Sarah

Tiberius was trained to be a politician, and could maintain a cool, calm facade, even when he was nervous as hades. Which he was. Part of the reason for having cena with Marcus whilst they waited was to draw a measure of reassurance from his friend, and also so that Tiberius could take his cues from Marcus if needed, having never hired a prostitute before. But Vibia and her companion Liana seemed to effortlessly slide into the scene, settling themselves and making themselves comfortable, so perhaps he need not have worried. His friend really had come through for him in arranging the best for tonight. Perhaps he should see to it that Marcus got a night with Vibia, as thanks; that he wanted her had been plain. But he could consider that later. Meanwhile, Vibia was asking about their new home, and he explained the reasoning behind the move. Very comfortable. Although missing a woman's touch, I think. It was, from Tiberius's point of view, a fairly obvious observation. "Just two lonely young men." He confirmed. OK, he'd probably had a little more wine than he usually would, but could you blame him? "Though far less lonely tonight." But then, if there'd been a matriarch of this place, they'd at least have been more subtle about inviting Vibia and Liana. He was curious about her though, knowing from her presence at his party that Vibia was more than just a whore, so he asked where she'd learned to play. I haven't always been a freedwoman. "I assumed not." He replied, mildly amused. "No one is born 'freed'." Free yes, freed no. To be a freedman or freedwoman, you had to first be a slave. He listened with interest as she described having worked to increase her skills and thus her abilities, to the point where she had obviously earned her freedom at some point. And he noticed that she deftly avoided answering his actual question. "An oversight." He agreed, on the subject of them not meeting at the gathering. "But one now remedied." And frankly he preferred the privacy tonight, in public he shouldn't be seen to pay too much attention to one of her profession. Vibia asked whether she should play for him, perhaps in private, and Tiberius glanced across at Marcus. "Are you done with cena, Marcus? Would you like to show Liana the view from the west wing?" Meaning Marcus want to take his lady off to his room? Tiberius was not after an orgy on his first night, but didn't want to seem to just abandon his friend. "I'd like to hear you play." He agreed. "We can go to my rooms." Assuming that was alright with the other two. Training in social niceties stopped him from just up and leaving with Vibia. @Atrice @Sara

Manius Victorius Roscianus. Roscianus is fine. Or Lucius. "Roscianus then. Lucius is likely to get confusing when we're both in the room." Camillus observed with a smirk. It was his praenomen too. But then praenomena were mostly for use within one's family, where everyone otherwise had the same name. Outside of his immediate family he was mostly Ovinius Camillus, his praenomen only used to distinguish him from his father and brothers. Which was important because Lucius couldn't be more different from Gaius Major and Minor, never mind Tertius. Perhaps Roscianus had just wanted a name all his own. The vigile nodded towards a bench under the portico and Camillus joined him, happy to be off his feet. He might be accustomed to his legionnaire's armour, but that didn't mean he'd prefer to stand in it when he could sit. Unfortunately it didn't seem that the vigiles had made a lot of progress in their search, it being likenable to looking for a needle in a haystack, at least Roscianus indicated that was the case officially. "What about unofficially?" Camillus asked, picking up on the other man's tone and the loaded look he'd thrown him. Something was afoot. @Chevi

And this arrangement, is it something that’s still happening then? Spurius nodded. "Once a week, so long as you've no objections?" He added, glancing at Valerius. "I prefer that she come to us than to send the boys down, it's more efficient with their time and I'm happy to pay for hers." And she hadn't caused them any problems. Quite the opposite, she'd fit almost seamlessly into their routines very quickly indeed, and he appreciated that. Valerius asked whether Spurius had tried Ione as well, and for a moment the trader mused on how much to tell the man. Of course he was fishing for more business, that was only natural, but he also seemed like a reasonable man. "I have, on her last visit." He confirmed eventually. "She is pleasing." He agreed. "I asked that she come up for longer next week." Meaning that he intended to use her services again. Meanwhile, Valerius's suggestion that they could make a deal intrigued him. His gaze wandered around the newly refurbished floor again, musing that with each improvement, Valerius's business would be able to both expand, and increase in quality. "How would you feel about using my work teams as you need, and crediting their cost against my household's use of your women?" He asked at length. That would enable Valerius to get the repairs done faster, meaning he could expand the business more quickly, at the loss of the income from Ione for his household for a few weeks. Spurius had no problems with trading in kind, if that worked for Valerius. The man wasn't wrong. Ione was pleasing, and he was looking forward to her next visit. @Atrice @Sara

Varinia couldn't help but wonder what had happened at that dinner. After all, to have Wulfric at dinner implied some degree of acceptance by Tertius; but apparently now he wouldn't see him. A little chill past through her as she hoped that it wasn't something that Teutus had said; her own son had told her that he'd voiced some hard truths to his father. Had that turned Tertius off the idea of yet another illegitimate son? At least he made nice children. She still felt that Tertius was a good man, if one walking a difficult path, and he seemed to have good taste in women. A letter was the only other way that Varinia could think of for Wulfric to get through to Tertius. She didn't know who else in his household might be able to read, but chances were that Tertius would read it himself. Surely that was better than knocking on his door and being sent away. There were people who wrote things down for others for coin, but another idea presented itself. "Teutus can write." She volunteered; it was a source of pride for her. His father had taught him to read and write and figure numbers, all valuable skills. "I'm sure he'd help you write a letter to Tertius." At least, she was reasonably sure. "And I can help you with the words." Being that she seemed to actually get along with their father. "Why don't you have cena with us, this evening?" She suggested. Surely Teutus wouldn't object? @Atrice

He didn't duck his head to avoid her touch, but because he felt oddly uncertain, and it wasn't something that Spurius was accustomed to. He had to be certain, in his line of work; slaves could sense when their master was anything but firm and fair. But in letting Ione in, just a little, he'd upset that surety in himself. Which had nearly created a disaster, until he'd admitted the one thing he was sure of with her, that he wanted her. Wanted that softness, that company. Well, that surety was somewhere to start. He was oddly fond of her, even as she admitted that he wasn't the first person to tell her she was an awful prostitute. "It's not your fault. A good slave trader would have made more of an effort to sell you a position suited to your strengths." Which was what he did. She should have been a house keeper, even a body slave, perhaps to a household with a young master who might take an interest in her. No doubt the man who'd sold her had just seen her youth, pretty face and probably her innocence. I saved some of it. "Good." He replied with obvious approval, listening as she described what she'd done with her money, paying for the massage lesson as he'd suggested. So she was listening, was learning. That was good. When she protested that she didn't need him to buy her anything, he shook his head slightly, thinking that he didn't agree, but his expression was still fond. "But I can if I want to." He told her gently. "So can your other clients. A skilled prostitute can make her clients want to lavish gifts on her." And so make an extra profit. Of course, Iona had already said she didn't care about the money, which didn't help. "You enjoy the luxuries here, don't you?" He pointed out. "And this looks very good on you." He gently adjusted the fabric on her shoulder. Corva would fix the belt, and the billowy fabric would once again cling to her frame. She'd looked pretty, done up when she'd arrived. He suspected that if given the kind of treatment that the wealthy, free women of Rome received, she'd look quite stunning. Not that he needed her covered in makeup and elaborate hair styles. Speaking of the massage...sorry...how is your leg? Does it feel better? "It does, thank you. You did a good job, and it's not playing up this week." Even though he had currently taken his weight off it by leaning against the door jamb. "It depends on how much I use it." He explained simply. "If I walk too far, the muscles seize up. But if I don't walk at all, I lose strength in the leg." So it was a constant balancing act that he'd been doing for years; even so he still occasionally got it wrong. She might ask well know, since he was certain he'd be asking her to massage it again before too long. But he didn't need it right now. What he did need, he decided, was to take charge of the situation, else they'd keep standing here like a pair of shy youths, and he was too old and his leg too sore for that. "Now, I do believe that I said you were to have a sleep." He re-iterated, gesturing again to his bed with it's soft wool blankets and inviting linen sheets. @Sara

Are you going to house me in a palace? Tiberius resisted the urge to smirk. However proud this barbarian princess, the chance at some Roman luxury didn't sound like it would be refused. "Part of a palace." He replied evenly. "I can offer you rooms in the Villa Sullusti, which is where I live. It's set in a beautiful hortus and is quite luxurious." He assured her. If that was all it took to win over this foreign emissary, then it was easily done. The place was far too big for himself and Marcus, and he assumed that Hilda wouldn't be staying once she found her brother. And if he could improve relations with the non-Romanised Germanic tribes across the Rhine, so much the better. The suggestion of using the Vigiles to keep an eye out for her brother seemed to go down well, and Tiberius listened carefully as she described him, estimating his height from her gesture. If he went bearded and dressed in the way of his people, surely the man wouldn't be too hard to spot. "Wilfric of the Chatti." He repeated, doing his best to match Hilda's pronounciation. Finding this wayward prince and returning him to his people could prove an opportunity. Then Hilda asked if she should pay him for the service of finding her brother, causing Tiberius to glance at her. He had no idea how such things might be conducted between Germanic tribes, but he doubted she could offer too much to the Roman coffers. Rather there were things which could prove far more valuable. "Payment is not necessary." He replied mildly. "Consider this a diplomatic favour. And since you are a Princess of the Chatti, I thought we might discuss further diplomacy between our people." He said. As they walked they passed a walled green space with open gates, until finally they reached the largest of the gates, through which a paved, private roadway led a short distance to the main entrance of the Villa Sullusti itself. Unlike those of the hortus, these gates were kept closed until Tiberius's entourage arrived, at which point slaves swung them open. "This is the Villa Sullusti. Would you care to join me?" He asked, indicating the considerable, ornate building in the depths of the manicured gardens. @Sara

Iona seemed a pretty name to him, and certainly as good as any other. At least her parents hadn't been caught up in the fad of using surnames as first names. It might work for Harrison Ford, but Spencer wasn't so convinced, even if it was an aristocratic family. Oh well, after forty years he was used to it. Briefcase in one hand and cane in the other, he made his way back to the car, mind already on the afternoon's work. --- Friday rolled around again and Spencer parked his jag outside the Bell and Plow and made his halting way inside. It was stinking hot out, the two weeks of the English summer when one actually wanted air conditioning. Even so, most of the patrons were outside enjoying the summer sunshine. He'd do that on the weekend when he had time, the bright light made it hard to see the screen of his laptop. As he made his way in a slim figure slipped off a stool by the bar and the waitress from last week was at his side. "I might skip the coffee this time, unless you think it's improved?" He chuckled. At least she had a sense of humour. And not only did she remember his name, but she offered to take his case. Really she should be working somewhere nicer than this place. "Thank you Iona, but I'm used to it." He glanced around, noting that he had the choice of the room. That would change the instant the weather turned foul, but for now it was a good thing. "I'll sit over by the window." He didn't want to be in the sun, but a warm breeze through the open window would be pleasant. Making his way over to the table, Spencer settled himself on the bench seat against the wall, so that he could set up his laptop without the screen being in anyone else's view, and as he did so he gave Iona a thoughtful look. They were as far from the bar now as they could get, and after a moment he dropped his gaze to her arm, and the dark purple mark he'd noticed when she'd reached for his briefcase. "That looks sore." He observed sympathetically. He'd done enough work with the women's shelter to suspect that bruise, if he got a good look at it, would be thumb shaped; someone grabbing her by the arm. It was entirely the wrong place to be from walking into a table or doorway, which was his usual. But he also knew that immediately accusing her of being a victim of domestic violence wasn't a way to improve the situation; also sometimes people fell off their bikes. @Sara

"Second husband eh? Good plan." He nodded mock-sagely. "Marry someone really old, get all his previous wife's jewellery, wait till he pops his sandals, and marry an Imperial. Perfect." He grinned. Yes he was being a shit, but it was a brother's duty to tease their sister, and only because he loved her. Plus she did over-react so very well. So the prince had even sent her presents! Except they were scrolls on philosophy. "Ew." He pulled a face. What kind of gift was that to give a girl? Holding up his hands defensively, he protested "You mentioned your cooking, not me!" He knew there were some bears not worth poking. "Still, you could offer to cook him a meal to repay his kindness. That should stop him sending you any more scrolls." Anything to avoid any more of Ovinia's cooking. Thank the Gods for slaves. The grin that spread across Ovinia's face warmed her brother's heart; it was so good to see her really smile again, it had been a while. She'd been so down, he'd been a little worried she might get ill like their mother. He'd do anything to keep her smiling. Taking her to parties and to be admired by his friends was simple enough, plus he liked the idea of going to a few parties too. He was a bit surprised she didn't scoff at his idea of a princess, but however much they might tease each other, they had each other's backs. Lucius could talk to Ovinia like he couldn't talk to his father or older brother. Tertius, well, he was young. Fun, but some things he didn't yet understand. "Gods no, not Aunt Antonilla's villa." He hadn't forgotten their last stay there. It had been better than his posting in Hispania, but only just. Cold and damp and that harridan had delighted in detailed their every failing, real and imagined. "I'll find something, and talk to father. Maybe we can go to the coast, say Stabiae or Herculaneum." Some nice resort town, that wasn't too far away, they could probably get away with. They could hire a villa and have a week or two in the sun. "If father thinks we're making progress on our futures, he'll agree." Well, Lucius hoped he would. It would at least get them out of his hair, and if Ovinia wanted to go with just him, perhaps Gaius Minor and Viria could have some time to themselves. Lucius did feel for his older brother, just a little. Viria seemed to spend more time with friends than in the domus. Speaking of Tertius, you'll never guess what the slaves told me. "Oh?" Lucius asked, sipping his wine and giving his sister a curious look over the top of his glass. Then she asked if he knew their younger brother had a Plebian girl on the side. "I didn't but it doesn't surprise me." He replied blandly. That wasn't news, that was expected. A Pleb, or a prostitute, or someone. He'd told her about Estrella. She hadn't been the only one in Hispania either. @Sara

Marcus confirmed Tiberius's recollection; Lucius and Junia were his cousins by blood, adopted by his father, and his brother was unwed and without and heir, save for Marcus himself. That clarified some things, but others were still very much up in the air. "Lucius should have had some inheritance from his father, your uncle, and your father would have been his pupillaris substitutio." That assumption seemed pretty safe. "There are two big questions. The first is whether your father assigned you an inheritance yourself, as well as your brother, and the second is whether he assigned you a pupillaris substitutio." That would determine whether Marcus stood to actually inherit anything and whether he did or not, the bigger question was who had the money and property and should be paying him a peculium. But our fortune is gone? I don’t know if there is anything left to inherit. That, Tiberius didn't know, but he knew who would. "It depends on what was in your father's will." He said firmly. "So our first step is to find a copy of it." He'd seen Marcus's slightly confused expression and decided not to share all of the if-then's that were rattling around in his head, because it wouldn't help. "Most families establish their wills with the Vestals, so we should ask them." At the end of all this of course was a goal. "I think that, at the least, you should be able to claim a peculium from somewhere. At best, you may have an inheritance waiting for you. But it could be a long road." Legal matters were rarely resolved quickly. He gave Marcus a reassuring smile. "We'll work through it together." @Atrice@Sharpie

You're too kind, really we rolled out of bed looking like this, this morning. No effort at all. Tiberius chuckled softly, in spite of himself. This Vibia clearly knew how to put a man at ease, and if she was a wit as well then that piqued his interest, despite his nervousness. Vibia settled herself onto his couch but at a distance, lounging in a way that showed off her lithe figure but didn't impinge on his personal space. He watched her do it, quite certain that not one single move was accidental, rather he was seeing a very careful performance. Marcus had assured him, perhaps a tad wistfully, that Vibia was the best, and was rapidly becoming clear to Tiberius that he was watching a consumate professional. Somehow that made him more comfortable. At least one of them knew what they were doing. She asked about the move from the palace, something that was becoming a familiar question, though she didn't seem to fall into the collective of people who thought he was mad. "Space." He said simply, glancing at Liana as she settled in with Marcus, before returning his attention to Vibia. "The opportunity to have my own household, and to give my brother room to have his." Both were still young men, under twenty-five, but suddenly thrust into adulthood by Quintus's abdication. "Which in turn gives us space and freedom to run the household as we see fit." He gestured to Marcus as well. That included having prostitutes visit, though frankly Tiberius suspected that Titus wouldn't care as long as he was discrete. Yes, sometimes he missed being closer to Titus and Drusus and Rutiliana, but he could enter the Palace any time he liked, and he still spent quite a lot of time there. "I trust you find it comfortable." He added, a little cheekily. The Palace might be the epitome of luxury, but the Villa Sullusti lacked for nothing. He glanced at the cithara as it was placed carefully by a slave, remembering that Ovinia had wanted to learn. But he suspected that Vibia would not be appropriate to suggest as a teacher. "You played beautifully at the party last September," he recalled, "can I ask where you learned?" He was genuinely curious. And talking was helping to settle his nerves. @Atrice@Sara

As far as Camillus knew, Roscianus was largely blameless in the case of Ovinia's rejecting his brother. Which just showed how little he knew. He recognised Roscianus the moment the man walked out into the portico as one of the two lads talking to Ovinia at the party at the palace, where she'd stormed off in a temper. So he was a friend of hers or moved in the same social circles. At least he had. She'd developed a crush on him, and he'd decided to be a vigile and get adopted down into an Equite family from where he couldn't possibly marry her even if he wanted to, leaving Ovinia to reject his brother in a fit of pique, end of story. That was the narrative in Camillus's head, so he wasn't currently looking to break any noses. Of course, that was subject to change without notice. Right now however he wanted to get the measure of the man, and took in his lean build, dark hair and eyes and deep tan. What was it his sister had said? Good arms and a nice jawline? Camillus didn't see it himself but OK. If he wanted to find a suitable patrician fellow who'd appeal to his sister, he needed to learn her tastes. Lucius Ovinius Camillus? A pleasure to meet you. To what do owe this visit? "Indeed, and I'm pleased to meet you too." Or at least curious. "Is it still Vipsanius Roscius?" He asked. It was the only name he knew the man by, but if he'd been adopted then it had probably changed. "I came to learn what progress has been made on capturing the man who attacked my sister." He said simply. "I believe you responded to my father's summons. And also to the fire, for which you have our gratitude." What drew a man born to a privileged life to become a vigile? The obvious answer was a lack of interest in those things he would normally inherit, politics and perhaps even property, and if it was a desire to avoid the Senate then the two young men had that in common. But there had to be more to it. It was one thing to not have political aspirations, but for Roscianus to become a vigile there had to be a drive towards something else, and that was unusual. Camillus really hoped that wasn't what Ovinia liked about the guy, because if it was then she was probably out of luck. @Chevi

It's alright, domina. I like my life here. She smiled at Jannus and patted his arm. "That's good then." She knew that she and Teutus would give their slaves as comfortable a life as they could, and if he didn't remember much of his home then she supposed that Jannus was much like those who had been born into slavery rather than taken when they were older, as she had been. More like Teutus in fact, except that he would be at least aware that he had lost something, even if he couldn't remember what it was. Varinia spoke of her home with the idealised voice of youth and longing. There had been hard winters and years when there was little food. Years when it rained all summer and the river flooded, and then the mice bred on the abundant grass and got into everything. Years when their house seemed crammed to exploding from all of her siblings. But the rose glasses of memory painted those years in the best of lights. She smiled sadly as he said he was sorry she'd been sold. "Thank you." She was too, but it didn't change the fact. She understood why her father had done it, even if she would never forgive him. Her sale could mean the difference between food and starvation for the rest of the family, and she hoped that he'd at least thought he was selling her to someone who would see she had food and clothing. The furniture was beautiful, even the simple pieces, and Varinia eyed them covetously but realistically. She was, for the moment, window shopping. If Teutus's business became even more successful and they moved into their own domus, then she might buy one or two pieces. Now they were here for the practical item, the loom. While they waited she asked Jannus about his past roles, and he said he'd just been a runner. "Would you like to learn other skills?" She asked him curiously. "Teutus could probably teach you to read and write, if you were interested. Even do some counting." And a slave with more skills was more valuable. Not that she thought Teutus planned on selling him any time soon. @Insignia

He'd been right, she really wasn't suited to being a prostitute. How could the money not matter to her? Silly girl. She should have been a happy wife on her island, married to some local craftsman, with a fat baby on her breast. And yet here she was, standing in his bedroom, looking lost and confused. Was it the ingenue aspect of her that appealed to him? Perhaps a little. He didn't like the overt prostitutes, perhaps because what he really wanted wasn't a prostitute at all, but he'd given up on having a wife. But didn't every man want to be a hero to someone? He held himself back because he was accustomed to resisting the urge to indulge his baser impulses. When he'd first returned to Rome, crippled and unable to walk, rejected by his intended, he'd turned to drink and sulked, unable some days to leave his room to run his fledgling business. And it might have ended that way, if his father hadn't given him a piece of his mind the morning after one big night. And Spurius had realised he had a choice; he could be weak, and he would probably drown in an amphora, or he could push it all down and rebuild his life. He'd chosen the latter, but it had meant hard work, it meant pushing himself to use his leg despite the pain, it had meant putting every as into his business, to get it off the ground. Denying himself in order to succeed. It had become a way of life. And it had paid off, he was very successful. He was one of those Plebians who were richer than some Equites. And he could afford to spend money, waste money, on things, but he didn't out of habit. Even if he showered Ione with coin and pretty dresses, he could afford it. She didn't have to be an investment to be worth money. Unless she counted as an investment in less material things. A wealthy man could be a patron of others; whether artists or businessmen. In return he got access to their services, and political support. The Senatores were the biggest patrons of course, but Spurius could afford a client or two. His brain, which was clearly riding the exponential curve of ridiculousness, wondered if one could be the patron of someone else's slave. He supposed it depended on how one looked at it. All foolish thoughts aside, he did want Ione, and he admitted as much. He just wasn't certain what he wanted. Not an empty fuck periodically, something more. Which was stupid, and Spurius didn't tolerate stupid, especially in himself. And yet... Ione stepped closer, and ran her fingers over his cheek. I want you too. I don't want you because you'll earn me more coin. I...like you. Sir. Earning the admiration and loyalty of those slaves whom he could was one of his business skills. It made them so much easier to work with. Was that almost unconscious habit now leading him somewhere he didn't know how to go? Spurius smiled, then chuckled at himself and ducked his head, almost shyly, leaning against the doorway to take thw weight off his leg. What a situation. "You're a terrible prostitute, you know that?" He said, shaking his head slightly, not sounding at all displeased. Then he looked at her, hazel eyes meeting those oddly deep blue ones, that smile still lingering. "But I guess that's why I noticed you. I could see at a glance you didn't fit in." Which had annoyed him then. Now what? He reached up and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear in an affectionate gesture. "Bring another girl with you next week if you don't care about the coin, she can see to the twins." There. And he could have her time and the illusion that she was just his. "Did you save any of the money that I gave you last week?" He asked gently, suspecting that she'd spent it at the baths, or other things. It was flattering that she'd spent her money on him, because he knew she had so very little. But it was also very foolish. "You know you're not supposed to spend money on me, you're supposed to get me to spend money on you, right?" He spoke not with the stern tones of the previous week, but with a kind of exasperated fondness. She really was a terrible whore, and that might be what he liked about her. @Sara

He watched as Ione entered his cubiculum and turned slowly, taking in the furnishings and the decorations. Even with her hair up and her dress billowing and shapeless, he thought that there was a grace to her movements, a prettiness about her. She stopped as he posed his question, and the look she gave him was one of such distress that he felt it as though she'd hit him, before she lowered her gaze and haltingly began to speak. And he listened, listened quietly whilst she spoke of having got up early to get done up, to look nice, for him. Those baths weren't free either, especially not with that kind of primping. Because she'd thought he'd wanted her. A-and now I don't understand. You're so kind to me but...you don't want me in return. He still couldn't help the feeling that it was all a calculated act, but following that was the thought that surely, if she was that good, she wouldn't be working at the Elysium. Which only left the supposition that she not only wanted to please him, but had spent her own money to do so. Perhaps as an investment, but still... she hadn't struck him as particularly canny that way, whatever his advice. Which left the far more simple, and far more bizarre conclusion; for some strange reason she liked him. Perhaps for his money, perhaps for his influence, perhaps because he spoke to her. He didn't know. In that moment he felt like everything that he expected about such interactions had been turned on it's head. Then he mentally shook himself. She was upset and confused because he had broken one of his own rules; he'd given a slave mixed messages. Slaves were content and felt secure when they knew what was happening and what was going to happen; they felt insecure and became fractious when they didn't, because if they didn't know what was expected of them they couldn't anticipate the consequences of their actions. It was a very simple premise; dogs, children and slaves throve on structure and clear expectations, and he had not been clear with her, because he hadn't known himself. And here they were, both of them feeling lost and confused. After years of holding back depression and temper to carry on, denying himself companionship because of the implications, treating with slaves only as property, could he allow himself to break the habit? Ione stopped speaking and Spurius nodded, silent acknowledgement of her words. "I guess it was easy to stick to our routine." He admitted. "I-" I didn't know what else to do I don't want to be taken advantage of I don't let myself get close to slaves I have to be strong, because being weak nearly killed me I want you I don't dare... I'm afraid of failing He swallowed. "I'm sorry." He said at last. He probably owed her that. "You looked very pretty this morning. I did notice. You... surprised me." He admitted. She had, very much so. "And I thought that if I stopped you seeing the twins, then you wouldn't earn as much from your visit, which didn't seem fair." After all, she was here to make money, and if she only saw Spurius then that was one customer instead of three. He'd considered that point, in the intervening week. Much as he didn't want to share her, he knew he was sharing her with the butchers, bakers and candle makers of Rome anyway, so what did his slaves matter? "You're not a fool." I am. "I do want you." I just don't know why. The Gods knew he might be laughed at again, and this time he really would deserve it. @Sara

Of course the project would take time, and funds, and Valerius was very practical, not wanting to lose any of his cheaper clients before he was ready for those who could pay a bit more. "Very sensible." Spurius agreed. "But I can see what's been done already. I seem to recall this section was unusable." Not from within, but even from without anyone could see that the roof had collapsed over this part of the building. Now new timbers replaced old and were visible where the wood hadn't worn, supporting a fresh roof. "You've doubled your service area." He observed. Which meant Valerius would be able to house more whores and take more clients and bring in more cash. It was a smart section of the renovations to prioritise. Valerius went on to describe how he'd worked on the cells as well, whipping back the curtain on one that a customer had recently exited, revealing the repaired walls and comfier bed as he described them. And the prostitute within, whom Spurius immediately recognised. The sight of her body was no real surprise, he'd seen her naked but a couple of days before; more jarring was having it emphasised that she was a working girl, and a fairly cheap one. Which he knew of course, but it was another thing to see her at work. He made a show of glancing around the cell. "Very neat." He agreed, before glancing at Ione as Valerius named her. "Yes, I know her." He said mildly, as though it were of no consequence. "I've had an arrangement with your predecessor Titus for her to come to my domus once a week to service the twins, for the last two months." He gave a slight jerk of his head in the direction of the front door, where his two litter bearers waited. "She's been quiet and well behaved, and they seem satisfied." They were the kind of words he'd use to recommend a slave, as one businessman to another. Perhaps it even counted as putting in a good word for her. It was clear however that Valerius hadn't known that, which meant Ione hadn't told him when he'd asked her to. Well, now he knew. @Atrice@Sara

Spurius glanced at the as that Ione set on his desk. "No, you keep that. Remember what I told you about saving your coin?" He admonished ever so gently. "Remus is in trouble for breaking your belt and he know's it, even if it was an accident." Remus had probably been hoping that his master wouldn't find out. Spurius provided that privilege for his slaves but he expected any woman he hired for them to be treated with respect. He didn't doubt that Remus didn't meant it, but the big lump still needed to be careful. Would you like me to wait in the kitchens whilst the belt is fixed? Spurius was torn. It would be so easy to just say 'yes' and dismiss her. She clearly didn't want to be here, though what had happened to change the vivacious image she'd presented on arrived to this, he wasn't sure. After all, they'd followed their usual pattern for her visits. Unless she'd thought he'd treat her differently after last week. Or her dominus had expected it, which was why he'd dressed her up, and now she was worried about being punished for failing his expectations. She was a whore, and a cheap one, and if anyone had asked Spurius if he wanted a cheap whore he would have easily said 'no'. He could afford an expensive one if he wanted, one who was seductive and could probably give a really good massage. Except he didn't want to. The girls who tried almost too hard to be alluring didn't appeal to him. Maybe because his last one had been like that. But the sight of Ione in the pink chiton with her hair all curled had been very appealing, and as he looked at her now looking tired and downcast, he felt the impact of that change more than he thought he should. He realised that if he asked himself did he want Ione, then the answer was 'yes'. But not just because he could have her, he wanted her to want him. The problem was that Ione was a slave, and a cheap whore. He worked with slaves every day, and maintaining his distance and the difference in social standing was key to managing them. But maintaining his distance meant... being distant. And that was the opposite of what he wanted here. That simple, contented feeling of holding her whilst she'd sat on his lap last week was something he had craved without realising it. He knew plenty of people developed close relationships with slaves, and he'd always looked down on them as blurring lines and crossing boundaries, and yet here he was, feeling oddly torn because Ione was clearly unhappy, whatever she might say to the contrary. It would be easy to send her away to wait in the kitchen, to maintain the distance that he always did, to let her just keep servicing the twins, and let his bed stay cold. It was what he felt he should do, it was the kind of thing he'd always done, since Antonia had rejected him and the whore had laughed at him. But the difference between them and Ione was that, after a long drought, he had started to trust her. Perhaps it was her unassuming nature or her previous eagerness to please, but somehow he didn't think she would ever laugh at him. Was she just an excellent actor? Surely if that was the case, she'd be working somewhere better than the Elysium. He had perhaps been kinder to her already than he would otherwise. His instinctive thought was that if he became attached to her, he would open himself up to exploitation by her dominus. Certainly he wouldn't trust the previous fellow as far as he could kick him, which given his bad leg wasn't very far at all. But Armenius had seemed almost... reasonable? And even if he put the price up, Spurius could afford it. Gods, he could afford to buy her if he really wanted, but he wasn't certain what he wanted yet. Except that he didn't want Ione to just walk away from him. "No, come with me." He said, after the long moment in which all those thoughts had flashed through his head. He could see a path diverging at this point, and he didn't know what was ahead, but he knew what would happen if he took the familiar path of distance and reserve. So instead he rose to his feet, grabbed his staff and beckoned her to follow. "I said I'd take you upstairs, and I keep my word." There was a different set of stairs, opposite the set she usually used, that led up to the floor above on this side of the building. The upper floor was all connected, but this was the side the family - i.e. Spurius - used, and the stairs led to the nicely furnished rooms. He made his halting way past the first few doorways, and at the end of the walkway was the largest room of all, the master bedroom. Spurius's room. It held a comfortable couch, a chest of clothes, a small desk and a bed well big enough for two. It had fine linen sheets, soft pillows and a blanket woven from fine wools dyed rich reds and blues. The walls had elegant paintwork on the plaster, all twining grape vines with yellow borders. He gestured for her to go in. "There's a bed. I've paid for your time; you can sleep until Corva's finished." He said in quiet tones. "Just tell me one thing." He added, hazel eyes watching her. "What happened between when you arrived and now, that's made you look so sad?" He asked, part of him wondering why he cared, a somewhat atrophied part of him realising that he did care. He wanted to know. "Don't just say you're tired; I know it's more than that." @Sara

But I am not asking that. I am only asking knowing him. But he will not. Varinia's heart broke for the poor young man who only wanted to know his father. She looked down for a moment, full lips pressed together into a thin line. She didn't have an answer for him. She of course would have embraced any and all of her children, but she wasn't younger brother in a family with a precarious heir situation. "I'm sorry." She said simply. "I wish I could make him want to know you." But she didn't have that power. Probably no one did. Then she remembered something that her son had told her. "Teutus said that he went to a dinner with Tertius and yourself?" So at some point at least Tertius had met with his other son? Having said that, Teutus also said that he'd given his father an earful. Varinia felt a chill as the thought occurred to her that perhaps what Teutus had said had turned Tertius off the idea of another son. But she didn't know, she wasn't there. She could only hope that hadn't been the case. She smiled up at him faintly as he called her kind. Varinia just did what she could for those who needed it, and Wulfric seemed to need it. You think I shall try, go and knock? Or no? Varinia didn't know, and she wished she did. But she thought about what he'd said before. "It's up to you Wulfric, but if he wouldn't see you before he probably won't see you now." She had to admit. "But I will go with you, if you want to try." She told him. Perhaps her presence might help get Tertius's attention. "I guess your other option is to write him a letter." She suggested, wondering whether Tertius might respond better when he had time to think about it. @Atrice

She glanced up for a moment at his question, with an expression that he couldn't read, before lowering her gaze again, a faint frown on her lips. Something wasn't right. They routine was always that she saw to the twins, had her turn in the bath, had a plate of food, then sometimes spoke to Spurius if she had something to say and he was in the mood. Last time had been... different, but she hadn't seemed to mind. He knew the twins were young and enthusiastic, but she didn't usually look this worn out. And didn't she see customers all day? Certainly what he'd seen at the brothel the day he'd visited suggested that she did. Not that she seemed the type to take a lot of pleasure in her work, but surely she was used to it? It seemed odd that she was so tired today, but perhaps it was nothing to do with this household. Perhaps she'd had a busy night. Is there something else I can do sir? He looked at her. What had happened to the smiling girl who'd arrived earlier? "Yes, come here." He said more gently, gesturing her closer. "Let me see that." He held his hand out for the belt. It was the same soft cloth as the dress and he could see where the seam had split. Remus knew better, he would lose privileges for a few weeks. Spurius looked up from the fabric. "Corva!" He called. A few moments later the older woman appeared at the door of the tablinum, wiping her hands on a cloth. Yes dominus? She asked mildly. If there was one odd mannerism that some might note about both Corva and Linus it was that they didn't lower their gaze as often around Spurius as one might expect. But then they'd had a hand in raising him. It occurred to him momentarily that Ione might have said something to Corva whilst she was eating. If that was the case he'd find out later. "Can you fix this?" He asked, offering the belt for her to inspect and Corva reached past Ione to take it, inspecting the stitching closely. Yes domine, though it will take a little while. She said after a moment. He knew she didn't sew fast, Corva's knuckles were starting to swell noticably with arthritis now and he was reminded that, since Tacita hadn't worked out, he needed to look for someone else to learn from her and start to take over her duties. But it was a fleeting thought. "Start it now, and see how much you can get done." He instructed. Corva bowed and disappeared with the belt. @Sara

So she hadn't come to Rome along - only to the Palace - and she did know where this family friend of her brother's lived. Someone who'd travelled to Germania years ago. Well, that could be anybody, especially if they were an ex-legionnaire. But from the sound of things her brother might have been counting on some support from this friend, if he'd arrived in Rome with poor Latin and little funds. And yet the friend didn't know where he was. Certainly that didn't bode well for the visiting barbarian, or for diplomatic relations. "The Esquiline." He confirmed. "As long as you have suitable accomodation. If not, I can organise something for you." He offered. After all, they were essentially visiting dignitaries, even if she seemed to do things very differently to how a Roman would do things. That said to Tiberius that they had much to learn about each other. But she had asked what he could do to help her. "Our Vigiles Urbani patrol the city streets, putting out fires and stopping crimes." And hunting down runaway slaves. "If you can provide me with your brother's name and his description, I will contact the Praefectus Vigilum, the head of the vigiles, and ask that they look for your brother. There are nearly four thousand men serving as vigiles and they cover the entire city." If anyone could find one barbarian prince, surely it was them. He glanced at his companion, gauging her reaction. @Sara

After an odd moment's pause, the waitress scurried away and came back with the bill and a well abused looking card machine. Spencer checked the bill quickly out of habit, didn't bother to quibble over the coffee, and reached for his wallet. "Card thanks." He pulled out a VISA card and waited till she proferred the machine, tapping it and hearing the beep that it had registered as he tucked the card away. "Criminal law mostly, some family law." The latter was largely due to his charitable work and involved a lot of divorces and restraining orders. Nasty stuff, especially for any kids involved, and the irony of it was that sometimes it put him on the opposite side of the courtroom from other veterans. There was a yell from behind the bar and the waitress straightened up. Spencer glanced automatically in that direction, and realised why the girl had caught his attention with an odd familiarity; there was a family resemblance. He shouldn't be surprised, plenty of people worked in their parent's business. I'm Iona...if you hadn't guessed. For the first time, that drew the ghost of a smile from the man. "Named for the island?" He asked, guessing based on the accent. "Spencer; Spencer Clark." On impulse he pulled a business card out of the inner pocket of his jacket and dropped it, along with a two-pound coin, onto the chipped plate she'd brought his bill on. "You'd better get that pint." Draining the last of the terrible coffee, he tucked the document back into his briefcase and closed the snaps. Time to get going. @Sara

Late February 77AD Why did it all keep coming back to this guy? "I'm looking for Lucius Vipsanius Roscius." Said Lucius Ovinius Camillus, once he'd walked into the vigiles' headquarters and gotten the attention of the nearest man in uniform. He was the vigile who had attended the morning after Ovinia had been assaulted, at their father's summons. He was apparently also one of the vigiles who had attended the kitchen fire. Lucius had been in the house but focused on getting people away from danger, and also quite drunk, so he couldn't say he actually remembered him. He was also, by his sister's admission, the one she'd had a crush on and part of the reason for rejecting his brother's suit. Silly girl. They'd supposedly met, or at least been in the vicinity of each other, when Camillus chaperoned Ovinia to the party at the Imperial Palace, but he'd been more interested in talking to one of the young ladies there, and content to do his duty at a distance as long as Ovinia was within view. He trusted her not to be too stupid. Or at least he used to. Now he was starting to wonder. Regardless there were issues to be resolved, and he was determined not to let them sit much longer. Of all her brothers, Lucius was the most like Ovinia. He had the family height but was lean, almost slim where his father and older brother were barrel-chested and beefy, his face had that similar heart shape but his features were stronger than hers. Of all her brothers, Lucius was also the one she liked the best, though he wondered whether absence hadn't made the heart grow fonder. He was the black sheep of the family, apparently born without political ambition and content to just cruise through life. But he was not content to let the world get the better of his sister. @Chevi

Tiberius - Caesar's brother - is a close personal friend I'll have you know. Taking me to the races in his box and everything. "Oh really?" Lucius grinned, tone loaded. "'Tiberius' eh? On home-name basis?" If anything his grin grew broader. "Well good for you! Nothing like friends in high places." Ovinia should have been born a boy, really. She was too good at making political connections. "So how come he isn't on that list?" He asked, then searched his recent memory. "Wait, he's only just started his military training, hasn't he? OK, answered my own question, forget I asked." Tiberius probably wasn't any older than Ovinia. What a shame. And whilst technically not impossible, men were generally expected to have a career first, take some time to mature a little more. The Gods knew they needed it. Still... "if you can wrangle some invites to Imperial functions out of him, go for it. That's where you'll meet the top political fellows." He observed. "And hey, I might meet a princess!" Now there was an idea. Imagine father's face... the thought would keep him warm on cold nights. Dropping his grapes Lucius fended off the pillow, delighted that he could still goad his sister into playing with him like the children that they had been instead of the adults they were supposed to be. But did some people ever really grow up? Certainly the slaves were going to rue having Lucius at dinner without either Gaius to keep him in line, as they picked grapes off the floor. But the sudden change in Ovinia's mood from sullen and embarrassed to playful and smug told him that having at least some sort of plan was as good for her as it was for him. And she agreed to his proposal, which cheered him immensely. Deal. And we'll go on a trip. Ooor, you could take me into the barracks and show me off. Make me feel better about myself? Poor thing. Lucius was coming to realise how much recent events had taken a toll on his sister. So he grinned and spread his hands wide. "Why not both?" He replied magnanimously. "Come with me to the barracks one day and meet my friends." After all, they were all eligible young Patricians as well. Some were a few years too young, but what was to say she wouldn't spot a fellow with a nice jaw and good arms? Regardless he was sure she'd get plenty of admiring looks. "Then we go to some parties. Then we'll take a trip at the end of the season somewhere nice. How does that sound?" The difference between having a plan and not having a plan could make a world of different to one's problems. @Sara

Spurius had already turned away, so he didn't see Ione's shoulders slump. Perhaps that was for the best. For himself he focused on his work in his tablinum whilst she went about hers, or at least tried to. He'd admit to himself that he appreciated the view that Ione had presented when she'd arrived, but he was quite certain that either she or her dominus - more likely the latter, he realised as he thought about it - had arranged it entirely deliberately. The more enthusiastic he was about her, the more he'd be willing to pay for her time. It was how Armenius would secure a wealthy client, he was certain. It was what he would have done, had their roles been reversed. After all, she was just a whore, and a cheap one at that. She had multiple men a day, for money. It was easy to ignore that fact when she came up here to the house and discretely saw to the twins in their room, but it had been made blindingly obvious by what he'd seen during Armenius's enthusiastic tour of the Elysium brothel. Just a whore, he told himself. And he wasn't enthusiastic about whores. Perhaps that was even why she'd been sent all doled up. Because she did look good. And despite his somewhat conflicted feelings on the subject, Spurius was rather enjoying the anticipation, even if it meant he wasn't as focused on his work as he should be. At last she appeared, clean but with flushed cheeks, in his doorway, but as Spurius turned to look at her the faint smile died on his lips. Her earlier bright demeanor was gone, her eyes downcast (as was proper) and her tone dull, much as the first time she'd come to the house. And there, in her hand, the belt of her dress hung broken. Spurius's anger was a slow coal, not a hot fire, but the twins knew the rules and there would be consequences. "What happened?" He asked sternly, ignoring her question. "Which one hurt you?" He demanded. It was the only logical explanation for her changed manner in his mind. One of the twins, both big, strong lads, had hurt her. And he would not stand for that. @Sara

Clearly. As brother of the ruler of the majority of the known world, Tiberius felt his words weren't arrogance, but simply stating fact. The Roman Empire was eminently successful, so their way must be best. Right? Although Tiberius would admit that he was always of the opinion that there could be improvements. Never the less the hubris of this barbarian princess was amusing. Would the prince be the same? How can you help? So blunt and direct, almost a demand. But one did not make demands of the Imperials. "That's a good question." He replied evenly, a stark contrast to the princess's apparent short patience. Tiberius was almost infinitely patient. "It's a shame you don't remember the name of the family friend, as they would be a good place to start." He observed mildly. "If they are a 'family' friend, are they not your friend too?" What with her bring his sister and all. But perhaps something was being lost in translation. How else could one go about locating one barbarian in a city with a population drawn from many different peoples? Tiberius pondered the question seriously. "Do you know why he was visiting this friend?" He asked, working through the problem. "If it was for commercial reasons, the commercial districts would be the obvious place to start looking." And if he was staying somewhere other than with this elusive family friend, he'd likely need to buy food so the various taverna and thermopolia might yield a result. Not that Tiberius had a host of eyes who regularly patrolled those kind of areas, but he knew someone who did. Further down the Argiletum they wound their way past where the domi of the rich and powerful spilled down the hills, towards the odd patches of greenery beneath. "Do you have somewhere to stay, whilst you search for your brother?" He asked, wondering whether she might have come through the Gates and gone straight to the Palace. Somehow it would not surprise him. @Sara

It was true that Tiberius struggled to abandon the line of thought he'd been pursuing, picking at it again like a scab, convinced that there had to be some middle ground somewhere, unaware that Jason was already well aware of this nature. After several moments of tense quiet as they began walking their horses down to the river, Tiberius asked how Jason had come to be a slave. He wanted to know more about him, but didn't want to encourage him to think that he should not be, for that way lay social unrest. Jason answered cautiously, as though he was as wary of sparking another confrontation as Tiberius was, and the young Imperial listened, trying to match what Jason told him to his knowledge of history. Certainly it sounded believable; enforcing a border treaty with hostages was standard practice. They'd be indoctrinated into Roman culture and often eventually allowed to return to their own people to spread understanding. But if the treaty was violated, they would be punished, harshly. And from the sound of things they were. Tiberius wondered whether those on the border had known - or cared - that those who crossed the border were from a different tribe to those they held? Probably neither. He wondered how much those on the border knew about Sarmatian culture. Certainly Tiberius himself realised he knew very little. Turning in his saddle, the young Imperial regarded his body slave for a long moment, sitting in the saddle of a 'prince of horses' with the ease of one born to it. "That must have felt very unfair, being punished for another tribe's transgressions." He said eventually. "Likely those who held you knew no difference." Nor cared to know. And that was perhaps the difference between the military and diplomatic approaches. Tiberius always favoured the latter. @Sharpie