Title: Roman Enlightenment

Author: Scribe

poet77665@yahoo.com

Fandom: Original

Pairing:

Status: WIP

Sequel/Series: Sequel to Roman Enslavement

Archive: To lists only.

Disclaimer: Aaall mine, and I DO hope to profit from it eventually.

Websites:http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles and http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/foxluver

Summary: The first chapter of this story will be a reworking of the final chapter of Roman Enslavement, so to know what the heck is going on, you should read the first story. Otherwise you're going to be guessing, and I'm not going to explain every little thing. Anyway, Lupus grows a spine. He goes to defy his parents by releasing Mozelle, planning on running away with her, but finds her already gone. He hurries through the streets after her, only to see her disappear in the Temple of Dischordia, sent back (or forward) to her own time. He now realizes that her fanciful sounding tales were true, and she came from another time and place, apparently where she had rights. He breaks down in despair, and Venus takes pity on him, sending him after Mozelle. Let's just say that he isn't going to slip smoothly into modern life. :D

Notes: Once again, you'll enjoy this more if you read Roman Enslavement. You can read it here.
http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1288099 At least the first three or four chapters, and the last one or two, so you'll know most of the background. As with the other story, //"means the speech is in Latin"// and *means they are thoughts, which are presented in English, because they're thoughts, not speech*

Translation: lepus-rabbit

Rating: Eventually NC-17

Roman Enlightenment
By Scribe

Part One: Follower

Many strange things happen in the universe. A tiny turn of events can change time, the way a rock tossed into a river can change the flow, causing eddies and back washes. A word said at the right moment, a gesture made too soon, or too late, and futures yet-to-be unravel, and re-knit in new patterns.

So it goes.

A goddess whispered to a small Roman boy, and he rose from his bed to perform an act of love and bravery. He went to free a woman who had taught him to look at the enslaved of his society in a new light. As he crept through the moonlight, prepared to risk the anger of all those he knew and loved, his elder brother lay awake, brooding, in another room.

*This is my life,* Lupus thought. *When I locked her in the shed she said 'this is my life'. Her life, and I am ruining it.*

He lay in his bed, staring blindly up at the ceiling. A small lamp flickered on the table, casting bizarre, dancing shadows. He remembered watching Mozelle one evening as she tried to make shadow animals in the shifting light, scowling when he laughed at the blobs she produced. Finally she'd fisted her hand with two fingers upright and parted in a vee, bouncing her hand to make the shadow hop. "Lepus." He had laughed, shaking his head, and she had frowned again. "Lupus?" He looked at her enquiringly. She drew one of the fingers into her fist, leaving the middle one extended.

He had cocked his eyebrow at her questioningly, reaching out to touch his fingertip to hers. "This means?"

Her smile had been sly. "You're too young."

Mozelle--odd, endearing, crazy Mozelle. He remembered his first glimpse of her as she tended his baby brother, Patenic, in the back garden. The family hadn't been expecting him home, and she had never seen him. When he climbed the wall, she'd thought him an intruder--a threat to her charge, and she had reacted with ferocious protectiveness. Lupus had found himself being faced down by an obviously frightened, but determined woman, who was wielding a large pair of shears, prepared to fight to the death for a child who was not of her own blood.

He remembered her with his other brother, Gaius--her endless patience and humor, her obvious affection. Gaius loved her--it was as simple as that. Lupus knew that it wasn't unusual for children to form attachments to the slaves who helped raise them, but this was different.

He remembered how Gaius had pleaded with him to do something to help her that evening when... it had happened. No one had witnessed the incident, but for anyone who knew Celsus, and especially for anyone who knew of his previous encounter with the slave woman, it had been clear. Celsus had attempted to force himself on Mozelle, and she had resisted. He had become violent, and she had defended herself, to the point of stabbing him. The bruises on her throat were
witness to the fact that it had been self-defense. Unfortunately for her, that didn't matter under Roman law. Mozelle was a slave--Celsus was a citizen. She was automatically in the wrong, and he could, if he desired, demand that her life be forfeit.

He had, in a way. Oh, he didn't call for her execution, but he demanded that she be given to him. Lupus had little doubt as to what Mozelle's life would be like if she was left to Celsus' tender mercies. It would not be long before death might seem a welcome respite.

Gaius wasn't able to understand that there was nothing that Lupus could do. Gaius viewed the world with the simplicity of a child. Mozelle was good. She would never do anything purposefully to hurt someone else. Celsus Mallum had brought whatever had happened on himself. Why should she be handed over to a man who would delight in hurting her? She belonged to Lupus--he should forbid such a terrible thing. How could Lupus explain the pressures of family, government, and society that he faced if he tried to defend the slave in any way?

Lupus closed his eyes, wishing he could sleep. But Somnus, God of Sleep, had taken a personal interest in Mozelle. He'd been there when Discordia had thrown the woman from her own time to this one. He'd become rather fond of her, and he saw no reason for Lupus to find ease in sleep now. Let him wrestle with his conscience.

What turned the trick was the look she'd had in her eyes that last time she had moved to kiss him, and he had turned away. It had been sad, but not self-pitying. *For me. A slave pitied ME. It was as if she knew some great secret that I could never find, and she was watching me grope for it.* He sat bold upright in bed. *She loves me. I'm letting a woman who loves me be savaged rather than fight for her.*

Lupus got up and pulled on his clothes. *I have to do SOMETHING. I have some money put by. It won't last long, but I just need time to THINK. There has to be some way of resolving this without turning her over to Celsus. I'll take her and go to the country. She isn't branded. If I remove the collar, no one need know she's a slave.*

Lupus crept quietly through the house. He'd weighed his options, and had decided that he'd have to use the exit to the garden that was just outside his parents' sleep chamber. The only other exit was in the children's room, and he would have to literally step over Gaius and Patenic's new nursemaid if he chose that route. He knew that the slaves were softhearted toward Mozelle, they would still raise an alarm if they thought she was escaping. A slave accused of attacking a citizen made things difficult for ALL slaves.

He could hear his parents talking as he eased past their door. His father was saying, //"You were pleased enough with the woman when you acquired her, and she did her job well. I've never seen Gaius so content."//

//"It's her effect on Lupus that's the trouble,"// Dramilla said tartly. //"There would have been no problem if he had simply taken his pleasure of her, as is his due. But he was beginning to CARE for her, Lucius!"//

//"Well, she's a nice enough little thing. I don't see why..."//

//"You're not listening! REALLY care. Jupiter, couldn't you see it in his eyes when he looked at her? And he was so angry when Celsus wanted to sport with her. Honestly, would he have taken offense at such a simple matter of hospitality if she hadn't somehow seduced his heart as well as his body? This is a good thing. She'll be out of our house. In a few months the scandal will die down, and we can get down to choosing a wife for him. I want him safely bound to some respectable girl who will be an asset to us all."//

Lupus froze for a moment. *They're talking about me as if I were a slave they planned on breeding. Gods, is THAT how they see me? Is that how -I- sounded to Mozelle? Oh, we have a LOT to talk about.* He eased the outer door open. *But first I have to get her out of the city.* Lupus hurried around the hedge that separated his parent's side of the garden from the children's side. What he saw there froze him in his tracks.

The shed stood open, empty. Lupus stared into the yawning building, trying to understand. *She COULDN'T have gotten out alone. Which of the slaves would have dared?*

//"She's gone."// He turned to find Gaius softly shutting the door to his room. The little boy came to stand beside him, looking into the shed also.

//"Gaius--was it you?"//

The little boy nodded. //"I don't care if you're mad at me. I couldn't let him take her."//

Lupus hugged the boy, closing his eyes to hold back sudden tears. //"I'm not mad, Gaius, but I'm worried. She's out there all alone now, and it isn't safe. I need to go after her."//

Gaius grabbed his arm, glaring at him fiercely. //"You won't bring her back!"//

//"No, Gaius. I'm going to take her away till I can figure out what to do."//

His brother smiled. //"You were coming to free her! I KNEW it!"// He hugged Lupus. //"Oh, she'll be glad, Lupus! She wanted it to be you."// He shoved Lupus toward the back wall. //"But hurry! She ran toward the market, I think. Find her before the guards catch her."//

Lupus gave him a kiss. //"I'll try to come back, little brother, but..."//

//"I know."// There was something old in the child's eyes--old, and a little sad. //"It's all right. I
love you, Lupus--you and Mozelle. Good-bye."//

Another hug, and Lupus ran and climbed over the back wall, hurrying in the direction Gaius had indicated. As he ran, he thought, *Where might she go? She knows so little of the city. Is there any place that might draw her? She said she was lost. Maybe she'd go back to where she claims she arrived? That was Dischordia's temple, wasn't it?*

He made his way toward the temple. When he neared it, he had to duck into a doorway to avoid a pair of guards, and his heart beat even harder. But he had hopes. *There's been no uproar, so maybe she hasn't been found. If I can just get to her in time...*

He had never been inside Dischordia's temple, feeling that there was enough chaos in life, and that trying to placate the goddess would have little effect. He slipped between the pillars, entering the dimness. It was lit by only a couple of torches on the wall behind the altar, and on the altar... He felt a mad urge to laugh with relief. *Only Mozelle could fall asleep while trying to escape.* He started toward her.

*FLASH*

There was a burst of blue light, and the altar was empty.

//"NO!"// The scream tore from his throat without thought. He ran to the altar and fell across it, arms swimming across the smooth, bare marble. *It can't be! It CAN'T! Oh, gods--she was telling the truth! Something... something BROUGHT her here, and now she's gone back.* He sank to his knees, clutching at the stone. *She left me.*

Dischordia, standing unseen behind the altar, watched this performance with interest. *Huh. She's gone, and she's STILL causing trouble. I should have kept her around.*

Venus appeared beside the red-haired goddess. //"Pluto take me--he grew a spine."//

//"A bit late, but yes--he did."//

Venus sighed. //"What a shame. They could have been good together, if he could have just learned to see her as an equal. Now he'll never have the chance."//

//"Venus!"// The Love Goddess looked up in surprise as Lupus raised his voice. He'd thrown back his head and was looking upward. //"Venus, I was wrong! You gave her to me, and I was ready to give her away."// He winced. //"No, I won't be so soft on myself. I was ready hand her to a man I knew would make her life a living hell, all because I wouldn't stand up, like a man. I don't deserve it, Venus, but I pray--give me another chance! I don't care how, just let me show her that I can change."//

Dischordia grunted. //"Might have grown a spine, but he seems willing to give up his balls."//

//"Hush!"// Venus' eyes were bright, and perhaps a bit moist. She put her hand over her heart. //"I can feel it, Cordy. He doesn't understand it yet, but he's ready to try."//

//"What a fucking shame. It's going to be a bit difficult, what with her, oh, two thousand years in the future. But who knows? If he sires some brats, maybe his fifty-times great-grandson can find her."//

Venus shook her head, small jaw firming. //"No, I won't have it. He's prayed to me for assistance, and I'm going to give it. I'm going to send him after her."//

Dischordia laughed. //"Oh, that's rich. You don't know where she is."//

//"But you do. You could help me."//

//"Why should I?"//

Venus smiled sweetly. //"I have a feeling that Lupus won't easily adjust to a time where there's legally fixed social stratas. Think of him trying to adjust."// Dischordia's eyes started to gleam. Venus decided to cinch it. //"You're still a bit irritated with Mozelle, aren't you?"//

//"That wasn't much of an apology."//

//"She won't be able to resist helping him--she's protective of the helpless, and he's going to BE helpless. She'll be stuck with him."//

Dischordia grinned, rubbing her hands together. //"You provide the power--I'll steer."//

~~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~~

"Lady?"

Mozelle curled up tighter, moaning slightly. Damn, it was cold. It had been so warm when she'd fallen asleep. She remembered how stifling it had been in the confines of the shed. *The shed! I'm supposed to be running away! Oh, Jesus, I fell asleep. How could I fall asleep?! Who found me? Please, God, don't let that be a guard!* She cracked one eye open warily.

There wa a small group of people standing in front of her, gaping. All of them except the man in front, that is. He wore some sort of a uniform, and was frowning. "Lady, get down off that right now! That's an antiquity, you're not even supposed to be behind the velvet ropes! If you damaged it, you'll be in a lot of trouble."

Without thinking she replied faintly, "It's solid stone and probably weighs a ton. What could I do to it?"

Her eyes darted around the room. *The museum, not the temple. Oh, God, I DID dream it." She sat up, and felt chill marble on the back of her legs. Looking down, she saw that she was wearing a short, shift like dress. There was a coolness about her neck, and she touched it. *Metal. The collar. Not a dream. I might be crazy, but it wasn't a dream.*

The guard was speaking. "That's hardly the point. We can't have visitors just lounging about on the exhibits."

She stood up. "Well, I'm off it now. No harm, no foul, huh? Look, I've had a real BITCH of a night, and all I want is to go home." She started to push past him.

"Well, take your boyfriend with you."

"What?"

"Does she always push you off the other side of the bed, son?"

"Mozelle?"

Mozelle turned slowly, and felt an odd, swimming sensation. Lupus was standing up from behind the altar. "I don't fucking believe it," she whispered.

Part Two, Cultural Shock

Notes: Some people are confused, since at the end of Roman Enslavement, Scribe returns to her time and place, and meets a young man named Lobo, who resembles Lupus. The first chapter of Enlightment involves an alternate storyline. Since Lupus acts instead of allowing Scribe to be given to Celsus, he changes what would have happened in his own world and time. Before he would have gone on and married, and one of his descendants, Lobo, would have met Scribe in the future, long after he'd died. Instead, he goes after here, thus he never had children, and the young man in the original story never comes into being. Why Lupus doesn't know what a sandwich is. Read here: http://members.aol.com/jaredross/sandwiches/history.html

Mozelle stared at the young man. "What... what are you doing here?"

"That's what I want to know," said the guard, frowning. "You come out of there. And you, come out from behind that rope--it's there for a reason." The guard took her arm to move her along.

Not a good idea. Lupus was around the altar in a flash, snarling, "Eximo femina!"

Mozelle reacted instinctively, catching him as he headed toward the startled guard. "Sedo, Lupus! Sedo."

The guard backed away a few steps, watching the oddly dressed young man warily. "Oh, hell, I thought we had a problem when the Society for Creative Anachronism visited the Da Vinci exhibit. You two just move along, or I'll have to have you ejected."

"Hey, no need to get prickly. I'll go." She snatched up here purse *Thank God it's still here* and started toward the door.

"Mozelle, manere!"

She paused, looking back at Lupus. There had been a tinge of desperation in his voice, and she could see it in his eyes now. *He isn't scared because he's just been dropped into another world,* she thought, surprised. *I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I know it took ME a little while. No, he's upset because I'm leaving him.*

She considered just turning and walking away. If she did, if she completely ignored him and left him to his own devices, what would happen? He didn't speak the language, except very roughly, he'd be confronted by things that would probably seem supernatural to him, and he'd be stumbling in a culture he knew nothing about.

*Plus he has no identity, no papers, and no way to prove he exists. He's in the same position I was in Rome. They might not sell him into slavery, but it's almost certain he'll end up in jail, with the INS trying to figure out who the hell he is. America doesn't LIKE undocumented people. And if he explains things to them, they'll probably drop him straight in the fruit bin, and there's no telling if he'd ever get out. Fuck. I guess I'm responsible for him.*

All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a split second. Lupus could tell that she was indecisive, and his heart thundered with apprehension. What would he do if she rejected him? What if she called the guards to have him removed? If she was indeed a free citizen in this place, she would have a legitimate complaint against him. She frowned, her little jaw firming. For anyone who hadn't been around Mozelle long, that might have seemed ominous. Lupus felt relieved. She might not like what she was about to do, but she'd do it anyway.

She jerked her head toward the door. "Sequi." She glanced at the still suspicious guard, and the growing crowd of interested onlookers. Suddenly she smiled. "You have just witnessed a piece of performance art. Watch the papers for notice of where we'll be performing next." She hissed at Lupus, "Bow!" He looked at her blankly. She sketched a quick bow, motioning him to copy her. Completely bewildered, he did so. He was even more confused by the smattering of applause.

Mozelle grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the exhibit room. He said, "Mozelle, we talk."

"Not now!" she hissed. "We need to get out of here before that guard decides to have us forcibly removed. I do NOT need to try to explain you to a cop."

"Cop?"

"You'll learn. We need someplace to talk. I could use some food, too. What with all the nonsense that went on last night, I didn't eat. Esurio?"

He was touched by the show of concern for his comfort, but didn't think out his response. //"Only for you."//

"Stop it, right there! None of that. I meant food, and you know it, Lupus. Come on."

She led him out of the museum, grumbling to herself. There was a ticket on her car, and that made her swear, even though she thought grudgingly that she could be grateful that it hadn't been towed. The fifty-dollar fine was going to be bad enough. She noticed Lupus eyeing the car in confusion, touching it gingerly, and thought, *Uh oh.* "Lupus, you're going to see a lot of things that will startle you here. These," she touched the car, "are one of them. They move. People ride in them. They make a lot of noise, and they'll hurt you BAD if you get in front of them, and the driver can't stop in time. Think of a runaway chariot."

He nudged the tire with his foot, and gave her a skeptical look. He obviously couldn't conceive of anything this big moving without having several horses dragging it. Right about then a car turned the corner--an ancient little Yugo with a VERY bad motor. It pooted slowly down the street, belching smoke, rattling, squealing, and coughing in a manner that said the driver was probably keeping it moving through sheer willpower. Lupus didn't yell, but he gasped, and his eyes got round. He moved quickly to put the bulk of Scribe's car between him and this frightening apparition, then realized that he was actually TOUCHING another of the things, and a BIGGER one than that which had startled him.

He stepped back so quickly that he tripped and sat down suddenly on the sidewalk. People entering the museum stared. Mozelle sighed. "I just can't take you anywhere." She shook her head. "What's going to happen when you see a semi? Oh, well. There's at least ONE male in the world now who isn't obsessed with cars.*

She opened the door and gestured toward the interior. "Get in." Lupus, standing up, shook his head firmly. "Damn it, Lupus! Things aren't as localized here as they are where you come from. You can't get everywhere you need to go on foot, not without risking being run over, and I'm not leaving my car here to be towed. I can't afford the impound fees. Why am I telling you this like you'll actually understand?" She sighed, looking around. "Okay, food first, and maybe I can explain a few things to you."

It had to be something within walking distance. What was open this early? She spotted a familiar sign a couple of blocks down. "C'mon, let's go visit Ronald."

Lupus followed her. //"Is this Ronald a friend of yours?"//

"Not exactly."

Lupus felt a twinge of jealousy. //"A good friend?"//

"I've never actually met..." His tone suddenly struck her. She turned an astonished look on him. "He's a CLOWN! Balatro."

//"We don't need to be entertained now, Mozelle. We need to talk about our situation."//

"Oh, God help me. This is going to be worse than trying to help a foreigner, because just about everyone in the modern world has SOME concept of American pop culture. I'm taking you to get food. Um, taburnus? Except don't try to order any alcohol. You wouldn't BELIEVE how boogery the liquor laws are here in the Bible Belt."

Lupus followed Mozelle down to the fast food restaurant. By the time they'd reached it, he'd almost stopped shying every time a car drove by. Mozelle had to give him credit for having a little nerve. He was still a little reluctant to walk through the parking lot--passing so close to so many possible threats was a little nerve wracking.

The McDonalds was busy. Mozelle would have preferred somewhere more quiet, but there wasn't a lot of choice at this time of the morning in downtown. She pulled him to the side through the doors, preparing to orient him a little before braving the counter.

He was rubbing his arms. "Exaequo frigus."

"It's called 'air conditioning'. You'll learn to love it. Okay, this is what's called a fast food restaurant, though sometimes 'fast' is a relative term, especially if you hit it during a rush."

"Restaurant?"

"A place to buy prepared food."

"Ah." Lupus pointed to one of the plastic molded booths. "We sit?"

"After we get the food. It's sort of self-serve here, a totally alien concept to you, I know." She indicated the line up to the counter. "We wait, then tell them what we want. They fix it and give it to us. I pay, and we eat. Simple?"

He gave her a look. //"I'm not Gaius, you know. You don't have to explain everything."//

"Tell me that the first time you try to use the wrong gender public restroom." She led him over and they got in line.

A small child in front turned to stare at them. He tugged his father's hand, then said, "Daddy, that man is wearing a dress."

The father didn't turn around. "Don't stare. Remember what I told you about that."

"Okay." The little boy looked at Lupus. "Mister, are you a mosexshul?" The father quickly stepped out of line and pulled the protesting boy out of the restaurant.

Lupus blinked. //"What was that all about?"//

"The fact that you may try to act politically correct in public, but your kids will tell on you. I'm going to order for you. Even if you could read English, it would take forever to explain a McRib sandwich."

//"What is a 'sandwich'?"//

"Oh, lord."

The female clerk's smile faltered only slightly when she got a look at her next customers. "Welcome to McDonalds! What can I get for you today?"

"This is my friend's first trip to America," Mozelle explained, before Lupus could start spouting Latin. "I decided to show him some quintessential American food."

The clerk had only a vague idea of what quintessential meant, but it sounded complimentary. "Sure! What would you like?"

"Oo, um..." Mozelle studied the menu. "Let's have four of the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits, a large diet Coke," she looked at Lupus. "What do you want to drink?"

"Vinum."

"Not even in France does McDonalds serve wine. Make that a medium orange juice. Oh, and a couple of the apple pies, too."

Lupus peered over Mozelle, gazing into the back where the other clerks were bustling about efficiently. //"They are all dressed the same. Even the women."//

"Over here it isn't just the army that wears uniforms. Don't stare--it'll get you smacked some places. And get used to seeing women in pants."

He sniffed hungrily. //"It smells delicious. This must be a fine cookhouse."//

"Millions of grade school kids would agree with you."


The clerk was busily ringing up the sale. When the register started bleeping and chittering, Lupus grabbed Mozelle and shoved her behind himself. The clerk paused. "Miss, is there something wrong?"

"He's protecting me from the cash register." That earned a stare. "It's a long story. He means well. Lupus, it isn't going to explode."

She stepped back to the counter, digging in her purse while Lupus kept a mistrustful eye on the strange object sitting on the counter, ready to snatch Mozelle out of harm's way if necessary. She handed over several bills, then said, "Drop the change in the jar for Jerry's kids," and picked up the tray of food.

Lupus followed her to a booth. //"Mozelle, don't you have to pay?"//

"I DID pay."

//"But you just gave her some pieces of paper."//

"Trust me, it's money."

//"No gold? No silver or copper?"// he asked, obviously stumped by the concept.

"No gold since before I was born, and good luck finding actual silver in the silver coins. I'm not even sure if pennies are unadulterated copper any more." He started to say something, "And before you ask, no you can't just draw up as much money as you want." She sat down, mumbling, "Nip THAT concept right in the bud. I don't want him trying to pass out Monopoly money. I'd LOVE explaining that to people. They'd either lock him up, or try to put him in a 'special' class. Just eat for a little while, okay? Give my brain a chance to aclimate again."

Lupus accepted the food, examining the thin paper wrapper, imprinted with the company logo, with great interest. He tore through his biscuit sandwiches, his expression pleased. *He's going to be easy to please, at least in the food areay,* Mozelle thought. *Cooking was so hit-or-miss with the open hearths and lack of thermostats that standardized prepared food will probably seem like a marvel. Sure, Malanda spoiled him, but if he had to eat out in public places, he knows how iffy food can be.*

The apple pie puzzled him a little. There was't a lot of deep frying in ancient times, given the difficulty of keeping large pots of grease at a high enough temperature for long periods of time. He experimentally poked the pie a couple of times, but the sugary, cinnamon scent over-rode his misgivings. He broke off a corner and nibbled, then finished it in three bites, and eyed Mozelle's pie. She sighed, and pushed the treat toward him. "I guess it's sort of my fault you're here, so I'll have to feed you."

He sifted through what she had said, mentally interpretting it, then got a proud look on his face. //"I am responsible for myself, Mozelle--dependent on no one."// He smiled in a manner that was just smug enough to be infuriating. //"Much less a woman."//

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, really?"

//"Really. I am no babe--I am a man, and a sensible, competent one at that. I am sure I will have no trouble making my way in your world."// He had finished his juice. Now he indicated her cup. //"I am still thirsty. Will you share a sip of your drink?"//

"You wouldn't want that--it's..." She paused, then smiled sweetly, pushing it toward him. "Sure, go ahead."

Lupus eyed the straw curiously, then pushed it aside and took a swallow. His eyes didn't quite bug as the carbonation bubbles danced around his mouth, and the peculiar chemical-sweet flavor of a diet soda surged over his tongue. He choked, snorted, and spat. "Ew," she said calmly. "How rude." He was holding his nose, eyes watering. "Burns when it comes out the nose, doesn't it? I haven't had that happen since I was a kid and was watching a Jerry Lewis movie. It was The Geisha Boy, and I had a mouthful of soda at the exact moment the rabbit comes sliding down the banister."

He gave her a reproachful look. She shrugged, and offered him a napkin. When he looked at it, then at her, she gently blotted his face and hands. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me, oh Great and Capable One." He understood enough of her meaning to blush, and she nodded. "Listen to me when I tell you something, Lupus. It will almost always be for a good reason. And right now I'm telling you that you're going to have to ride inside a car. It's the only way I'm going to be able to get you home, and it's a part of this world. You're going to have to learn how to deal with it."

He didn't look pleased, but he nodded. "I..." A pause, brow wrinkled in concentration. "Adapt?"

She stared at him. *Damn. I think he just might be here long enough for that word to be justified.*

Part 3

Mozelle gathered up the trash and dumped it in the receptacle. Lupus frowned, tapping the swinging flap experimentally, watching it flip back and forth. He was being watched by a couple of giggling pre-teen boys. //"Mozelle, what is this? It isn't wood, metal, paper or stone."//

"Plastic."

"Plah-stick?"

"You're going to be seeing a lot of it. Come on, we need to get home. I just remembered that I have a deadline. If I rush, I'll make it."

"Dead lion?"

"Gah! Time limit? I have to do something before this evening, and I'm not going to be able if you don't stop dragging your heels! Now, come ON!" She stalked out of the building.

Lupus would have liked to have stayed and examined the fascinating clear doors, but he realized with sudden alarm that he might very well be LEFT if he didn't follow her. The idea of hurrying at a slave's behest was alien, but he had the feeling that he was going to have to make many adjustments to both his attitudes, and his expectations.

They went back to the strange metal box she had tried to coax him into before. She opened the door in the side, looking at him expectantly. He shook his head. She scowled. "I'm running out of patience, and since we're probably going to be stuck with each other for a long time, you DON'T want to use up my supply the first day. Riding in this will NOT hurt you--you're just going to have to trust me on this." He still hesitated. "Let me make it easy for you--get in the fucking car or I'll LEAVE your ass."

Lupus gathered his courage and gingerly eased into the thing. It was surprisingly comfortable--the seat well cushioned, and very smooth. He touched the material wonderingly. It wasn't quite like leather. For one thing, he'd never seen leather that shade of green. He flinched when she shut the door, and relaxed only slightly when she went around to the other side and joined him in the thing.

"Put on your... Oh, hell, there's no way I'm going to be able to explain seat belts to you." She leaned over him, and Lupus happily started to slip an arm around her neck. "Stop that! I'm just trying to keep from getting a ticket." She pulled a set of woven straps so that they passed over his lap and diagonally across his torso, fastening to some sort of device at his left. "There. It's called a safety belt."

"Safe?"

"Yes."

"If safe, why you tie me to seat?"

"You have a valid point, but I don't have time to debate with you. Okay, there's going to be a lot of noise, and some shaking, and this thing is going to move. It's probably going to seem pretty fast to you, and there are going to be a lot more of these things moving around us. Just don't panic. This happens every day, okay? I'm not risking our lives." She reached for the key, muttering, "At least not as much as if, say, it was rush hour."

The engine started. Lupus jerked, then began tugging at the belt. "Stop it!" she ordered. "Okay, it
doesn't purr, but it's not all that bad."

//"Mozelle, it GROWLS!"//

"Will you just CALM DOWN? I don't live far away. If you go having a hissy fit, I'll end up against a fire hydrant or a telephone pole. Look, we're moving, all right? We're going down the road, and nothing is happening. Though that policeman parked over there might get interested if you don't settle down. He'll think you're drunk, or something."

That made him pause. "Ebrietas?" His tone was outraged. "So early?"

"It's been known to happen. Sit and shut." She was living in a Houston suburb, and she thought that maybe he might relax a little when they got into an area with buildings that were more of a size he was used to. She thought that was the case, since he'd stayed quiet for the rest of the drive. She pulled into her driveway and shut the engine off, then turned to open the seat belt buckle.

He was absolutely rigid, eyes clamped shut. *Oh, Christ.* She felt like she'd been tormenting a puppy. *It's probably the same as it was for me when I went on the roller coasters at Astroworld. No, worse--I did that voluntarily.* "Lupus," she said gently. "We're here, see? And you're in one piece. You're all right." He opened his eyes slowly, looking around, and some of the color came back into his face. That was good, because he'd been as pale as cheese, and she had been worried that he might faint. She had no idea what to do with fully-grown, unconscious man in ancient Roman dress.

She unhooked his seat belt, and pointed at the door handle. "Pull up on that, and push..." He gripped the handle, jerked, and shoved, and tumbled out of the car. "but not too hard." She leaned across the seat and peered out. "Are you okay?"

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh-kay?"

"No black out, flashing lights, sudden nausea?"

"No."

"Thank goodness." She got out of the car and shut her own door. "Shut and lock it. No, wait--lock, THEN shut it." He was staring at the open door mistrustfully. "Never mind." She went around, popped the lock down, and shut the car door. "Come on. I want to get you inside before the neighbors see and think I've been out at a rowdy all night costume party."

While Mozelle seemed to stick a tiny piece of metal into the door, Lupus looked around. This was an odd area. It didn't appear to be a city, but it wasn't the country, either. There were smooth patches of grass before each dwelling, some of them decorated with flowerbeds. The buildings themselves were strange, too. He didn't see any that were made of stone. There were a few brick ones that he wanted to take a closer look at. He'd never seen bricks that were so uniform in size and shape. And Mozelle's house... At first he had thought that it was painted wood, but when he touched it, then looked closer, it appeared to be something rather like the 'plastic' she had shown him.

"Come ON!" She had the door open, and was waving him inside. One of those infernal creations turned into the end of the street, rumbling toward them, and he hastily entered the house.

It was dim inside the house. As she dropped her purse on the front table, Mozelle snapped the lights on. Lupus squawked and clapped a hand over his eyes, bumping into the wall. "Jesus! What's wrong?"

"Lights! Is there fire?"

"You've seen electric lights before, Lupus. At the museum, and at the McDonalds, and... And they were already burning, you haven't ever seen any turned on. You can uncover your eyes--they aren't going to get any brighter." He did, blinking cautiously. "Look, this is what controls them, this little doohicky. Down," she flipped it. "off. Up," she flipped the switch again, "On. You try." He looked from the switch, to her, then back again. His jaw firmed. She could almost hear him thinking, 'If a woman can do this, so can I'. He reached out, gingerly touching the switch. Nothing happened. "You have to PUSH. Don't worry--I doubt you can break it."

He pushed again, and still nothing. Frowning, he pushed HARD. The switch snapped down, and the lights went off. He flinched, looking around apprehensively, then cautiously pushed up on the switch. It snapped up, and the lights flashed on again. His expression cleared, and he laughed. In a moment he was flicking the switch rapidly--so rapidly that there was an almost stroboscopic effect. "I should have known." She grabbed his hand. "Enough. I'm sure I can find something else to keep you occupied while I do what I have to do." She walked deeper into the house. "I certainly hope so, because THAT would drive me nuts in short order."

A fat gray and black tabby cat came trotting to her, mewing busily. Mozell gave a glad cry and swooped down on him, crying, "STINKPOT!" The cat grunted in surprise, but didn't protest, apparently used to his mistress's eccentricities.

There was a soft sound, and Lupus and Mozelle both made a face. Lupus waved a hand in front of his face, saying, "Flattulus?"

"Hey, I named his Stinkpot even before I found out about his little problem. He's a little stinky sometimes, but he's sweet. She hugged the cat, and it purred. "Baby, I was WORRIED about you! Okay, I was worried about a lot of other things BEFORE you, but I WAS worried. Are you hungry, hum?" The cat meowed. "Yeah, right, dumb question." She set him down. "C'mon, tooter, and mama will feed you. Lupus? Don't touch anything."

He followed them down a short hallway. The cat was a peculiar little beast. His body was almost square, his legs were very short, and his tail was very long. He looked rather like a matron's fur muff--with legs. They entered a bright room that had some sort of tile on the floor, and strange, shiny, boxy objects. The woman opened a cabinet and took out a bright paper bag--one that had a smiling cat on it. Lupus was astounded. He'd never seen a cat smile before. She poured some sort of hard nuggets into a bowl. They didn't look very appetizing, but the cat seemed to like them, judging by the way he gobbled them down.

She stroked the cat one more time, then said, "Okay, I need you kept quiet, out of my hair, and in one place for a couple of hours. I almost have that article for the museum guide done, and now I can finish it," she said as they walked back to the front of the house. "Huh, I wonder what kind of a response I'd get if I told them what I really thought? 'This museum is big, but still manages to keep from presenting a chilly, impersonal atmosphere. Visitors are advised to be careful of their seating choices when taking a rest, because the wrong one could cause unBELIEVABLE crap in their lives.' Well, I never really liked the idea of using a television as a babysitter, but I don't think I have much choice here, and since the computer is in the same room, I'll be able to keep an eye on you. Have a seat."

Lupus seated himself on the sofa. He looked around, wondering what Mozelle did if she had guests for a meal, since there was only one couch, and it was rather high for eating off the table before it. "Pay attention." She stood beside a large black box, a small, dark tablet in her hands. "This is called a television, or teevee for short."

Lupus blinked. For short? It looked quite solid--how did they shrink it? She was continuing. "You like the theater? Plays?" He nodded. "Okay, think of this as plays-in-a-box. There's going to be movement and noise, so don't freak out, pay attention, and there should be SOMETHING on it that you'll find interesting, at least for a little while."

She pointed the tablet at the box, and tapped it with her finger. Immediately there was light, color, and noise from the box. Intrigued, Lupus sat forward, staring at it. For the first few seconds it was hard to tell what was going on--things were moving so quickly. Then things slowed down, and he saw that there were men walking on a green field, that had odd white stripes on it. The men were dressed much alike. *Some sort of uniform? Yes, they're wearing some strange type of padded armor, and helmets. The face guards make sense...* There was another blur of motion, the men scrambling madly for no discernable reason. No, wait... one of them tossed an oddly shaped object to another, and most of the other men tried to bring down the second one. "Mozelle," he pointed. "What?"

"It's football."

"Foot--ball." He frowned, looking at her questioningly. A man wearing a tunic decorated with stripes of black and white seemed to be arguing with some of the soldiers. Lupus wondered at the man's bravery, to dispute with so many burly men.

"It's a game. They... Uh... Crap, I never really understood the rules perfectly. They sort of take turns trying to move that ball up and down the field, and trying to keep the OTHER team from getting the ball. Whoever gets it to their end of the field the most time wins... sort of."

Lupus cocked his head, watching the men run, then suddenly stop again. "Why?"

She found herself smiling. "You've got me there. I never saw the point either, and I'm from Texas. Not interested in it?" He made a face and shook his head. "Damn," she muttered. "You might have made a decent boyfriend if you weren't raised to look at some people as cattle."

She tapped the tablet again, and the image on the box flickered. There was a group of people sitting on a dais, in front of an audience. Lupus prepared himself for a dramatic reading, though the people were not dressed like any actors he'd ever seen. The women... He almost blushed. Event the tarts in the Roman brothels dressed more decorously. One of them wore no more than tight trousers that barely covered her buttocks (Mozelle would tell him later that they were called 'Daisy Dukes'), and a strip of material around her chest.

As he watched, another woman, much older and heavier, leaped up and began to fight with the girl, pulling at her improbably pale hair and slapping her rouged cheeks. The box was emitting shrill peeping sounds that drowned out part of what the women were screaming, and what Lupus COULD hear was shocking. It sounded as if the younger woman had bedded the older woman's husband, and the older woman was her mother. He turned round eyes on Mozelle. She went, "Yeah, I suppose that Jerry Springer IS a little much for you."

She tapped again. Something very large and purple was moving toward a group of children. He pointed in alarm, and she said, "No, there's no danger." Pause. "Well, no PHYSICAL danger, anyway." She touched the tablet, and music flowed from the box. 'Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship...'

"Great. This is going to have to do. I don't have time to keep it up." She handed the tablet to him, and he stared at it, bemused. "Look, if you get tired of this, just push THIS button, okay? Keep pushing it till you find something you like. I'm going to be right over here if you need me, but PLEASE try to amuse yourself for a little while. I HAVE to finish this and get it sent off, or I won't be able to pay the rent next month."

He had no idea what she meant, but he nodded. She was acting tense, and he had a feeling that it would be best to humor her. Besides, there was now a terrible storm playing out in the box, and he couldn't take his eyes off it. Oh, those poor people! Were they going to be drowned before his very eyes? Then it seemed that they landed safely on a small island, and he felt great relief. Soon he was immersed in the story. It was brilliant. It took the powerful dramatic theme of being castaway, and built comedy upon it. He was soon immersed in the world of the intellectual professor, the patrician Howells, and the sultry Ginger *Actress? Oh, some of them in Rome liked to call themselves 'actresses', too,* he thought cynically. Then there was the innocent, pastoral MaryAnn, and the two classic clowns, Skipper and Gilligan.

Mozelle waited till he seemed to be engrossed, then went to the computer and got started. Luckily she had all but the last few paragraphs of the article done, and she finished it quickly. If they were pleased with it, she might get commissioned to do more articles, since there were several other museums and historical sites within easy driving distance. She was sure she could sell them on the music museum in Port Arthur.

She emailed the finished document to the publisher, and relaxed with a sigh. That would cover the rest of the expenses for the month. Anything else she could sell could be extra, bankes or squandered. Mozelle shut off the computer quickly, grateful that Lupus hadn't noticed it and started to ask questions about it. She had no clue as to how to explain the Internet.

She strolled over to the couch and stood behind it. It was still Gilligan's island. *How long has that been on? They must be having a marathon, or something. It sure has kept him quiet.* "Having fun?"

"Cannot understand all, but it is powerful."

She blinked. "Powerful?"

He nodded. "The human comedy. Best when it is truest. You see? They had chance to escape island prison, but could not leave gold. Now trapped again. Greed. Greed traps mankind."

She blinked. "You've deconstructed Gilligan's Island. You haven't been in my time a day, and you're hooked on one of the most notorious cheesy comedies of all time."

"Cheese?"

"Much too hard a concept to explain right now. How you doing?"

He shifted. "Chamberpot?"

She covered her eyes briefly. "This should be fun. Follow me."

She led him down the hall to the bathroom. "This is the bathroom." He looked around, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I know--not much compaired to yours in the bathing department, but we have you beat all to hell in the waste disposal section." She waved at what looked like a sort of chair made of shiny white stone. But the center was hollow, with only a frame of sorts sitting on the rim. He looked at her. "You use that."

He wrinkled his nose. "In house? Mozelle, I use pot, easy to take out to lime pit."

"I'm going to have to show you. Look in it." He looked. Water. That would just make it more difficult to extract the waste and carry it away. "Watch." She pushed a small metal lever. This age and place seemed to really use a lot of switches, levers, and buttons. He didn't have time to think about this very closely, because there was a whooshing sound, and the water in the chair swirled, then was sucked down through a small hole at the bottom. A moment later there was the sound of running water, and the level began to rise again. "That, my friend, is one of the greatest inventions of the modern age--the indoor flush toilet." He bent down till his face was only a few inches from the seat. "Uh, Lupus? I'm pretty clean in here, but I still wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Amazing."

"I always appreciated them, but my bout with your chamberpots and outhouse REALLY made them precious in my eyes." She flipped the seat up. "Up for liquids." She put it down again. "Down for solids, and when you're done. ALWAYS back down. I promise you that the first time I grope my way in here in the dark and have my bottom hit cold water because you forgot to put the seat down, I WILL wake your ass up and make you come in and put it back down, and THEN I will get angry. And remember..." She pushed the handle, Lupus bent over again, fascinated. "Don't DO that! If someone sees you do it in a public restroom, you're likely to get reported as strange. Do that every time you use it, and I mean EVERY time. Paper is right there."

He poked the roll of toilet paper on the spindle, then tweezed the dangling edge and pulled... and pulled... and pulled. He'd unravelled a good three yards when she finally realized he wasn't going to stop. "Quit it. I've never seen anyone do that but my cat. Well, I trained him not to do it, I can train you." She reached over and tore the long strip loose from the roll.

Lupus bundled the paper into a loose wad, and lifted it. "What for?"

"Cleaning."

He looked at it thoughtfully, then began wiping the counter with it, looking at her questioningly. She fought down a smile. "Not that kind of cleaning, though you get points for being willing to do that. PERSONAL cleaning, after you use that." She pointed at the toilet. "When you're done, just drop it in and flush." He was looking dubious, and she caught him eyeing the pretty little guest towel she had hung over the sink. "If you do I'll smack you! I paid five bucks for that towel."

He started to unlace his pants. "You show?"

She backed up quickly. "No way. And from here on in, bucko, you just don't get so damn casual about your bathroom habits around me. I don't have to put up with that here. Look, trust me--you're a relatively intelligent man--you'll figure it out." She headed out the door. "Just please, try not to use so much tissue that you plug up the pipes."

Part 5

The ride home was less tense than the others that had come before. Lupus immediately dug into the bag of books and began flipping through them. He was amazed by the brightly colored illustrations. The only paintings he was familiar with were the murals painted on the walls of well-to-do households, and these pictures were a far cry from the pastoral or mythical themes favored in those cases. He held up one book and said, "Mozelle?"

"Wait till we're stopped at a light. The last thing I need is to be distracted and get a ticket." They stopped at an intersection, and she glanced over. "What?"

"Yes--what?" He pointed at the page.

She looked, then gave one of the few genuine smiles he'd seen since they'd come to this time and place. "It's a cat."

He examined the picture doubtfully. "Walks like man."

"Yes, but it's a cat. See..." She reached over and tapped the page. "Here's the whiskers, and here's the tail, and he's fuzzy."

"But..."

Lupus pointed again, and she shrugged, her smile widening. "It's a cat--in a hat." He gave her one of those tolerant 'if you say so' looks, flipped a couple of pages, then pointed again. "And that's a Thing. Don't ask me what those are, because I honestly don't know, and I'm not the only generation to be puzzled by them. Look, Dr. Seuss is probably a bit much for you to start with. Here..." She rummaged in the sack and came up with a much smaller book. "See how you can do with Pat the Bunny. If you're good, I'll read you Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day later."

Lupus grunted, flipping through the books. //"That may be something I can relate to."//

"Can't we all?"

Once they were home, Mozelle seated him at the kitchen table and handed him one thin, but very large, book. "We start with the basics--A, B, Cs. This one should help--it has pictures for each letter. Since the Roman alphabet has some things in common with ours, you should be able to pick it up pretty quickly." She gave him a thoughtful look, then said slowly, "You have a few qualities I'm not fond of, but stupidity isn't one of them."

Lupus noticed that the edginess he'd noticed in her since he'd arrived was absent. Her hand rested on the tabletop, and he rested his hand over hers, stroking the smooth skin. Her expression softened for a moment, then tightened, and she firmly pulled her hand away. "A little clueless some times, but not stupid. That's why I have hope for you. Start on that, and I'll make supper."

Lupus wasn't sure of how she intended to cook, since there was no hearth in sight. He had assumed that she must fetch her meals from one of the public eating places that seemed so prevalent. She pulled what looked like a pink lump out of the tall metal box. He noticed, with no little surprise, that there was a light inside the box. He considered asking her about it, but decided to wait. He didn't think it would be a good idea to irritate her any more at the moment.

She peeled something clear and clinging off it, then set a pan on one of the metal racks on the other box. He jumped up, though, when she turned a knob, and a blue flame sprang up under the pan. She waved at him. "Don't panic--it's controlled. As long as it doesn't burn yellow--" she peeked under the pan, "and it isn't." She pointed at him. "But don't YOU ever touch this thing, understand?"

//"Don't worry about that."//

She nodded. "Not for a LONG time, anyway. Hit the books again." He smiled and slapped one of them. She snorted, but smiled reluctantly. "Comedian."

She crumbled the pink mass into the pan, and a sizzle rose. A moment later Lupus lifted his head, sniffing hungrily. It was meat, just not in a form he was used to. She was more interesting than the book, so he watched as she alternated between stirring the meat and chopping an onion. She added it to the pan, and the smell became even more tempting. When it had reached a state that suited her, she poured water into the pan, and went to the cabinet. The box she removed seemed to be made of stiff paper, and the front was decorated with what looked like a simple, large white hand. The odd thing was that the hand had feet and facial features. What was it about this culture, that they tried to give human characteristics to everything?

She pulled two more packages out of the box, one of them also clear, and filled with what looked like twigs. He watched in puzzlement as she emptied those, and some sort of brownish powder into the pot, stirring it again, then placed a lid on it. She noticed his look, and said, "Just Hamburger Helper, but I jazz it up a little. I wish I'd thought to get mushrooms, but I wasn't about to take you into a grocery store. Lord, I can just picture what would have happened with the displays. With my luck it would have been Three Stooges time." She came over and sat next to him. "I'll just need to stir that in a little while. How are you doing with the book?"

Lupus turned to the front of the book and began pointing, and identifying. "Pomum. Crustum. Cattus." He smiled. "No hat."

Her lips twitched. "No hat," she agreed. "Okay, do you know the English words for those?"

"Brittanic? Apple. Cake?"

"Bread."

"Ah! Yes, bread. And cat." He looked at the picture again, and tapped it, then pointed to the little cat that had entered the kitchen and was now rubbing against his legs. "Like Stinkpot."

"There ARE no cats like Stinkpot. He is unique. But the coloring is similar." She frowned. "You know, I am REALLY not looking forward to trying to teach you the difference in the way some letters are pronounced. I don't know if learning to read phonetically helped or hindered me. I mean, I spent years pronouncing antiques as 'an-ti-cues', and Michael as 'Mitch-a-el'. The concept of the hard and soft C should be a real bitch, and FORGET 'cello'."

Lupus blinked. "Yes."

Mozelle rubbed her face, smiling ruefully. "Right. Cart before horse time." She suddenly jerked, as if remembering something vital had been forgotten. "Sticking! Ack!" She hurried over and stirred the contents of the pan quickly, muttering, "Don't, don't, don't!" Then she sighed. "Okay. We won't be eating one rubbery lump, with gravy."

Lupus blinked again. "Good."

She chuckled. "You know, you might be boyfriend material at that. You've got the 'I'll humor her' down pat. Okay, the thing to remember is that the picture next to the word? The first sound of its name will be the same as the sound of the letter that starts the word, got it?"

"Yes."

"For awhile you're going to be very popular with women who favor the strong, silent type."

"Popular?"

"They're going to like you a lot."

He frowned. //"I don't care if they do. You're the only one I want to be popular with."//

He smile faded a little. "You've got to stop saying stuff like that, Lupus."

"Why?"

She checked the pan again, then sat at the table with him, running a hand up into her hair. "Christ. I've never had to have a 'relationship' discussion before. Probably because I've never had a relationship." She took a deep breath. "Lupus, I guess you've realized that things between us won't be the same here as they were back in your home." He nodded. "But do you realize how COMPLETE the change is? What kind of claim do you think you have on me?"

He studied her, then said quietly, //"I hope that my claim is on your heart."//

She stared at him. "Are you going to use the 'L' word? Are you going to say love?"

"You are all I care for."

Her expression hardened a little. "You still can't say it. What's so damn hard about..." She stopped, then gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, hell! Half the men today can't say it, and the other half throw it around like it's nothing. I don't know why I expect you to be any different."

She took a breath, then reached down and hefted the cat into her lap. She hugged him, and he squeaked happily, reaching up one paw to tap her chin. He settled down to purr as she began scratching behind his ears. "Lupus, caring isn't enough. I care about Stinkpot, here--a lot. He's a big part of my life. I take care of him, I spoil him, I pet him, I even let him sleep in my bed. But if he could talk, and he offered an opinion about anything, I doubt I'd do more than pat him on the head and tell him to go play. Sound familiar? If he ran away, I'd do all I could to get him back, and if I lost him, I'd cry. I'd boo-hoo my eyes out. And some day I'd get another cat, and the memory would fade. And I wouldn't feel empty."

"Mozelle," he said quietly, "not like that."

She put Stinkpot down and stood, going to the sink to wash her hands. "You're going to have to prove it, Lupus."

She obviously didn't want to discuss things, and Lupus honestly had no idea what he would say, so he went back to the books (or at least pretended to), and she put together a salad. When it was time to eat, she pointed out the selection of dressings in the refrigerator, then watched in disbelief as he opened each bottle, sniffed the contents experimentally, and poured a little of each on his salad. He ate the results with relish, and she couldn't help shaking her head. "I can't wait to see the expressions on peoples' faces the first time I take you to a salad bar."

He was fascinated by the noodles, twirling them around his fork, then poking experimentally at the dangling bits. Lupus ate heartily. When he finished, he said, //"Mozelle, you reveal more talents all the time. I didn't know you were a cook."//

"Only with a gas stove," she assured him, taking up the plates. After rinsing them in the sink, she put them in the dishwasher.

Lupus didn't think that the dishes were very clean, and he wondered why she was storing them in another metal box, but he didn't think it would be wise to criticize her housekeeping. When she tapped the face of the box and a rushing sound came from it, he jumped up, wide eyed, and she sighed. "Lupus, lots of things make noise in this world, and it doesn't mean they're about to explode. You'll just have to learn which sounds mean trouble, but I suppose it'll take time."

After the meal they again watched the strange entertainment box--Something called CSI. It seemed to be a drama about murder, from what Lupus could gather. The image of a young woman's body on a bathroom floor, staring blankly at a dark puddle of her own blood, made him blanche. She noticed, and assured him, "It isn't real, Lupus. She isn't dead."

"She looks dead."

"It's all make-up and tricks, I promise you. That stuff on the floor? I can make something that looks almost exactly like it with Karo syrup and red food dye. I HAVE done, for school. It looks good, but it's hell to get out of your clothes. I ruined a blouse doing a demonstration of how that works."

"People enjoy this?"

"Lupus, people used to go to the gladiator shows all the time back where you come from."

"I don't."

Her expression softened a little. "No, you didn't, did you? I know your father and mother did, but you stayed home. I'd forgotten about that. But believe me, this is different. Everyone knows it's fake. But I guess I'll have to hold off on showing you the gory horror movies for awhile."

Once he got past the gruesome aspects of the show, Lupus became very involved with the story. Mozelle seemed to become a little more alert, a little more interested when one of the men was on the screen--a young man with messy hair. He decided that he didn't like her cheering on another man--not even a fictional one.

After the program ended (Lupus complained that they didn't tell what became of the murderer, whether he was held accountable, and punished. Mozelle told him that was just the way it was, but that she sometimes had issues with that, too), Mozelle went and rummaged in the hallway closet, then went into her bedroom. Lupus was considering following her, but it was probably better that he didn't, since she came out, carrying a pillow.

"I hope you appreciate my sacrifice. I haven't voluntarily slept with one pillow since I saved up my allowance to buy a second one." She pushed the pile of sheets, pillow, and a blanket into his arms. "Pleasant dreams, and don't you DARE go outside without me unless the house is on fire." Lupus just stood, looking at her. She pointed at the sofa, and he reluctantly sat down, clutching the bedding to his chest. "I'll turn off the lights, so you don't have to worry about tripping over anything on your way back to the couch." She flipped the light switch.

The light was on in the hall, shining behind her. She should have been just a silhouette, a dark form. But the light seemed to wind its way through her curls, illuminating bright threads that he hadn't seen before, and the light slid around the outline of her figure, seeming to mold the curves. Her face was hidden by the shadows, and Lupus thought that like this, he could be looking at any woman. Indeed, he could be seeing Woman herself, the essence of what was female in the universe. But still there was something familiar about her, dearly familiar. Even if he had suddenly come upon this image, he would have known her.

Mozelle just stood there for a moment, studying Lupus. *He can't really see me like this,* she thought, and she took the opportunity to really look at him. In Rome, he had been so self-assured, in control. He knew his world, and his place in it--and the place of everyone else. *And that was the problem. He doesn't look so sure of everything now. Maybe... What he believed was true and fixed has been wiped away. Maybe he'll be able to build a new concept of things. Maybe.* "You know where the toilet is if you need it, and if Stinkpot wants to sleep with you, you might as well just resign yourself to it. Put him down, and he'll jump back up. Shut him in another room, and he'll wake us both up, and maybe the neighbors as well. Put him outside, and I'll smack you silly. Understood?" Lupus nodded, and she shut off the hall light before going to her room.

Lupus sighed heavily. This was going to be even worse than the first night that he spent at the Acadamy. At least then he had known some of the other boys, and had been able to tell himself that he could run away and go home if things got too bad. Now he knew only one person in this world, and she had very justifiable issues with him.

Stinkpot sauntered into the livingroom and sat in front of him, tilting his head to gaze up at Lupus' face. He made a chirping noise. Lupus put aside his bedding and reached down, pulling the little animal up into his lap. He liked cats, but his mother had always refused to have pets in the house. The cat, sensing a soft touch, stood on his hind legs, putting his paws on Lupus'collar bones and stretching up to give his nose a companionable sniff. Deciding that he'd be happy to own Lupus, Stinkpot rubbed his head thoroughly along the young man's jaw, then settled down to purr in his lap.

Lupus stroked him, gently worrying the cat's neck ruff, and said with irony, //"She'll let YOU sleep in her bed, so what are you doing out here?"//

Part Six

Lupus was in his own room, in his own bed, sleeping peacefully. Soon Rentic would come to wake him for breakfast. Mozelle would help him dress, and he'd go to the kitchen to join Gaius and Patenic for some of Malanda's excellent food. The thought of a family breakfast was appealing, but his mind backtracked quickly to something even more pleasant.

Mozelle. During the short time she had really been his, he insisted that she sleep in his bed, and now he was spooned against her back. He could feel her curly hair tickling his nose, and he was tempted to nuzzle into the curls. Something stopped him, though. *Phew. What did she eat last night?*

He opened his eyes to find golden eyes staring into his own. Stinkpot was curled up on his chest, his long whiskers twitched forward to brush Lupus' face. The little tabby cat noticed that his human pillow was awake and said something in cat language that probably translated to, "Well, it's about time! My dish is empty."

Lupus sighed, stroking his head. "Cat." Stinkpot mewed, patting his nose. "Hungry cat." Lupus pushed the cat off, then got up. Lupus slept nude, and he decided he'd better put something on. The bags of clothes they'd purchased the day before were on the floor nearby, and he rummaged in them, coming up with one of the packages of underwear. He turned it over in his hands, poking at the clear, shiny stuff held the garments, then decided not to open it. He had no idea if there was a right way and a wrong way, and he didn't want to be scolded for ruining anything. He started to put on the pair he'd worn the day before. After a moment, though, he stuffed them in the bag. If Mozelle insisted, he'd wear them, but if he wore trousers, there was no reason for her to know differently.

He smiled as he reached for one of the pairs of pants. *Or perhaps we'll make up. She could find out then, but I think in that case I'll be able to distract her from being irritated.* Stinkpot, weaving back and forth near his feet, meowed a bit more sharply this time. "Yes, yes. Impatiens." He considered a couple of pairs of pants, but finally settled on some made of black, stretchy material--with a solid waistband. Mozelle had showed him how to operate the fastenings, but Lupus didn't like the sliding thing. He especially didn't like the idea of all those tiny, rough metal teeth so close to his private parts. He was able to just pull these up, and settle the waistband just over his hips. Hooking his thumb in the waistband, he stretched it experimentally, marveling at how it sprang back to snugness. "Ee-lah-stick," he murmured, shaking his head in admiration.

He decided that was enough clothing for decency's sake, and, ignoring the shoes, walked into the kitchen. Stinkpot followed him quickly. Even if Lupus hadn't seen where Mozelle stored the cat food the day before, he would have known. Stinkpot parked himself in front of one cabinet door, staring at it intently. Lupus opened the cabinet (swinging the door experimentally to admire the smooth action of the hinges), and found the paper bag with the smiling cat on it.

He opened it and poured a few of the nuggets into his palm, examining them. He saw that they were different shapes: exes, circles, triangles, and... a fish? Lupus picked out the fish shaped nugget and examined it, then sniffed it. It DID have a very faintly fishy smell. Stinkpot whined at him, and Lupus dumped the rest of his handful into the dish. The cat promptly began to gobble, tail waving happily. "Avarus." *Well, he certainly seems to like it.* Lupus hesitantly nibbled the fish. He made a face and spit the morsel into the sink, then finished filling the cat's dish. //"You don't have to worry about me fighting you for that."// His stomach rumbled, and he looked down at it. //"You can't POSSIBLY want more of that."//

He decided that he'd have to see to breakfast himself. He had a feeling that waking up any woman, who wasn't legally obligated to obey, to cook wouldn't be a good idea. He started looking through the cabinets. There were a lot of sealed metal cylinders, with pictures of various foods on them, but he had no idea of how to open them. He located a small box made of stiff paper. There was writing on it, and he spelled it out, remembering the alphabet he'd learned the night before. "P-o-p T-a-r-t-s." The picture on the outside looked promising--it seemed to be some sort of pastry, and the box had already been opened. There was a flat paper package inside. He sniffed it, and his mouth started to water. He couldn't identify the scent, but it was sweet.

He tore open the paper to reveal two thin, flat pastries, both glazed with a thin, hard white icing. The delicious aroma was stronger, and he took a big bite out of one of them. His eyes flew wide as the taste flooded his mouth. It was one of the most delicious things he'd ever tasted! He chewed rapidly and swallowed, eager for another bite. As he munched, he peered at the inside, trying to figure out what the filling was made of. All he could see was that it was brown. He looked at the box again, hoping for a clue, then looked up sharply when he heard a knock.

The sound wasn't coming from the front of the house, but from the kitchen door. Lupus knew that it led out to the strip of grass that ran between the neighboring houses, allowing the house's occupants to exit near the gate in the back yard fence. He glanced back toward the bedroom, and the knock came again. If he didn't do something soon, Mozelle might be awakened. He went to the door, took a moment to figure out how to disengage the lock, and opened the door. There was a plump, elderly woman standing outside, hand raised to knock again.

Mildred Clavell let her hand drop, staring at the young man who had opened the door. For an instant she thought it might be Mozelle's brother visiting, but this young man, though far from dainty, was not nearly as big. His hair was almost black instead of brown, and though it was longer than Mildred thought was strictly neat, it wasn't nearly as long that of Mozelle's brother, who sported a very healthy ponytail.

For the next few moments she thought with alarm that he might be an intruder, but she quickly discarded that idea. He just looked too at home. He was bare footed and bare chested. *And very nice, too,* she thought. She might be old, but she'd never be too old to look, and appreciate. He was also eating a Pop Tart. That seemed to indicate that he had been made welcome. She said faintly, "Excuse me?"

He swallowed the mouthful he'd been chewing, seemed to think for a moment, then said carefully, "Good morning."

"Good morning. I... Is Mozelle at home?"

"Sleeping." He glanced up at the sky, then back at Mildred, and smiled. "Very early."

"Oh, yes, it is. I'm sorry. I just thought... She'd mentioned before that she'd like to go garage sale cruising with me some time, and there are several good ones starting today, so I thought I'd see if she was interested." He was nodding agreeably, but looking a little blank.

Lupus had been raised in a society that valued hospitality, and he didn't want Mozell to lose respect from her neighbors because he acted rude. He stepped to the side, bowing, and gestured. "Come in."

"I don't know..." *Well, he doesn't really look dangerous, but maybe I ought to check things out. Besides, I'm as curious as a sack full of cats.* "Thank you."

She stepped inside, and he shut the door. He offered her the second Pop Tart. "Cake?"

"Uh... No, thank you. I've had breakfast. I don't believe we've met. Are you a... friend?"

The smile broadened, and his eyes glinted merrily. Mildred could feel herself starting to blush. Mozelle was a grown, single woman. Just because Mildred had never known her to have an overnight guest, it didn't mean she never would. He started to say something, just as Mozelle, dressed in a long sleep shirt, came shuffling into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Lupus, you aren't trying to cook, are you? You're a long way from... Millie!"

The last exclamation was a squeak, but Mozelle felt rather proud that she'd managed coherent speech at all before getting some caffeine in her system. Add to that the shock of finding her sweet little old lady next door neighbor (the one who baked her cookies and worried about her never having dates) talking to her half-naked houseguest, and she was pretty sure she qualified for catatonia. All in all, a little squeaking was to be expected.

But Mildred, though looking a bit befuddled, didn't seem the least bit apprehensive or condemning. Well, that would be like her. Mildred was the one who insisted on throwing a baby shower for a local girl who turned up with child, but without husband. She was the one who had been known to stop and hand one of those 'WILL WORK FOR FOOD' sign holders something out of her own bag of just purchased groceries. She was the one Stinkpot ran to when Mozelle refused to feed him canned food till he buckled down and ate the dry. If anyone would be tolerant of finding a semi-clad strange man in her unmarried neighbor's kitchen at an hour that indicated he'd been there all night, it was Mildred.

Mildred felt relieved to see her friend whole and healthy, if a little startled. "Hello, dear. I didn't mean to intrude, but your friend here graciously invited me in. I just came by to see if you were interested in making the garage sale rounds with me today." She eyed Lupus. "But I'll understand perfectly if you have other plans." Mozelle was blushing deeply. Mildred thought it was very cute. Mentally she added, *And it's about time, young lady.*

"Oh. Thanks, but I don't think so. I have a guest..." She looked at Lupus, then Mildred. Mildred, amused, thought that her brain must be racing ninety miles an hour. "He's... he's..." She smiled brightly, but her eyes were a touch desperate. "You know how I've told you that you can sort of meet people from all over the world on the Internet? This is Lupus--he's from Italy. He just came over, and he needed a place to stay for awhile. He's..." Inspiration seemed to strike. "He's really my brother's friend! They belong to a history role playing group--ancient Rome." Her voice trailed off, as if she had run out of steam.

Mildred nodded. "How nice. How long will he be staying?"

Mozelle seemed to give up. She put a hand on her forehead. "I have no idea."

Lupus had squatted down to pet Stinkpot. The cat never stopped eating, but did lift his eyes toward the man in an 'it's hard to be adored' expression. Mildred leaned toward Mozelle and whispered, "Isn't it nice that your brother's friend is so good looking?" While Mozell was blinking at her, she raised her voice to a normal level and continued briskly, "Well, we'll have to get together. You two can come over for supper sometime. I'll keep my eye out for any of the things I know you like, dear." She smiled at Lupus. "It's been nice meeting you, young man."

He stood, and bowed to her again. "Noble lady."

Mildred pressed a hand to her chest, surprised to feel herself blushing. "Oh, my! You've got yourself a charmer here, Mozelle."

Mozelle gave Lupus a wry look. "Don't I know it."

She closed the door after Mildred, then turned to stare at Lupus. His smile faltered. "I did wrong?"

"Were you in the kitchen when she knocked?" He nodded. "No, you didn't do wrong. She'd have known that you were in here, and if you hadn't let her in she might have gotten worried and called the police. I'm just glad it wasn't my neighbor from the other side. Mrs. Clutterbuck would have spread the word that I was throwing orgies."

Lupus frowned. //"We would sue her for slander. I wouldn't allow anyone to defame you like that."//

Mozelle sighed, but she smiled, too. "I can't remember any man ever wanting to defend my honor." She pointed at his hand. "You've gotten into my Pop Tarts."

"Pop Tarts? Strange name, but delicious. Mozelle," he pointed at the inside of the pastry. "What? Not fruit."

"No, it's chocolate."

"Chah-coh-lit?"

Her eyes rounded. "That's right! You didn't have chocolate back then." She giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. "Your first taste of chocolate! I'm corrupting you. Still, I guess it's a fair exchange."

She didn't expect him to catch the nuances of that last statement, but his expression sobered. He reached out, laying his palm against her cheek, and said quietly, "No, Mozelle. Not corrupt, never that. Still pure, in all that matters."

She stared at him, feeling warmth welling up inside her. *Oh, no you don't, Mozelle! The man used to OWN you. Worse still, he thought it was right and proper that he own you. He was going to let them turn you over to that shit Celsus... But he didn't. He was going to let me out. He could have gotten in serious trouble for that. I'm pretty sure that helping a slave escape was a major no-no back then. Damn. I AM going to have to consider forgiving him.*

Lupus could sense that Mozelle was having some sort of inner debate, but all she said was, "Those are good, but you need something to cut the sweetness a little. Sit down, and I'll get you a glass of milk." As he sat, she reached for the refrigerator door, but paused. "And Lupus? Next time you answer the door, wear a shirt. We have a lot of senior citizens in the area, and some of those dirty old broads don't have strong hearts."

END PART 6