attention back to the disheveled fellow in the cell. "Whether or not you get a trial depends on who you are." He said blandly. "Only slaves have no names, and slaves do not get trials." If this fellow wanted to play games then Tiberius would play for the moment, since he was both trying to sound the man in the cell out, and held all the good cards. He could just order the man's death. He didn't want to without cause, but he could. And he would, if he needed to. But it was one of those times when acting in the public interest and acting like a tyrant looked to his eye to be the same thing, and that made him go carefully. 

@Atrice

April 77AD

A week of celebrations had marked the Roman Empire's honouring of Ceres, goddess of agriculture, in celebration of the sprouting of the cereal crops and probability that, this year, the Empire would not starve. There had been races, feasts, parties, theatre and of course the parading and garlanding of the statue of Ceres herself, to the sound of the priests' incantations. Now it was time for the culmination of the celebrations, the great games at the Colosseum. Beginning on the evening of the last day and running into the night, the event - and the entire Colosseum - was lit by torches, lending an earie, flickering light to the events below. And, to be frank, the faces around them. At least Tiberius knew and trusted those who gathered around him.

As per tradition, the captured foxes had been set loose, burning brands tied to their tails, to run in terror through patches of old hay in the middle of the arena, representing the gain of the upcoming harvest, setting these too alight as they brushed past them. Eventually the flames died down and those foxes who had not already died of burns were swiftly despatched by a handful of gladiators with gladii. The dead vermin were cleared away and the charred hay raked from the sand in preparation for the next spectacle. There would be the usual gladiator matches eventually, but there was something else planned first; something important.

Once the sand was raked clear the slaves exited, leaving only one gate open into the arena. Through that gate was pushed a man, wearing no more than a loincloth. He was no famous enemy, captured on the battlefield and brought here to show the might of Rome. He was a criminal, and one who had wronged the wrong people. Most probably wouldn't even know him, but those who did might recognise the face of Marcus Barbatius, the bloody barber. The gate through which he'd been pushed closed, and for a moment the man was alone on the sands in the torchlight. 

A grating noise signalled the opening of two other gates, but these weren't ones used by people, save on rare occasions. These ones led to the beast pens. Shapes slunk through the gates, initially visible only in silhouette, but large and undeniably feline. As they drew into the light, one showed a sandy pelt and thick mane about it's large head, whilst the other had a more orange pelt, marked with black stripes. Large eyes gleamed in the torchlight, as the gathered crowd began to stamp it's feet. 

Tag: Any. 

It was almost amusing, how clearly surprised Aulus's man was at his manumission; clearly Publius's brother in law had given no hint as to what was to happen. But if the man had served well and faithfully for fifteen years - which would include Aulus's flight from Rome in that time - then clearly Aulus felt that he had good grounds on which to grant it. Publius gave the former slave a nod of acknowledgement, as his brother in law bid the man join them. 

In many ways it was those invited to witness the manumission that Publius found more interesting. There was Aulus and Horatia of course, their elser two children, himself, Caesar's brother no less - he'd have to find out what the connection was there - and an elegant and stately woman whom he'd only seen a handful of times; Aulus's sister Calpurnia Praetextata, whose time as a Vestal he understood had come to an end. It must be quite the change, coming back to her brother's household after almost a lifetime of service. Perhaps, once the formalities were over, he might have the chance to speak with her. 

@Sharpie @Chevi @Sara

It was his children's turn to meet the newest addition to the family as Horatia watched him greet her husband and arch one eyebrow at him. 

And no congratulations to your sister who bore him?

He turned to look at her, given her a look that was both amused and confused. "I did congratulate you." He replied; he'd done that even before promising to make the appropriate offerings. Ah but she was likely still recovering; he remembered how birthing theirs had affected Lucia. "I'll buy you a new ear spoon." He teased with a good-humoured lift of his chin, meaning that she should clean her ears out so that she could hear him. 

Spurius and Luciua Justinia happily disappeared into the domus with their cousins once Horatia excused them, no doubt to have their own catch up after a year apart, and Publius followed his sister into the enclosed garden, with it's gentle light and pleasant greenery, the distant trickle of water helping to hide the sounds of the street outside. Waiting for his host to sit first, Publius then settled onto one of the couches that had been brought out. 

How was Achaea, brother?

It was a simple enough question, but it caused Publius to cast his mind back over the last year, what he'd been looking for and what he'd missed. "Not much changed, since we were there." He admitted. "The figs are still the best, and the retsina the worst, though that lovely taverna by the bay has changed hands and gone downhill, I'm afraid." He added whilst he gathered his thoughts. "It was interesting to be there as Quaestor rather than in a military role. But... it wasn't the same." He admitted, as he felt he couldn't to anyone else. "I'm not so young, and my favourite people weren't there." Not like when they'd all been young and relatively carefree, the four of them, enjoying the Greek summer with little in the way of responsibilities. This time had been lonely; the past had remained the past. 

"So it's good to be back." Even if being back meant facing the empty space in the domus where his wife had been. Time was healing wounds, but slowly. "So tell me, apart from the birth of your son, what else have I missed?"

@Sara @Sharpie

I...I can't accept this. I don't deserve them.

It was the first time that Spurius had actually rolled his eyes at Ione, but that eye roll had been a long time coming. "It's not about whether or not you deserve them." He said, exhasperated. "I am giving them to you, because I want to. You will take them and enjoy them. Just say 'yes, dominus'." He said, enunciating clearly as though for the slightly hard-of-thinking. How was this girl ever going to realise her dream of freedom if she didn't learn to take what she was offered? She should be soliciting for what wasn't yet offered. But at the same time it was her very gormlessness that made her so appealing. The fact that she was apparently fond of him, so she'd said, and didn't just see him as a source of money and gifts. 

"They haven't done me any good, sitting in a chest for so long." He admitted. "You might as well have them." But he did want to see her wear them. She was such a little thing, he didn't know whether they'd fit. "Go on, put them on." He said, a little more gently. Even if they didn't fit, they could be adjusted. But he was sure that, even if they were too large, they'd still look better than the shapeless tunica she was wearing. Which in turn was better than the prostitute's toga. It made her almost invisible on the streets, and that was to his preference. But now he wanted to see her. She'd looked very attractive to his eyes in that pink chiton last week, how well might she look dressed like a respectable young woman rather than a whore?

But respectability was only an illusion for a slave like Ione, and he would absolutely watch her undress. 

@Sara

Tiberius listened as Roscianus thought the situation through, listing potential witnesses they might be able to bring forward, each with their own pros and cons.,

How much do we need to make sure he dies?

The question was both complex and simple. "If the woman who witnessed him kill Atratinus will testify, and if he is not himself a Senator, that alone will be enough to condemn him to death." Tiberius said somberly. Whilst killing a member of one's own class usually results in fines, killing a member of a higher class was dealt with more severely, and a senator second only to an Imperial (and all after Caesar, of course). "If she won't, then those women from tonight, another witness from a different attack, plus perhaps the owner of the Elysium, would certainly build a strong case that the man is a danger to Rome's citizens." If he serially attacked, even killed, others, then he clearly could not be released.

Tiberius fervently hoped that one or other case would be able to be made. But if not... the three men before him seemed convinced of this man's danger, as for some reason did Jason. Tiberius didn't want him walking around Rome any more than they did. "If you cannot find sufficient witnesses who will speak before a magistrate, then find one who will speak before me." He said at last, though he obviously didn't relish the thought. "I understand that many women will not wish to testify, but if this man is the monster you claim then we cannot have him roaming Rome. Have one testify to me, and I will... deal with him." The young Imperial promised, though his expression looked like he'd sucked a lemon. 

@Chevi @Sains @Atrice @Sharpie

I have, but... none of them are quite like you.

There were many women who sought to weasel their way into Imperial hearts, for gold or glory or the chance at bearing the next Caesar. Great wits, wiles and schemes were often employed, and usually to no avail. Yet Sosia, with all her apparent innocence, did it so very easily. The words were obvious - how many Imperial princes were there? - but coming from her lips they sounded entirely unaffected. "I've never met anyone like you either." He admitted quietly, and it too was the truth. 

What greater happiness than to spend the day together? He could hear their various slaves, guards and minders wandering around, only just out of sight, so they weren't truly alone, but they were as close as they could be. Leading her onwards, up the stairs to the next level, he sought out one of the rooms that faced south; the rare panes of glass between them and the colder outdoor air, but the winter sun warmed the room slightly. When it was inhabited there were braziers lit, of course, and there would be again when he and Marcus lived there. 

I imagine few living Romans have been in here lately.

"I think you're right." Tiberius agreed, searching his memory. "Quintus Augustus preferred to keep family close, in the Palace." Which, given the experiences of the purges, was hardly surprising. "I don't know whether my father used it - my birth father, Caesar Claudius. Maybe my mother did." From what he'd heard of her, the Villa Sullusti struck him as a place that she might have enjoyed, though he had no real evidence for it. But it pleased him to think of her walking these rooms and peristyles. 

"I, um, I got you something." He admitted suddenly, slightly embarassed. It wasn't really proper to be giving gifts to an unwed woman, but he'd wanted Sosia to have some token of his esteem of her. Fumbling in the folds of his toga, he undid the tiny pin he'd hooked there.  It was a small, delicate fibula brooch, made of bright, yellow gold, with a single garnet set into the end. Garnet for protection. "I thought, if you had a pin, your palla wouldn't blow away." He said with a hopeful smile, thinking of their first meeting. 

@Atrice

The words came tumbling out, all the pain she'd held in for so many years. The difficult reality that served as harsh contrast to the dreamed of ideal. She, Tertius and Teutus would never be a family, Teutus woud never have a father like that. She hurt for him, and she hurt for herself. For all that they might have had, if things had been different. But she shook her head when he said he'd upset her. "No, Makki." She assured him affectionately. "I'm upset, but it's not your fault. It was never your fault. I just..." she drew in a breath and let it out, "I guess, like you, I've held that pain for a long time. Wishing for what couldn't be." She shrugged, as though it were nothing. It wasn't nothing, but it wasn't everything either. "That's why I try to focus on the present, on the future; both are much brighter." Which explained an awful lot of Varinia's outlook. 

The words were spent, and Varinia fell silent, listening as Teutus said that he'd told his father, or tried to, tried to communicate with him. She hadn't known that he'd been there when Tertius took up Peregrinus; she couldn't imagine how much that must of hurt him, which his words only confirmed. Her poor son. Such a man to be proud of. Tertius didn't know what he had. 

"You do have me." She confirmed with a smile. "And I have you; the greatest love of my life." At last, her baby boy was back. "And we both have our freedom. That means from here we get to shape our own futures." And in her mind's eye their futures were looking brighter. 

"Now, I'd better finish warping this loom or I'll never get your tunic finished. Thank you for helping to measure the wool."

@Sharpie

Why would you not wish for your counsellors to gather together?

It was a good question, a valid question. But for Tiberius there was an easy answer. "Because I do not wish to be seen as trying to usurp Titus Augustus." He said simply. It was all very well for a Patrician to have clients and informants - it was positively expected - but for him to assemble a formal concillium, aping his brother Caesar, could potentially be seen by some as Tiberius trying to grab power for himself. It was power that he did not want, but there would always be those looking to push their own agendas who might see a change in leadership as aligning with those agendas. Tiberius was steadfast in his support of Titus, and he wanted that to be clear above all else. But that didn't mean that he couldn't think for himself or have his own resources.

Then Horatia pointed out that, in a few months, she would no longer need her father's permission. Of course. This was to be her and Aulus's third child. "The Gods will it." Tiberius echoed, as Horatia wished for a healthy child. Of course she did. Everyone did. And Tiberius added a silent prayer for the lady's health as well. 

Out of curiosity, may I ask what sort of issues have been brought up to you thus far?

"Nothing worthy of Caesar's attention." Tiberius admitted. "Which I take to be a good sign of the excellent governance of the Empire." He added with a brief, tight expression; her husband being one of the men responsible for exactly that. "If I could wish for one thing," he said suddenly, meeting her gaze, "it would be for peace. Stability. Not glory or conquest, not riches or fame, just for each to have what they need, for one day to be like the next, and for parents to be able to raise their children in peace." Something he, as the child, had missed out on. 

@Sara

Tattoos to celebrate acts and feats; Jason indicated the wolf on his arm; his first kill. It was an interesting thought. Of course people killed predators, and if they did not farm then they would have to hunt. Tiberius had never killed anything save the odd summer fly, at least not directly. The Imperials had people to do that for them. Jason was the son of a chieftain, but he had killed, hunted. It must, Tiberius thought, be a life with fewer layers to it; a much flatter social hierarchy. And much simpler, which could be both a blessing and a curse. No great libraries and always one step from hunger, but no destitute poor either. So he assumed. Perhaps one day he'd be able to go to the frontier. What would it be like, to see somewhere like the steppes, 'a place where the horizon encircles you'? A place where Jason's keen vision had been highly prized, hence the hawk. The young prince wondered suddenly how he might look to Sarmation eyes; probably quite unpreposessing. 

The stirrups help a rider to be more secure in the saddle with less effort.

It was an interesting thought. They still looked to Tiberius like they would complicate matters, but he wasn't the one born in a saddle. If Jason said that the stirrups were part of what made his people such great horseback fighters, then they were worth knowing about. "You have my permission to give the stable master as many fits as it takes." He replied with a grin. "I'd like to try them, though I suspect they'll always come more naturally to you than to me." He was under no illusions that he was coming too late to such learning, and with too little time to devote to it. But if he could even improve his riding and his relationship with horses somewhat, that would be valuable.

With a clatter the Praetorians arrived on their horses and Ignis danced impatiently, Jason asking if they could give the horses their run. It wasn't a conversation that Tiberius wanted to continue in front of others anyway. "Yes, lets." 

@Sharpie

The girls were in  the garden, a comfortable place to chat on a warm day. Once he'd heard them head that way and their voices fade, he'd followed at what he deemed was a safe distance. Perhaps he could catch a glimpse of this girl, and run for the hills if he didn't like what he saw. But Ovinia wouldn't do that to him. Would she? She'd told him this girl - Sosia - was both pretty and charming, so he had high hopes. As he drew nearer to the garden he could hear their voices drifting in through the window, on the warm breeze. Something about mourning a betrothed? Eeeh, he wasn't certain if that was a good start or not. It might make her keen to find a replacement, or it could mean that every other man was compared to the one she'd lost. Oh well, there was no sense worrying about it really, what would be would be, the Gods knew. 

Ceasing his creeping, Lucius strode the last few steps towards the gardens. "Ovinia! Did you send Caturix to the market? I can't find him anywhere." He called out before he'd even reached the doorway, then paused as though only just realising that his sister wasn't alone. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had company." He smiled apologetically at the other young woman, taking in her dark hair with little flowers woven through it, and wide, dark eyes in a pretty, pale face. She certainly was striking. Perhaps he and his sister did have similar tastes after all. 

@Sara @Atrice

So Arinna had been Ione's choice. Or suggestion; same same. A friend, new and 'sweet' in the girl's words. And she confirmed his suspicion that she was a recent acquisition of Armenius's. "Well then, she should do nicely." If she was as pleasant and compliant as she appeared, she should do very well indeed. Certainly Spurius was satisfied for the moment. He doubted that the twins would compain. 

The girl had gone upstairs and Spurius's own slaves had made themselves discretely absent; suddenly the two of them were alone in the atrium. Oddly, Ione didn't seem able to resist speaking up again. Was she a natural chatterbox, or nervous? Perhaps the latter, given the events last week followed by the awkward and unexpected meeting at her brothel. He hoped the latter. There were times when silence was enjoyable. If it was nerves then that would be because she was unsure what to expect, and that was never a good thing with a slave. Now that things had changed between them, they needed to find a new routine, a new understanding.

Still, she'd offered to massage his leg again and that was not unwelcome. "I'd like that." He said simply, with a nod. "Come with me." Without further ado - and without much option given that his arm was around her waist - he led her towards the set of stairs that let up to the nicer parts of the upper floor, where she'd been last week. He had to let go of her then to negotiate the stairs; one hand on the wall and the other holding his staff. It was a practical necessity but one he regretted. Still, it was preferable to falling down the stairs. At the top was the familiar landing, and at the end Spurius's own cubiculum, with the familiar bed, chest and table. 

"I have something for you." He announced, once they were both in the room and the curtain drawn across the doorway. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he set his staff aside and picked up a pile of folded cloth that had been sitting atop the chest, which he then offered to her to take. "I'm afraid that they're probably ten years out of fashion," he added more quietly, "but the wool is very fine, from Hispania." When unfolded, the fabric proved to be a fine linen tunica - long in the body, clearly for a woman - dyed green, and a beautifully soft woolen palla, dyed a rich blue. They smelled not unpleasantly  of the herbs that were usually layered between clothes whilst they were stored. 

@Sara

Plebian Area

Spurius smirked as the girl by the track replied cheekily that the rider should be so lucky as to land in her lap. At least it would be a soft and pleasant landing. Before he could reply she asked what colour he followed, adding that there was only one right answer? "I'm guessing it's not Blue." He replied, amused. Clearly she was affiliated with one of the stables. 

"Brown." He said after a moment, because that was the colour he was watching. "I'm more interested in the horses, truth be told." And most of them were brown. "The way they move is pure freedom." In more ways than one. They were fun to watch anyway, and watching them run without chariots behind them would be even more beautiful. And more like the officers' horses when he'd been in the legions. 

"So go on, what's the right answer then?" He asked, mildly curious as to which team she followed. 

@Atrice @Sara @Chevi @Insignia @Sharpie @Jenn

Imperial Box - Grown Ups

His children had settled nearby - close enough to hear him if he spoke to them, far enough away that they could talk quietly between themselves without getting shushed. They were old enough to give that much freedom; Spurius now wore his toga and Publius trusted him to care for his sister for a brief period. 

The box was slowly filling, and an elegant matron dressed in green which complemented her dark hair settled not too far from them. She didn't seem to be in the company of any other than slaves, but that could mean anything or nothing. She bowed to Titus sitting above them next to the Goddess, then settled herself in the area reserved for those of high rank. "Salve Matrona." He greeted her politely, since she was the nearest person. "Publius Horatius Justinius, at your service." He added, in case she needed anything, though with her slaves in attendence she likely had all she needed.

A few moments later he heard his name from the other side, where Caesar's brother sat with other young members of the Senatorial class. He turned to find the man - youth really - regarding him in a friendly manner, along with the two young men and a young woman who were with him. "Ave, Caesaris." He responded respectfully, noting each of the man's companions as they were introduced. The blonde fellow he knew of vaguely, the other two he recognised the family name more than anything. Gaius Ovinius Camillus - both of them now - was a powerhouse in the senate. He wondered what, particularly, had brought him to their attention. The brother wore his hair like one in the military but Pubius didn't think they'd crossed paths; and the sister wore her hair loose; unwed. That was interesting, she looked of an age to be wed; or rather to have already been wed. Was that old fox saving her for someone? "How can I serve?" He asked the young Imperial. 

@Atrice @Sara @Chevi @Insignia @Sharpie @Jenn

Imperial Box - Young Things

Tiberius smiled as Marcus protested that no one could ignore him. His friend - his brother in all but blood - was too kind, and whilst he no doubt spoke truth, the prince was quite certain that if he hadn't been an Imperial, he'd have been quite ignorable. Anyway, he wanted his friend to have some attention and enjoy his station. Stepping out into high ranked society wasn't all drudge and lessons. They were quickly joined by Ovinia and her brother - her middle brother, Lucius - who settled in with them. Ovinia looked well and he hoped she'd enjoy the events today. He'd made good on his promise to get her to a race or gladiator fight, so the race had best be a good one. With Jason's cousin in it, it likely would. 

Then Ovinia asked about a middle-aged senator who was first to settle into the wider area around the Imperial box reserved for the more senior Senators, having arrived quietly whilst they'd been talking. He recognised the man more because he made a point of keeping track of Imperial officials than because he actually knew him. "Indeed. Publius Horatius Justinius." He raised his voice slightly to catch the man's attention. "One of the Empire's senior military officers, recently returned from serving in Achaea as Quaestor." He explained with a smile in the man's direction. "Eldest son of Marcus and I believe that your sister is married to Calpurnius Praetextatus, last year's Consul." The man nodded. Well, it was reassuring to know that he had the right man. 

"Permit me to introduce Lucius Ovinius Camillus and Ovinia Camilla, and Marcus Junius Silanus." He gestured to each of the senatorial youths in turn. 

@Atrice @Sara @Chevi @Insignia @Sharpie @Jenn

Suddenly, as though summoned by the Goddess herself, the courtyard of the insula went from empty - save for herself - to bustling. First there was the young fellow with the dark hair. As she introduced herself he said nothing but quietly tapped the tablet around his neck; it had something written on it. She didn't read, but he had to be a slave, only slaves wore things around their necks. Her offer of a cake drew a nod though. "It's OK." She assured him. "I was a slave too not long ago. You can talk to me. Here." She handed him one of the cakes, still warm from the griddle. 

They weren't alone for long though, as a more familiar figure appeared. "Alexius!" She greeted him warmly. He looked well, which pleased her; perhaps the festival had put him in a high mood. She glanced from him to her new friend  - because everyone was a friend waiting to be made. "We haven't met before, no." She told him. "Do you two know each other?" That might explain why the young man was here. How wonderful! 

A moment later Teutus appeated, Amandus in tow. The younger slave was still quite shy and inclined to stick to those he knew; for Varinia who had virtually adopted him as a child she'd never had over the last few months - even if he was a slave - this was perfectly fine. "There you are!" She smiled warmly at the pair. "You look wonderful." That was to Teutus, proud mother to her son oblivious to onlookers, seeing him wearing the tunic she'd proudly woven him, with the fancy blue and yellow patterning around the edges. That was quite hard to do, but seeing him look respendent in it made her heart swell. Indeed each new arrival only seemed to improve her mood and broaden her smile. It was going to be a real celebration. 

Another unfamiliar figure entered the insula and bid them good morning. "Good morning." She returned easily. "I'm Varinia. Come in, come in. Have a cake." She offered the fellow, a bit older than their other ring-in, another of the warm cakes. Food was for sharing, and Ceres was the Roman Goddess who ensured there was food, so in her spirit Varinia would share with anyone. She'd certainly made enough. Hopefully even more people would come; maybe the vegetable sellers who lived on the same level as they did, or the quiet fellow she'd heard was a medicus who lived on the top floor? 

@Sharpie @Atrice @Chevi ( @Sara @Sains)

Mother was ill again, abed with the mysterious pains and fatigue that wracked her, yet unable to sleep in a way that gave much relief. But she seemed to take comfort from the presence of her recently returned son, so Lucius made time to sit with her and regale her with stories of Hispania (not the same ones he'd told his sister) and his various doings. Some days she was better, but this was not one of them, so he did what he could. 

In the near distance the domus' main door opened and closed. Was that someone going out or coming in? Surely his brothers weren't due back yet? Maybe father had gone out. But no, there was his voice. There you are. Where are your brothers? Lucius sighed without realised he'd done so, and his mother squeezed his hand. You'd better go. She said to him quietly, giving him a wan smile. Go help your father. He appreciates it when you're home. She added quietly. The words 'even though he'll never say so' hung unspoken in the air. Lucius nodded and leaned forward to kiss his mother on the forehead. "Get some rest. I'll bring you any gossip." He added with a wink, rising from her bedside as she made to shoo him.

There was someone in the atrium, along with father and Ovinia, but Lucius (Ovinius Camillus) wasn't expecting the person he found there. The vigile. The one with the good arms said his irreverent inner voice. Quietly he approached the little group and came to stand at his father's other side with a deliberate scuff of his boot, so that Gaius Major knew he was there. "Vigile." He nodded to Roscianus politely. Surely the man must be here with news of Ovinia's attacker?

@Chevi @Sara

Following his conversation with his sister, Lucius had decided it was time to have one with his father. That one had been... less easily had, but it had been had and that's what was important. He had two goals now, each of which would result in a reward if achieved, since Gaius had discovered what actually motivated his son wasn't glory and political power. Of course, he also had a deadline. The end of the year. If he found a wife in that time, Gaius Ovinius Camillus would increase his peculium enough that Lucius could afford a domus of his own. That would be something; the idea of being newly wed and having to share his father's domus with his parents, his older brother and his wife, and his younger brother barely bore thinking about. His sister was easier, though even Ovinia could be a bit overbearing when she wanted. Truly, it must be the blessings of the Gods that kept the Ovinii Camilli household from exploding, simply due to clashing egos. Lucius was the laid-back one and even his conversation with his father had involved some initial shouting. 

Gaius had, of course, had a list of suitable girls and young women already prepared, so Lucius had agreed to him arranging meetings with two or three to start with. The first one was the daughter of a Senator - knowing his father, they probably all were - one Lucius Safinius Regillus. Lucius Ovinius Camillus would be the first to admit that the name didn't mean much to him, having been away with the legions for some years, but his father had all the details; a lineage of Senators, a good family, and oddly an only child, with one adopted brother. Potentially a good dowry, but several suitors already turned down if gossip was to be believed. That immediately made Lucius wonder why, but he supposed he would find out. She was the first he was meeting, and he wasn't too worried if he got turned down too. He kept telling himself that there were lots of young women in Rome. Right?

His sister had firmly insisted that he couldn't go calling in his uniform, so Lucius had opted for his deep blue tunica and bright white toga, along with his best sandles, the ones with the little brass studs. His hair was neatly brushed forward and he supposed he presented as good a picture as he was going to. His body slave knocked at the door of the domus and one of the household slaves let them in, to be greeted a moment later by the master of the house. Lucius greeted the man politely, following the forms as he'd been taught and thanking him for allowing him to meet his daughter. It was expected that the two would be given the illusion of privacy, though it was also guaranteed that there would be family nearby and slaves lingering. That was how it was done. Time to talk but no time to do anything they shouldn't. Not that he had any plans to. 

The formalities out of the way, he was led to a sitting area just off the peristyle, where an attractive young woman was waiting. My daughter, Safinia Laelia. She was introduced. Lucius bowed politely. "Lucius Ovinius Camillus." He introduced himself politely, with a friendly smile. She really was quite attractive, though he thought he caught a glimpse of something guarded in those hazel-green eyes. "I'm glad we finally get to meet." 

@Emy

He felt oddly nervous. Ovinia had, as promised, managed to wrangle a time when her friend could come over, the one she thought Lucius would like, and she could manage to introduce them. Not only introduce, but give them some time together to talk. His sister was quite the schemer, and she'd carefully arranged everything and explained what she wanted him to do. Seriously, she should have been a son, she'd make a better politician than he ever would. If their father could appreciate women's intrigues, Lucius was certain he'd be proud. 

Not the uniform; Ovinia had insisted. Lucius had been a bit deflated at that; he was comfortable in his uniform and it meant not having to think about what to wear. Anything that saved what he viewed as unnecessary pondering was good in his books. But meeting a possible future wife candidate was something worth pondering for. Since he was supposed to be home and relaxing that ruled out a toga, so he went with a dark blue tunic, his good sandles and a leather belt with brass bosses and buckle, which he'd had a slave polish. He felt a bit underdressed for a first meeting without either the toga or his armour, but it would do. His bodyslave wet a comb and ran it through his short hair, flicking it fashionably forward, then showed him in the bronze mirror he'd borrowed from his sister. He smiled widely in the mirror, checking his teeth for stray bits of ientaculum, then nodded to the slave. It would do. 

Elsewhere in the house, the heavy door to the atrium opened and closed, and he heard his sister's voice, though not the words. Then another voice. She was here. This Sosia girl. The one Ovinia thought he might be well suited to. He could only hope, but she knew him better than most so was probably the best judge. Of course, there were plenty of other girls in Rome, he kept telling himself, so if it didn't work out he'd be fine. But it would be terribly convenient if it did. Plus it would be nice to marry someone he got along with, rather than someone his father just picked out. Still, she'd have to measure up to Gaius Major's standards as well. He'd have to find out who here family was.

For now though he figured it would be best to wait a few minutes and let the girls chat. Then the set up might not seem so obvious.

@Atrice @Sara

The waitress disappeared for a couple of minutes but was soon back with his lemonade, which he accepted with a silent nod of thanks. She listened with what almost looked like genuine interest as he explained that he worked pro bono on Friday afternoons. 

That's very kind of you. To do that for them.

Her soft Scottish accent was actually quite pleasant. Spencer's was vaguely northern England without obviously being strongly anything. "Well, someone helped me once. I'm just paying it forward." He murmured, as though it was nothing really. It got a range of reactions, even amongst others in the legal profession. Of course, some were working with him this afternoon. She chattered away, her voice more soothing than annoying, though he was supposed to be focusing on his work. But he didn't talk to a lot of people socially. The papers could wait a few minutes.

"You're not annoying, it's just that I have a lot of work to do." He replied, as gently as he could. "I hope you're feeling better now?" He enquired solicitously. The poor girl - woman really - looked like she lived on her nerves rather than three meals a day. He couldn't imagine that waitressing in a place like this paid very well, though he might be wrong. He'd already decided he'd leave a tip again, she was at least friendly and pleasant. Then she asked him a question he wasn't expecting. Did he ever think about coming in, in the evenings?

It was lucky he'd already swallowed his mouthful of lemonade. One of the things that he liked about this pub was that it was usually fairly quiet at this time of day, unless it was a nice day then people were in the beer garden. A rowdy pub in the evenings... almost didn't bear thinking about. Especially if there was a fight, which wasn't all that uncommon. A few shouts and a broken glass and there would be screams and cries and bombs in the near distance. He did his best to avoid living through that again, any more than he had to. "I'm afraid I don't drink these days." He said after a moment, setting the lemonade down to cover his pause, not realising that he'd gone a shade paler for a moment. "You know, one's too many, two's not enough?" He said, assuming that she'd recognise the Alcoholic's Anonymous mantra. "But I'll give you full points for encouraging return customers." He hoped her boss valued her for that.

At least, he assumed that's why she was encouraging him to come in the evening. It was nice to think that she enjoyed talking to him, but why would a boring, middle-aged lawyer be an interesting conversationalist for a vivacious young woman like her? Already her chirpy nature was showing through again. He gave her a shrewd look. "I believe you have to serve some sort of food whilst you serve alcohol." He said, not that that was his area of legal expertise. "If I don't finish too late, I could perhaps have some chips in the beer garden." Surely after dark everyone would be inside, and he could sit quietly outside. Home was across town after all, and though he usually went back a more direct route, it wouldn't be too far out of the way to come back.

And then he could prove to himself that she was only trying to drum up custom, and not bother again.

@Sara

"Davus." The trader echoed, and made a note on his tablet. It would do. The young man was taller than many Romans, though not so tall as Spurius himself. He looked fit and healthy and was handsome enough; he should sell quickly. The question really was to whom; and for how much. 

"Show me your teeth." Spurius commanded. Slaves with bad teeth could have difficulty eating in a few years, becoming a liability. "What duties did you perform for your dominus?" He asked, watching the young man carefully for any signs of sullenness or stubbornness. So far he hadn't seen any, and Davus's demeanour was appropriately quiet and subservient. That was good. Troublesome slaves were a problem wherever they ended up, and that tended to be in the harder, harsher roles. Like the mines. But an obedient young fellow could find himself in a good household with comparatively easy duties. Certainly this one seemed to have come from that kind of background. 

"Do you have any particular skills? Can you read or write?" He asked, continuing to get the fellow's measure. 

@Sharpie

He'd discussed attending Aulus's son's coming of age ceremony with his wife, but the invitation to this cena had been unexpected. It was oddly touching to be included in the doings of the Capurnii Praetextati as though he were family, though as they'd each hinted at and danced around, he might well be in the not too distant future. But that was not a given in the young Imperial's eyes, both because he had not yet really had the opportunity to speak with Aulus's daughter, and because he knew that the needs of the Empire sometimes changed, and quickly. But if they suited each other and the planets and wills of the Gods aligned such that he wed Calpurnia Horatia, it would be a connection to a good family and he would not object. There was no need to make things more complicated than necessary. 

For now he was here for quite a different event, but still a personal family event, though he'd been a little surprised when he'd learned what it was to be. But Tiberius had added his signature to the end of the scroll, and now watched with interest as the meal's guest of honour was informed that he was, in fact, just that. For a moment his thoughts drifted to Jason; that was something he'd tuck away to consider later. Instead he forced himself to focus on the events playing out before him. 

@Chevi@Sara @Sharpie