Amor Vincit Omnia - "Love conquers all." (Virgil)

A/N: So you've noticed that I've startned a new story eh? Well I'm sorry for the desertion but I just wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go next. I considered writing a chapter or two more on 'Revelations' but reconsidered because I thought it had a sufficiant ending. Then I considered a modern day Willabeth story... But in fact, this is about as far as you can get from 'modern'...

This story takes place in the heyday of the Roman Empire. Now, first off - I am no expert on Ancient Roman customs, conduct, traditions, or culture, but I will do my best to be as truthful as a I can. Because of this I've changed the main characters names to fit with the culture and traditions. The name 'William' is Germanic - hence no Roman would have this name. But the latinized form of William is Gullielmus (with varying spellings). So, my reasoning for making Will from the region known as Rhaetia (modern day Switzerland and a part of Austria) is so that if his Latin name was Gullielmus, they might assimilate his name as Williemus.... In a nutshell, if I make any huge leaps and stretches of the imagination - please just go along with me.

I hope you enjoy, R&R as always - every little bit helps!

Thanks, - InnerSmile

Will sat in the courtyard with a goblet of wine in his hand. The sun had only risen a couple of hours ago, but already he had drank three glasses of the heady, perched drink. Today, of all the days, he would need it the most. Will leaned his head back on the wall of his villa, letting the morning breeze blow gently across his face, showing him know another day was beginning, and yet again, his mind was not the only thing in motion. The city around him was coming alive.

Today was the third anniversary of his mother's death and only 15 days after the death of his father, Gullielmus Faberius Laternisis, a senator of Rome. Will had never known his father, nor even knew he was alive for that matter before three months ago. Will had grown up in Rhaetia, in a wealthy Roman community with his mother. It's true that he and his mother had received a steady flow of a considerable amount of money since Will could remember, but she had always told him it was just the good will of an elderly uncle, never had he considered that the money was actually being sent by his absent father. Once his mother died of a fever, and Will was left on his own, did he discover some time later that his father, whom he thought had died before Will's birth, was in fact a Senator of Rome and in poor health himself. He received this letter late because just after the death of his mother, Will had decided to travel abroad, get away from the harsh memories that faced him day in and day out in his boyhood home, so he had found many distractions to occupy his time, broaden his mind, and attempt to delude the lonely pain. He had sailed to Macedonia, and the coasts of the Dark Country, he had studied with some of the philosophers and read the literature of the great Greeks before him. However, when he heard that his father was unwell, Will immediately set off for the home of the man in Rome. Just a few days before Will made it to the city gates his father's strength give way and he too died, leaving Will, his only son, his lands, home, servants, and wealth. Now this young man was in a strange city, with more notoriety and money than he knows what to do with or ever dreamed of having, but utterly alone.

For a time he considered selling his father's lands, giving away some of the money and returning to his homeland but decided not to dishonor his fathers name in such a way, a name which still had some sort of weight in this bustling city. The only person he knew from his boyhood was his mother's servant, Aemilia, who he sent for once his father's last wishes were in order. This woman had cared for Will when he was a boy, and was his mother's good friend and confidant. More than once his mother offered this woman her freedom, and happily so, but she refused and said she served his family out of love and loyalty – never out of any obligation.

When Will was growing up, he sometimes wished that he had a father like the rest of his friends. His mother never married, which was unheard of for a proper woman of her status – but as he grew older, Will realized that most woman married for a form of monetary security and protection – something that his mother was never in need or want. She was a fiercely independent woman who worked as a seamstress alongside Aemelia since before Will was born. Because he was an only child, his mother never married (or remarried as she professed), and she earned her own money at a meager tailor's shop but somehow managed to live like a politician's wife – there were many rumors, gossips, and mystery surrounding Will's family. When he was a boy, his mother told him that his father and herself married when they were both young, he was a merchant sailor, and left just before Will was born, presumed to have died at sea. One can imagine that once he received a letter from Gullielmus Faberius Laternisis, Will's own name, claiming to be his father – he was shocked. The truth, he learned later, was that his mother and father had never married but only had a brief love affair during his father's travels. Yet when his mother informed his father of her pregnancy he did not return or send for her, but instead sent her a steady flow of money each year for her and his son's support.

When Will had arrived at his father's home he wasn't greeted with a kind smile and a warm hearth but instead by a platoon of mourners. He met an innumerable amount of people that day – some earnest enough to give their condolences and others who were more concerned with familiarizing themselves with the deceased Senator's newly arrived young son – but none of the names stuck, all of the faces deteriorated as soon as they were regarded, because before Will lay the only man who he could still claim as family. Will knelt down at his father's bedside, took his cold hand into his own and wept.

So now, when ever Will was announced to a guest, visitor, or introduced himself to any person of Rome's residence, he was known as Gullielmus Faberius Cicurinus – no longer the little Williemus 'the, mild, gentle' Faberius of the Northern lands above the mountain's divide who played in the river water, amused himself with the crafts of blacksmithing and woodworking, and enjoyed the sunny days quietly in the fields of the countryside. He was now, at the age of 21, the owner of over a dozen slaves, a patrician, and an orphan.

Just then Aemilia, who now was one of the house servants, came out from the villa veranda. "Sir, Felix Antonius is here to see you." The woman spoke gently, knowing that her master's reaction to guests the past few days was less than welcoming.

"I have no desire to see anyone today Mia, tell him to come by again sometime next week." Will said, not bothering to even turn his head from his tensed, but reclined position against the wall.

The older woman sighed and adjusted the ties on her apron. "I warned him you might say that, Sir… but he said he has some news about your father he needs to take up with you."

Now it was Will's turn to sigh. He had had so many visitors demanding they had 'unfinished business' with his father that he had lost count. Many of them were thieves and con men looking to take advantage of this naïve boy from up north but Will saw through every one of them and never paid a debt or donated to a previously committed cause without some sort of proof from the caller. Will stood up, set down his goblet on the table at his side, and allowed his tensed muscles to stretch. He pulled his black toga, signifying his mourning, from the back of the chair and began to wrap it around himself over his linen under tunic. "Very well…" he amended. "Show him to the atrium."

The woman gave him a kind and sympathetic smile as he approached the door. She felt for this boy-this young man, who had to grow up so quickly, and taking everything into account, handled it with considerable grace. She reached up and combed her fingers through his hair like a mother would do to her child to make him a bit more presentable and preened. Will couldn't help but smile a little at her attentions. "Thank you Mia" he said a little lower, so the guest wouldn't hear. "smile, right?" he added, offering her his arm.

She nodded grinned,making the lines at the corners of her bright brown eyes wrinkle as she took his arm "Yes, Sir, I'll show him in."

Will grinned too and shook his head. "How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that? You never have before."

She feigned a scornful air "I have to set an example for your many servants Master Gullielmus Faberius."

"Of course…" He said, playing along. "How could I forget I have a reputation to uphold?"

Felix Antonius was a short, grey haired man, with a thin braid of rope around his tunic that appeared to be out of proportion to his bulbous belly. His sandals were muddy and left a thin trail of grim behind him, Will noticed with a keen eye, but spoke and carried himself with an attitude that would make any other foolish man think he was a patrician rather than a slave-broker.

"So you're telling me that my father paid you in advance for a slave in a 'shipment' that had yet to arrive…for the purpose of purchasing one of these said slaves for my own particular use…and the auction for these people is this afternoon?"

Felix showed a toothy grin. "Yes, but he didn't specify which slave he'd laid his money on, but said once you arrived, you could have your pick of the litter…so to speak"

Will sat back on the couch and regarded the man with a scrupulous eye: He looked him in the eye as he spoke, his hands were unmoving in his lap, the air in the house was comfortably warm but there was not one bead of sweat rising on his forehead, his nostrils didn't flare as he breathed, and his voice never wavered… Will believed him.

Felix could tell the boy was having reservations about the information he was receiving but he was a meticulous businessman and a fairly honest one at that – as honest as a man can be in Rome. "Here…" Felix said as he reached in his satchel for a piece of parchment. "this is a receipt for the money your father gave me, I keep a good record of my transactions."

Will took the ledger and examined it carefully. On the bottom, was his father's official name "G. Faberius Laternisis M f. Sen. Tertivm". He noted that his father had indeed spent a good amount of money on this faceless nameless slave…his father must have meant it as a generous gift once he arrived.

"Listen," Felix continued as Will looked up from the receipt, "Come with me to the market – if you don't see anything to your liking then I swear to the gods that you'll have your father's money back." To make his point, the balding man stuck his hand towards Will.

Will already had more slaves than he knew what to do with: a personal tailor, cobbler, dresser, cooper, artisan, cook, assistants… the last thing he wanted was another member of this staff of strangers…but this was the wish of a dying man. Will looked at the man's hand, at the ledger, then to Aemelia who was listening in the doorway behind the guest– who shrugged, and back at Felix. "If my father wished it." He relented, and shook hands.

Every time Will made a journey into the whirl, flurry, aroma, stench, and stir of Rome's markets he wondered why he ever left the solitude of his hilltop home. The bodies of people seemed to never cease or hesitate. During his travels one thing had always been true to Will no matter where he went, in every country, in every land, the market places – the bazaars – the plakas, are all the same: Old men playing board games, children chasing and laughing after one another, woman grouped together tending to their babies while broadening on their gossip. Any product from every corner of the expanse of the empire was at the fingertips of any Roman who had a coin of the Republic… including human beings.

A cluster of four young women who sat near the steps of the forum watched Will as he walked by alongside Felix. One of them smiled and tapped her friend's arm whispering, managing to catch all of their attention. They all glanced under their lashes at the young man and greeted him with a coy smile. Will quickly averted his eyes but could hear the young women giggle in response to holding his attention for a moment. He had heard from Aemelia a couple of times since his arrival that he, the handsome young son of a senator was one of the most eligible bachelors of the city and the goal of every single young woman with a pulse. Felix had noticed the girls as well and elbowed Will "You really have your pick, don't you?"

Will kept his gaze forward and down with a shrug of his shoulders. Will had had his times of sexual indulgences while he was traveling abroad, hoping to relieve the emptiness he felt, or rekindle some kind of feeling that he knew he had buried inside the hard shell of his heart – but nothing, no woman ever helped or cured. "I suppose."

Felix threw his head back and scoffed a little at the young man's less than eager attitude "You suppose? Well don't suppose too long, they won't look that enticing forever, you know." Felix turned his head and smiled with a wink at the young ladies. Now it was their turn to avert their eyes, with an added grimace.

Will saw their reaction and laughed a little to himself. "I don't think a woman would help to uncomplicate my life as it is now."

Smoothing the wisps of hair on the top of his balding head, Felix tried to brush off the slight embarrassment of the girls' rejection. "Maybe not a woman, but a few good fucks couldn't hurt." He said almost matter-of-factly.

The auction was not hard to spot. There were men gathered around the platform from just about every walk of life, some looking for a laborer to work their fields which would mean a hefty price, others for a weaker, cheaper person to do household duties, and then there were those who were in the market for a slave to perform more erotic duties – the most expensive of all. However, the richer, noble class of citizens made up the bulk of the populous in the participating audience of the auction. Felix made his way to the side table of the platform where he would finalize the purchases and transactions that would shortly take place. Will moved away from the masses of men towards the side of the small stage, trying to stay out of the way of the eager buyers and general bustle of the place. Just behind the presenting platform for the auction was a tall, narrow building that was Felix's business residence, and where he assumed the enslaved people would emerge. Will had never had any qualms about the institution of slavery. His mother had owned slaves, he had grown up around people who all had owned them, and Aemilia, one of his most trusted and oldest friends was a slave herself – slavery was a part of life that was foundational to Rome's Imperial existence, just as it had always been. It was only when the master abused his responsibilities as a protector and caregiver did Will feel repulsed. Much too often did he see or hear examples of this cruelty in the form of a beating, a mutilation, a humiliation, or a general disrespect of a person's being for him to ever take for granted his own freedom as well has gain more respect for those who served…not to mention a deterioration of respect for the slave owners who inflicted such travesties.

Sooner than he had expected, a tall man in a bright red and yellow tunic and cloak stepped up onto the platform and without much ado, began the auction. A movement from behind the stage caught Will's eye. From where he stood, away from the rest of the mass, he could see where the slaves were lined up, awaiting their presentation. A line had formed of chained, soiled, bruised and tired faces. They were brought up one by one, each with their hands bound in shackles, each with a plaque around their neck, stating their attributes and credentials. So far every one of them had been of the male gender, and so far all of the younger, handsome, childlike ones, had been bought up quickly by the wealthy, older, patrician men in the front of the crowd. There was no doubt that these boys were being purchased for the sole purpose of the men's sexual pleasure. The slightly older and healthy male slaves were bought by the still considerably wealthy farmers who required hand and strong back. Will noticed with a curious eye that there was no middle aged or old men available for sale – as he quickly concluded the reason, to himself, was no doubt because the brokers knew there would be no good profit for any frail old man, and the prisoner slave was more than likely quickly executed for his uselessness.

Once the male slaves were bought, registered, and dragged away, half of the crowd that had gathered for the auction had dispersed, either having already made their purchase or losing out on their bids and dejectedly going back home. Still, Will was at his spot at the side and angled to the stage so that he could see the space in the backstage as well as the platform for presenting. It was at this point that Will saw her… standing in line…fourth from the back. The light was dismal from being hidden behind the long shadows of the tall buildings and the raised stage in the middle of the square, but he could see enough to trust his eyes. Her feet were bare, her wrists were shackled and chained together, her wool tunica was probably once a dull tan but was stained a reddish brown color of dirt, sand, and blood – sleeveless, and ripped off just above her knees. However, all of this was something that Will took into account secondarily to what initially had held his eye: her face. She was pale white, a creamy color that made her fierce brown eyes contrast sharply against her skin. Her hair was a honey gold color, something that any Mediterranean or Roman person would be fairly unaccustomed to, and hung loosely, curled and tangled down her back and around her delicate shoulders. Her body was lithe, but strong and smooth. The atmosphere around her seemed to be that of a threadbare queen…but a queen none the less because she seemed so out of place around the other young women among her. Sure, they were all in varying degrees of feminine allure, but this young woman was something sent from the gods. Her elegantly defined jaw was raised ever so slightly which gave her an air of invisible confidence. The woman's cheekbones were pronounced, even if the right side looked slightly discolored from bruising. And her lips….her mouth… she was arresting. No, he balked at himself for the understatement, she was beautiful.

Where had his resolve gone? She was a woman, she was a slave…she was…she was…bewitching.