Liv

Such enthusiasm. Granted, now that Titus thought about it, he didn't recall Longinus ever having been the gourmet type; nevertheless, it would have been nice to be a bit more hospitable. "And that is...? Let me guess, puls and hardtack," he ventured as he followed his friend out of the cold pool and into the warmer embrace of a towel. It did not take long for a nondescript yet clean tunic - doubtlessly fished out of the recesses of some chest or drawer - to materialise either, carried by the masseur slave. Even in a grumpy a mood as his master's, Attis still knew how to do the basics of his job. There was just no winning with Longinus in this sort of mood. Titus gave a deep sigh, as if he were about to explain something for the hundredth time, and stared pointedly at his friend with tired eyes as he took the tunic from the slave's hand and began to put it on. "Why, maybe I should have since you've welcomed me so well and have only said, like, five times that you don't want anyone pitying you or trying to find you a replacement bride." Perhaps his words were a little too harsh, but it was about time Longinus stopped being all woe-is-me. To punctuate his evaporating tolerance, Titus quickly grabbed the towel he had handed to the slave, rolled it up into a sausagey form and gave Longinus a light thwack on the shoulder with it, before dropping the towel and leaving it for the slave to pick up. "Had I known you were so keen on having company, I would have brought your mother too instead of just Attis here." He folded his arms over his chest defensively, waiting for his friend to lead the way to the triclinium. This whole 'cheer Longinus up' mission might yet end up with a fistfight with the way things were going, if Longinus didn't drink himself to unconsciousness first - clearly the less damaging choice in more ways than one where their friendship was concerned. @Sharpie @Sara

Longinus was right, a few hours would make little difference. In fact, seeing the three officers heading for the bathhouse together might given the idiots behind the harebrained scheme the impression that the visit had been a merely routine one, thus making it all the sweeter when those sods met their punishment. Titus too stood up, meeting Aulus' gaze with a nod before turning a stern eye onto Longinus. "Us, bad influences? I don't see how." The ruse lasted all of a few seconds before he broke into a good-natured chuckle. Funny how the prospect of such a simple thing as a warm bath could lift one's spirits so quickly. As Longinus' body slave dressed his master Titus busied himself with organising a few scrolls into an orderly mound, giving his idle fingers something to do while he leisurely ran his mouth with Aulus. "Yes, socialising with the quaestor is of paramount importance to get into the proconsul's good graces. You want to make sure he's well-rested and properly fed. Speaking of which, don't you think our legate friend is getting a bit pudgy?" In all honesty he didn't, but the opportunity for a little jab was too good to pass up. @Sara @Sharpie

Livia shrugged delicately, not particularly inclined to speculate out loud on the reasons why her niece was still unmarried just in case word somehow got back to her husband. "He might well be, but he doesn't wish to burden me with his concerns." More like he could not care less, but that would not have been a nice thing to say. "I imagine she or her mother may want to have some say in it, and it's not always easy to come to an agreement on such things," she mused, temporarily allocating the blame to the two absent women in hopes of it being enough to placate Horatia's hound-like drive. Yet, in light of what Horatia had just mentioned about prospects for young Calpurnia, it was a plausible excuse. With such a relentless advocate, her niece wouldn't be stuck with a man old enough to be her grandfather unless there was very good reason to. "Well, your husband is a reasonable man. I'm sure he will consider her best interests when the time comes." Unlike pater dearest, but that was no longer worth dwelling upon. And then Horatia had to ruin it. The question felt like a slap to the face, and Livia could only stare wide-eyed in polite reproach during the handful of seconds it took her to regain her composure. That Horatia should ask something like that, knowing all that had happened... Well, it was hardly out of character for her sister, though she should have known it was a painful subject - even if only out of womanly solidarity, for Livia had never been inclined to discuss it once her second marriage had taken place. She turned steely green eyes towards Horatia's blue ones and took a sip of wine before replying in icy tones. "He does not." A barefaced lie, but neither Secundus nor Aglaea were there to correct Livia and the latter would never have done it, anyway. "It all comes down to the gods' will, in any case," she added in an attempt at diplomacy despite the slight. Sometimes, however, both gods and mortal men were powerless against silphium, and Livia intended to keep it that way; no child deserved to grow up in such a household, no matter how much she longed for one. "But he may well exhaust his patience one day and look for a younger bride..." The distant look on her face had a wistful quality to it that could be mistaken for wifely devotion, but would more accurately describe a far-off hope. She helped herself to a date and washed it down with some more wine, gazing into the cup with a small self-deprecating smile. "It's funny, isn't it? How this sort of thing skips people even if they're related? Like my brother-in-law Tertius, with a son and a daughter and now rumours that he knocked up one of his slaves again, or mater and pater with the four of us. Even if you come from a big family, it's not guaranteed you'll have one of your own." @Sara

Bollocks, all of it. Even the man's compliment on her looks did nothing to soothe Safinia's suspicions - words were cheap and easily twisted, anyway. "That's what it sounded like," she deadpanned, every bit still as wary of him as a minute prior. With tense shoulders she listened to his words, realisation slowly sinking into her. He just would not let this up. His reasons were obscure, but his determination was clear as day. Sensing defeat, Safinia sighed pitifully. "I was... going to sell it. To buy food," she started in a morose tone. Sell such a pretty little thing? Never! But the man didn't need to know that. If her act was good enough, perhaps he would let her walk away with it. "I lost my home in the earthquake." That was true, although thanks to the boss's generosity Safinia had shelter at the stables. "And I lost my family too..." Years ago, more than once, and in unrelated events, but this nosy man didn't need to know that either. "You see how I am now," she gestured down at her bad leg, hoping it would elicit some pity from him. "There are no other options." Thousands of petty thefts occurred in Rome every day; why was the man so hung up on this exact one? Jupiter should strike him down with a thunderbolt right then and there, but clear as the sky was, there seemed to be little chance of that. "The merchant had so many of them. He won't miss one of the cheapest." @Atrice

Zia's silence led Titus to believe she was taking the options he had laid out seriously, or at least considering their value. It had the fortunate side effect of keeping her mouth shut, even if it was only for a few precious instants. Soon it was his turn to stay quiet as she went into the tribe's internal politics, something he realised at that moment he had been a fool not to have paid more attention to; the outcome might have been drastically different. Not that it would change what was done, but Titus could start learning now and avoid making the same mistake twice. The tapping of her fingers on the wood grated on his nerves, but he said nothing, instead drawing circles with his round the rim of the wine jug. "Why, I can't possibly imagine why that would be," Titus interjected under his breath, feeling slightly vindicated in his own opinion of Zia. If even her adopted kinsmen couldn't stand her, why did they expect him to? Still, valuable information was gained - namely, that the chieftain's advisors had no qualms making their disapproval known when their opinions differed. Titus had a sinking feeling that the point where they would lose their faith in Cultellus wasn't too far off in the future, but pushed it back into the recesses of his mind; he was just an outsider, a foreigner with very limited freedom and no access to the full picture. How much longer would they be talking in circles? Titus ran a head through his hair, feeling his patience dwindle. "You can't have your cake and eat it too. If we don't get baby-making you'll be happy but the old man won't, and if we do he'll be chuffed and you'll be worse than usual. Me, I'll be miserable either way, so who cares?" He punctuated the last comment by throwing both palms up in place of a shrug. Yes, he was the one getting figuratively fucked regardless of what they did. Him and poor Luto, by the looks of things. Thinking back to something Zia had said, Titus met her gaze, his brow creased with worry. "What do you mean by 'something rash'?" @Sara

Not half-bad? It was quite possibly the ultimate solution to Longinus' parental problems! Lots of advantages, too: Silanus was already latrine-trained, hadn't become crippled or terribly disfigured by any diseases and had very traceable pedigree. It was not half-bad, indeed. It was very good. Still, recalling his earlier commitment to being more patient given his friend's distraught state, Titus opted to hum his agreement and affect a smug smile before adding two more asses. "Maybe he needs someone who's... been there... to help him find his focus?" Not like present-day Longinus possessed it in spades, but he should be able to put a young bachelor in his place. A lovers' spat, that's what it was. To think the caustic Attis would be so offended at having his carnal offer refused by his master - whose argument was undefeatable, really. Even the most solicitous of slave couldn't grow parts belonging to the opposite sex overnight, or usually ever. From behind closed eyelids Titus chimed in with a perfectly flat tone, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of his massage in silence. "I tore him a new arsehole with my monstrous cock but had him stitched up afterwards so it wouldn't interfere with your enjoyment. Might be why he's a bit off today." The hands on his shoulders stopped their motions all of a sudden and the masseur slave's breath hitched audibly, but before he had a chance to regain his composure Titus stood up in frustration and shooed him away with a forceful wave. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he groaned back at Longinus as he made his way over to the pool and took a deep breath before hopping in. It was cold all right, and the sooner they got out the better. Maybe Attis - if he stopped sulking long enough - or one of the other slaves could fetch some heated towels for increased comfort. Shuddering, Titus looked at his friend with childish expectation. "Speaking of dinner, what are we having?" @Sharpie @Sara

There was no way out of this supremely unpleasant situation, it seemed. Chances were the man wasn't bluffing either and had in fact seen her take the small box. Forced to change strategy, Safinia schooled her face into what she hoped was an apprehensive, somewhat despairing expression - the look of someone who had had no choice but resort to petty thievery. Hopefully she had practised it enough that he would fall for it. She shook her head as he came closer, but didn't break eye contact. Whilst it was nice of him to keep his hands where she could see them, his face would be more useful in letting her know if she was fooling him or not. "What options?" Safinia questioned him, clicking her tongue. "I don't see a lot of them when you're poor and crippled. Or are you suggesting becoming a prostitute is this 'better option' you speak of?" The accusation dripped from her lips like acid, the possibility forming inside her head at the same time as she spoke it into existence. It wouldn't be the first time a young woman of limited means was coerced into working at one of the dreariest brothels... Could those be the man's intentions? Her blue eyes bore onto him, determined not to miss a beat. @Atrice

Titus snorted at Zia's question, and did not dignify it with an answer. Of course his mother wouldn't approve - a foreigner of no lineage, who barely even spoke Latin and whose looks did not even ensnare the senses and engulf the mind in a fog of lust? And it wasn't as though he had had a choice! Eyeing Zia spitefully, Titus let her take the cup back from him and grabbed the jug he'd refilled it with with both hands, placing it firmly and decisively between his loins as he gave her a scornful smirk, daring her to come and get some directly from the source. The silence could only mean one of two things: either she had previously considered the possibility but dismissed it as unlikely to happen, or she had not thought of it at all and was stunned still by its eventual consequences. Either way, Titus savoured his small victory - it was the first time he had rendered the woman speechless, as far as he could remember. The temptation to taunt her was too great to resist, and he addressed her in an innocent tone. "Do my ears deceive me? Is my wife, whose tongue drips nothing but poison when she addresses me, seriously asking for her husband's advice?" Then seriousness returned, for the sake of the little boy, but not before a final barb. "I must say I'm rather disappointed in you, though. You're not stupid and you love your son above anything else. Did the possibility really not cross your mind when the old man told you of his plans?" He shook his head, took a careful sip from the jug and faced Zia with a grave expression. There weren't that many options, and Titus was quite sure she wouldn't like any of them. "In all honesty, the safest one for him is to be sent to your relatives and foster the connection to your tribe over his father's. Not as prestigious, but also not as dangerous," he pointed out, eyes darting towards Luto, who was now having an animated, and incomprehensible to Titus, conversation with his figurines. "You could also send him to be raised in an upstanding citizen's household, which creates a hostage situation but makes him more... harmless, if you will, to Rome." That would have been the sure outcome until the traitor Arminius challenged the paradigm, but maybe enough time had passed that that lemur was gone. "Another option is to bump him down from heir and make him the right-hand man to an eventual brother... but that's risky in more ways than one and I don't need to tell you why." How many times had brothers turned on each other for a piece of land, let alone the right to rule a tribe and decide over their fate? He fiddled with the rim of the jug between his legs, feeling disquieted. No matter which angle they viewed the situation from, the truth was that parting the little boy from his mother and grandfather was by far the most successful way to ensure his survival in the long term. "The easiest workaround is to keep things exactly as they are now, but as you said earlier, Cultellus isn't pleased with that. You've known him longer, how dangerous is he when he gets angry?" And most importantly, how did he usually react when things didn't go his way? Titus wasn't afraid of death, quite the opposite, but some men would do anything to make a point. Even murder a child. @Sara

Equally oblivious to Attis' sulking, Titus let his thoughts wander here and there as he focused his senses on the massage. If the slave hadn't been the gawking type, he might just have asked Longinus if he was willing to part with the man for an adequate price, but as it was, he would rather not suffer through the discomfort of being ogled even if it meant physical comfort afterwards. He could almost feel the background soreness of the trip leaving his muscles... until Longinus piped up with his grievances again. Titus opened his eyes only to roll them at this friend, closing them again a moment later. Fine, he come up with his own excuses then - or come clean. "Duly noted," he grumbled back, feeling his patience dwindle. "No decent women, only those of ill repute or men. Understood." At least with the latter there would be no worrying about possible miscarriages. But were Longinus' clients good enough source material, though? Unable to keep himself from offering yet another suggestion, Titus blinked lazily and cast Longinus a half-hidden amused look. "If you're going down the adoption path, why not the younger Silanus? Better lineage than your clients and better connected, too. Wasn't his brother in Britannia with you?" The last line was a fortuitous spur of the moment question, but if it made Longinus go off on a tangent about that bloody wet island he seemed to love so much, Titus was willing to bet gold his friend's mood would be significantly better when the night was over. If Attis didn't ruin it with the uncharacteristic stillness that Titus had just come to notice. What cat had got the slave's tongue now? @Sharpie @Sara

Numa's balls, it was looking like he might have seen her after all. Was this man some hired muscle for the pyxis merchant, even if he didn't look all that muscly? He could also be an opportunistic thief that took others' bounty by means of intimidation... or just some righteous sod. To his credit, though, he didn't step any closer and stayed where he was, although Safinia would have been exceedingly easy prey in her state. "The only one trying to stir up trouble here is you," she hissed back at him, a deep wrinkle appearing between her brows as she frowned. For once, Safinia wished Azarion had come with her: with the way he was so easily distracted, he would have had no trouble getting this man to leave. Alas, she was alone and thus would have to rely on the man's wits as well as her own. "Leave me alone or I'll start screaming." It was a quieter spot they found themselves in, but not entirely devoid of passers-by; if she made a ruckus, somebody would probably come to investigate. @Atrice

The man came closer - too close. His brown eyes did not scream aggression, but it was human nature for most women to be wary of such encounters. Going by his clothes and overall appearance, he seemed to be of Safinia's ilk, which was to say dirt poor. So why was he interested in her? Her eyes flashed in annoyance at his words, but she tried hard to keep her features schooled in the same scornful look as before. "What are you talking about? Took what from where?" Lying was so easy, and always worth a shot. Perhaps he was just bluffing and used this trick on every helpless girl he came across. Safinia made her hands stay where they were, one on her hip and the other flat on her chest like when she had been catching her breath, successfully fighting the instinct to bring them to her purse; that would have given her away. And if he wasn't bluffing, well... She would make it up as she went along. @Atrice

The big earthquake from a few weeks ago had brought much change to Safinia's life. First, the insula where she had rented a cheap room had crumbled. Second, it had begun to do so with her inside. Third, it had taken all her possessions with it when it became a pile of rubble, save for the threadbare tunic she had been wearing. Fortunately the boss had let her stay at the stables even though she hadn't been able to perform the tasks she had been employed for, and thanks to the precious downtime the ugly gash on her head had faded into a reddish scar, easily hidden by her dark hair. Most of the bruising had healed or was was well on its way to. However, it was only now, over a month after the earthquake, that Safinia felt well enough to venture out and test her healing leg. It still hurt when she put weight on it, but it was bearable if she wobbled just so... Her limp - the unbeknownst product of an ugly fracture shoddily reset - was quite noticeable as she slowly weaved through the market stalls, the excuse the young woman had given the Whites as to why she was going to the market turning out to have a grain of truth in it. The main reason, however, was restarting her collection of trinkets. Years of effort had quite literally fallen to pieces in the blink of an eye... but there was no time like the present to do something about it. Safinia browsed a pyxis stall, eyes wide at the sight of so many colourful boxes - some made of glass, others of painted clay, others of bone, and others yet of wood. The merchant paid her little attention, busy as he was attending to two well-dressed matrons and their equally dapper slaves, and she seized the opportunity to surreptitiously take a tiny blue and green glass pyxis from its rightful place and shove it quickly yet carefully into her purse. The absence of a commotion told her nobody had caught her in the act, and so Safinia limped away from the stall, feeling quite pleased with the day's catch. It was a worthy start to her new collection. Now that her desire for beautiful things was quenched for the time being, she figured it would be wise to go back to the stables as quickly as possible in case the merchant noticed the missing item. Taking the long way around through a sea of stalls, Safinia was almost out of the market when her bad leg went on strike and refused to carry her any further, searing pain shooting through it with every attempt at another step. Left with no choice, she leant against a wall and took a few deep breaths, hoping she could be on her way again soon. Suddenly an unfamiliar man stood there, looking at her. Why? Maybe he was a thief, keen on taking advantage of a woman alone. She shot him a disdainful glare, as if telling him there was nothing on her worth stealing. @Atrice

Both Tertius and Teutus seemed pleased with the gift, and Livia smiled more broadly than usual, equal parts relief and satisfaction showing. Perhaps it was just as well there was no engraving after all, as neither man made a negative remark about it. Feeling reassured, Livia exchanged a brief look with Aglaea, much like a child seeking silent praise after a job well done. "Oh, it was nothing. Secundus will be glad to hear it was to your liking," she replied with a nod of acknowledgement towards her nephew. Truth be told, she hadn't much of a notion of how Teutus' relationship with his sister had been prior to his manumission, and that was almost entirely Livia's own fault. Antonia was a bright and lively young girl and a painful possibility as to how Livia's daughter might have become had she lived, so she kept a safe distance and tried not to get too close. Yet, it was polite to show interest. "I imagine Teutus has less free time to dedicate to her now... does she not resent it?" More to the point, did Antonia not resent having to treat her brother more respectfully now, when he had been a slave her entire life? Hopefully the girl had not inherited her uncle's irascible nature. "Have you given any thought as to what the future holds now, Teutus?" Livia asked gently, a small tinge of curiosity seeping into her voice. "A career, perhaps? Or a wife?" She wasn't entirely sure where his talents lay or in what way they could be useful to Tertius, but hopefully the young man would be more fortunate than Livia when it came to a match. "Have you thought of anyone, Tertius?" she turned to her brother-in-law, happy to play the part of the ditzy nosy matron. @Echo @Atrice @Sharpie

He let the jab go unanswered, choosing instead to accept the figurine the little boy was handing him and giving Luto an apologetic smile. The misshapen deer zoomed around the table before Titus placed it atop Zia's head with as much disdain as he could wordlessly manage. The child's laughter was gleeful even as the clay creature was put to lay on its side under a tree fashioned from twigs and moss. "He sleep now," Titus told Luto in his shaky Dacian that the kid seemed to have no trouble understanding; a sign that the boy's own bedtime wasn't that far off. Titus bit his lower lip in thought, mentally going through the roster of who he would be least mortified to see come to Dacia on his account - provided they did come. Between family and friends, the selection was surprisingly small, but after a moment's pondering, he settled upon a name. The decision gave him courage to smile sardonically at Zia. "Don't worry, you won't have to contend with an overbearing mother-in-law if that's what you're concerned about. Though I don't really see why you'd care, it's not like you know this person." He would never, ever, let his mother see him like this. Better that she think him dead than bound to a no-name barbarian. As for the bloody letter, Titus figured he did not really have a choice. The upside was that he had plenty of time until his visitor came to come up with an escape plan or, alternatively, an explanation to this whole mess he found himself in. He also needed a decent night's sleep to think up something appropriate to write down: something harmless in the eyes of a Dacian reader, but just off enough that his friend would know something was wrong. "Can't do worse than our wedding banquet, I guess. I'll get to it tomorrow afternoon," Titus stated dismissively as he yanked the cup out of the woman's grasp, the wine inside sloshing dangerously as it threatened to spill and land on the very innocent target that was Luto. Speaking of which - something was eluding Titus, and while he hadn't fancied himself a stupid man until recent events, he wasn't quite he fully understood what the chieftain was playing at. Maybe Zia would know and be inclined to share, or maybe she hadn't thought of the consequences yet. "There's something I don't get," he began, tone serious but not belligerent as he refilled the cup, "Luto here's the old man's heir, I gather. If we should have a son and if Rome decides that you're an all right lot and can keep your own ruler so long as you play nice, isn't he just going to be a liability?" Titus gestured vaguely at the child, not particularly keen on drawing his attention from the pig general. "I mean, why keep a fully Dacian leader around when a half-Roman one inspires more confidence? What use is he going to be in that case?" It felt uncomfortable, wrong even, to speak of the playful little boy in such terms, as if he were a cow that might or might not be marked for sacrificial slaughter, but it had to be done. @Sara

No acknowledgement of his barb, not even a sharp intake of breath? Bummer. What an unsympathetic wife he was stuck with. It felt like his sanity was hanging on by a thin thread, and all Titus could do was focus on the little things to keep himself from unravelling, rather than break into a bout of hysterical laughter, or crying, or both. What was the point of these stupid Dacians keeping him here if they didn't even believe him - and on things that had to do with Rome, mind? Turning his head to look at Zia, Titus eyed her with anguish. She - they - really understood nothing. No wonder they resisted Roman rule so hard, when they couldn't wrap their heads round the simplest of concepts. "That's the thing; we do. When you have a child, it's not for you, or even your family. You raise it for the Empire." For honour and glory at best and passive mediocrity at worst. Embarrassments, like Titus had turned out, were dropped like they were on fire, when it came to his social circles at least. The rabble probably had less constraints, but also far less responsibility. Yet it all seemed a moot point, and Titus shrugged helplessly. "I should have known better than to expect you to understand the system. You weren't born into it or raised in it." The only ones that he could think of wanted him back were the families of the dead legionaries, just so they could have the pleasure of offing him painfully themselves. A literate, nicely dressed, trained monkey at the edge of the empire. That was all he was amounting to now, and would for the foreseeable future. Automatically and without even realising he was doing it, Titus poured new wine from the pitcher into the cup Zia had just helped herself to, brow knitted in contemplation. He could write a letter, all right. Maybe even in Greek just to spite these barbarians, though they would undoubtedly manage to find a translator quickly. "And what, dearest wife, should the contents of such a letter be? In case you were not aware, we celebrate nuptials before and during, not weeks after the fact," he explained with a scowl. Still, a letter provided rare opportunity, if he were clever enough to make good use of it. In any case, a visitor would take at least a month to get there, assuming they took the fastest route from Rome and weren't in some further corner of the empire or limited to roads only. And assuming they didn't just ignore the letter or toss it into the nearest fire. But another issue bothered Titus. He picked up the wine cup and took a large sip from it, all the while peering at Zia as if he wanted to see into the workings of her brain. "Suppose somebody does come knocking. What will you do to them?" @Sara

Titus narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest in unspoken challenge, subconsciously mimicking Zia's earlier gesture. "Oh?" he asked, tone rising in irritation. "And why should an old man be told the details of what goes on inside his daughter-in-law's bedroom? Or is that how you two get off?" More likely than not it was slaves' gossip, but he did not put it past Zia to spin the tale in the way that best suited her. "Besides, it's not like there would be anything to show off this early, or are you lot like cats and bitches and pop out a baby after two months?" He all but spat out the words contemptuously, intent on not being the only one to blame for the perceived failing. "And it's not like you've got a great record anyway, with only him," Titus nodded at little Luto, who was quietly playing with his toys. If she took offence, all the better - wasn't the wife supposed to share the husband's burden? With the rest of her words, however, his annoyance gave way to despondency, and he withstood the woman's stare with a silent one of his own. Lessons on taxpaying and arse-kissing from a barbarian? That was rich. Titus would have laughed if he hadn't been so ill-at-ease with what Zia was requiring of him. Even as she sat down next to him he said nothing, lips pursed into a thin line. The words were like needles, piercing deep into him, but he was not keen on being a pincushion forever. "No." A simple, stubborn word. Titus looked pointedly at Zia, shaking his head in exasperation. "I've told you this time and again, and you not liking the answer doesn't change it," he started, running a hand through his hair. Maybe she did understand after all, but still wanted to hear him say it for purely sadistic reasons. "As far as Rome is concerned, I am dead. Persona non grata. That feeling goes for my family too - trust me, nobody will be visiting anybody." He would die of embarrassment before that happened, though they were all more sensible - prouder - than that. Hopefully his brother would get a consulship soon to clean up the besmirched family name a bit and let their mother have one son of whom to be proud. He slouched forward in his seat, ready to bury his head in his hands, and forgot his sore ribs for all of two seconds before searing pain made him sit up straight again. Titus curled a hand into a fist and brought it down hard on his thigh, for lack of a better outlet, smiling bitterly as he did. If the fearsome Zal-whatever was watching, now would be a grand time to get rid of this impious Roman and strike Titus down there and there with a thunderbolt or spear or whatever the fuck it was he used; then the farce would be over. "The publicanus doesn't care," he snorted derisively, clenching and unclenching his fist. "He just wants your coin. Will probably assume I'm a deserter or some sod you took prisoner when raiding the nearest castellum, try to see if he can get money from me too and be on his way when he's collected enough. Then he'll come back next year and repeat the process." Titus pressed the balls of his thumbs into his eyes, feeling exhausted all of a sudden and very much like he had been talking in circles. Gods, what he wouldn't give to share the little boy's ignorance for just an hour or two and have his world revolve around animal figurines and concerns no more pressing than eluding bedtime when it came. @Sara

Letter dated 8th of July, delivered by the same Dacian slave Titus Sulpicius Rufus to Praetor Tertius Quinctilius Varus, greetings. It it just as you say, many plans - and lives, sadly - have been lost to this disaster. It pleases me nonetheless to hear that your household is well, and I hope the material damage your domus has suffered is of little consequence. We will be travelling down to my brother and sister-in-law's villa in Naples in about a week and will likely stay there until the end of August or thereabouts in an attempt to evade the worst of the summer heat, so I am afraid it will not be possible for me to visit you at the end of this month as per your suggestion. However, if you find it convenient, I would be happy to pay you a visit along with Nymphias and my son Publius in the days between now and our departure, or postpone it to when we have returned to Rome if that is more agreeable to you. Regardless of date, I am sure the children will happily entertain themselves, and I should very much like to share my thoughts with you on possible next steps and hear your opinion on the subject. I shall also inform Nymphias about her sister, although since I did not know Charis until our past meeting I will not be able to elaborate on how changed should she ask. I imagine the opposite is also true, but should your slave be anxious please assure her that her sister has not suffered undue hardship whilst in my household. They will have much to catch up on, I dare presume. Sincerely, T. Sulpicius Rufus @Atrice

From what Titus had been able to gather through their blessedly limited interactions over the last few weeks, his wife was the sort who would rather die by her own hand than admit she was wrong. And wrong she was now, mistaking a mere tax collector for someone of more import (although judging from the smarmy missive, said tax collector held a high opinion of himself and would probably argue that he very much was of import). She probably had an inkling herself, what with her question and the suspicious way in which she looked at him, stroking the little boy's hair in what looked like a mechanical gesture of comfort. Decisions, decisions. Keep the knowledge to himself and watch the bloody Dacians scramble about like headless chickens for a few weeks - by far the most tempting option - or take the high road and elucidate Zia and the chieftain? That would likely mollify them, let him earn their trust, and then... Then what? Get close to a fire and set the whole damn town ablaze? Taunt them in their sleep by emptying the contents of their chamber pots in their mouths? Satisfying at that might be, it would lead nowhere. His best choice, as much as he disliked it, was to play along and clear up the misunderstanding - but first, find out why exactly the old man was displeased with him. "Displeased? Why? Have I not complied with your wishes, like I promised? Gone along with every whim of you two like a well-trained dog?" Titus countered nonchalantly, getting up and picking up an ox figurine off the floor before walking the few steps to where Luto was sitting and handing him the clay animal with an innocent smile. They were doing so well, too, until Zia had to come along and confuse her son. The little boy accepted the toy but did not smile back, instead glancing up at him with uncertainty in his big eyes. Titus sighed and trained his gaze on Zia, feeling much like a tutor with an unruly student. "No, a publicanus is not the governor. It's a..." He thought on it for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, and switched to very tentative Dacian. "Man, come to ge-- take coin." The last word was almost a question, wondering if she had understood what he was attempting to communicate; for emphasis, Titus mimed rubbing a coin between his thumb and index finger. For the sake of compliance, he continued in Latin. "He's coming to collect your taxes. You know, what you pay every year to Rome for the privilege of existing and carrying on with your lives?" Assuming they'd had previous visits, that was; wouldn't surprise him if they hadn't, the bunch of barbarians. @Sara

74 AD, during the Gladiatorial Games The journey back to their domus was very much as Titus had predicted. The moment it was just the two of them again, Publius had zeroed in on him like a moth drawn to a flame, and wide-eyed and toothy-grinned posed the question that had been plaguing him ever since the word had been uttered. Titus set his jaw and exhaled grimly, keenly aware that this was not how he had imagined the first of presumably many father-son conversations on the topic to go. But the gods enjoyed playing dice too, and this was what the roll had dictated. If he did a reasonable job now, maybe it would be a while until the next 'conversation' came. A long while. "Dad, will you tell me now what's a catamite?" The boy was all curiosity, hands folded in his lap and unconsciously bobbing up and down. Titus nodded, defeated. "First of all, it's a bad word. So you're not to call anybody that, all right?" Publius nodded enthusiastically back. He cleared his throat and continued. "It means a boy who is very good friends with a grown man, but they're not related." Well, they could be, although that would be even less appealing, but Titus chose to word it the way he did to prevent any instances of his son proudly and publicly declaring himself his catamite, since they were such good friends. The thought made him feel queasy, but the boy seemed not to notice; maybe he ascribed it to the movement of the litter. Yet, somehow that was not enough to quell Publius' interest in the topic. The boy peered up at him, confusion written all over his face. "But why is it a bad word if they're friends?" Titus ran a hand through his hair, stalling for time. "Because..." By Jupiter, there was no easy way out of this. "Well, because the adult is having fun, but the boy is not. It's very, very bad for a freeborn boy like you to be called that," Titus stated seriously, trying to impress just how insulting it would be and failing due to his lacking explanation. Publius only seemed more confused, but his childish grin had faded. Perhaps he understood deep down inside on some visceral level that this was no laughing matter. "So if somebody is ever stupid enough to call you that or tell you they want you to be their catamite, you tell me straight away, okay?" The boy assented solemnly. "Okay, dad." Silence filled the litter for a short while, enough for Titus to think the ordeal was over and lean back on the cushions. No sooner had he done it than his son was piping up again, clearly not satisfied with the resolution. "But dad, if it's bad for free boys, is it okay for slave boys? And you said it's fun for the man, but not for the boy...?" Publius' eyebrows had quizzically shot upwards, almost disappearing into his brown hair. It was a difficult concept for his young mind to grasp, and Titus quickly realised he would have to provide a definitive explanation - and do it fast, because going by the familiar incline the litter was taking now, they would be home soon. And once they got home there would be at least two more pairs of ears interested in said explanation and another pair of ears probably quite keen on co-opting it and making it even less child-friendly. Titus swallowed, muscles tense as if he were headed into battle. "Son. You know how sometimes people lie together, yes?" Publius nodded with a knowing look. "Yeah! You said that if it's a man and a woman, sometimes they make a baby!" Good, that bit had stuck. "Exactly. But sometimes, and that goes for everyone, they just do it because it's fun and feels good. But in this case, it doesn't feel good for the boy. It's not fun." Publius seemed to dwell on the information for a moment or two, taking it all in. "But is it fun for slave boys...?" All Titus wanted to do at that moment was bury his head in his hands and let someone else take over. Had he ever asked his late father this many questions? Titus didn't quite remember, but he didn't think so; he'd had his older brother to ask, which had been far less embarrassing. And most of the time he hadn't even needed to ask, the information had just been given to him. The gods were surely laughing. "I guess? I don't know, son. I was never a slave boy." Publius made a small sound of acquiescence, as if what his father had just said made perfect sense. "Do you think I'll have fun too when I grow up? Like, when I was little I didn't like wine, but now I do." Titus chuckled, feeling the stress ebb out of him. The 'wine' the little boy was referring to was at most a finger's breadth of actual drink and the rest of the cup filled with honeyed water, but it made Publius feel like he could keep up with the adults, and if that made him happy, why burst his bubble? The important thing was the he grasped that some things were enjoyable only when was one mature enough. "I'm pretty sure you will, son. " The litter came to a stop, signalling the end of their journey. With any luck, there would be no more difficult questions that day.

The moment Bassus stepped away from the basin after having set it on the table, Safinia let the leeks fall unceremoniously from her arms and into it, sending water splashing in all directions. Some of it landed on her, but the cool sensation was welcome after having baked in the sun whilst waiting for the basin to fill. The leeks would have to be scrubbed clean, but she liked to let them soak in water and vinegar first to kill any bugs that had unwittingly hitched a ride. Now, to get the vinegar. Safinia picked up an amphora half her size and brought it over to the table, eyes widening as she heard Bassus chuckle. What was so funny about her offer, which had been made at his request? She frowned as she removed the stopper from the amphora and poured a healthy amount of vinegar into the basin, the pungent smell making her wrinkle her nose. It turned out that questioning Bassus would not be necessary, as he began to explain his circumstances. So his earlier question about what if he had been a Jew hadn't been hypothetical. Safinia clicked her tongue; it infuriated her that people would not say what they meant or meant what they said the first time round. There would be so much fewer misunderstandings that way. "Huh, that's going to be a problem," she interjected as she stoppered the amphora again and went to put it back in its place. "Because we're having leek and ham puls today." Why anybody would willingly follow a religion that forbade them from sampling the best meat there was baffled her, but this one god of the Jews had already demonstrated he was an interesting character. Perhaps he had had a pig companion at some point that his followers had slaughtered and eaten, and to punish them he forbade them from eating pork. "So you can't eat it but you don't know why? That's odd," she commented, wiping her hands on her tunic. It defied logic. "Can you just shove the bits aside though? We can't make a special dinner just for you." Well, maybe very occasionally they could. Definitely not on a daily basis, though. "What other animals can't you eat?" If he said chicken and mutton, poor Bassus indeed, missing out on so much delicious fare. @Beauty

Livia looked indignantly at her sister for the unexpected scolding, but two seconds later realised on her own why Horatia had done it. A slighted worker, whether enslaved or free, could take revenge by underhanded means. She gave the man a sheepish smile while waiting for her sister's opinion on the fragrance, hoping the salesman wouldn't put something stinky in the bottle next time. Refreshing, her?! Livia beamed at the compliment, unconsciously straightening her back and pulling back her shoulders. The word hadn't so much as crossed her mind before Horatia had spoken it, but somehow it fit what she envisioned for herself and her husband-to-be. Lost in her daydream, Livia reacted belatedly to Horatia's request-suggestion, mouth forming a perfect 'oh'. "Isn't it too masculine? Lemon? I want him to think of me, not his barber..." she trailed off, not entirely convinced as she watched the man take the little bottle back and fiddle with it. "Ah, I've been thinking about it, but you know pater. Wants to invite all these dusty old relations of his while conveniently ignoring my friends," Livia protested childishly. "I'd like Livia Aemiliana to come, and Antonia Paulina. But that snake Menenia's got another thing coming if she thinks I'll invite her!" The huff that left her lips was comical in its genuineness. She wasn't sure if Horatia knew the names of her friends, but she probably recognised the name of one of Livia's old friends-turned-sort-of-enemies. Still, Livia decided she didn't want to waste precious mental space and energy on human snakes - planning her honeymoon was so much more interesting! Greece sounded nice enough. There were so many dreamy islands there! But Horatia and her husband had done it before, and thus Livia's enthusiasm for that option chilled a bit. "I'd love to go to Egypt someday! See Alexandria and the pyramids and all..." The merchant returned to them, vial in his extended hand. Livia took it automatically and brought it up to her nose. "But I daresay a villa in Baiae will be more like it... Oh!" The crisp fragrance invaded her nostrils. It was bold, but pleasant. And memorable. With a broad smile, Livia held out the vial under Horatia's nose. "You were right!" @Sara

The missive was written on a simple, cheap wax tablet, with many of the letters showing a distinct Greek-alphabet influence. There are some misspellings and the language is kept simple. To my freind Nymphias from Clio, greetings. I write to you because I have news! Now I live in the litle Aventine with new domina and family. She is young and very kind, and loves books. She lets me read books to, but I cannot write Latin well yet. I must read more. Her family is big but everybody is kind to. Its very different from the old family and ludus. I hope we can meet soon so I can tell you everything in person! Is all well with you? Your freind, Clio @Beauty

LIV Clio - here Titus Sulpicius Rufus - here Lucia Safinia - here Livia Justina - here

It sounded so very tempting, like a siren's song. How easy it would be, to let his arm drop, rise and take a look for himself. But like the sirens, it might also be nothing but a lure to greater struggles. Dare he believe it? His most recent act of credulity had earned him nothing but laughter and an even more upset stomach - which had in fact been possible - as the boat bobbed up and down on the seemingly infinite blue that extended in all directions. "I was told a few hours, but it sure feels like ten days!" Titus groaned, instinctively leaning against Valeria's light touch. On the way back he should ask one of the rowers to sock him good so he would be knocked out for a portion of the journey; can't get sick if you're unconscious, he surmised. The emperor Gaius should have built his infamous pontoon bridge across the sea between Puteoli and Aenaria, not Puteoli and Baiae. Reluctant to leave the perceived safety of his prone position for what might be another fluke, Titus went with what he felt was a reasonable compromise and let his arm drop down onto his chest, squinting as the sun hit his face with full force. "What do you see?" If the description followed those exemplified in dry textbooks, he might just risk sitting up to look; if Valeria started mentioning a cyclops or red sand or something similarly uncanny, he would just shield his face again and stew in his misery for an hour or two longer. Speaking wasn't very wise, experience told him, but focusing on someone else's words gave him a slight reprieve from the assault on his sense of balance. The sun was offending, too, making his eyes water. Titus closed them again. "What are you looking forward to the most?" @Joaquin

As expected, the change in subject kept conversation flowing smoothly. Most people enjoyed talking about themselves or, when their modesty was too great to allow for such bragging, their offspring. Horatia was firmly in the latter camp. Most people also enjoyed playing the part of problem-solvers, and again Livia thought her sister demonstrated unparalleled skill in that field too. Behind a façade of polite interest and concern for the fate of her husband's niece, Livia was only marginally curious about the menfolk found in the provinces; she had living proof at home that one did not need to be a plebeian or stationed outside Italia to be a brute. "Well, I certainly wouldn't wish for her to become involved with a man who is unavailable. That sort of thing only ever ends badly for the woman," she commented sternly as she snapped her fingers at a slave to have her cup refilled. Do as I say and not as I do, or in other words, Livia did not fret over what might happen if her own adultery was found out. She was already miserable. Miserable and emboldened, having eluded discovery for as long as they had. Aglaea and Marcus' body slave had to be commended for keeping their mouths shut. True, their elder brother might have a friend or two in mind - perhaps a widower looking to feel younger with a shiny new wife. Lucius might know of someone, too, but Livia would not be the one to ask him for fear of him actually growing interested. "To be frank, I'm not sure. I don't think she has," Livia bit her lower lip in a genuine attempt to jog her memory. "I feel sorry for her. People will start to think there's something wrong with her if she keeps growing older and is still unmarried. She's not a Vestal," she added before taking a swig of her replenished wine. Only Horatia's match could be said to have been a happy one, Livia mused, eyes fixed on the goblet's rim as if it held all the secrets as to why. "You must make sure that young Calpurnia does not know the anguish we did," she chuckled, pretending to be amused. "With Titus you can afford to wait, but not with a girl. You must have one or two adequate names in mind, no?" Livia teased lightly, wriggling her brows twice for added effect. Let them gossip and trade opinionated titbits on children and youths, like the bored matrons they were. @Sara