Sarah

The Palatine Guard wasn't about to be cowed by this little nobody from the barbarian lands. She might be big where she was from, but here she was nobody much at all. He smirked when she demanded his name, absolutely certain that he was doing his job of protecting Caesar from the general rabble correctly. "Publius Caecius Camerinus. Don't forget it." His companion, who'd been watching the exchange silently, nudged Camerinus with his elbow then leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The guard who'd been giving Hilda a hard time gave his companion a dubius look, but the quieter fellow just nodded slightly. Camerinus sighed in a very put-upon manner, before turning his attention back to Hilda. "If you wish to ask Caesar whether he will grant you the honour of an audience, you can send a written request to his secretary."He said at last. "If you are deemed worthy, envoy, you'll be given a time to attend the palace." Which he considered extremely unlikely. "You can write, can't you?" Or if she was what she said, she could pay someone to do it for her. @Sara

I do also. Or, I almost know people here. It was an odd response. Then he amended his words, trying to explain. I am not sure it is good. He knew Tertius, or someone in Tertius's household, but perhaps didn't get on with them? Or wasn't welcome? She wasn't sure, but she had a feeling it was something like that. How did this clearly foreign man know someone in Tertius's household? Unless it was Charis; but she had a very different accent. Then he turned to look at the door again and the sun caught the line of his jaw, his nose, his cheekbone, and Varinia felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She'd seen that profile before; not just in her erstwhile lover, but in her son. Could this be? Tertius had served in the provinces, Germania if she'd heard right, but she had no real concept of where that was or what Germanic peoples were like. She studied his profile, trying to tell herself she was imagining the resemblance, but she could still see it. He was a few years younger than Teutus, but with a shave and a haircut, could easily be his brother. "It's Tertius, isn't it?" She asked bluntly. @Atrice

The Palatine guard stood his ground as the angry barbarian woman stormed up to him as though she were as good as any Roman woman. She was certainly fiestier, and he wondered if she had the same energy in the sheets. "Which one?" The guard asked, grinning. "Germania inferior or Germania superior?" He asked, naming the two small regions the Romans had conquered. "Ooooh, you're from the other side of the Rhine." Magna Germania was the much larger region, never conquered. Still, the name the woman mentioned was known; the Varian Disaster was well described in the history books. A fragment of doubt started to seep into his mind. I'm here as an envoy. From the Chatti. The guard looked at her, then around the square, then back to the fierce woman in front of him. "Then where's your entourage, envoy?" He asked, thinking she could hardly be that important, if she'd come alone. "Did you walk all this way, alone, in the snow?" @Sara

"Certainly." Horatia's smile was such pure, unadultered delight that he could hardly refuse her request to follow, intrigued by what in his words could possibly have brought it on. Uncertain as to whether to offer his hand to help the lady of the house up given her pregnant state, his brief pause meant that she was already up and ahead of him, leading him through Aulus's very comfortable Domus. Where could she possibly be taking him? They passed a slave carrying a wax tablet, who turned and followed them wordlessly, then up some stairs to the second level, usually only seen by the residents and their slaves. As they walked Horatia made it clear that she and Aulus had indeed wed in the provinces during his Tribuneship, but any repeat performance would require her approval. She gave him a knowing and somewhat amused look over her shoulder and, caught off guard, the young Imperial blushed slightly for the first time that visit. He was still growing into the idea of having a wife, let alone needing to organise his own. They passed through a set of double doors and suddenly there they were, surrounded by racks of scrolls, parchments and tablets, as well organised and stocked as any library. Tiberius looked around, blue eyes wide for a moment as he took it all in, before a slow smile spread across his youthful features as Horatia explained that her own interests were similar to his. Understanding people, society and life. Finally his gaze returned from the well stocked racks to meet hers, and that impish cast appeared in his smile again. "I did think, when you said that you had little understanding of the politics, that you weren't giving yourself nearly enough credit." He observed. "Now I know you protested too much." He would have to get Claudia to Horatia's reading club. Surely she would appreciate the company of another intelligent, well read woman. "I suspect that Claudia would be intrigued. She's and intelligent woman."And, he strongly suspected, more cunning than he was. It was a shame she hadn't been born a man. The smile turned to a flash of a grin, before he moved to the rack of provincial reports that Horatia indicated, turning as few of the tags to read them. "There are benefits to having a husband who is Consul, hmm?" He suggested, knowing that not all of these documents were accessible to everyone. Of course, they were accessible to him. But some accounts came from their military commanders, and others had important trade implications. Still, it was very kind of her to offer to borrow them. "Thank you." It was quite the privilege she was offering him, given that this was her personal collection. "Perhaps you'd like to visit the Palace library some time?" He offered in turn. There was something special about being allowed into Horatia's inner sanctum, even as the put-upon slave pointedly put Horatia's calendar back on her desk where it had been. Tiberius was suddenly aware that, apart from the slave, he was alone with the lady of the house in her inner sanctum. Not that he had any nefarious intentions, but he would prefer not to put Aulus in the position of having to give him the benefit of the doubt. At the same time, they had danced around the possibility of a future union between himself and Calpurnia Horatia, and this elegant lady hadn't seemed to mind. Tiberius decided to rake a firm step, even though it seemed so much easier on the floor of the Senate than in this cosy sanctuary. "Lady Horatia, would it be overly bold of me to ask if I might sit near your daughter at your son's celebration, so that I may speak to her?" She would only be young, but it would be an opportunity to introduce himself and get some idea of what kind of woman she might grow to be. If she was like her mother she would be a formidable one. @Sara

He was at your party. Yeah, and Tiberius hadn't said hello to him. He'd been almost unforgivably distracted. He'd resolved not to be so again, which was an easy resolution to make when the source of the distraction wasn't present. "I should meet him." He agreed. "I'd like to. Being your brother I have no doubt he'd an interesting conversationalist." And, as she pointed out, someone he should make a connection with. From the sound of things he was towards the end of his time as a Tribune; it might be good to pick his brains purely on that front. "I haven't met your older brother either." He added. Technically he knew her father at least by sight, simply from exposure in the Senate. But that didn't mean he really knew him. The suggestion that she and her brothers and some of their other peers could sit in the Imperial box with him and watch the races seemed to go down well though Ovinia, ever proper, pointed out that Tiberius might wish to make it clear that she was being invited as a friend only. It was likely meant purely for propriety, but it did plant the thought in Tiberius's head. Ovinia was around his own age, older than he would be expected to match with in a few years time, but she was currently unmarried. On the one hand the image of Sosia, with her dark eyes and her flowers in her hair, hung in his mind's eye, and on the other hand was the voice of Calpurnius Praetextatus extolling the virtues of an intelligent wife. Sosia was sweet and gentle and relaxing to be around, but Ovinia was smart, even cunning, yet playful and still not afraid to challenge him. But both were too old for him so it didn't matter. Ovinia would make some Senator a good ally as a wife, if he wasn't afraid to let her express her full potential. But she was great fun to talk to. Still, they had reached the temple of Vesta, where he had once spoken with the High Priestess about his mother, after he'd brought offerings to ask for the safety of Rome. The Vestal Virgins were keepers of the spiritual hearth of the Empire. "It's been a most enjoyable walk, even if you have wrangled two promises out of me in the course of it." He grinned, knowing full well that he had offered both the things she reminded him of. "I'll look forward to speaking with you again, Ovinia Camilla." He inclined his head the right amount to acknowledge her bow with the respect due a woman of the Empire, then watched as she turned away before heading off himself. Somehow Ovinia Camilla wasn't at all what he had expected from their brief meeting at his party. She was far more fascinating. @Sara

Some things were easy to learn by observation, others needed more traditional lessons. Tiberius had been taught to ride by his fellow Romans. But that was why he wanted Jason to teach him. If the Sarmatians were as good on horseback as they and history claimed - and he had no reason to think otherwise - then Jason could do a great deal to help him improve his riding. If he could help tame Ignis, so much the better. Sitting astride, out in the yard, he put the question to Jason. Where should they go? What should they do? His body slave hesitated, then asked whether there was anywhere to run, to give the horse his head and feel the energy of him. Tiberius turned in his saddle to look at him, running his gaze over both Jason and the chestnut horse beneath him. Both seemed tense, full of pent up energy. There was a moment of thoughtful silence. "So he wants to run?" Tiberius paraphrased. "And what about you?" He asked frankly, meeting Jason's gaze. Here was his slave, an excellent rider, seated on an excellent horse. The best place was probably down by the river, which was also close to the eastern city gates. It wouldn't be hard for Jason to outpace them to the gates on that horse, and make a bid for freedom. Of course, Tiberius would be extremely disappointed if he did so. It was a complex moment, on which a lot might hinge. How much freedom was too much, for a slave? How much could he give, before Jason might take it into his head to take, and run? @Sharpie

Remembering what Jason had shown him with Ignis, Tiberius took the time to introduce himself to the bay gelding, who sniffed his hand and lipped his fingers in case there was a piece of apple for him too, though the prince hadn't thought to get one. Instead he stroked the long nose and neck and spoke quietly to him for a moment, watching the dark ears flick back and forth. He watched Jason mount up with ease, sitting on Ignis's back like he'd known the horse all his life and not even bothering with the reins, before he swung his leg over the back of the bay. A look passed briefly across the stablemaster's face that suggested he thought this was the height of irregularity, but it disappeared just as quickly. One did not question the whim of the Imperials. Once settled, the Prince thumped his heels against the bay's flanks as he'd been taught and pushed him out of the stableyard's gates at an even walk, into the large yard beyond, glancing over his shoulder to see that Jason and Ignis were following. He didn't tend to be impulsive, but for once he was glad that he had; it had opened a whole new world on his body slave. He walked the bay to the middle of the yard and halted him with the reins, waiting until Jason did the same. "So, what shall we do?" He asked, looking in Jason's direction. "What would you like to do?" He wanted Jason to teach him, but there was time. He also wanted to see Jason ride. @Sharpie

April 77AD * Demanding an Audience - Tiberius and Hilda * Cerealia: A day at the races - Tiberius, Spurius, Lucius, Publius * Cerealia: Insula Party! - Varinia * Cerealia: Grand Finale * What a coincidence - Lucius, Ovinia and Sosia June 77Ad * Testing the Waters - Ovinia and Publius

Up here on the Palatine hill was where the highest of Roman society moved, and it was well regulated. Especially this close to the Palace. As Hilda huffed indignantly and called out into the general confusion, one of the Palatine Guards who'd been watching the clearly foreign woman nudged him compatriot and chuckled, wagging his eyebrows in a 'watch this' kind of way. "You don't." He called back to her, grinning. "Only the Patricians see the Emperor. The highest of Roman society." Which she plainly was not. "So why don't you just run back to your little mud hut, where you belong?" Ignorant foreigners who thought that the Emperor of all Rome was like some two-bit chieftain in a smokey hall in the middle of nowhere. At least Rome was bringing civilisation to them. @Sara

Thessala's face said it all. Down here, where the insulae were often poorly built and the stone buildings old, the damage - and death toll - would have been significant. Hearing that made him feel like a bit of a class traitor for a moment, not being here when his fellow gladiators had faced such a terrible event. But then surely they'd all take the opportunity to be slaves in good houses over fighting for their lives and the entertainment of the masses on the sands. Who knew how one's fortunes might rise, or fall? After all, here he was again. I don't think the gods had anything to do with it. Or if they did, they heavily favor the patricians. "I think the Patricians favour thaimselves." He muttered in turn, matching her drink for drink. Better built buildings, better education, better ways of making money. And of course they arranged things amongst themselves to make sure it stayed that way. It wasn't as though there weren't benefits to being chieftain amongst his own people, but there was also a duty to guide and care for those people. He saw none of that amongst the Romans. Only the rich getting richer, and slaves dying locked in cells. He muttered something unprintable in Gaelic at the thought. Still, it felt good, drinking in Thessala's company. For better or for worse, he was back. @Chevi

Lucius ducked and snatched the cushion out of the air, then grinned at her and tucked it behind his back. "Thanks." Not that he wouldn't like to poff it back at her, or one of the olive pits he'd just cleaned, but the sudden look on Ovinia's face forestalled any thoughts of brotherly retribution. She went white, and then she went red. And then she blustered. Nice arms and a good jawline. "Handsome but no poetry, huh?"He teased, just a little, then sobered. "No one will hear it from me, I promise. Especially father." It would do none of them any good. So Ovinia had preferred the younger brother, and though she claimed that wasn't why she'd rejected the elder, Lucius would put a fair bet on it at least being a contributing factor. "And then the 'idiot' goes and becomes a vigile." Where he was no longer an appropriate match for Ovinia. "Rather than putting you first." He felt for her, really he did. But he also wanted her to see that she clearly hadn't been top of the younger Vipsanius Roscius's priorities. "I'm sorry 'nilla. That hurts." And he understood, perhaps more than she could know. He offered her the cushion back, by way of a peace offering. But she moved the conversation on, poking him about his career, and he dared to lay out his dream situation before his sister, whom he knew could be just as cutthroat as their father and older brother. But she seemed to find the image at least amusing, judging by her chuckle and smile. Then her smile turned sly in a way that gave even her brother, several years her senior, pause. That was a look that meant a plan was being hatched. But when she sprung it, it wasn't what he'd feared. "You do?" Funny how she'd only just remembered this friend. What's wrong with her was Lucius's suspicious thought, but surely Ovinia wouldn't want anything bad for their family, it reflected on all of them, so he listened with interest. And this friend did sound perfect. Pretty, a little younger than his sister, but someone who preferred the country. "She sounds too good to be true." He admitted. Perhaps she was the harpy he feared, Ovinia hadn't mentioned her personality. But he could find out, right? "Horatia Sosia. I'd be pleased to meet her, with your recommendation."He could at least see what she was like, and if she was as good as she sounded, he could talk to their father. "Thank you." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I need to talk to father." He admitted. "About my future. I just don't want the ear-bashing I know I'm going to get about the Quaestorship." But he was going to have to man up and deal with it. He'd been avoiding it, not knowing where to go with the conversation, but now Ovinia had given him a way forward. One of the provincial quaestorships, perhaps even a wife. And hopefully he and his father could discuss his expectations like grown men, and not like he was a misbehaving boy. It wasn't like he hadn't tried, he just didn't see things the same way. "But you've given me a solution to bring to him." And that could make all the difference. Suddenly he felt like he could manage the conversation. Now, if only he could sort out his sister the same way. "Would you reconsider Vipsanius Roscius - Gaius, I mean - if he were open to reconsideration?" He asked suddenly. "He's in the legions and I know he's in Rome at the moment. I could have a quiet word with him, if you wanted..." The man was a very good match. A young pater familias, up and coming politician, with no children of his own so Ovinia would be mother to his heir and future head of the family. Plus Lucius had heard no indication that the man had any major vices or poor temper. Their father had done very well by Ovinia; which cruel God had cast her eyes in the direction of the younger brother? @Sara

What do you want to show me then? Now I’m curious… Tiberius gave Marcus a knowing smile - not quite as pleased with himself as when he'd first shown him the Villa Sullusti, but in the same vein - and indicated the chair nearby. "Excellent, have a seat." He said, paying no further mind to Jason who was sorting the other scrolls as requested. Rather he spread the one in front of him out so that Marcus could read it too. It had the look of one of the many legal documents that the Empire churned out. "You'll remember that I decided to move in here as there were complications with my inheritance." He said, by way of opening explanation, glancing at his friend. "I've been looking further into the relevant laws, and I've found some things that I think could be relevant to your situation as well." He revealed, checking his notes on his wax tablet. "Of course, I don't know the specifics of your family's situation so you'll have to tell me if any of it does apply, but I think it might." He rather hoped it would. If it did, and what he thought was correct, it might be the first step on helping Marcus gain his own independence. All that hinged on whether or not the laws that Tiberius had been researching actually applied in Marcus's case of course, and only he could know that. Well, he and his brother and perhaps his step mother. "Your father died just before the purges, didn't he?" Tiberius asked. @Atrice@Sharpie

It wasn't fair, but Roman society was never meant to be fare. That was why Patricians sat pretty in the Senate or in an officer's uniform, whilst the Plebs marched under their banner and died, or took a sword in the leg. And fathers ran up debts and sold their daughters to pay them. The upper class men were at the top of the ladder and everyone else served them. Of course, they were seen to have duties and responsibilities of governance, just as the pater familias of a family had responsibility to their family members, as well as jurisdiction over them. But not all men were created equal, and clearly Ione's father was either a poor businessman or had poor habits. But Spurius spoke truly when he said she was only one of many, and he couldn't be too empathetic, else he couldn't do his job. Besides, he'd do her no favours by validating any feelings of righteous indignation she might harbour; an uppity slave only attracted punishment and harsh masters. What he could give her was little comforts and charities, like the use of the bath and the odd coin. Things that eased the burden of her situation without actually allieviating it. Right now that generosity extended to answering her questions, and listening as she answered his, the last of which had been regarding her skills. "So you can keep a house." He mused. Of course, female house slaves were hardly a rarity. Spinning was desirable but also common, weaving less common as it was usually the lady of the house who did the weaving. But no pottery, reading or writing. He snorted in amusement when she said she could massage. "You can indeed." He agreed, amused. His injury was old and cantankerous - not unlike himself - but her steady work was making a difference, and the extra pressure was releasing the deeper muscles at last. That put him in a much better mood. "The more skills a slave has, or the rarer the skills, the higher their value." He told her, more thinking out loud than anything else. "Being young adds value, you've a life of service ahead." Older slaves lost value unless they were well educated. "And you speak two languages." But at the end of the day she was really only usable as a prostitute or house slave, without further training. She was pretty enough, and obedient, that helped. He considered. "If I was selling you, I'd be asking for something for something around..." after a moment's further thought he named what was a fairly modest price. Well above the worst but far from the best. There were many like her available, the only thing that really made her stand out was that she was bilingual, but so were many slaves born outside of Italia. Of course, a valuable slave attracted better owners, because they would seek quality, and only they could afford it, whilst the cheapest slaves went to those who could afford no better. He watched her thoughtfully for a moment. "Why do you ask?" @Sara

Spurius nodded to the slave who brought them the wine, accepting his own cup which he raised in Lucius's direction, then sipped from, showing confidence in his host. If they were going to do business then things would go much more smoothly if there was a measure of trust between them. I want to bring Elysium back to its former glory. Had the Elysium ever been glorius? Spurius didn't know. But one had only to look around the building to see that it had once been more than it was now. The previous owner had run it into the ground, presumably for whatever money he could get from it, without understanding that a little care and attention would bring him in greater profits. The Elysium was currently amongst the cheapest and nastiest of Rome's brothels, and it's clients paid accordingly. But Armenius Valerius appeared to have a vision of more. "Well, I can rent you a whole or half work crew, by the half-day, if you want to fix the building up further. They're experienced with building works and come with handlers." He said, and named a reasonable set of prices for numbers of men and half versus full days. "I can see you've done a lot already." Which was an honest observation. "That alone and better care of your stock than the previous owner took will say a lot to your customers, but I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." He smiled faintly. If Armenius Valerius was a serious businessman, he would understand that appearances made a huge impact, especially in terms of first impressions. Battered whores and puddles on the floor would attract only the poorest of clients; healthy girls and a warm, neat building would call to those who could pay better. Did he trade to the other brothels? "I do." He said simply. "Some peruse my wares periodically, along with the rest of the market, but for my best customers I know their tastes and budget, and bring them appropriate stock as I get them." Which worked well for him. "That includes the Domus Venus." Though he suspected those girls were out of Valerius's price range, at least for the moment. @Atrice

He had an accent, that much was obvious from his first words. And his Latin was fluent but not polished. He was a foreigner, or at least had been born elsewhere. Like herself, though after the majority of her lifetime spent in Rome, Varinia's accent had disappeared. It only made her wonder more what the man was doing here. But he seemed friendly enough. Of course, that could change in a moment, but she was determined to give him the benefit of the doubt. You know people who are live here? She followed his gaze for a moment. Definitely Tertius's domus. Varinia felt a little shiver down her spine as her suspicions seemed to be confirmed. This man was loitering outside Tertius's house. "I do." She said cautiously. "Do you?" Who was he? And why, of the whole of Rome and the Empire, was he here? @Atrice

Romans didn't mind seeing women fight, in the right circumstances, but it was understood that they were freaks, not women of quality. Women of quality had menfolk to do their fighting for them. Including bodyguards if need be, which was why he was interested in this fellow. He was different, and interesting; clearly strong, blonde, and tattooed in a way that Lucius had never seen before. Only Roman slaves were tattooed, and even then only the lowest value or disobedient ones, usually on their face to indicate their owner. If they wanted to tattoo Caturix, they were going to have a hard time finding room. Are you then a chieftain? Barbarian slaves were often cheap, because they came with their own challenges. Frequently unruly, it could also be a challenge to get Roman concepts into their heads. Lucius smirked in amusement. "I'm the son of a 'chieftain'." He confirmed after a moment. "Our word for chieftain is 'Patrician', and my father is a powerful one. You would be guarding a 'chieftain's daughter." There, hopefully he'd put it in simple enough terms that the man could understand. The man's brow furrowed almost comically as he seemed to think it over, as though this wasn't the best offer he was likely to ever get in his life. Finally he looked up, directly at Lucius in that annoying way barbarian slaves had - he'd have to learn not to do that - and nodded. I understand. That odd half-smile stayed on Lucius's face. He was the son of a Praetor, and much as he might not be enthusiastic about it, he had been raised and trained to enter politics. "You understand, but will you comply?" He said briefly, before realising that the man might not know the word, or understand it. "If you come with me, you will do as you are told. Failure to do so will be punished severely. But good service will be rewarded with good food, security and comfort." Relatively. "Yes?" He gave the man a stern look. It might have had more impact had he been older. @Faustus

The Gens Antia is fairly small and this branch has not yet acquired an inherited cognomen. They are traditionally traders or military men, and reasonably well off. Spurius Antius Claudus (b.36AD)- Played by Sarah A successful and reasonably wealthy slave trader with a history of military service that ended with a severe injury. Friendly and garrulous in public, he's a skilled salesman, but in private he is somewhat bitter over what his military service cost him. Has distanced himself a little from much of his family after an argument with his father after he returned badly injured from Britannia. Marcus Antius (b. 1 BC) The pater familias of this branch of the Antia, Marcus has spent a life as a very successful trader, particularly to the east, to Achaea, Judea and Aegyptus. His fortunes have risen and fallen with the civil unrests in those regions, but on the whole has supported his family in a comfortable style. He initially began training both his sons to continue in his business, but when unrest made business slim, he focused on his older son Gaius, encouraging Spurius to follow their uncle Julius into the military. Now very elderly, Marcus doesn't do much trading himself, but he is keen of mind and does much of the managing and liasing whilst Gaius does the actual travelling. Has a slightly strained relationship with Spurius, who refuses to marry. Suggested playby: Bruce Willis. Ovidia Juliana (b.15 AD) The matriarch of the family, Ovidia always held the fort at home whilst Marcus went travelling and trading, raising her children largely in his absence, with the help of her slaves, and managing the household with a great degree of freedom. Never the less she was always fond of her husband and their reunions when he returned where joyous. Now that Marcus is largely retired she finds having him about the domus constantly a little tiresome, but spends her time visiting her friends, daughters and even her younger son. Playby: open Gaius Antius (b. 31 AD) Eldest son and heir to Marcus Antius and his trading business, Gaius is a larger than life character, always ready to sell you a fabulous carpet or trinket from distant lands. He's bold, loud and everyone's friend, in contrast to his younger brother. Has been married and has kids, but it's open whether he's still wed or divorced/widowed etc, and the nature of the kids. Has a cordial relationship with his brother, but doesn't really understand why Spurius changed so much after he came back from Britannia. Playbay: open Antia Marcilla (b. 34 AD) The elder sister, Marcilla is a busy and efficient woman, a keen organiser with a good head for business. Loves her siblings, gets a bit exhasperated by Spurius's stand-offishness, helps her mother and father with both household and the business's books. Has been married, but her family is otherwise open. Reasonable probability of having a stupid amount of kids (or wanting them). Playbay: open Antia Julianilla (b. 44AD) The baby of the family, Julianilla was cared for as much by her older sister as by her mother, and is the closest to Spurius in age as well as in friendship. As children he doted on her and played with her as much as they both trailed around after their older siblings. A bit spoiled, but a cheeky and fun personality, with the family's characteristic outgoinginess. Has been married, family otherwise open. Playby: open. As you can see there's a lot of freedom to flesh these characters out, so please contact me if any strike your fancy.

Unaware of her companion's inner monologue of conflicting impressions and concerns, Varinia continued to peruse the markets, listening as Jannus answered her question. Britannia. The most recent of Rome's conquests. He might well have been captured as part of those conquests, but he was young. "Did you not go very far from your village?" She asked, when he said he didn't know where in Britannia he was from. Many people's horizons had expanded exponentially when the Romans came, and Jannus seemed such a quiet soul. Thoughtful, or scared. "I'm from what the Romans call Celtic Gaul." She told him, glancing over her shoulder. Since she'd asked him she felt she should share. "A village not far from their town of Lutecia. They call us Parisii." Though of course her people would have had their own names for their tribe, and those around them. But it was over one hundred years since the Romans had come, there was no one alive who remembered their arrival when she was a child. Jannus's people would be very different. And from what she understood their lands were not that far apart. "The carpenter's just up here." She gestured, heading for one of the shops that ringed the Emporium Magnum. @Insignia

Hi @Anna, just asking again as my initial request seems to have been overlooked. I know you're busy.

Tiberius, oblivious to what had been going on out in the courtyard, looked up as Marcus and Jason entered, his body slave a respectful step behind his friend. It was rather nice in the courtyard too though. Maybe later? So that was the problem. Marcus had been relaxing in the courtyard, and probably making use of Jason to fetch him things, and didn't want to move. Well, he might be glad he did, after this conversation. "If you like." Tiberius said mildly. "But I won't risk this scroll and it's what I want to show you." He indicated a papyrus in front of him that was yellowed slightly with age. He also had a wax tablet with copius notes. There was a pile of other scrolls nearby, neat but not tightly re-rolled. "Jason, these needs to be sealed back up and returned to their libraries, as per their tags. They can go next time someone goes out." He instructed his personal slave, knowing that Jason knew his habits and would sort the scrolls to his liking before returning them to their owners. @Atrice@Sharpie

Perhaps. That little shrug. Oh, it's nothing, it said. Which would have been expected except she'd been so vehement a moment before. And he'd known her since she was born, even if he'd been absent the last few years. His sister really was a rotten liar. But he started by asking about the rejected suitor. What hadn't appealed? His sister demurred and seemed to sink down on her couch. She looked so small suddenly, so uncertain, even slightly embarrassed. That wasn't normal for one of the Ovinii-Camilii, and especially for his sister. And she admitted to reading romantic poetry. Oh dear. "Oh, Ovinianilla." He said, using the ridiculous diminutive he'd called her as a child, his tone part 'are you serious' and part sympathy. "Romantic poetry? You know men only write that to get up girls' skirts, right?" Surely she wasn't taking it seriously? And somehow Gaius hadn't done it for her. He lowered his tone to somethig a little more sympathetic and conspiritorial. "Was that what you liked about the younger brother?" He asked. Yes, it was a leap, but he had a feeling from the way she spoke that the rejection had been less about Gaius Vipsanius Roscius and more about Lucius. There was no hard disapproval in his voice, not like there would have been from their father and older brother. He'd always been close to Ovinia, but like any big brother he was protective, both of herself and her feelings. He didn't want her to get hurt, and he didn't want her disgraced. And clearly she wanted him advanced. Take an interest in your life Lucius. "You know you sound like father, right?" He asked, grinned at her. "And I am taking an interest, I'm just not stressing about the things that don't matter." He explained, thinking that it was something the rest of his family could stand to learn. "You see, if I decide I want one specific Quaestorship, and only apply for that, there's a fair chance I won't get it. That's what happened last year." Because of course he'd applied for the most prestigious, Caesar's quaestors, as his father no doubt expected. "But if I apply for all of them, I have a much higher chance of getting one." A twenty-fold increase in fact, and a greater chance of success for less stress was a good angle Lucius's books. But ask father to put his ambition onto their youngest brother? "Tertius? Really?" He asked, glancing at her. Maybe some responsibility would be the making of him, but right now he wasn't Lucius's idea of a responsible adult. Still, perhaps it was worth thinking about. What did he want to do, what didn't he, and what didn't matter that much? "It's not that I don't want to move up in the world, it's just that I'm not obsessed with the Senate." He admitted. "I'd rather be comfortable in a villa somewhere, with my lovely wife and a couple of fat babies, managing our estates. Gaius can argue with grumpy old men." There, he'd put his dream into words. Not in his father's hearing of course. But he would hardly be the first patrician to do exactly that. @Sara

Yes, I definitely do not want to go there. Ione chuckled as she spoke, and Spurius snorted in amusement. Britannia had had it's charms, but they were hard to explain. There was something eery, primal about the place, with it's rolling mists and cool forests. You could believe that ancient Gods walked those lands, and the gateway to the underworld was open. It was interesting to visit, but he wouldn't want to live there. Give him civilisation any day. Achaea had been very different. Hot and sunny, with baked hillsides and houses built on cliffs to take advantage of the sea breezes, all white walls and flat roofs. And the ruins, often in the midst of the modern towns. Who were these people who had gone so long before? If primal Gods still walked Britannia, Achaea was a place where the Gods had long left it to the devices of man, such that the stories of men became as old as the stories of the Gods. "It was beautiful, what I saw." He agreed. "A very different place, you could feel the old stories in the stones." Of course, it was decendants of the fall of Troy who had founded the Roman Empire, and Achaea was the land where that drama had played out. A civilisation that was old before Rome existed. A civilisation that had yielded a small statue Ione had found. He too wondered who she might have been. But he'd not been for a very long time. "I don't travel for trade now; I pay those who do." There were those who drove slaves from one part of the Empire to another; he simply bought from them. He couldn't walk any distance and riding was difficult, and he didn't trade in the goods he'd thought he would as a youth. Perhaps one day he'd take a ship somewhere, and see different lands again. His question was somewhat idle, at least from his point of view, but it drew a look from those large eyes of hers before Ione lowered her gaze again to his leg. He'd guessed rightly; she'd been sold. He could feel the sudden tension in her hands, see it in her frame. Then she drew a deep breath. She'd been sold off to pay debts. "You're not the first, I doubt you'll be the last." He told her blandly. Because of course their society was all built around the pater familias and his authority over his family members, even to the point of making them pay for his mistakes by selling them. Of course, with that authority should also come responsibility, and he should work to better his family, but not all men were good men, or well suited to such responsibility. It was a common enough story. So at an age when Ione should probably have been married off, she'd been sold. May I ask you something, sir? How...much would I be worth? It was an interesting question, and he was perhaps the best person to ask. Her work had kneeded the worst out of the surface muscles, but the deeper ones still complained. "Use the heels of your hands, put some weight on the muscles." He directed, before turning his attention to her question. He knew her background, and her current profession. "You said you served as a house slave. Do you have any other skills? Can you cook, spin, weave? Did you learn to make pots from your father? What about reading and writing?" All of those things were taken into account when valuing a slave, along with their age and physical condition. The more skills, and the more years left in them, the more valuable. @Sara

I never did get to ask where you went with that pretty, but shy, girl at the other party? Tiberius gave Marcus a sideways glance. The question sounded so innocent, or would have coming from anyone else. Somehow his friend's broad grin loaded every word. "We went up into the side portico to look at the view over the wall." He said. "I was pointing out the sights of Rome to her; she's spent most of her life on her father's estates." All of which was the truth and nothing but the truth, it just wasn't the whole truth. But whilst Tiberius was very fond of his friend - Marcus and Titus had always been the fun, popular ones growing up - he didn't trust him, or frankly anyone, not to spread word to someone else. And if it got out that he'd kissed her, it would cause nothing but harm to Sosia. No, a gentleman didn't kiss and tell. He could however talk to Marcus about prospective interludes, especially with prostitutes. After all, such behaviour was expected of them. And Marcus wasn't shy about the subject, which made it a lot easier for Tiberius. Maybe he should tell his friend more about his crush on Sosia... no, or at least, not yet. It would be good to share things with his friend, but he didn't want to hurt Sosia. Or hurt his chance of seeing her again. Hmm. Better to concentrate on his other decision, and he listened as Marcus openly admitted to hiring a prostitute for his last party. Right. Mind you, she had been playing the cithara, very well, not plying her other trade. She'd been attractive in as much as Tiberius had taken notice of her; his attention had been elsewhere. Then Marcus started suggesting other options, and Tiberius felt like a man who'd asked for a snack and was presented with a banquet, but the dishes were disconcertingly unexpected. Share a woman? A man? One heard about such things, of course, but Tiberius was only just discovering his tastes and so far they were fairly vanilla. After a moment he spoke carefully. "I think I shall have a woman for myself, this time." There, mature and not at all embarassed or daunted. Right? "Order whomever you want for yourself." It might be interesting to see who Marcus chose. "We can sit and chat with them, with some wine and food, but then I shall retire to my quarters with... Vibia, you say?" He had no idea, and clearly Marcus thought highly of the woman. "Will you arrange it?" @Atrice

There were two ways to deal with his leg when the remaining muscles spasmed, Spurius had found. The first was to put a lot of weight or pressure on the muscles until they gave up, which worked quickly but it hurt. That was what he tried to do usually, because he had little patience for it. The second was to kneed the muscles slowly until they relaxed, which was more pleasant and required less strength or pressure, but took longer. The hollow where the damaged muscles had wasted away was visually obvious, but it was the muscles around that spot that were the problem. After a moment Ione seemed to work out what she needed to do, placing her small but surprisingly strong hands on his leg and working at the tense muscles. She was definitely taking the second approach, but he wasn't complaining. Instead he leaned back in his chair slightly and let her work, listening idly to her chatter, which was surprisingly pleasant. Her comment that she wouldn't want to visit Britannia drew a snort of amusement from him. "It's cold, and wet." He said simply, thoughts drifting back to his time in that distant land, before he was injured. "Some of their women do fight, though in a helmet and behind a shield it can be hard to tell until afterwards. And some of them do paint their faces. The men grow their beards and hair, so they look quite wild." Not refined like Roman men, of course. "They live in round huts built of sticks and mud, often in areas that have large marshes which are difficult to cross." Which had obviously been deliberate and made them a pain to move between. Thank the Gods for the road builders. It was easy to relate the details he remembered to Ione, she seemed to listen to attentively. No doubt a useful skill in her profession. His question about her origins was met with bright laughter, not at him but in seemingly genuine amusement. Kefalonia. It was on the western coast, at the straight between the mainland and the Achaean peninsula, if he recalled correctly. Ione asked if he'd ever been to Greece. "I went to Achaea as a youth." He replied, recalling that journey. "With my father and older brother. My father has been a trader in fine goods and exotics all my life, to Achaea, Judea, even Aegyptus. He started teaching my brother and I how to do the same." That seemed a lifetime ago. "I remember seeing ruins in parts of the land, that seemed older than the Gods." Was that sacreligious to say? He'd initially thought her ministrations too gentle to work the cramp out of his stubborn muscles, but her strong fingers and persistent work was gradually relaxing them. He was pleasantly surprised by her work. Perhaps he'd get her to do the same in future. Even he had to admit that her hands on his thigh felt good; he didn't have a lot of physical contact with others beyond the odd business handshake. As she worked Ione spoke with obvious fondness of her home, and she'd mentioned both her mother and father, though the latter haltingly. But a slaver bought her in Athens. "You weren't born a slave, were you?" He asked bluntly. @Sara

He'd looked forward to this day too, happy to see her again. He knew their time together wouldn't last. She'd no doubt been brought to Rome to find a husband, and it wouldn't be him. Then she'd have a man in her life and a household to run, and no time for him. And that was as it should be. But he would treasure this time now, and try not to regret too hard that this was how it had to be. But he wished it wasn't. His words felt awkward and unpolished, being spur of the moment, but Sosia grinned at him as he blushed. I didn't know you were a poet too. "Not much one one." He said, looking aside and running a hand through his hair bashfully. Then he glanced back at her. "But given the right inspiration..." He trailed off. She was definitely the right inspiration. "Shall we?" He gestured to the gates and the gardens lying within. He had promised to show them to her. "I know it's winter, but I still think it's beautiful. Some things are always beautiful." He met her gaze as he spoke. Some people too. @Atrice