Rating: NC-17

Marcus Julius Leonius sat slumped in his saddle, his hands loosely holding the horse's reins. He was aware of every footfall that his horse made on the jagged stone road. They resounded through his body, but no longer jarred him. He could dimly hear the sounds of creatures in the woods bordering the road, the birds in the trees, the buzz of insects. If he focused, he could smell the rich forest growing and decaying around him, the leather of his saddle, his and the horse's sweat -- feel the warmth of the sun on his back seep through his clothes, even the roughness of the horse's hair underneath him where it rubbed against his bare legs. But none of it mattered -- he was too exhausted to bother any more.

His last battle had been the one that had finally broken him. Too much blood and noise, too many friends dead or dying.... He wandered through the tents after the battle, growing ever more bewildered and then angry. Finally, unable to cope with any of it, he left his legion, walked away from the dead in their shrouds and the wounded crying in their tents, and just strode off into the forest.

That was where the last of his friends in the cohort found him several days later, almost catatonic, covered in mud and dirt, his eyes swollen by tears, his voice turned to gravel by his cries. They didn't think he'd survive -- that he was mad -- but survive he did, though at a cost. Voices were too loud now, smells too strong, the sunlight too harsh. The only way he could deal with the touch of cloth on his skin was by closing off all sensation, by dying a little inside. The only food he could manage to swallow was bland and without flavor.

Only the fact that he came from a high-ranking family saved him from being labeled a deserter. He was quietly discharged and sent back to Rome.

Just let me get home, let me die in my own bed, he prayed constantly.

Suddenly, his horse reared up as something large bolted across the road. Instinctively, as he was about to be thrown from its back, Julius tightened his hold on the reins, his weight keeping the frightened horse from bolting. Thankfully uninjured from the fall, he swore and got swiftly to his feet. His tiredness was forgotten as he whispered quiet words to try and soothe the stallion, all the while gently stroking its neck. The horse snorted and stamped its hoofs, but slowly began to calm. Julius did not.

"Did you see it? Which way did it go?"

Julius barely registered the voice, let alone understood the words; he just focused on continuing to gentle his horse. Finally it settled, still breathing heavily, and he turned to see who had startled his animal. "What do you mean by frightening my horse!" he snapped as he turned.

"I didn't do anything, it was that wolf. Didn't you see it? It came through here. I thought it was a wild dog at first, but it was much too large." There was a young man standing by the side of the road, half bent over, his hands on his hips. He, too, was panting heavily, as though from physical exertion, blue eyes looking everywhere but at Julius. He was extremely noticeable, with his long hair tied back from his face, a face that seemed to show a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He was slightly shorter than Julius but with a well-shaped, compact body almost hidden by his grubby chiton... and the unusual sight of a slave's collar around his throat.

Julius had a good idea what that meant. No master these days collared his slave. It was an old-fashioned, out-dated idea... unless the slave had a history of running away. Which left one reason -- the young man was an escaped slave. Now I have to deal with an escaped slave! Julius groaned softly.

"To whom do you belong? There are no villas nearby. Who is your master, slave?" he demanded.

The young man froze. He straightened his back but averted his gaze, head bowed. "Faustus, my lord, I belong to Senator Flavius Caprenius Faustus."

Julius heard the soft, resigned sigh from the slave's full lips, and his eyes narrowed. "You're a long way away from your master's land. What are you doing here? Are you running away, slave?"

The young man's head shot up. "No!" he cried out. "My master allows me to search for herbs for his ailments, sir. In my homeland, I was a bard and a healer." His eyes dropped again. "Now I see to my master's... ills."

"And your master allows you to wander this far? You are wearing a collar, slave. Tell me the truth." Julius swore he could hear the slave's heart racing away.

"I've never tried to run away -- I know it would be hopeless -- but my master likes his slaves to wear a collar when out and about. It... humiliates us, and marks us as his property." The slave raised his hand to brush back a loose lock of hair and rub at the sweat on the back of his neck where it was irritating his skin under his collar. "And beside, where would I go, my lord? A runaway slave... on his own... trying to get from Rome to Gaul... I would be fortunate to get forty miles before being brought back. Then today when I was searching for some laurel --" he glanced at Julius, then away -- "I saw a wolf.... My people.... You will not understand if I tried to explain..." his voice trailed off so that the last bit was barely voiced aloud.

Yet Julius heard it. "Try me." He moved his horse nearer the slave, studying him, listening to that racing heart.

The slave looked up sharply, and then began to talk. "In my home country, we believe the animals give us signs, talk to our bards, gift us with prophecies. I saw a wolf, and it... it wanted me to follow it." Again, he raised his head to look at Julius, this time eye to eye, almost daring him to argue, challenging him to understand.

Impudent pup! Julius thought.

"You're bleeding."

"What?" Julius looked down to where a recent sword wound on his arm had split open due to his fall. "Oh, it's just a flesh wound. I'll live." He smiled at the young man, and then wondered just what he was doing, smiling so warmly at a slave.

"I can help. If you leave it, the wound could become poisoned. I have some herbs..." The young man reached into the satchel he carried over his shoulder and drew out a small bundle of plants that he held out, hesitantly, to Julius.

The older man leaned in to take a sniff. The spicy scent hit him like a blunt weapon and he suddenly felt nauseous and dizzy. He felt himself falling.

"Here, let me help."

Julius was aware of the slave assisting him to the ground, then taking the reins of his horse. He started to get to his feet, but his legs slipped from under him.

"Hey. Hey, be easy. Sit... please. I'm not going to steal your stallion." The slave carefully tied the reins to a nearby tree and then squatted down by Julius.

The Roman found himself the object of the slave's frank regard.

"What...." Julius swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Do you have a name?" He asked in a dry voice.

The slave regarded the soil at his feet. "Back home in Gaul, I was known as Brennus, which is also the name of a tribal prince, a great man, but the Roman who captured me called me Spurius, which I was told means 'knowing no father'." To cover his embarrassment, the young man reached back into his bag, took out the herbs he'd chosen, and began to chew them. Then he removed the soggy mess and slapped it on Julius' arm. "Leave that there until it's dry and falls away. It will stop any inflammation and help heal the wound."

Julius looked from the dirty mess on his arm to the face of the man beside him. The Roman who captured this 'Brennus' had obviously decided to humiliate him. In a patriarchal society that put so much value on the family, acknowledging that you didn't know your father was a great slur. It's none of my business thought Julius. Despite the fact that the stuff on his arm looked and smelt disgusting, he felt he ought to thank the slave for his efforts. "Thank you." Then he hesitated, "I have been to Gaul. The plants there are somewhat different. How is it you know just what to pick?"

Again Spurius seemed reluctant to answer. He studied Julius for a long moment. Finally he said, "There is a wise man, a freed slave, who lives in these hills. He taught me much of the plants around the city and also things a slave should know in order to survive."

"And does this man have a name too?"

"He does, but I don't wish to get him into trouble. I owe him a great deal. I do not know you, my lord." Spurius stood and Julius could almost smell the fear coming from the slave at his own bravado.

Is he a fool as well as impudent? No slave should speak to a free born man like that. He certainly has spirit. Julius chuckled as he stood and brushed himself down. "He didn't teach you when to keep your mouth shut, that's for sure." He looked around. "I can't see your wolf and you're a good way from Faustus' land." He climbed onto his steed and offered the slave his hand. "Here, climb up behind me. I go past the villa."

For a moment, Spurius hesitated. He looked around as though still searching for his wolf, then back at Julius. "Thank you," he murmured. Then he reached up, took Julius' offered hand, and with a grunt, Julius pulled him up behind. The young man lightly rested his hands on Julius' hips and the Roman felt the warmth from them permeate his body.

"So what form of slave are you to Faustus? I can't see you doing menial work, your hands are too soft. And, as I remember, Faustus had a Greek physician to see to his health needs." Julius had a fair idea what the senator used the boy for.

"I'm..." Spurius was silent so long Julius knew he was right, "I'm a bath slave," the young man finally said quietly.

And bed warmer, no doubt, Julius added, in his mind. For some reason, the thought disturbed him.

Neither man said any more for the rest of the journey.

Once they reached the villa, Julius helped the young man down, and then sat, watching while he slipped back in through a side gate.

It was only afterwards he realized that his senses had all settled to a comfortable level while he was with the slave, and that he missed the warmth at his back and the hands on his hips.

An hour at his father's home left Julius wishing he were back with his men. Julius' father lived just outside, yet near, to the city of Rome. He had an orchard and a small farm. The house itself was a single story, modest dwelling, with an enclosed colonnaded garden courtyard. Julius found himself wondering if the old fountain in the middle still sputtered as it did before he left for his military service.

The first person to see him ride through the gates was the housekeeper, Aurelia, the old slave woman who had taken care of Marcus Julius and his brother, Auius Secundus, when they were both small. She dropped the broom she was using to sweep the front step and, with a cry, rushed forward, locking Julius in a fierce hug as he climbed down from his horse. He kissed her lightly on the cheek when she hastily released him, mumbling that she believed what she'd done was a touch too familiar even for Julius' old nurse and housekeeper. Just in time, as his father came out of the house to see what the fuss was about.

The sight of his father came as a shock for Julius. Aurelius Leonius seemed to have shrunk from the size Julius remembered. His father had always been a sharp-eyed eagle of a man, tall and well built; now the son was shocked at the change he saw. Aurelius had lost both weight and height. His hair was now gray, to match his face which appeared thin and drawn. He had lost his stature in so many ways. Where once he could cower Julius with a look, now all that the son saw was a broken down old man who seemed almost shy about seeing him. He came forward and embraced Julius in a loose, awkward hug. "My boy, it's good to have you home." Aurelius' voice cracked a little. He turned aside to see a number of his slaves gathering, excited by the noise. "Prepare food and a bath. Have my son's room readied," he commanded them. "Move! What are you all gaping at?" He turned back to his eldest son. "Come, come, Julius, why are we standing on the doorstep? We have much to talk about."

One of the stable lads rushed up to take the horse, and Aurelius ushered Julius into the vestibulum of his large house and into a small room, off the main atrium, where Aurelius had his office. It was spotless and almost spartan. A few scrolls of paper sat waiting attention along with a squat inkwell, which stood beside a stylus box, sealing wax and small tray of sand on a desk. Neat rows of papyri sat cheek by jowl with busts of ancestral family members on the shelves around the walls -- austere busts of men in white marble or bronze, all looking very solemn and severe. Julius felt grubby and unworthy sitting on one of the two cushioned folding chairs as Aurelius sat opposite. Despite his father's words at the door, silence descended once inside, with neither man knowing what to say and both reluctant to start. Finally the silence got to Julius.

"Father, I'm not really up to genteel conversation just now. All I want to do is wash and sleep. Perhaps later?"

Aurelius frowned, but nodded and stood. "Yes. Of course, but later.... We need to talk about what happened...." He cleared his throat. "What happened to you in the woods. Your commanding officer told me how they found you. We need to decide about your future."

Ah, so that's what made him so hesitant, so ill at ease, thought Julius. "Not right now, father, please, I --"

The door burst open and Julius' younger brother practically fell into the room. "Julius! It is you! When Aurelia said you were home, I thought she was imagining things. It's good to see you, brother." He took Julius' arm and clasped it, then pulled him into a hug.

"It's good to see you too, Secundus. How have you been?" Julius smiled fondly as his brother pulled back.

"Well. Healthy as a horse." Secundus smiled and patted his stomach. "There's nothing like Aurelia's home cooking. You remember that meal she made before you left..."

"Boys!" Aurelius didn't need to raise his voice for both his sons to fall quiet. Old habits die hard. "Secundus, Julius was just about to retire. He's had a hard journey and needs a little time to rest."

"Yes, of course. Well then, tomorrow, big brother, you must tell me all about your travels." Secundus started for the door, then turned, "Oh, I was with Faustus when the news came of your return -- he's organizing a party in your honor."

"I don't think you two should be mixing with the crowd who attend Faustus' parties, Secundus." Aurelius looked disapprovingly at his sons.

"But, father, Faustus has important men at his gatherings, men who can only do my ambitions good. And the party is in Julius' honor. We should go." Secundus' voice had a faint whine to it.

Julius was thinking that the slave he met belonged to Faustus. "I think perhaps I should go, father. He is a neighbor and important enough that offending him would not be a good idea."

Aurelius considered the suggestion. "Very well," he agreed at last. "I don't like the man, but you're right, it's best to stay on the right side of him, for now. You may both go."

Julius lay on his back upon his bed. He felt clean for the first time in weeks after a scrape and a long bath, yet he couldn't sleep. This time it wasn't the images of the battlefield that kept Hypnos, god of sleep, away. His thoughts were concentrated on the slave, Spurius. Small details swam into his mind. The blue of his eyes, those full lips, the fine growth of fuzz on his chin and the dark hairs peeking out of the top of his tunic, and, of course, that collar. When escaped slaves were caught, their masters had inscriptions etched on heavy collars, 'This slave belongs to... if you find him, return him to his master and you will be rewarded.' There was no such inscription on Spurius' collar. Therefore he seemed to have told Julius the truth -- that Faustus liked his slaves to wear his baubles, to bear his mark, and Julius wondered what other marks the man had put on his slave.

Next morning Julius woke before the rest of his family. He sent a message with a slave to a friend's house, and then took a walk into the city. He felt good, almost back to normal. Perhaps it was the air of Rome. Certainly once he left the outskirts and went further in, the smells were more... pungent. He saw a number of market stalls had already started trading along the main thoroughfare. The smell of fish, bread and spices permeated the air, causing his eyes to water a little, but even that didn't dampen his spirits.

"Julius! Well, by all the gods, it really is you!" Ex-senator Magnus' daughter, Rufina, stood at one of the stalls, an earthenware vase in her hands and a slave by her shoulder. She was beautiful -- this early she was almost unpainted, with her red hair tied in some elaborate style. She wore a simple but elegant pale-colored robe, and her arms jingled with gold bracelets. She quickly put the vase down and came over, taking Julius' hands and standing on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Her slave hung back.

"Rufina, you haven't changed. You still look as beautiful as ever, and still up with the early birds." Julius smiled down at the petite woman he'd known since childhood. "How's that ugly brother of yours?"

"Oh, Rufus does well for himself, always out with one lady or another, and unlike you men folk, we women are used to getting up with the dawn. He's still in his bed! You --" she eyed Julius up and down, lasciviously -- "you look so... fit and healthy. The army obviously agrees with you." She looped her arm in his. "Come, you must tell me all about your time amongst the barbarians..."

Despite Rufina's words, she did most of the talking, and after listening to her telling him all about the arrangements for her sister's wedding over a meal of dried fish and fresh warm bread, Julius was relieved to escape to the public bathhouse. The men's session had only just begun, and he was thankful to see that it was still fairly quiet. He exercised a little, had his body oiled and scraped, and then went through each room in turn before stepping into the laconicum for a sauna and his meeting. At the moment it was empty, as he'd hoped. He sat down on the bench to wait.

"Only for you, Julius, would I come into town at this hour!" A tall, muscular Numidian sat down beside him causing the bench to creak a little. "How have you been, my friend?" He slapped Julius on the back and then sat back with a contented sigh.

Julius grinned. "Similis, it's good to see you. And you know you would only come into town to admire the ladies." Then his face grew serious. "I need your help, as a friend. I didn't know how to ask." He looked down at his clasped hands resting between his knees. "You heard what happened to me in Britain?"

"I... heard rumors."

Julius grinned ruefully. "I imagine most people have. Word travels fast." He sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "I thought that I must have been going mad. Suddenly, it was as if the smell of blood overwhelmed me. I could actually see the maggots growing within the bodies of those we hadn't been able to bury. I had to leave the field and walk away, but once I was alone, things became much worse. My clothes irritated my skin; the sunlight was too bright, too hard-edged, and the sounds...." He shook his head and wiped away the sweat that made its way onto his eyelids. "A couple of times I lost consciousness, and I came to shivering with cold, insects crawling over me. When they found me, the physicians thought I'd had some form of breakdown." He shrugged. "Perhaps they were right..." His voice trailed off.

"Forgive me, Julius." Similis sat up and put his hand on Julius' shoulder. "I've known you a long time. I've served with you. Could this be.... Could this be that you're just worn out? That you need a rest?"

Julius lowered his head. He'd heard this suggestion before. Finally Similis sat back.

"If it still troubles you, and the military physicians couldn't help," the Numidian began carefully, "there is someone in the woods who might be able to. He seems to have a healing touch. The slaves know how to reach him. Romans, even those like me, who have earned their freedom, can't always find him, but one of Faustus' slaves, he found him for me when one of my men fell ill. He helped."

"One of Faustus' slaves? Not the one with the long hair and blue eyes -- Spurius? He says he speaks to the animals."

Similis laughed out loud, "Ah, I see you've already met our young Gaul. Yes, he makes an impression on all who meet him, the ladies and the men. Faustus is a lucky man!" His friend became serious. "Listen, Julius, I will see what I can find out about this... wild man. Just... don't let it get to you, all right? "

"Thank you, Similis." Julius let out a deep breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

"That's what friends are for, Julius. So what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"As a matter of fact, I've been invited to Faustus' villa for a party."

"You're going to that old fart's place? You be careful, my friend. He has dirt on everyone, and is always looking for more. Watch your back, Julius, just watch your back."

Julius and Secundus walked along the road in the late afternoon sun. It should have been a pleasant walk; Secundus dressed in his best toga, Julius in his comfortable green tunic, both of them enjoying the chance to talk away from the cold, and yet suffocating, atmosphere back home. However, after his excursion into town that morning, Julius had developed a throbbing headache, and he wasn't sure that this was such a good idea after all.

"I wasn't lying, you know," Secundus looked up at his brother. "Faustus could do me a lot of good. He knows some very important people."

"You mean he has blackmail material on some very important people." Julius amended.

"Well... yes... all right. He has 'something' on a number of people."

"So why is he throwing a party for me? What does he have on you, Secundus?"

His brother looked shocked. "Nothing. I swear! I think he has... plans for me. If I get elected to a high office, I could be useful to him. I think he sees me as his heir." Secundus grinned.

"And by throwing this... party for me, he would get on your good side?"

Secundus nodded.

"Are you sure he's not more than a mentor to you? He hasn't..." Julius let his sentence hang in the air.

"I keep forgetting that you knew Faustus of old." Secundus laughed. "No, he's not interested in me in the Greek fashion. He likes exotic slave boys. Young men and boys who dare not say no. You can rest your mind on that score, brother. Faustus would no more invite me to his bed than you would." He lightly punched Julius on the arm. "Besides, I have another reason for spending time with Faustus. He has a young slave girl, Flavia."

"Oh, no, Secundus. Don't tell me you are in lust with a slave girl! Father would have ten fits!" Julius pretended to look horrified.

"It's not lust. I really care for her, Julius." Secundus was suddenly serious. "But Faustus won't sell her to me. I can't even appear too eager or Faustus will make it even harder for me to see her." Secundus looked so despondent, Julius took pity on him.

"So is this why you wanted me to join you?"

"Faustus was very eager to meet you again and I do want to stay on the bloated swine's good side."

Julius couldn't help himself and he laughed out loud. He put his arm over his brother's shoulder and tugged him close. "Oh, brother, the messes we get ourselves into!"

"So... that means you'll help me?" Secundus tentatively asked.

"Yes. But you owe me." Julius grinned to take the sting from his words. He remembered Faustus when the 'bloated swine' was young and slim. He was amoral and manipulative even then. They shared the same tutor, despite the fact that Julius was younger than Faustus. For a while he'd looked up to the fit, virile, ambitious Faustus. Julius believed he might even have had a crush on the youth, but that was until Faustus got into trouble, and blamed it on Julius. The beating Julius received because he wouldn't 'tell' on Faustus was nothing compared to the shame he felt when he heard Faustus laughing about it with his friends later. Faustus had enjoyed seeing others in misery even then. It seemed nothing had changed.

They continued on their way to Faustus' grand mansion in compatible silence.

Faustus' triclinium was lined with highly polished black stone from floor to ceiling, between red fluted columns. They reflected the flickering torches and the occupants as dark echoes who moved about within their depths. Thin pink diaphanous veils of cloth hung down from a ceiling painted with satyrs and cupids, and were tied up and back away from the walls with thick gold cords. The air was heavy with the scent of the perfume Chypre, the smell decadent and sensuous. The whole room had a dark seductive air that Julius found vaguely disturbing. A slave, on their arrival, had washed both men's feet and as they were late, the two brothers had been shown straight into the room just before the meal was due to be served.

Julius reclined on the top couch, against the softest pillows, in the place of honor; Secundus was to his right on the next couch. Their host lounged beside Julius. The 'bloated swine' was much as Julius remembered him. Faustus was older, of course, and richer, judging by the large, opulent rings that graced his chubby fingers and the finely woven toga with rich embroidered trim. It was also obvious that Faustus looked after himself. He was heavily built, but most of it, Julius was sure, was muscle not fat. No doubt a wise precaution with so many having a healthy dislike for the man. He still had a full head of hair, gray at the temples, and crowned this evening with a wreath of laurel leaves. His brown eyes with almost feminine eyelashes, scanned the room, perhaps to make sure everything went smoothly, but more likely to make sure he missed nothing juicy about his guests.

As usual at these dinners, there were nine guests, but this was a masculine dinner -- no freeborn women were present.

The only females there were the young small-breasted slave girls who served the food on gold and silver platters. Their bodies were adorned with strips of leather and chains, their nipples pierced and hung with jewelry, their genitals barely covered by sheer cream aprons. Young male slaves -- dressed similarly to the females except their attire was white and their long hair loose around their shoulders -- carried the wine and water jugs. The slaves moved around the room with a careful grace that spoke of long practice.

Spurius was among them. Like the others, he wore a tiny amount of cloth, but whereas the others had shiny oiled hair, his looked fresh and clean. It picked up the lights from the torches and Julius noted the different hues of browns and reds that glowed in the slave's hair. The slave collar was missing, but Julius thought he could detect faint marks on Spurius' skin where it had lain. His eyes traveled down. One nipple was pierced and decorated with a tiny gold ring. It shone in amongst his coarse chest hair. The other was unadorned. From the two rosy buds on his chest, the wiry curls tapered down the slave's torso to disappear under his loincloth. Julius noted the steady hands, the well formed, yet masculine legs, and he felt his cock stir.

He watched as the young man wandered around the room, careful to avoid any wandering hands, bending as little as possible. For a moment, Spurius stopped and became distracted as Agrippa, one of Faustus' old drinking buddies, gradually lowered his plate down towards the floor so that a female slave had to bend right over to serve him, thereby giving his partner in crime, Quintillus, a good view of her ass. Just as Quintillus' finger began to move towards the girl's behind, Spurius accidentally -- more like deliberately, thought Julius -- spilt some wine over the man. Quintillus leaped up roaring. Spurius quickly fell to his knees and began to wipe at Quintillus' robe, while everyone else laughed.

"Hush, Quintillus. I will have the lad beaten later, and you shall have the girl for your final course." Faustus tried to soothe his guests and Quintillus was pacified by some delicacies placed before him.

Just then the doors of the dining room flew open and a young man rushed in followed by an apologizing, groveling manservant.

"Rufus! How dare you disturb this meal! If you wanted to see me, dear boy, pick a better time." Though annoyed, Faustus didn't seem too upset by the dramatic entrance.

"You son of a horse's ass, Faustus! What are you trying to do to my family? How dare you..." Rufina's brother looked furious, too angry to care about any repercussions of his intrusion.

Faustus was quickly on his feet with his arm around Rufus. "Come, my dear boy. We should talk in private before you give my guests indigestion." He ushered Rufus out of the room, closing the doors on the sound of chuckles from some of his guests.

Julius heard voices raised, though he couldn't be totally sure what was being said. His attention was on the slave, Spurius. He watched as another guest, Lunaris, carefully investigated under the front of Spurius' loincloth with his hand and the young slave became very still. His stillness didn't go unnoticed by his master who came back into the room at that moment, alone, and called Spurius over to refill Faustus' own cup. "Be patient, Lunaris," the host reprimanded his guest as he regained his seat. "At least wait until our food is finished, then you shall have your fun." No mention was made of his uninvited guest or his whereabouts, or the reason for Rufus' ire.

Finally dinner was over, and the slaves brought out garlands to place around the heads of the guests. Spurius approached Julius but as the slave passed Lunaris, the man grabbed hold of him, and pulled him close. "I'll have this one, Faustus," Lunaris declared, holding on tight to a struggling Spurius.

Julius was on his feet before he realized.

"Whoa, Lunaris. You seem to have a rival for our young Spurius' affections, and you know how I feel about sharing my slaves." Faustus laughed. "However, as dear Julius is our honored guest, I think tonight he should have him, don't you?"

Lunaris began to protest loudly, only for Faustus to overrule him. "Another night, my friend, another night. Tonight you can have..." Faustus looked around. "Jacomus! He is young, fair and very talented. You will enjoy him, I promise. Spurius, come here." The slave came at once and stood by his master, his eyes carefully averted. Faustus pulled Spurius closer to him and began to run his hand over the top of the slave's legs to his ass. Satisfied that Lunaris was happy, Faustus turned to Julius. "You like Spurius, Julius? Oh, of course," their host continued without waiting for an answer. "You met him on the road, didn't you. He told me all about it when I took him in the bath, clean, wet and oh so slippery. You liked our Julius, didn't you, Spurius?" The young man looked flushed and very uncomfortable. Faustus yanked his hair. "Answer me!"

Spurius gasped in pain. "Yes, Master."

"That's better." Faustus released his hold and looked up at Julius. "Sit. Sit, my friend." He paused while Julius sat down reluctantly. "Let me tell you, I had such a task training this one." His hand returned to Spurius' ass. He dipped a finger into some perfumed water he had in a bowl beside him and pulled Spurius towards him. Julius watched with fascinated disgusted as Faustus inserted his finger between Spurius' buttocks. The slave gasped again and shivered as the perfume in the water stung.

"He came to me from Gaul. He swore that no man's cock would enter him, either his mouth or his ass. I had to have him bound to the bed. I teased him, and played with his body, until he cried out, begged me for release. Refused to admit that he was enjoying it, even when his cock spewed copious amounts of seed in the air. I had just the one nipple pieced, and toyed with that. You would not believe how sensitive it became. Now I only have to breathe on it..." He turned the slave a little, his finger still moving inside Spurius, and put his words to actions. "...for it to harden."

Spurius trembled and bit his lip.

"See? It took me longer before I could safely put his mouth to good use. My poor lamb forced me to beat him, but it was worth all that, he is extremely talented. Jacomus taught him the way I like to feel a boy's mouth around my cock, how to work that beautiful mouth around a penis. Which is probably why Lunaris wanted him so much. He is very talented." Faustus' voice was soft and low. "Tell Julius how much you want him, Spurius. Tell this handsome officer how much you want to feel his reportedly magnificent hard cock between your legs, feel that thick weapon spear your body. Tell him how much you want to take that mighty cock in your throat, how much you want him to use you." A second finger joined the first, and Faustus pushed them in roughly causing Spurius to draw a deep breath. Faustus laughed quietly. "See how hard he is. How his cloth tents for you?"

All through this exchange, Julius was clenching his fists. Part of him wanted to drag Spurius away, the other part wanted to throw him to the floor and claim him, there and then, in front of everyone. So far the civilized man was winning over each, but only by a whisper.

Spurius mumbled something so quietly that even Julius, as focused as he was, missed it. Again, Faustus pulled on Spurius' hair. "Louder!"

"No, Faustus, there's no need... " Julius began, desperately.

"Yes, Master. I want him to use me for his own pleasure." Spurius' voice was calm and even, though his heart rate was through the roof.

"There now, that wasn't so hard. Both slave and guest will be happy. And you shall have him." Faustus smiled and removed his finger from Spurius' ass, wiping it on a cloth. "But first I think you should make your master happy too." He pulled back his toga exposing his erect penis. "Down on your knees, slave. Show Julius just how good you are at taking my rod down into your throat."

Spurius dropped quickly to his knees and bent his head to Faustus' exposed cock. Faustus didn't wait for the slave to get used to his length; he pulled the man's head back and as Spurius opened his mouth in pain, Faustus pushed his cock into his mouth and down his throat. Spurius choked on it and Faustus sighed in pleasure. "Oh, yes. Julius, you should not deny yourself this experience." He held Spurius' head in his hands, thrusting hard, the slave's hair wrapped tight around one fist. Julius could see tears in the corner of Spurius' eyes, though whether it was through pain or humiliation, he couldn't be sure. The slave's hands clenched the fabric of Faustus' toga, trying to keep his balance. There and then, Julius made himself a vow that no matter what happened, he would sell his own freedom rather than hurt this young man, and he would find a way to release him from Faustus' clutches so he would never again be forced to do this, or anything else, against his will.

Julius turned away in embarrassment and realized that the other guests had paired off with Faustus' slaves. The curtain veils had been untied and lowered, giving the illusion of privacy to most of the couplings, though the polished panels allowed anyone who cared to watch to see the shapes of entwined moving bodies.

Even Secundus had a partner with him behind one of the curtains. Julius could see them move back and forth, though Julius couldn't tell whether it was the slave Flavia, or some male. He blushed to think he was trying to see just whom his brother was paired with. There were only two guests on the main couches, Lunaris and Quintillus. Lunaris was lying, moaning, on his couch, while the slave, Jacomus, sucked him off, though the boy's large eyes were on Faustus and Spurius all the while, and Quintillus had a slave girl on all fours, her knuckles white as her hands gripped the sides of the couch, eyes tightly closed as he hammered into her ass, the sweat streaming off of him.

Julius felt sick. Everywhere was the sound and sight of rutting. The polished panels multiplied the reflected forms into an endless variety of colors and images. He began to feel himself slip away, as though his mind just couldn't deal with the onslaught of sensations. He came to with a start as Faustus gave a long sigh and then shuddered. "Ohhh, that's my boy. There now," he patted Spurius' head as the slave pulled away, licking his abused lips and endeavoring not to cough. "I've warmed him up for you, Julius. Fuck him or have him suck you, whichever is your pleasure."

Julius hesitated, unsure what move to make. His erection had all but died.

Faustus noticed. "What's this? You've lost interest in the boy now I've used him? This won't do, Julius. This won't do at all. I provided all this entertainment for you. Saved the best just for you, and you won't take him!"

"You cannot force me to take him, Faustus. I am not one of your... slaves."

Spurius looked up at Julius, his lips red and swollen, fear in his eyes as if he knew something bad was coming.

"Well, then, if the proud Julius won't have him, he will be passed around for everyone's amusement... and still have his beating in the morning." Faustus' eyes bore into Julius as if knowing what was in his heart.

Julius felt the muscle in his jaw twitch. "What makes you think I would care? He's your slave." He refused to look at Spurius' face.

"Oh, you care, Marcus Julius. You care what I can do to your brother too. He has big ambitions, does Secundus. I could break him, and your father, with just a few words in the right ear."

For a long moment, Julius stood there... then he reached down and pulled Spurius up by his hand. "Very well. But at least grant us some privacy."

"You may have the same as my other guests," Faustus waved his hand to indicate another area covered by the swathes of pink drapery.

Julius took Spurius by the arm and pulled him over and behind the curtain.

"Wait, wait," Spurius said quietly and roughly. He took a torch from the back wall and placed it on a stand in front. They could still be seen from beyond the curtain, but as dark shapes. Julius approved of the young man's idea. Then Spurius pulled some cushions from a couch and laid them on the floor before reaching to remove his loincloth. Julius put his hand over the slave's hands. "No, now you wait."

Spurius swallowed. "If you do not take me," he began softly, "my master will keep his word and I will be passed around, and I will be beaten."

"Has he done that before?" Julius felt a sharp stab of jealousy.

"Passed me around? No. But I have seen him do it with others."

Julius shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to, I just don't know if I can, Spurius. We have a problem..." Julius indicated his 'lack of interest'.

"Oh, permit me to take care of that." Spurius smiled gently. "Back in Gaul -- well, I've never told Master Faustus the complete truth about how much knowledge I had.... As a bard, I was expected to know about all forms of passion, the sweet and the painful, in order to be good at my work. As one of the 'chosen ones', picked out because of certain gifts, I was taught many skills, by the best. Lie down, my lord, and I will show you."

Julius lay back on the cushions and Spurius began to run his hands over Julius' still-clothed body. With them lying low on the ground and the light away from them, flickering in the slight breeze, its echoes dancing in the dark panels, the atmosphere seemed even more intimate.

"You lied to your master?"

Spurius helped remove Julius' soft green tunic, and then untied his own as he spoke. "I was proud. I thought that I could fight back, that no man would own me, that no man would take me except of my own choosing. So I... obfuscated," he said carefully. He lay on top of Julius, sinuously rubbing his body against Julius', his hands caressing each area of skin. Julius could feel the rasp of every hair on Spurius' body as it moved over his.

"You see, lies rebound on you, they hurt." The slave kissed the freeborn man's neck. "Obfuscations, they help. They... ease the way." He sat up a little to gaze at Julius' face. His smile had turned fairly wicked and Julius couldn't help smiling back.

"You obfuscated." Julius chuckled and shook his head, then his face turned serious. He took hold of Spurius' shoulders stopping the maddening, exciting movements. "We'd better make this look good for your master. But I will not hurt you, do you hear me? I will not use you in this fashion. If we must 'perform' for Faustus, then you must take your pleasure too."

Spurius stared at Julius.

"What?"

"No one... no one has ever thought of my pleasure before, well, not for a long time. You are an unusual man, my lord."

Julius smiled softly. "Then they never saw the look you now have on your face. And, Spurius, while we're doing this, could you at least call me Julius?"

The slave's eyes shone in the dim light. "I will make this good for both of us, Julius. You will not regret it. Trust me?"

"Why do I think those words are the scariest in our language coming from your mouth, Spurius?"

Spurius obviously decided that didn't require an answer and he bent his head, kissed Julius' collarbone, then started to move down the Roman's body, but Julius pulled him back up to kiss him. Spurius opened up to him.

For moment, Julius reveled in Spurius' taste, but then he pushed the slave away, his face twisting in disgust. Spurius suddenly looked dazed and scared.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking just a little.

"No. Nothing, it's not you." Julius wiped his mouth. "It was Faustus, I could taste him in your mouth."

Spurius frowned. "You can taste him...? Wait."

He ducked out and under the curtain and Julius sat up a little. He heard Faustus' voice. "What? Has our stud finished with you already, lad? You don't look well fucked..."

"No, no, Master, he... my lord Julius just needs something to help him relax a little more. I came for some wine. It's nothing, my lord, I'm returning now."

A moment later, Spurius reappeared on Julius' side of the curtain, a decanter and goblet in his hands.

"Did he believe you?"

"Jacomus is giving him something else to think about." The Gaul swallowed some of the wine, and spit the rest out into the goblet. "There," he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, "that should take care of the taste." He laid down on top of Julius and gently licked Julius' lips. "Better?" he asked.

Julius opened his mouth and wound his hands gently into Spurius' hair, inviting him into a deep kiss. The slave groaned deep in his throat.

"Hmmm. Much better." Julius grinned as he pulled away, his hands still caressing Spurius' hair. "Though I would prefer to taste the pure essence of you one day."

"One day, maybe. But for now, we have this one night." Spurius sat back as Julius released him, the slave's knees on either side of Julius' thighs.

"You're beautiful," whispered Julius.

"Don't say that." The young man sadly shook his head. "Too many have told me that before they..." He reached down to touch Julius' cock with his fingertips and its owner squirmed. "You are very sensitive, Julius. And your skin is so smooth. I like that I can make you... interested just by the lightest touch of my fingers."

"And you seem... interested yourself." The slave's skin was flushed, his nipples hard and pronounced, the pierced one slightly more so. Julius' eyes lowered and he watched as Spurius' cock grew and hardened under his gaze. "Take what you need, Spurius." His voice was husky and raw.

"I need you." Spurius sat forward and reached behind him. He stroked Julius' cock a little more. The clear liquid leaking from the head helped it slide in his hand. Julius held his breath, his hands resting on Spurius' legs, gently kneading them. Spurius carefully guided Julius' weeping member towards his anus. He eased down, slowly taking it into his body with only a little resistance, and Julius realized the slave was already prepared. His hole had been loosened and lubricated with oil, probably before the meal.

Julius couldn't take his eyes off the young man's face as his cock penetrated Spurius' body. The slave's eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, but there was no pain in that expression, rather something almost profound and overwhelming.

He reached for Spurius' cock, but stopped as the curtain in front of them moved. He pushed himself off the cushions a little and pulled Spurius down to him, bending his knees so that Spurius was supported yet hidden. The slave grunted a little as the angle of Julius' cock shifted inside him. But Julius couldn't deal with that right now. Faustus stood naked, stroking his own cock on their side of the pink veil.

"At least leave us alone," Julius ground out.

"I just wanted to make sure you were... satisfied, Julius." Faustus had a sickly leer on his pale face.

"I will be if you will leave us. Go find someone else to watch."

Faustus snorted, but left, grabbing the wine jug, throwing aside the curtain and nearly catching it on the burning torch.

Julius felt Spurius kiss his collarbone. "Has he gone?" the slave whispered.

"Yes."

"Good. Then we can continue." Spurius pushed himself up and shifted a little, groaning as he did and the cock inside him rubbed against that sensitive little nub.

Julius heard Faustus slam down the jug, and kick someone. "You there! Wake up, you lazy slut! I want to fuck you. Get in my bedroom, now. And bring that wine."

The sounds of shuffling beyond the curtain faded away as Julius focused on the sensation of being held tight within Spurius' body as he began to ride on Julius' cock.

He was trying to get Julius as deep into his body as possible and Julius desperately needed to thrust into that tight, moist, searing channel. He reached up and took hold of Spurius' shoulders, then turned them over, never losing the connection between them, so that the slave was under him.

He reached to take hold of Spurius' inflamed cock with one hand while the other braced his body so that he didn't crush the slave's. His mouth descended onto Spurius' pierced nipple and he tugged at it with his teeth.

"Gods! YES!" Spurius threw back his head and wrapped his legs around Julius' waist so as to pull him in deeper, his heels digging into Julius' back. Even in his pleasure, his hands held Julius' head gently. Julius looked up at Spurius' face.

As if on cue, the young man's eyes opened wide and burned into Julius'. "Harder, Julius. Yessss... harder." His back arched off the floor. "Take me. Claim me. Make me... YOURS," he demanded.

Julius felt himself spiraling over the edge as he erupted, spilling his seed in Spurius' body; the young slave's head rolled back, and, with a roar, he came over the Roman's hand.

Julius carefully pulled out and rolled over, taking Spurius with him.

They lay, spooned up, Spurius' back to Julius' chest, his head on the Roman's arm, both knowing that this illusion of calm could only last so long and neither wanting to sleep because it would make the time together shorter. The torches burned down and faint columns of smoke drifted up to the ceiling.

Julius swallowed and vowed very softly against Spurius' ear, "One day, I will free you from Faustus, that I promise you."

Spurius squirmed a little, and rubbed his face against Julius' arm. "Please, Julius, don't make promises you can't or don't intend to keep."

Julius frowned. He knew from what Secundus had told him, that Faustus would not let his slaves go easily, and that Spurius was a favorite of the senator and his guests. "Then I will make you another promise. One day... soon... you will take me."

Spurius chuckled. "Now that is one promise I would enjoy holding you to."

"Good." He kissed the back of Spurius' neck, his free hand lazily stroking the slave's chest hair. "Tell me more about your time in Gaul."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know about the man I have just offered myself to. Did 'being chosen' mean you had special rights? Were you a prince?"

"Yes, I was a prince, of sorts. I could choose who I took to my bed, for one thing. But being chosen, it also meant that should the crops fail, or the chief's wife lose a child, or be unable to have a child, I could be sacrificed to the gods. Being a prisoner there was not that different to here. My life was still in another's hands."

"And what would you do if you were a free man?"

"I still have my destiny." Spurius pushed himself onto his elbow so that he could turn in Julius' arms. He studied Julius' face as he stroked it, as though committing its texture as well as his features to memory. "Years ago," he continued once he got himself comfortable, "there was a prophecy about my future. The part about me becoming a bard, that came true, but I am also to be a guide. To whom wasn't made clear. They told me I would find him, that he would have the eyes of a hawk, the ears of a bat, the tongue of an adder, the nose of a dog, and the skin of a woman... and that he would need me." He leaned forward to lightly kiss Julius' lips. "It will be light soon. You should find your brother and leave."

Julius felt confused at the abrupt change of topic, but went along with it. "Faustus will still want to punish you."

"I'll stay out of his sight. Perhaps he'll forget about me for a while."

"I don't want to leave you here at his mercy..."

"Julius, I'm a grown man, I can watch out for myself. Besides, Master Faustus won't damage me. He likes the way I look. And he got what he wanted, you to fuck me, though why exactly..." Spurius frowned, obviously puzzled.

"I... think he wants a way to have me and my family in his hands, so to speak. Because I took an interest in you, both on the road and here, he thinks you could be my Achilles' heel."

Spurius sat up quickly. "I'm such a fool!" he said. "Now he will dangle me over you whenever he wants something. I should never have mentioned you! I've lived here long enough to know what Master Faustus is like."

Julius sat up behind him and put his hands on the slave's shoulders. "He couldn't have known it would work so well. He probably had other plans ready. It's not your fault."

Spurius rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He twisted around to look at the Roman's face. "You know that I would never willingly be a part of any trickery, don't you, Julius? I could never hurt you. I know you don't know me very well..."

"Spurius, I know."

"Being a slave," Spurius went on, "you tend to forget how to think independently. Someone else decides where, when, what and how you do everything. You don't have to think for yourself."

Julius scoffed. "I can't imagine that man on the road not thinking for himself!"

Spurius gave a weak chuckle. "I like to think I still have some will of my own."

"And so do I. If Faustus thinks he can control either Aurelius or his sons," Julius said, with some venom, "then he can think again."

"Well, I'll feel better for knowing that you are safe from his clutches, at least for the moment."

Julius smiled. It had been a long time since anyone tried to protect him. "We shall meet again, Spurius, and I will make you free." He kissed Spurius gently and lovingly, then stood, reluctantly, and helped the slave up off the floor. "Wait a minute." Julius carefully pulled back the curtain and peered out.

Around the room lay the sleeping bodies of Faustus' guests. There was the odd snore and twitch, but in the soft light of dawn, most slept soundly. There was no sign of Faustus and most of the slaves had disappeared. Julius ducked back to see Spurius tying his loincloth back on. "Your master's not there."

"He likes his own bed too much to sleep on a couch. I'll go out via the kitchen, and help to prepare breakfast, then get the other guests up. If I'm busy, Master Faustus may forgive me."

"Just keep out of Quintillus' sight. You don't want to remind him. Better still, I'll get Quintillus out of the house along with Secundus."

Spurius nodded and smiled. "Thank you. It may just be putting off the inevitable, but I appreciate it. It may be quieter if you bring him out past the kitchen. His slave should be in the stables with his horse. I will go and get him ready." He took one more long look at Julius. "I don't know why I trust you, Julius, but I do." And then he slipped away.

With help from the two female slaves who had lain with Secundus and Quintillus, Julius and Spurius managed to get the two men up and out of Faustus' villa with little noise and fuss, and then helped get the still groggy Quintillus on to the back of his horse and off home, his slave riding behind and holding on to his master as they went.

Secundus held Flavia's hand and squeezed it, before he let her go back inside with Spurius.

"So brother, does this mean we have to release two slaves from Faustus' clutches?" Secundus asked, smiling as he turned back to his brother.

"You know," Julius began with a vague hope of diverting Secundus from the subject, "I wasn't sure if you were lying with a woman or a man back there. So was your Flavia one of the pleasure slaves?"

"No, Flavia slipped in while the others were 'busy'." But Secundus wasn't to be put off. "Spurius is a very attractive young man, Julius. Anyone could see the sparks fly between you."

Julius sighed. "He's also very intelligent. And Faustus will not give either of his slaves up without a fight. We have our work cut out for us, little brother." He looped his arm around Secundus' shoulders as they started up the road towards home.

It was late that day when Julius and Secundus were summoned into their father's study.

"My sons, this is Appius Cornelius Claudianus. He is here under Praetor Tiberius Agrippa's mandate. He has some news for us."

Appius Cornelius was a tall man, though Julius had perhaps an inch or so on him, and the investigator appeared thinner. He had a closely cut circlet of white hair around his head, and as he turned to face them, Julius saw he was what could be called classically handsome with a high forehead and an almost too sharp 'Roman nose'. He was clothed in a bleached toga with a trim of the imperial purple -- formal wear. But it was his cold blue eyes that Julius noted the most. They were studying Aurelius' elder son with an intensity that Julius found very disconcerting. He had the distinct feeling of being measured and found wanting.

"Some time early this morning, Senator Faustus was murdered," The investigator said without preamble.

Secundus gasped. "What? How? Who by?"

Cornelius idly picked up a roll of paper that had been lying on the desk, and began to play with it, turning it over in his hands. "By the condition of his body, I would say with poison. Who by? That we don't know, yet. I believe you both knew Faustus well?"

Secundus answered without a second thought, "Yes, we were at his villa last night."

Julius had been silent. He had the feeling that Cornelius knew where they'd been and a lot more. "Do you know what poison, and how it was administered? Could it have been self-administrated?" he asked.

"Suicide? Unlikely. We believe that it was put in a flagon of wine. So far, we suspect belladonna. His slave, Jacomus, arose this morning to ready a bath for his master. When he returned to the bedchamber, Faustus had drunk from the jug that had been brought in the night before, and lay, convulsing on the bed in agony. He died soon after."

"Dear gods!" Aurelius sat down fast, the folding chair groaning at the sudden weight.

"Father..." Julius feared that his father would incriminate himself in front of this man.

"I never liked the man, but to die that way, he must have been in torment," Aurelius finished softly.

"Pray, tell me why, Senator Aurelius, you didn't like Senator Faustus. Was it just political rivalry?" Cornelius's eyes studied the seated Aurelius closely.

"What?" Aurelius looked confused, then, as he began to realize the implications of his words, he became indignant and angry. "You don't think that I would.... Or that my sons..."

"A number of people disliked him, Senator, and a number of people, including his slaves, had reason to want him dead. I know a few of the reasons, I wish to know yours. I suspect that there will be very few to weep at his funeral, unless they are hired wailers." He put the roll of paper back down on the desk and clasped his hands behind his back.

"His slaves." Secundus looked up. "What's happening with his slaves?"

"They are in the state's hands, for the moment. One of them is a strong suspect."

"Which one?" Julius asked, dreading the answer.

"The Gaul, Spurius. From my initial inquiries, I understand he handled the jug that probably contained the poison."

Julius rounded on the man. "And just when do you think he could have doctored the wine? Spurius..." He stopped himself from admitting that the slave tasted the wine until he knew more of the facts. "... brought wine to me, and he was naked at the time. Just where do you think he could have hidden the belladonna?"

Cornelius shrugged. "The lad had many opportunities to add the drug. I hear that he knows a good deal about herbs and their uses. He spent time in the kitchen where I saw that the cosmetic herbs were kept. He had a hand in serving the wine. He had admittance to his master's bedchamber. And I gather some of those present heard Faustus threaten to beat him. He had motive," Cornelius counted off his fingers, "opportunity, and the means to commit the act."

Julius was shaking his head, trying not to pace. "You should look elsewhere. I can vouch for Spurius. You said the kitchen was where the herb was stored, correct? And the kitchen had a lavatory adjacent to it. Anyone could have wandered in and obtained the belladonna." His eyes met Cornelius'. "Who else had motive and opportunity?"

Cornelius regarded him coolly. "You seem very keen on knowing about this case, Marcus Julius. Is there a special reason?"

"I want to see the right person caught and punished, that's all."

"As do we all." Cornelius turned back to Aurelius, dismissing Julius for the moment. "So, Senator, what was the problem you had with Senator Caprenius Faustus?"

Aurelius bristled and glanced briefly at his sons, then away. "When Secundus was born, we went to the temple of Ceres to make an offering in thanks. Faustus was outside, with his drinking cronies."

Julius swore he could hear his father grind his teeth as he spoke.

"Faustus prevented us from entering the temple. He went so far as to put his hand on my wife's breast, offering to help with her milk flow."

Cornelius frowned. "How old was he?"

"Fourteen. Just out of boyhood. It didn't stop there. I called out the vigilante to help us get into the temple unmolested and Faustus' father took us to the magistrate for harassment!"

Cornelius' frown deepened. "There was nothing about this in any court papers."

Aurelius sighed. "No. It was settled out of court. Flavius Caprenius Caecus, Faustus' father, and I came to an agreement. But the young man never stopped harassing my wife." He stood. "I believe the worry led to her death. I have no physical proof of the vindictiveness of that individual, but," he looked Cornelius square in the face, "you are correct when you say I will not weep at his funeral."

"That explains why you were never at the senate when Faustus was due to speak."

"No. I avoided the little parasite whenever I could. I'm semi-retired from public duty now anyway. I have no more battles to fight and the young no longer listen to the wisdom of the old." He stood up straight. "Now, if you have no more questions, I believe I will go and make an offering at our household shrine. I'm having trouble taking your news in. Some quiet contemplation may help." Aurelius bowed his head in salute and left the room.

They watched him leave. "I should go after him," Secundus said, and Julius nodded.

"I would like to help with your investigations, if it would be allowed," he asked the investigator once the door closed again.

"Why?"

"To clear my family of any question of guilt for one thing."

"And for another?"

"As I said, I wish to see the right person caught and no innocent put to death."

Cornelius looked at him with a shrewd expression. "You are welcome to conduct your own investigation, as a Roman citizen that is your right. However, if you interfere in the pursuit of Justice, I will have you slung in jail. I hope I make that clear, Marcus Julius."

"As crystal, Appius Cornelius."

"Good. Now tell me exactly what happened at Faustus' orgy."

As soon as Cornelius left, Julius ordered his horse brought around to the front of the house and he set off for Similis' villa. Similis had the largest and, as far as Julius was concerned, the best run, ludum in the area. As long as his gladiators and slaves worked hard, Similis treated them with respect and rewards. And they rewarded him with their loyalty. Julius trusted him. The lanista also had a well-known reputation for having had no slaves escape from his gladiator school.

"Julius! I don't see you for years, and then you turn up like a bad coin two days in a row. What can I do for you this time? I haven't had a chance to..."

Julius took his friend by the arm and drew him inside. "Faustus is dead, poisoned, they think."

Similis looked stunned. He let out a long puff of air. "Soooo... the old dog got it in the end. Can't say I'm surprised, Julius. Do they have any idea who did it? Not you?"

"No! No, though I was tempted. Listen, Similis, yesterday I asked you for help, today I need a different kind of favor."

"I'm listening."

Julius walked them both into the ground floor room Similis used to entertain clients and shut the heavy doors. "The investigator believes that one of Faustus' slaves did the deed."

Similis' eyes narrowed. "Which one?"

"Spurius."

Similis shook his head. "No, I know that lad. He fights fair. Though he is foolhardy, if he wanted to kill Faustus he would have offered the man a fair fight. Poison is not his style."

"I know. So I was thinking, you could offer to keep the slaves in your cells...."

"You think they would be safer here, with me, than in a state-run establishment?"

"Similis, I think most of Faustus' slaves were bought for his pleasure. With no evidence to prove who did kill Faustus, they'll be tortured in order to get confessions out of them, and then any that survive will be sold on to pay off the debts that their master may have accumulated. I want to make sure they get sold in good condition and to the right people."

"The right people being you, no doubt, at least once you've cleared one slave's name! I'll see what I can do, no promises, mind." Similis suddenly slammed his hand down on his desk. "By Jove, I want the kid's name cleared too, Julius. He's a good lad, but if you ever tell anyone I said so.... " He waved his finger at Julius. "I don't want to ruin my own reputation as a hard man."

Julius smiled broadly, stepped up and squeezed Similis' shoulder. "Your secret's safe with me, my friend. I was thinking that you could offer to take them off the state's hands. You could use some more house slaves, you told me as much in your letters. Faustus had singers and bards, hair curlers, a cook and maker of sauces... the whole works, and your security here is better than the Mamertine jail itself. The state wouldn't have to feed them or barrack them. It's a win win situation. And I can offer to help with the cost, if need be."

Similis sighed. "Don't insult me, Julius. I don't need any money, thank you. I can afford to quarter a few more slaves." He thought for a moment. "If I have to bribe any officials, then we will talk denarii."

The slaves arrived by cart through the gates of Similis' school the next day, hands and feet chained together, a sad-looking sight that made most of the gladiators in the training yard pause. The Numidian stood to one side while Cornelius told Faustus' slaves the conditions of their stay.

"As you are well aware, I am investigating the murder of your master, Faustus. Doubtless, some of you have heard tales of slaves being tortured in order to obtain a confession for some criminal act and some of you may be aware that a suspicious death of a freeborn man can result in his entire complement of slaves being put to death. That is not my style. If one of you had a hand in the killing, make no mistake, I will find you out. However, I want the real murderer, not some convenient confession, which is one reason for your detention here instead of the Trillium. Have no doubts, Lanista Similis runs a secure barracks. The only way out of here is either with an officer of the guard or myself, and it won't matter the condition of your body.

"You will each be formally questioned in turn. Bear in mind, if any of you think to hide the truth from me, the repercussions will be swift." His eyes traveled over each face. "I hope I make myself clear?" There were some hesitant nods. Cornelius turned to the guards. "Take them away, and make sure they do not talk to one another. Come, Similis, we can wait for Marcus Julius in your office."

"You sent for Julius?"

"Yes. I felt sure if I didn't have him here to hear me question the slaves, then he would find a way to do so himself, alone. And who knows what small facts or information he may choose not to share with me."

Similis felt obliged to speak up for his friend. "Julius would never lie or hide the truth. He's the most honest man I know."

"Mmm, well, perhaps not 'hide' the truth, just not divulge it all."

Julius, on his arrival, was shown up into the lanista's airy second floor office with its balcony overlooking the training yard. He found both men sipping warm, diluted wine, eating pastries and taking their ease.

"Ah, Marcus Julius. I'm glad you could make it!" Cornelius stood and greeted him warmly. "I felt sure you would want to be in on the questioning of the slaves. That's why I sent for you. You showed such a keen interest in the rites of justice, I thought we should wait until you got here." He placed his arm around Julius' shoulders and steered him out of the door. Julius went along with it. "So tell me again why you are so sure your pet slave didn't poison his master," Cornelius inquired too cheerfully.

Julius controlled his temper. "He's not my pet slave." Then he took a deep breath. "Tell me something, Cornelius," he began. "Why would Spurius poison the jug he himself drank from? He brought a jug of wine to me," he added. "Faustus had already forced Spurius into taking his penis down the lad's throat and I asked Spurius to wash his mouth out before coming to me. He swallowed some. If it had been poisoned, he would have been ill before I left the house, even with just a mouthful. Faustus came and fetched the jug away himself."

Cornelius pushed the issue. "So how did the poison end up in there?"

"You're sure that was the vessel with the poison in?"

"Yes. We tested the dregs on some mice."

Julius' lips curled in distaste. "All I remember is Faustus woke a slave up and ordered him into the bedroom, with the jug."

"Are you certain.... You heard Faustus leave the jug to be brought up by a slave?"

Julius nodded. "I think so. I remember Faustus ordering someone to 'bring the wine.'"

"Did the slave follow his master straight away?"

"That I don't know. I was distracted."

"So you have no idea which slave?"

Julius shook his head.

Similis, as proprietor of the school, had silently followed on, listening until Cornelius' guard prevented him from continuing, then, with a scowl, he left to see to his duties.

They began by interviewing the cook, Septimus. He stood very straight in the corner of his cell. He was small and sad-faced, a skinny man to be a cook. Obviously even the cook in Faustus' household didn't get to taste much of his cooking, not to mention much of the leftovers. To Julius, the slave's body language screamed tension. Septimus assumed that as cook, he would be found guilty of his master's death, whether or not he was innocent of the crime.

"Tell me about your master," Cornelius began in a friendly and non-accusatory manner that seemed to surprise the slave. "What his habits were at dinner parties? Who chose the menu that night, or the wine?"

"Master Faustus. He oversaw the whole preparation." The cook shuffled his feet. "He didn't trust any of us to do the job right... to do things the way he wanted them done." Septimus pushed back his shoulders. "I'm a good cook," he said proudly, "but the master would check everything, right up to the moment his guests started to arrive."

"Must have been difficult for you, working like that?" Cornelius sympathized.

"It could be, but I learned quickly that it was just the master's way."

Or suffer a beating, Julius thought.

"Who handled the wine?" Cornelius asked. "Faustus must have had a slave for that?"

"Yes, the boy, Silvanus. He fetched and decanted the wine."

"And every one drank from the same amphorae?"

"You'd have to ask the lad, but yes, I think so. He had them lined up under the table."

Next were the scullery slaves and the cellarer.

Silvanus looked about twelve, all pimples and lankiness. A few more years and he could lose the spots and fill out a bit. He wiped his runny nose on his tunic. He frowned worriedly and his nervousness caused him to stammer. He was frightened about what would happen to him now, he said. Yes, he prepared the wine -- decanted it into amphorae and mixed the herbs and spices that Master Faustus liked to serve with his Falernian wine. Yes, the boy placed them on the floor and under the table where no careless arm could knock the jars over but where he supposed anyone could have touched them. Cloths had covered the tops of the wine amphorae, but the kitchen staff were busy and after the food was served they left for their beds, leaving the other slaves to do the clearing up in the kitchen.

As a murderer, he was an unlikely candidate. Too nervous, too young, too unambitious.

All the slaves were shocked by their master's death. All were frightened for their own future. Each one had his or her own tale to tell and not just about that night. The majority told Cornelius the same thing. They either awoke or were already awake when Master Faustus ordered one of their number to the master's bedroom. However, they made themselves scarce before Master Faustus found them something to do too and kept their eyes down. If anyone saw anything being added to the wine, they were not telling.

"He liked a challenge, did Master Faustus," the slave Flavia ruefully added at Cornelius' prompting, "and Spurius presented him with just one such. The master wanted to break that young Gaul. But, you know," she looked up, "I don't think he ever broke Spurius' spirit. Even when he was black and blue from the master's 'pleasure', Spurius would still try to help the rest of us with our chores. He has a good soul." She paused. "Do you know what will happen to us now? Master Faustus promised that his will granted some of us our freedom. I should like to be free."

They reached the cell that held Spurius next. Cornelius began his questioning. "Tell me what happened that night after you took the wine to Marcus Julius Leonius."

Spurius blushed. "We had intercourse, or were in the process of having it when Master Faustus interrupted us."

"He took the wine?"

"Yes, and then woke another slave. I didn't hear him leave, but as he wasn't in the main dining room in the morning, I imagine Master Faustus took a slave to his room to fuck, since I wasn't available."

"Tell me, where was the belladonna kept?"

"In the kitchen, on a shelf away from the food stuff -- along with some other aids Master Faustus liked us to use."

"Then all the slaves knew where it was kept?"

"Yes."

Julius looked puzzled. "You weren't using belladonna."

Spurius shook his head. "My eyes are not that good normally -- with belladonna in them, it blurs my vision. I'm as clumsy as a man newly blinded -- a walking disaster area!"

They exchanged wry grins as they remembered Quintillus' indignation when Spurius upset the wine over him.

Cornelius interrupted their thoughts. "So, some time after Julius and you drank from it, and the next morning, the poison was added, with some mixed herbs to disguise the flavor."

"Master Faustus liked his wine highly seasoned."

"It has been said that Faustus beat you." Cornelius abruptly changed his line of questioning.

"Yes. Especially during my training."

"How did he train you?"

Julius frowned, wondering at the investigator's reason for asking such a question, but Spurius was already answering, turning his back to both men, preferring not to make eye contact with either of them.

"It wasn't just about carrying wine or looking pleasing to the eye. Jacomus was Master Faustus' favorite before he bought me. He's been with the master longer than most of us. And Jacomus doted on our master. Master Faustus had Jacomus teach me how to please him, what tricks the master liked, which positions. Master Faustus used whips and canes to reinforce the lessons. He had us perform for him. He used us in every perverted way his mind could come up with short of using animals with us. Then, when he was bored with that, he banished Jacomus from his bed, but still had him chained up and forced to watch while he took me. Soon after, he started passing Jacomus around his guests. I'd usurped Jacomus' position with Master Faustus, though without wanting to, and I knew that it was just a question of time before the master replaced me with someone new."

He finally turned back and looked at the two men standing in front of his cell door. He pulled back his shoulders and made an effort to stand tall despite the painful details he'd just shared with them. "But I didn't kill him."

"You sound very bitter. You had good reason for wishing him dead."

Spurius shook his head. "I was told by a very wise man that it's better to bend like the willow than snap like the beech. If I had intended to kill him, then I would have planned his murder much better. I would have made sure we slaves were all set free first, and have an escape plan mapped out. Now, the other slaves -- and I -- will either be killed or sold on to a different master. I'm no fool. I didn't kill him."

Cornelius nodded slowly. "That we shall see." He turned to Julius. "So the one person who should know about the wine would be Jacomus. We'll interrogate him now."

Spurius piped up quickly, "He was talking about trying to throw himself on the master's funeral pyre."

"Would he do that?"

"Oh yes. I told you, he loved Master Faustus."

"And you didn't."

Spurius sighed. "No. I...erm... I don't believe you have Jacomus here."

"What!?" Cornelius exclaimed.

"A number of slaves escaped before the guards came to take us all away." Spurius continued quickly. "The guards didn't check how many slaves Master Faustus owned and I didn't see him brought in with us."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Julius didn't know whether to be angry or frustrated.

"Because I didn't have the opportunity to and you would automatically assume Jacomus was guilty."

"Jacomus could well be."

"No," Spurius insisted. "There's no way Jacomus would have harmed Master Faustus."

"Look, Spurius, you've got to remain objective here," Julius said, though he felt totally unobjective himself. "One of his slaves could have killed your master, and it wasn't you.... Do you hear what I'm saying?"

Spurius nodded reluctantly. "I am telling you the truth about what Jacomus intended with the funeral pyre. I don't want him to harm himself."

"Very well," Cornelius said, "so where might Jacomus have gone?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd guess that he would hang around where Master Faustus' body is being held."

Cornelius' eyes narrowed. "It is convenient for you, though, isn't it? With Jacomus unable to speak for himself and on the run, you could say anything and he would appear guilty."

"No!" Spurius glanced across at Julius and he visibly made an effort to calm down.

Cornelius studied Spurius for a long time, then straightened up. "I will instruct my guards and the vigilante to find and hold him -- alive."

They left Spurius in his cell and made their way outside. "You know," began Cornelius, "I almost believe that young slave of yours."

"I just can't see what he would gain by killing Faustus, except revenge, and he doesn't seem that type. Unless.... Unless he believed he'd gain his freedom by something in Faustus' will, like Flavia. Was there anything in there, as Flavia hoped?"

Cornelius snorted. "No. The bits I saw indicate that Faustus wanted all his slaves sold in order to finance a lavish funeral."

"I'm not surprised. Faustus would want the best for his send-off. So who is handling Faustus' estate?" Julius asked. "Do his papers reveal anything? I imagine he had some form of safeguard to protect himself from just this kind of thing happening?"

"I have someone going through his papers as we speak, and I have a private interview with his lawyer this afternoon."

"Private? So I'm not invited." Julius was not surprised, in fact he was astonished that Cornelius had trusted him this far.

"Not this time, Marcus Julius. You are still a suspect with motive and opportunity."

"If that was all you needed to prove guilt, you'd have cohorts of candidates."

Cornelius smiled. "With your Spurius as standard-bearer. You may even be co-conspirators."

"So why not arrest me?"

"Because if you are innocent, you may flush the real culprit out, and if guilty, then I like to have you and Spurius where I can find you both. Who knows, if I give you enough rope, you may just hang yourself and save the state the expense."

Cornelius stopped by the gate of the ludi. "So, Julius, tell me, you were at the party, who do you think we should interview first?"

"There is one man I really would like to have a chat with -- Rufus Caecus."

They found Rufus in his father's house, looking proud and haughty, as though no one could possibly associate him with any crime. In fact, Julius could smell the fear rolling off him. The family had left them alone to conduct the interview, but Julius guessed they had already sent for legal advice, just in case.

Though both men had been offered a seat, they choose to stand. Julius stood in front of a desk while Cornelius leaned with his arms crossed in front of him against the wall. Rufus lounged about in his chair.

Julius began the interview. "We can do this the easy way or Appius Cornelius can detain you in the tullianum jail."

"For what crime? You have no right to come here," Rufus said haughtily.

"The law gives me that right, in order to find who murdered Senator Faustus."

Rufus looked totally outraged. "Can you prove anything against me? Of course you can't, because I'm innocent. I didn't kill him. How did the old dog die anyway?"

"He was poisoned."

Rufus leapt up. "Not by me!"

Cornelius stopped propping up the wall. "So why did you come storming into Faustus' villa two nights ago?" he demanded.

Their suspect became very subdued, almost surly. "Faustus had me over a barrel. I've been seeing someone, a married woman. If her husband finds out, it'll be the end of my career and her marriage. I'm not in the right social class to be her 'escort'. I think that would ruin the marriage quicker than if she'd taken a gladiator as her lover.

"I'd just been to see her and found her in tears. That overblown son of a horse's ass had been extorting blackmail money from both of us. He wanted more, and his idea of 'more' was for my... lady friend to entertain some of his cronies!" He sat down again and slumped in the chair.

"So you had good reason for wishing him dead."

Rufus looked up. "Do you have any evidence pointing to me?"

"No, but you have motive."

"I may have motive, but if you have no evidence, then I'm in the clear." His voice was triumphant.

"No, you're a suspect."

"Are you arresting me?"

"Not yet." Cornelius leaned forward, bracing his body with his two arms on the table. "Tell us what happened at the villa that night."

"I was angry, more than angry. Faustus 'escorted' me out of his dining room, but I struggled. I wanted to show his guests what a low-life he was, if they already didn't know! There were two body slaves hanging around, big built ones. They got me in an arm hold and manhandled me into another room. Faustus followed. He threatened me. Told me that what had happened so far was nothing to what he could do if I didn't leave quietly."

"And you believed him?"

"Gods, yes! When he wanted to, Faustus could put the fear of Cerberus into anyone!"

"And then?"

"I was escorted off the premises, out the back garden door."

"So you went past the kitchen."

"Yes, but I wasn't alone. I still had my arms trapped by the two thugs. They threw me out into the street."

"And you didn't return?"

"No. I went off to nurse my bruises... and my pride."

The guests had much the same story as the slaves.

Quintillus had, of course, been sent home by Julius, in no fit state to do or understand much of anything. He and Agrippa had later met up at a public bathhouse and they'd returned to Agrippa's residence to raise a glass or six to their old -- late -- friend. They'd heard the news at the bathhouse. The public bathhouses were a hotbed of scandal, rumor and gossip. Agrippa's wife was away visiting her mother, so the two men intended to drink themselves into oblivion just as soon as Julius and Cornelius left. They both declared that they were in no fit state to see what had happened to 'dear old Faustus'. In fact they were both surprised and sad when they heard about their old friend's demise. Did Cornelius know who would inherit his estate? It would be such a shame to see such a marvelous property fall into the hands of someone who couldn't look after it the way Faustus did. Who was handling his affairs, his papers and journals?

Both Julius and Cornelius agreed that the two men were unlikely murderers. "Greedy but barely a brain between them," was Julius' opinion. Still, they couldn't be ruled out until the murderer was caught.

After the interviews with as many of the guests as could or would make themselves available, Julius left Cornelius and returned to the ludi. He was allowed into Spurius' cell, but the guard left the door open and stood outside. It was late and the torches had been lit.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Spurius quietly.

The young man gave out a sound that could have been something between a laugh and a sob. He was standing, facing the high, barred window.

"You know," he began, "when we heard that Master Faustus had died, and some of the slaves attempted to made a run for it, they asked me to go with them. I should have done so. I might have had at least a few hours, maybe longer, of freedom. Now I'm stuck here, as much a prisoner as I've ever been."

Julius felt uncomfortable. "You could have been caught very quickly and summarily executed. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. I know," Spurius repeated. He sat down heavily as though his legs would no longer support him. "But just the chance for a few hours to be under no one's orders, no one's whims... and there's no guarantee I won't be summarily executed anyway, if Cornelius fails to find someone else to blame."

Julius sat beside him. "Cornelius won't just have you executed. He's given me his word."

"And you trust him?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." He sighed. "Why didn't you try and escape with the other slaves? Though I imagine they were quickly rounded up?"

Spurius nodded. "They were all brought in... all except Jacomus." He cocked his head to one side and glanced at Julius through his hair. "I'm not sure why I didn't try to run. I suppose I was too much of a coward."

"I don't believe you're a coward, not to cope with all that you have. What was it you told me? You bend like a willow?"

Spurius smiled sadly. "There have been times when I felt more like crawling away to die."

"But you're still here."

"Yes. I'm still here."

Julius straightened up. Spurius, I promise you, you will have your days of freedom -- a lifetime, if I can manage it!" he declared.

"I wish I had your faith, Julius. I really do."

Faustus' lawyer gave Cornelius a long list of names of the people that Faustus had had 'business' with, most of them rich men, and women, of influence. He decided that, given the circumstances, it would be best if Julius were not present at those interviews, so Julius spent most of the next two days at the ludi on the pretext of finding out if any of the slaves were hiding where Jacomus might be, but really because he wanted to spent more time with Spurius.

Julius heard a sound, a faint whisper. It drew him from the darkness that blanketed him. Briefly, he felt that he didn't want to follow the sound, but it was sweet and soft and spoke of all he'd ever wished for. Touch came next, a light gentleness that caressed his skin and made him want to turn towards it for more. The other senses reported in quickly and he carefully opened his eyes to see two beautiful blue eyes gazing worriedly back at him. "Spurius?" Julius tried to sit up.

"Easy, easy." Spurius slipped an arm around his back, supporting him and then arranging the cushions behind Julius' back.

"What happened?"

"What do you remember?" The slave sat with one leg folded under him on the bed.

"I was on my way out of the ludi. There was a heavily weighted sheep's bladder -- the trainees were throwing it about, trying to improve their arm muscles. It was tossed up in the air..." Julius' words dried up. "Oh, Jove!" He covered his face with his hands. "It happened again, didn't it? I blacked out." He wiped his face, steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and leaned forward. "I thought... I truly thought this was over, gone. It hasn't happened since I got back."

Spurius placed his hand over Julius' knee, gently rubbing. "Similis sent for me. He said that these spells are similar to those which affected Julius Caesar. He said that many Romans would call you blessed."

"Well, he'd be wrong!"

"Tell me what happens to you. Perhaps I can help."

Julius let out a deep breath. "I'm not sure if anyone can. Caesar had an illness. He experienced fits. I have... I'm not sure what to call them." He began to describe, hesitantly, how his senses affected him. Spurius didn't interrupt him until he finished his tale.

"So I'm insane, correct?"

Spurius shook his head. "I believe," he began, "that many Romans would tell you that the gods had blessed you with a spell to make you a better warrior."

"Well, they can take their spell back!"

Spurious smiled grimly. "Then a man of science might tell you that your senses were enhanced all along, but lay dormant and it took the trauma of battle and the isolation of the forest to awaken them."

"Then I wish they'd return to sleep." Julius paused in his spleen. "What do you say?"

Spurius allowed himself to let out a chuff of air. "While living in Gaul, I heard of people with senses more powerful than normal." He looked Julius in the eyes. "They couldn't be rid of their gift, but they did learn to control them, with help."

Julius felt a flicker of hope. "Would you be willing to help me?" His eyes scanned over Spurius' face and the young man lowered his eyes to study his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"I'm hardly in a position to offer help, my lord Julius. I'm still a suspect in my master's murder." He lifted his face. "But when you feel up to it, and if they will allow it, I will take you to my friend in the woods. Perhaps he can help."

Julius felt deeply disappointed, but he hid it well. "I'm ready now. Similis will lend you a horse." He swung his legs onto the floor. "So, will you now tell me this man's name?"

"He no longer uses his Roman name. He goes by the name of Incacha. And we do have a minor problem, Julius," Spurius smiled. "I'm still under guard, remember?"

Julius was shaking his head. "Not a problem when a) you know the proprietor of this establishment and b) you've been in the military. I'm well used to getting in and out of tight places."

Despite their situation, Spurius laughed. "I can't believe you used those words!" he chuckled.

Julius grinned. Oh, life would be interesting with Spurius around!

They rode along the narrow road until the edge of the woods, side by side, with Cornelius' guard running along beside the horses, in quiet companionship until Julius asked Spurius, "So, as a bard, you must have a good voice?"

"More like a good memory! It's more important to remember battles and names of noblemen who are in favor than to be able to sing like the sirens."

"And did you ride into battle beside the noblemen?"

Spurius nodded. "All young men are expected to prove themselves, no matter what part of the world they inhabit."

"So, bard, healer, warrior -- is there no end to your talents?"

"Well... I did once wrestle a large bull to the ground, after it attacked a group of children, and was awarded twenty-five of the tribe's daughters for the night as my prize...."

"Only twenty-five? As I recall, Hercules managed fifty woman."

"Ah, but then Hercules was a demi-god. I'm only human, my lord." Spurius winked at Julius.

"Well, I can see where the load of old bull would come in!"
"Ah, but I'm a lover, not a fighter, Julius," Spurius answered with a broad grin.

"Oh, I can vouch for your skill there!" Julius grinned back. A sudden movement caught his attention. A flock of wild birds flew across the sky, their cries loud but still magical and, briefly, Julius' eyes followed them.

Spurius looked up and followed the line of his friend's eyes. For a moment he could see nothing then, by squinting, he picked out tiny dots that he guessed were a flock of high-flying birds. He gave Julius a puzzled frown and then turned his thoughts back to their destination.

The ex-slave had a small, well-concealed hut in the deepest part of the wood, up a steep slope, densely covered with bracken and ferns. The two men had left the horses with the soldier and covered the final part of their journey on foot. Both were out of breath by the time they reached the camouflaged doorway.

Julius had seen some 'wild men' in his time, men who lived as hermits, who allowed their hair to grow, who wore rags for clothes, who never bathed... but Incacha was different. He was clean-shaven, wore a simple loincloth and sandals and smelt clean. However his face was painted with a red band across it, causing the whites of his eyes to seem larger and brighter, his arms and legs had strange markings on them... and his glossy black hair hung down just to his shoulders.

As Spurius explained why he'd brought Julius there, Incacha listened. The Gaul finished and waited for the strange man to speak. Julius felt as if they were both holding their breath.

"Why did you bring him to me?" Incacha asked.

Spurius looked puzzled. "So you can help him. Or give us some advice on how to find someone who can."

Incacha sighed. "I repeat, why did you bring him to me?"

Spurius looked at Julius who shrugged. "Because I thought you could help..."

Incacha was shaking his head. "Look at him, young one, and repeat out loud the prophecy about your own destiny."

Spurius sighed deeply but did as he was told. He sat, crossed legged, facing Julius, and began. "I would find him, and he would have the eyes of a hawk." He looked long and hard at Julius. "...The ears of a bat." He frowned. "The tongue of an adder, the nose of a dog..." The frown deepened. He reached out and took Julius' arm, stroking the skin there and watching the goose bumps that rose up. "And the skin of a woman... and that he would need me."

Julius mouthed the word, "Always."

"You knew!" The tone was accusing.

"I... wondered."

"You never said a word!"

"I admit the 'tongue of an adder' and the 'skin of a woman' threw me a little. However, then I thought an adder tastes the air with its tongue, so in a way that fitted, and a woman's skin is more sensitive than the average man's, so.... But then I wondered if maybe you didn't want to know. That morning... after Faustus' party, you changed the subject so quickly. I thought you didn't want to discuss it, that you hadn't felt that connection between us, that you wanted to be rid of me."

Spurius looked down. "I was afraid I'd been swept away by my needs, my desire to be treated as someone better than a slave. That you just wanted the same as Master Faustus, my body -- that his sharing me with you was the beginning of the end for me as his favorite slave and soon I'd be passed around as a general whore. Sometimes, it's better to know your tormentor than not to know him."

"And now?" Julius held his breath. So much was riding on what Spurius' reply was.

Spurius looked up, his face wearing a careful mask, and studied Julius' face. "What do you want from me, Julius? Someone to help you control your senses, who doesn't mind a tumble in your bed now and again? Tell me, because I really don't know who I am with you."

"How about to start with, a friend. Then, hopefully, one day you may feel able to call me your lover, maybe even your life-partner?"

Spurius' eyes widened. "You truly want that? After all I told you about Faustus?"

Julius nodded. "Yes, I want that, if you're willing."

Spurius' face was full of wonder. "I thought that the prophecy just meant another type of slavery; I'd never have guessed it would bring love." He took Julius' hand and wove their fingers together.

Julius gave his hand a gentle squeeze and then slightly embarrassed by the intensity of the emotion, turned to Incacha. "So what does that make me, except for Spurius' destiny?" He smiled at Spurius to take the sting from his words. "I'm some kind of freak of nature?"

"No." Incacha was shaking his head. "You are a watchman, a Sentinel. It is your destiny to guard and protect your people."

Julius frowned. "How?"

Spurius grinned widely. "You could be an investigator like Cornelius! He must be due for retirement soon. You could take over his business."

"As an investigator?"

"Yes. At least think about it, Julius. With your eyes and ears, you could find out things that Cornelius would miss, and with me to help you, to guide you through your senses...."

The bear came out of nowhere soon after the two men had left Incacha. By the look of the beast, its owner had abandoned it. It had either been driven mad by captivity or -- judging by the poor condition of its mouth where its teeth had been removed -- the poor thing was probably starving. A short heavy chain hung down from its collar, which had rubbed away the fur underneath, leaving the skin exposed and open weeping sores to break out over its neck. The chain had left bumps and sores too where it had bounced around, hitting the poor animal as it moved. One thing was obvious, the bear was more angry and desperate than curious. It reared up and growled at the two men, saliva dripping from its jaws. Julius automatically stepped in front of Spurius, his short sword at the ready, but the slave wasn't having that. He reached down and slowly withdrew the knife that Julius had tucked away in his boot, and then moved to stand beside his friend. Julius didn't dare take his eyes off the bear.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Spurius was crouching down, his hand blindly searching the ground for something, but like Julius, keeping his eyes on the bear. "Searching for options."

"There are no other options apart from slowly backing out of here and hope to Jove that it thinks we're no threat. That creature is mad enough to kill us both."

"There are always options, Julius. That poor creature just wants to be put out of its misery." He was edging away from Julius now, giving the bear two targets and confusing the animal.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

Before Spurius could answer, the bear decided it had waited long enough. It charged straight at the smaller man. Julius ran to get between them, just as Spurius threw the sharp stone he'd found. It hit the bear right between the eyes and, for a moment the great beast hesitated, then roared and continued its charge. Julius leapt to defend his friend... and the bear came to a stop and fell, the ground shaking a little as it hit the forest floor, a tiny trickle of blood on its forehead.

Both men walked over to it, their weapons at the ready, just in case. The bear made no movement, except where its great chest sluggishly rose and fell. Spurius knelt down.

"Careful," whispered Julius.

Spurius' free hand rose and he stroked the bear's body. "Shush, my brother," he said to the animal. "Your time of suffering is at an end. Go to your rest." He took the knife and plunged it hard into the bear's heart. For a moment, Julius thought the creature had come around. The bear's eyes opened in fear, and its paws came up, but then it gave out a sigh, its eyes closed again and it was gone, its lifeblood staining the ground.

Spurius wiped the knife on the moss on the ground and returned it to Julius.

"Mind telling me just how you did that?" asked Julius.

"What? Oh, the stone. I wasn't sure it would work. I've only heard about it being done in song."

"In song?"

"Part of the oral history that I was taught as a bard. One of our heroes brought down a bear with a sharp stone between the eyes. You see, their skulls are very tough, but there's a soft spot just here -" He touched the top of his own nose. "Below the brow ridge. If you're very careful, or plain lucky, and hit it there, it slows the bear down and stuns it for a moment. Of course if you miss, then it just makes the animal more angry." He got to his feet, still looking at the furry corpse on the ground. "I wasn't sure it would work. But it was worth a shot. It was a fine animal, don't you think, before people got hold of it?"

Julius felt sick. He turned away and sheathed his sword and then slipped the knife back into his boot. "Next time I tell you to stay behind me and slowly walk away, do it," he managed to choke out round the lump in his throat.

There was a silence, than Spurius answered, "Yes, master."

Julius spun around. "I didn't mean..." and he saw the broad grin on his friend's face. "You..."

"Now, now, Julius, you have to return me in good condition. You promised the guard!" Spurius was edging back, still smiling as Julius advanced on him, menace in his eyes.

Spurius took off, yelling back, "That was a real rush! I can understand gladiators feeling so powerful when they've taken down someone bigger than them."

Julius quickly caught up with him and easily wrestled him to the ground.

"You know," ventured Spurius quietly, "this would be a good place to make true on your promise."

"What? My offer to roll over for you?"

Spurius, by way of an answer, bucked up under the body blanketing him.

"Hmmm, in the open, just you and me and nature herself, some life-reaffirming sex..." Julius brushed his lips against his lover's. "Tempting," he said. "But we left Longinus with the horses, and if we don't get back soon, both he and Similis will be in big trouble with Cornelius." He sat up.

Spurius clambered to his feet. "Damn it, Julius! Both of us are sprouting more wood than old Priapus! Do you have to be so sensible, so practical, so... anal?"

Julius slowly climbed to his feet and brushed off the leaves and dirt from his knees. His mind flashed back to Flavia's words in the ludum cell and he thanked all the gods and goddess that Faustus' behavior had indeed left Spurius' spirit untarnished. "I didn't say I didn't want to," he said, "just not yet, but when we do, I hope to show you just how anal I can be."

Spurius scoffed. "Then I will just have to show you more of my oral traditions." He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Julius laugh out loud and Spurius grinned broadly.

The guard looked up with a mixture of fear and relief when he saw the two men come laughing out of the woods. They slowed and sobered as soon as they realized he'd seen them.

"No problems, soldier?" Julius asked as he took the reins of his horse.

"No sir. I... erm, I wondered if you'd had any troubles yourself. You took such a long time." He had worried about explaining to Cornelius about what exactly they had been doing in the woods. Julius felt a measure of guilt at using the guard. He wasn't an old campaigner, and Julius had exploited his youth, convincing the lad that Julius had Cornelius' trust and confidence. It was pure luck or maybe his naturally friendliness, that enabled Spurius to discover the names of all his guards, both family and given names, and of most of the gladiators at the school, and a happy coincidence that Julius remembered Longinius' brother.

"Don't worry," Julius said, as he swung his leg over the horse's back. "I'll make sure Appius Cornelius realizes you were taking orders from me."

The soldier didn't look that much relieved. "It's only that the slave was under my guard, and the investigator would have had my hide if I lost him. If you hadn't been in charge of my brother's cohort, sir..." He tried to justify his reluctance to trust in Julius.

"Your brother was a good man, and a fine soldier, Longinius."

"Thank you, sir." The guard's chest puffed out a little as he ran alongside.

Spurius, riding along beside Julius, whispered, "Did you really know his brother?"

Julius nodded quickly. "Gaius died in Britain, bravely defending the Empire," he said out loud. Then, leaning over, appearing to adjust the knife in his boot, and on the far side from the soldier, he whispered to Spurius, "defending it in a drunken brawl with a Germanic tax collector in an inn, but his family doesn't need to know that...."

"By Great Neptune's Balls, Julius! Where in Hades have you two been? Cornelius has been threatening to comb the countryside for you both and I won't even begin to tell you what he wants to do with my own family jewels for allowing Spurius out!"

"We went to see a man about a prophecy," Julius said, smiling at Spurius. He frowned as he turned to Similis. "Why? What's happened?"

"They've found Jacomus, that's what's happened!"

Jacomus sat hunched over in the room, a broken young man. He'd been found early that morning skulking around his late master's house. Apparently, he hadn't gone far at all. As soon as the house had gone quiet, the slaves removed and a couple of guards put on the doors, Jacomus had sneaked back in, then hidden in a disused storeroom, waiting to discover where and when Faustus would be laid to rest. The guards who found him didn't realize who he was at first, and thought he was just one of the mourners come to pay his respects. That changed when he wouldn't give his name and tried to run away.

"I used to be his favorite, you know?" he began as they interviewed him. "He had another boy before me, Master called him Julius. Master liked to make him crawl and beg for his favors, but when he bought me, Julius was pushed to one side. I saw how the master treated Julius. I saw him being offered around to my master's guests, used however they wanted. I heard him screaming in pain sometimes, and I cringed. But Master Faustus wouldn't let anyone else touch me."

"What happened to this Julius?" Marcus Julius forced himself to ask.

Jacomus sat up straight. "He was sold on to a shipbuilder. A vicious man, with unclean finger nails and a nasty temper." The young man lowered his head. "I heard that when Julius was found dead, he was so badly disfigured and torn that only the tattoo Master Faustus put on him identified his body.

"So you see," he looked up at Julius, "I had to make sure he was satisfied with me. I discovered all his secret places, all the sweet spots he liked to be touched. I did whatever he wanted me to, anything to make him love me, anything to stop him from passing me around too. And we were good together. Then he bought Spurius and I knew, I just knew that soon I would be out of favor, like Julius. I knew then that I wouldn't have Master Faustus much longer. And that tore me up inside." Jacomus moaned.

He wrapped his arms around his body and started to rock. "I knew it wasn't Spurius' fault. He's handsome and has a way about him that turns heads. It was my fault. I had failed Master Faustus, you see? I loved him, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't give him everything he needed. I decided that if I couldn't have my master, no one else would.

"That night --" Jacomus looked up at Julius with wide, red-rimmed eyes -- "the night he gave you Spurius, I thought this was my chance, my final chance. So when he left me to carry up the jug of wine, I grabbed some belladonna from the kitchen and mixed it in with some warm water. He didn't drink it straight after I brought it to him and I thought that the gods meant for something else to happen. But in the morning when he did... I intended to take the poison after him and die beside him, then follow him into Hades where we could be together, and I would be the only one to take care of him, to serve him. But, when the master drank the wine, and I saw him writhing in agony, I couldn't do it, I couldn't drink it."

Jacomus broke down. His eyes filled with tears. "Master, I failed you." He looked up to the roof, his tears rolling down his face. "I let you down. I am a coward. I couldn't die with you, and I so wanted to. I'm so very sorry." Then he broke down completely.

Julius hesitated, and then carefully put his hand on Jacomus' shaking shoulder. "You'll join him now, Jacomus. Murdering your master is an offense punishable by death."

He looked up at Julius with glistening eyes. "I know. I just hope he forgives me my weakness and finds me still worthy of him. He loved you. I want you to know that. That's why his slave was called Julius. He loved you first."

Cornelius nodded to the soldiers then, and they helped the lad up and took him away.

Julius blew out a breath of air. "That I didn't know," he said to the room at large.

"That Faustus desired you?" asked Spurius.

Julius nodded.

"Would it have made any difference if you had known?"

"No, I guess not. Somehow it makes me feel... unclean."

"It does explain why he shared me with you. He knew that you wouldn't want him, but by giving me to you, after using me... he could imagine you were friendly enough to share a slave's body."

Julius looked sickened. Spurius shrugged. "It's only a theory."

Julius shivered. "Given Faustus' nature, it's a very plausible one," he conceded. He turned to the praetor's investigator. "Is there any way of commuting the boy's sentence to a lighter one?" he asked without much hope.

Cornelius shook his head. "All I can do is ask that his ending be quick. He killed his master. Justice must be seen to be done, Julius."

Julius nodded sadly. "So, Cornelius, you have your culprit. You should have no more need for us."

"There is the little matter of Spurius' still being a slave. His ownership is something the praetors should decide." He studied the reaction to his words on both Julius and Spurius as both men tried unsuccessfully to hide their fear and disappointment. "However, if anyone in this room wishes to take one or two of the slaves off my hands, and is prepared to do so with all proper legal niceties, I could be persuaded.... Paperwork is such a boring occupation."

Julius smiled. "I'm sure my brother and I can help you out with that."

A month later, Spurius had an official new master, as did Flavia. Julius and his family tried to make sure none of the other slaves suffered the same fate as Faustus' Julius and as many as possible went to homes with a good reputation. Several stayed with Similis. One, a tall, leggy, auburn-haired woman, expressed a wish to be trained as a gladiator, a wish Similis was only too pleased to grant. Female gladiators always brought in the clients. Five months after that, Marcus Julius and Auius Secundus were able to set their lovers free, though Spurius had been living with Julius as more or less a free man while under his roof, as his secretary.

Julius had found them a modest apartment on the top floor of a three-story block. There were three rooms, a bedroom, cooking and eating area, and a reception room -- a little more up-market than some of the population of the city, but modest enough for Julius' new role as investigator. Julius was particularly impressed with the balcony that overlooked this part of Rome. The apartment was spacious, clean, and not too high -- Spurius was not keen on heights and three flights of stairs were enough for any man to climb. Nor was it too near to the more rowdy elements of Roman life, which pleased Julius no end. Not to mention, it wasn't situated too near to his father's residence.

Spurius could read and write in Latin and was mastering Greek better than Julius ever had. So he could handle all the paperwork. Life was good, except...

"Now that you're a free man, you could return to Gaul, take back your old name." Julius had to give his lover that choice.

"Brennus? Nah. He was as much a prisoner as Spurius and it was Spurius you freed. Brennus was another lifetime ago."

"You could still choose a name to reflect your new freed status."

Spurius considered the suggestion. "Maybe, for public use, but in private I'd still prefer you to call me Spurius." He gave Julius a sly smile. "I like the way you breathe it when I'm buried up to the hilt inside you."

"Ditto."

Spurius grinned and then added, as though it was the most obvious and simplest thing in the world, "As for returning to Gaul, that's not going to happen. I love you, Julius. This is your home and where you go, go I."

Julius felt as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders.

Julius' tunic shifted over his skin as he rode along. The wind blew right through the weave of the cloth, hardening his nipples. His cloak warmed his back. The whole feeling made him feel alive and half hard. And the best part of all was that he could enjoy the feeling without slipping into one of those maddening blackouts. And it was all down to the man riding along beside him.

They were riding out into the Campagna on borrowed horses, away from the city and into the countryside, to search for a missing wife. A gentle assignment, Cornelius had said, to ease them into the investigating business.

Julius thought back on the last few months. He knew that he would never forget the men of his cohort nor that last battle. He expected that their ghosts would haunt him now and then, but for now, he had this, and this was wonderful.

He smiled at Spurius, who turned and smiled in return. Yes, life was good.

Spurius' smile turned positively wicked. "Catch me if you can!" he yelled as he whipped the horse with his reins, and galloped off.

Julius laughed out loud and yelled back, "And when I do, your ass is mine!" and spurred his horse after his lover....

~fin~

Notes: The inspiration for this story came from the Lindsey Davis 'Falco' novels. Like her, my characters are speaking colloquially, and I've deliberately used phraseology that my readers will be used to.