Rest well he did. Now that he was on a bed with cushions, he had slept better than he ever had before. No bugs shimmied up his tunic and bit at his skin and no rodents came and brushed past his legs. He didn't wake up, startled in the night to be awaken from sharp pains in his chest every moment from the worry and fear of his people. He was suspended in the dark, comforted by the warm, humid air because it had reminded him of his home and his bed. However, the peace could not be sustained. While he could not see the moon's position in the sky, he could see through the thin windows that the night was still young. He was awoken to hear whispering figures in the dark and the clumsy clatter of furniture shortly behind. They hissed at each other like snakes and he eventually saw them when they entered his doorway, the fire from the elaborate dish in the corridor lighting half the room.
It was past their curfew, he was sure! The boys saw him awake and moved to run back, but the older of the two grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, carefully tiptoeing their way to his bedside, where they sat down as if they were praying to a God. They explained softly that they wanted to visit him, now that their 'avus' was out of sight and out of mind. The young man had learned in his restless hours before his dark sleep that there was a key to his chains outside the door, available to him if he had the skill to take such things from watchful eyes in the day. While they chattered mindlessly about his escape the previous day, the young man watched the very trustworthy children and felt a wicked smile paint over his miserable expression.
"Ay, ay, listen." He interrupted them, holding a thin finger up from his tight chains. "I am lonely in this room; perhaps since your grandfather is not around, we could play a game, yes?" He offered, beaming at them. When his assisters had good spirits about this, he continued. "I have one in mind. It is a finding game. You like those?"
They both stared at him— the youngest with awe, taking a moment to nod enthusiastically. The other went back to his silent judgment, nodding for the boy to continue, but frowning skeptically. "What do we have to find?" asked Felicianus, readjusting himself to sit more comfortably, so that his bare legs weren't on the marble floor.
He held up his wrists, trying his best to mock some form of sadness and excelling when Felicianus' expression mirrored his. "You see, I would join you. Finding games are my favorite, but I cannot find things well when I am chained up like this. I think I know where the key is, but I cannot leave this room with these on to find it." He explained grimly, but smiled when he looked at the two boys. "Do you think you could find the key for me? I think it is right outside this room..."
"Yes!" answered Felicianus immediately, forced to stop when his brother took his arm and stood beside him, staring at the young man as if interrogating him.
"Why should we help you?" He asked, and Felicianus turned to him with an expression both betrayed and hurt. He began to speak and Lovinus ignored him completely, continuing to talk to the boy on the bed. "What happens if we win?"
The child was intelligent. He took after his grandfather, and that was something that he was going to have to plan around in order to escape. "Well," he began, sitting up straight on his bed and making his legs a basket. He had no objects of value on him, aside from stories in a tongue they wouldn't understand and knowledge, which they would not be interested in. Lovinus rose to his feet and pointed to the necklace on the young man's frame and his expression darkened. He had been given the twine necklace when he was their age, and the black coyote tooth that had been weaved into it symbolized his first hunt. "No, no, this is special to me." He argued with him, holding it dear to his chest. "You can not have it."
"No matter," replied Felicianus brightly, completely willing to begin playing, but his brother stood firm.
"Then, what can we have?" He demanded, stepping back and crossing his arms over his miniscule chest. "It is difficult for us. We are small and you expect help for nothing!" He accused, and Felicianus shook his head and hit his Lovinus' hand lightly.
"No, he just wants to be able to play with us! You needn't pay—"
"What else do you have?" demanded Lovinus again, pulling his arm away from his brother.
"Please, please, do not yell," he begged, nearly hysterical with the panic of their raised voices. "We have to be sneaky in finding games, yes? I will give you..." He looked over his frame, finding the colored bracelets weaved from dyed grass on his wrists. Perfect, for he could always make more. "These two bracelets I made myself, I weaved them from high grass and painted them with crushed flowers and wine." He explained, allowing them to dig them out from under his thick manacles. "With grass from my land, they are very precious, so you mustn't damage them. Will you accept these to find the key, so I can get these off and give them to you?"
Lovinus analyzed the prospective prizes, then the boy's face, and his wrists again. Felicianus tutted with waiting and nudged him. "He does not have anything else to give, stop being so cruel," he whined, and Lovinus sighed and nodded once more.
"But you must help us if we need you," he decided to add as a final demand. The boy's superior height and strength could definitely be useful, now they had the means to access it.
"Agreed." He smiled wearily, and shook his hand. "Now, you must hurry, I fear that Romulus wouldn't like you up so late." The boy rushed them, and their little feet slapped against the marble floor as they rushed to retrieve the key they believed they knew where it was. He was shaking with anticipation, knowing that his home was but a day or two away on foot. Perhaps he could retrieve a horse, although with his previous attempts at domesticating horses proved unsuccessful and painful. The young man heard a loud shout of discomfort from one of them and a loud thud, and his blood went cold.
Lovinus groaned and rolled out from underneath Felicianus, who had fallen in trying to stand on his toes on his brother's cupped hands. The younger of them sat up and wiped his eyes, looking at the red mark on his knee curiously. It bruised immediately and dulled again almost as quickly. A moment later, there was the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps at the end of the hall. "Boys!" came the shout, as concerned as it was scolding. "What are you doing?"
Ruined! What a good plan to be ruined by kids! The young boy shoved his face into a pillow, his stomach digging holes into his body. He was so hungry, and he wished so desperately to be able to leave and scavenge for food. He heard the man scolding the boys outside and how they rushed to explain and buried his face in, unable to keep his agony under wraps and breaking down yet again, muffled sobs aching out of his chest as if there was some invisible force yanking them out of him.
"We were playing a game with Hispania!" Felicianus rushed to explain, Lovinus nodding eagerly. "He said that if we could get the key for h-his—"
"Manacles," Lovinus finished with him. "We could play a game with him, and if we brought the key back, he would give us his bracelets he made back at his house!"
"Why are you out of bed?" continued Romulus, and both of the children looked at their feet. "I sent you hours ago."
Felicianus' resolve crumbled and he worried his lip, fat tears in his eyes. "We only wanted to talk—"
"You can talk in the morning," he interrupted, and this time, he only received silence in answer. "Are either of you hurt?" He asked, and they both mumbled that they were fine, so he pointed towards their beds. "Goodnight." They shuffled off, Felicianus sniffing and Lovinus cursing under his breath. "Roman men do not mutter," Romulus reminded him loudly, and the boy went quiet. He took the few steps towards the perpetrator's room and stood in the doorway, seeing him curled on his side, shaking. "You are not above using children to get what you want," noted Romulus shrewdly. "You could have been a Senator in another life."
"I was so close!" He shouted at him, before he knew he had the intention to do so. "I was so close to getting out of here! Do you realize that you have not fed me a crumb since you picked me up out of my land? I am starving!" The young man shakily rose to his feet, taking a moment to catch his breath when his sobs got the better of him and he became to be so frustrated he stamped his feet into the ground and kicked a stone arch connected to the bed to the other side of the room, knocking it off and shattering it once it hit the wall. "I just want to go home. Do you understand how horrible it is to not eat for three rotations of the sun?" He asked him, breathing heavily and rubbing his eyes awkwardly around his bound hands. "I want to go home."
"You think your job is an easy one," replied Romulus cuttingly, barely blinking at his broken furniture. "You have been spoiled in your ignorance. You will never be able to lead if you do not know what it is to be oppressed," he went on, although any anger or frustration he felt was dwindling fast. He had never intended to starve the boy. He was reluctant to feed him heavily, to make him earn his keep, but in truth he had not realized how long he had gone without food. "You will go home when you are given permission to go."
"Then let me go, now! Do you think I have not been oppressed, before?" He asked, quickly crossing the room to stand directly under him, hating the feeling of being examined by his wondering hazel eyes. "I have been oppressed in ways you and your silver-licking tongue cannot imagine." The young man spat. "I may have not had an army, but I knew how to lead. Now, what are they?" He asked, shuffling on his feet as tears streamed freely down his face. "They are blind. They know of their leader being in a faraway land who is deaf to their complaints. That is not how to lead, my friend. You oppress your people and lead yourself."
"You think this is by chance?!" He barked, and the boy faltered at his voice and corrected himself immediately, forcing himself to continue glaring. "I did not come upon an Empire, I built one! With my own sweat and blood and the sweat and blood of people I cared for and who cared for me. Do not lecture me about sacrifice," he warned, stepping closer. "They are blind to their leader because he is a child; he is deaf because he resents the success of others rather than celebrating theirs. Nations grow from small victories and large sacrifices! You would do well to remember that, you impatient runt!" He raised his voice again and had to force himself not to turn away in the silence that followed. "This is your sacrifice," he went on, his even voice much quieter by comparison. "And it will be the first of many."
He scrambled backwards a few baby steps, and upon listening to his words, a deep anger filled his bones and he clenched his teeth, taking his small, compact hands and beating at his chest once with as much strength as he could muster, which wasn't enough to hurt him because he stood strong and resolute. His own words turned against him again. The boy moved away from the man and slumped down onto his bed, into the cushions made of foreign fabrics and chicken feathers where he broke into hysterics, curling in tight away from his leader.
"Leave me be!" He shouted when he still felt his presence. "Leave me be..."
Romulus watched and felt his chest tighten as if it were his own son, or himself, prostrate on the bed. The passion and bravery that reduced the boy to a sobbing wreck was almost tangible, he felt in his own chest the ache of being younger, weaker, mentally and physically ill equipped, and able to feel the pain of every lost soul in his care. "You will learn," he told him sincerely, but even if he had heard him, he didn't reply. Without another word, he left him, instructing the servant to take the boy water for the night.
He had expected to fall asleep when he was done. He was wrong to expect such a merciful thing, for the Gods had put him in this position and just as Romulus said, it would be hard. The servant had brought him water moments later, fresh, cool, and so clear that he didn't have time to savor it as he drank every drop from the jug. After the crying spell, he couldn't bring himself to sleep after the sobs had passed and his chest ached as it had when he got off the horse on his way to this very room. Soon dawn arrived and his head was heavy with fatigue, his eyes sore and swollen when the sun crept over the horizon of the beautiful white buildings cascading for miles. He was startled when a pair of arms politely alerted him to a somewhat awake stance. There was a twinkle of keys and he felt the lock between his wrists click open, and the cool, heavy air of the morning covered his freed hands. He moaned in relief, rubbing the irritated and burnt skin with careful fingers as he half-listened to Romulus' words, fighting to keep his eyes open.
"... and you will join us for breakfast," he continued to tell him, having to put a hand to his back every so often to keep him sitting upright. He honestly felt guilt. There was a strange, deep, fraternal bond between those of the earth, in that they understood each other's needs and weaknesses due to their position and respected them on a personal level, even during war. Or in this case, ignored them completely to assert authority. "I do not think Lovinus will talk to you after last night, but Felicianus is very forgiving..."
"Thank you," he mumbled, because he heard that he was getting food, and he wouldn't have to be spoon-fed to get it. He honestly respected the man, now that he wasn't being treated like a criminal and he was able to stand up and be lead out of the room. Apparently, eating food here warranted he needed to be clean to eat it, so eventually they parted ways and he was led off by servants. He complied with their demands and noted that after the very warm and uncomfortable bath, his head having to be scrubbed and wrestled until it was raw with soap and that they had to change the water because of the filth, he never saw his brownish aged tunic again. For good reason, too, even though he had grown attached to the thing. A servant had also tried to unhook his necklace, but he had sharply slapped them away, clutching the artifact to his neck as if they had tried to take away his soul. He had apologized quickly and returned to his job.
After the long process, the boy felt faint and every time he stood up he nearly toppled over again. He was helped into a Roman tunic, different from his Iberian one, and escorted to the dining room were they were just beginning plating. Felicianus had made a comment that he looked better, even though the boy was literally dead on his feet. He was sat down across from Romulus and flanked by the two boys, an odd setup compared to the cramped table he crowded around every morning to eat their routine morning meal, which was nothing compared to what was put in front of him.
As soon as the serving dishes were put down, the two young boys reached forward into the middle of the table and started scooping generous servings on to their plate. Romulus sat back and let them take what they wanted, purely because he liked to see them eating well. The young man across from him seemed to take it as manners and waited for them to finish. "Just help yourself," he told him, nodding to the boys as an example. Lovinus already had his mouth full and Felicianus was apparently trying to see how many grapes he could physically fit in his cheeks. Romulus smiled at him fondly and told him to be careful.
He slowly took a vine of grapes, having seen the likes of them before, but never so plump. He ate wild berries in the forested areas often, having learnt the rule that most of them were poisonous and made him deathly ill in bed for weeks at a time. He ate one, felt no pain since the young one was already stuffing his face with the things and ate another and another until he had practically cleaned out the bowl. He then moved on to the fish that had been presented, flaky and white and cooked so evenly he could have cried. Taking it into his hands once he realized that was the way to eat things here, already boned and filleted. He looked up, his mouth greasy in mid-bite when everyone was staring at him, even the slaves and servants in the corner. Romulus' sandaled foot was on his, a warning, and Felicianus' fingers reached over very carefully, gently pulling away his fourth and fifth fingers from the meat.
"Dirty people eat with five fingers." He explained innocently enough, and moved on to his meal.
The boy went on eating in his new way, licking his fingers appreciatively until he realized someone was watching, which again, struck them all as odd, but not enough to stop him again. He tried to look as if he was not enjoying his meal whatsoever, even although he threw his food back. He almost jumped in his seat when Lovinus burped loudly, looking around when no one commented. He ate like an animal, hunched over as if to hide his food from other predators, eating far too quickly to enjoy anything at all.
"Isn't there a lot of food where you come from, Hispania?" asked Felicianus, with childish, innocent, curiosity, but Romulus interrupted before the boy could answer.
"No," he corrected Felicianus, looking across to the young man and meeting his eye instead. "No more of this 'Hispania'— he is our guest. He will be named."
The young man had went for another fish when Romulus had announced this. He chewed the remainder of his food as quickly as possible and cleared his throat. "I do not need a name," he insisted, but his argument wasn't sitting very well because he was obviously not in charge of himself anymore. "Rome, please, it is not needed if I am just a guest, yes?" He laughed nervously, meeting his eye when he only stared at him like a savage and finding salvation from his mortification in his meal.
"More than a guest, then," he answered, surprised at his apparent need to provide difficulty. He had been very pleased with his choice, the ungrateful little swine. "You will be Antonius. It is a good, strong name. It means, 'worthy of praise'," he told his children, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if it suited him. Felicianus seemed very taken and Lovinus did not seem interested. As that was the usual state of affairs Romulus had little to no idea of what their actual opinions were.
If he ever wanted to name himself, he could have. He never felt the need for a name because it was just another nuisance, you never really belonged to a name like you did to your people, and to name all the people you were was too redundant. He raised his eyebrows, meeting Romulus' eye. To be named by him was like a stray hound being taken off the street in its early adult stages, a chain slapped over its neck and given a name, expected to be obedient and loving. "It is a nice name." He agreed, getting a good reaction from Romulus, nearly regretting having to continue. "It is just not... how do I say... nice for me? I haven't had a name for as long as I can remember, it is odd to suddenly have one."
"Civilized people have names," he agreed, realizing after he had spoken how harsh he had sounded. "I mean to say that a name is an important part of your integration into other societies... when a young woman at market asks your name, what will you tell her?" He joked, and his boys' eyes lit up as they tried not to laugh at the scandal.
He laughed as well, not afraid to show his emotions when he had been picked clean. Still, he was exhausted and hardly wanted to deal with any weight being added to his identity. "Well, I would tell her that I did not have one, just as anyone else without a name would."
Romulus looked at him for a long moment and then gave a tight, forced smile, going back to his meal. "You will leave empty-handed," he muttered.
"People like us shouldn't get into those situations." He went on, finishing his fish and sitting back when his tiny stomach had been push past its limit. "You said we should protect our people, and romancing with them would only leave them heartbroken."
He thought it a rather tense subject for the company of children (Antonius hadn't known who 'people like them' were until two days ago... he didn't have to be so damn righteous about it). Romulus only smiled again and looked to his boys, who were still busying themselves with their meals. "We can discuss it further later," he told him, noticing Antonius' empty plate and frowning. "You have not finished?"
"I apologize, my stomach is smaller than yours, and I am filled." He muttered. Felicianus and Lovinus looked at him as if he had spat on the plate and insulted their mother, but he honestly could not eat another bite. He already felt ill from the new foods, spices, and herbs he had never tasted before.
Romulus took a moment to remind himself to be sensitive again and breathed slowly through his nose. "It is alright," he nodded, looking to Felicianus and Lovinus and nodding to their plates, telling them to continue eating and not to draw attention to the matter. They did as they were told, even if they kept giving Antonius sideways glances.
Antonius, he decided. Antonius would be fine. He didn't want to upset them any further with his foreign ways, but it was hard to do anything and not upset them. Antonius had never been full in his life as far as he could remember, which was very far. "You should teach me table manners when I am more able." He told Romulus softly, standing up from his chair. "I am going to go back to my room."
He nodded, avoiding looking at the children, who appeared as if they were about to expire. Such rude manners and he was barely even noticed, never mind scolded! Felicianus leant forward when Antonius had left, wide-eyed and confused. They were as much of an island as Antonius was, only at the other end of the spectrum— the furthest from the city they had ever been was their own land just outside it, anything but Roman custom was alien and unacceptable. "Is it very different in Hispania?" He asked, and Romulus nodded gravely.
"It is uncivilized. We must help them," he told them, in the tone of a teacher, and they accepted his lessons without question.
Uncivilized, maybe, but he had plenty of troubles trying to be civilized. He wiped his hands on his new tunic on his way back to his room, a place he wasn't sure he ever wanted to come back to until he saw his bed. Now, he was full enough to sleep until winter, and he wished he could. Outside, he could hear talk of his land, but he couldn't care less. He only wished to sleep, and thankfully, his body allowed him just that.
Romulus left him until late afternoon, and woke Antonius gently again. A scholar came to the house to teach the boys their reading and writing, so he would take the time to show Antonius around, if he could be trusted. This time, he sat up unaided and listened well. "If I take you outside, you will not try to run again, will you?" He asked.
The food was good and he was allowed to rest until the sun was peaking in the sky, and he was treated decently, so Antonius decided on a whim that he would stay. "No, no." He replied, almost smiling now that his needs had been met. "The soldiers do not take kindly to handcuffed maniacs running through the streets."
"Someone handcuffed and screaming is usually someone we keep indoors," agreed Romulus, going over and pulling across the sheet that blocked some of the light from the thin window. "You won't need anything. We'll take a tour, is all," he told him, finding that he quite looked forward to the idea of an agreeable stroll and a chat. It was a fine afternoon. Perhaps he was getting old.
Antonius was struggling adapting to a room, a large manor, and even the thought of a calm stroll with nothing to stroll to. A name, most of all. He was assigned to it that very morning and ignored it when Romulus shook him awake, telling him he had forgotten it was his, already. Despite saying he wouldn't run off, Romulus did take a notion to hold Antonius' hand as if he was but three feet tall or lovers. His grip was iron, so he never made a motion to yank away from it, even though the man had a horrible habit of talking with his hands and by the time they made it out onto the streets his arm felt like wet wood.
He did love the city so dearly. Its constant noise, its life, its scale and grandeur and histories and cultures. "Antonius, you have no public meeting place? A hall, or court?" He asked, noticing the boy would always let his eyes linger on big groups of people, trying to figure out what they were plotting when they were merely discussing who was selling what and who was marrying who.
"No, I live in a small village; we met wherever the commotion arrived. If someone got in trouble, the main punishment was dunking their heads in a stream nearby." He explained. "We do not have laws, there, though. Only responsibilities." Antonius answered simply, feeling gazes being lingered on his very dark tan skin and his dark, coarse curls that were beyond any suitable length to be acceptable. Still, they smiled and moved out of the way, perhaps because he was adjacent to the Roman Empire.
Romulus pulled a face, something between amused and confused as they crossed a busy street. He had to pull Antonius out of the way of pedestrians and carts several times. "And what if they committed serious offences? What if they were murderers?" He wondered aloud.
The thought was unspeakable. Taboo. "No one ever killed each other, we were like a family." Were. Antonius smiled grimly, shaking his head. "Well, I did not expect no one to defend me. All of those people watched, and I could not tell if they wanted me out or if they thought it would be good for me."
The look of horror on his face almost sent Romulus into a fit of guilt again, but it was too humorous for that. Of all the cities for a young man who had never experienced murder to be walking around in... he'd probably witness two or three before they returned for their evening meal, and that was just the politicians. "You seem very simple," he replied, meaning it in the kindest of ways.
"You seem very superfluous," he said in return, and looked around at the small houses were women walked freely without their children wrapped to their backs or on their hands, but inside the homes, alone with a silent slave who tended to them. Unthinkable, to leave a child alone back where he was. They could be eaten by something or get lost in the forest, or eat something and choke on it.
Romulus noticed that his expression would constantly flicker between horrified and mesmerized whenever they turned a corner or faced a new sight. "What are you thinking?" He asked. "There is no need to censor yourself here."
Antonius snorted, Romulus slowing his pace down so they could stroll instead of rush about like a chicken with its head cut off. He saw new horrible, sometimes amazing and beautiful things at every point, and soon he felt overwhelmed and wanted to stop looking. "I do not have words for it." He said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "The mothers hate their children and refuse to care for them, the fathers discuss idle things instead of working, and you, a very important leader, stroll with me in your streets instead of governing your town."
"We call that 'leisure time', Antonius, you will grow to enjoy it..." he muttered, smiling to a woman he recognized across the way and nodding his head. She pretended to not have seen him and smiled as she walked on. "Governing a city such as this is beyond my knowledge," he laughed. "The Gods have blessed us all with distinct talents and mine do not lie in politics... leave it to those who know what they are doing."
Fair enough. Although it did not add up to how he had said he would learn to rule, but didn't know how to rule a city himself. Antonius didn't say more on the topic, only kept observing buildings and people and how slow everything was moving. A young woman caught his eye, quite the sight, and he smiled to her. She only laughed, turning to her older friends to chatter away. He looked back down, feeling his cheeks burn. "I meant to give your sons these bracelets," he remembered aloud, showing him the worn down hemp bracelets that retained their weave. "I am good at weaving, nothing else, apparently."
"You are good at answering back and tricking children," Romulus reminded him, giving him a short smile to show he was not serious, at least not serious enough that Antonius should feel guilty. "You should show them how to make their own when you find time. They love the arts, Felicianus is always... making things. I do not think I have raised a warrior between them," he added, embarrassed to find his tone sounded quite resentful— he wouldn't change his boys for the world. He just wished they would be able to defend themselves without his having to worry.
Antonius agreed. "It is a valuable art, weaving. The enemies or, animals, in my case, do not expect a knotted trap. That was how I caught most of my game." He smiled, feeling Romulus' hand grow sweaty and the urge to yank away itch at his mood. "I believe I know how to make more knots than you can!" He thought, laughing and giving Romulus a light tap on the shoulder. "Just as well, my mind is more open than yours, I am sure to learn much here, even if it won't reflect on my people." Antonius said, his tone filled with an air of confidence and just how stubborn he was. "Just the same."
A man with a purple silk sash was clutched out of the streets by his collar and caught Antonius' eye. His scream was drowned out by the clamor of the marketplace and the killer came out in time with their pace, right beside him. He felt Romulus pull him to the other side of the street while the normal man wiped the bloodstained knife on someone else's toga and moved on calmly.
"Head down," he whispered, moving his hand to grip Antonius' upper arm tightly when he noticed him pale and try to spot the armed man again in the crowd and tugging him further along the road quickly out of harm's way. "Keep your head down," he muttered more harshly, never releasing him until he couldn't see the murderer anymore. "I will report it later. You never, ever react in the street."
He hadn't witnessed a murder in his life. He had witnessed deaths, many of them animals' and many of them belonging to his people, but never a total stranger. "Why did not anyone stop him?" He babbled, the hair on his arms and his legs standing on end, the calm summer air suddenly so cold. "He was an innocent man! Was he? Why would everyone act as if nothing had happened? What kind of city do you run where people are dying in the alleyways?!"
"Antonius, be calm," Romulus interrupted, finding difficulty in continuing to walk on without arousing suspicion and looking him in the eye to make him realize the seriousness of the situation. "I do not know what that man's motivation was, and you will find crime in any large city. We're hardly Spartans," he scoffed, realized again that Antonius' limited knowledge left him out of such jokes and went on. "You make yourself vulnerable when you are surprised, in any case— you become distracted. I know his face now, I will report him. Please, be calm."
He struggled to breathe, looking anywhere but his eye to anyone who could help. A guard, a soldier, or even Romulus himself. "A murder, a murder? This is what it is? Unjust killing for one's benefit? Think of the family he has at home! Think, perhaps he has two boys of his own and a wife. What are they to do without him, now?" He spat, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with shaking hands. "You take pride in this city?"
"I do, as a matter of fact," he replied shortly, silently debating whether to walk off the path and find somewhere to sit down or to make the boy walk on. They walked. "What am I to do, Antonius? What is anyone supposed to do? The rest of us have a family at home who would have to do without us when we were to become involved."
Antonius shakily wiped his eyes and looked back to the crime scene, where the murderer stalked right behind him by three yards, looking him directly in the eye. "I'd like to go back home, now." He told him, his head frozen into place as he put himself back into Romulus' grip to ensure safety. He obviously knew what he was doing. Antonius had been hurt before, but never would he be dead, did he think. "Before I leave my people forever."
Romulus glanced to him, purposefully not joining him in looking back, and dragged him through an alleyway to circle back again so they did not have to turn and walk past the scene. As the sun was blocked by the buildings and they fell into cool shadow, he let go of Antonius again and looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" He asked. "Leave them forever?"
"Before I die? Another man will take my place when I die, won't he? Therefore, I will leave them, and resurrect in another body." He told him. "I have never been hurt like you hurt my arm when you knew I was different, I had only close encounters with wolves and illnesses..." Antonius explained, looking to Romulus' face and seeing him smirking. "Well, I am sure you have never been injured very much! You are strong and large! It is not easier for me."
"Antonius," he laughed, watching the expression twist on his young, naive face when he did so. "Antonius, it does not matter what happens to you. If you still represent a people, however small, you will survive. Others like us have died, but only when their nations have fallen. You are built for your purpose, my boy. Did you not think it odd that you had grown so little after so long? That you appear so weak and thin, but you can hunt wild dogs?" He asked, and laughed again. "You accept everything too blindly... you expect things to be just so because there is no reason to believe otherwise."
Antonius inhaled deeply and shrugged his shoulders back, still very sore from various activities in Rome. "I did not think that I appeared so puny to you, Romulus, but I am glad that you are so honest." He sighed, trying to process his lesson. "I still do not understand, though. You say we can survive, but is there a limit?" A small boy ducked between them, running off from a smaller girl who whined and cried after him in messy Latin. "What of your boys, who have no people to rule?"
"They do, of course they do," he replied, interrupting their conversation to crouch and tell the girl that the boy ran to the left when she sped forward to try to catch up to him again. "Their people live outside of the city. In the same way that you will live under Rome, they live under me." In truth, there were very few people in either of his boys' home areas, and they were a young people at that. Sometimes he wondered if they were even aware that they were there or they had become so used to the city, to the feeling of having a people, having grown up without a change in the weight of their responsibility, that they had forgotten about it.
He again, hated the thought of being under him for so long, but accepted it for the time being and moved on. The next site Romulus had slowed his footing at was a large arena, white and brilliant in the sun. People were chanting 'leo, leo, leo' and throwing their fists in the air at perhaps the largest beast Antonius had ever seen.
"What is that?" He asked breathlessly, overlooking the arena on the walkway on the hill and seeing the beast gracefully pounce on the man taunting him, tearing him to shreds with its claws and seeing blood splattered all over the floor. The crowd cheered, and when Romulus made a point to keep walking he gripped the stone railing on the bridge stubbornly. "What is that?"
"That is a criminal," he answered, quickly correcting himself when he realized Antonius was watching the beast, rather than the remains it was now gorging itself on. "That is a lion. They come from the south, across the desert and sea. They are only wild cats..."— he was interrupted when another was released, and it started fighting the animal already eating, battering it with its huge paws as they both stood on their hind legs and roared. The crowd held its breath. Another convict trembled and shook his head, pleaded, as the guards forced him to step forward - "... but much larger."
"A lion," his mouth tested the word, and he knew he instantly did not want to become a criminal. It was simple enough. "Have they deserved it? A death to the crowd and a beast against them?" He asked, wincing when the smaller one was injured enough to fall and the larger one sniffed out the criminal banging on the gates of the arena. The lion took him by his neck and tore him around as if he were nothing but a tough piece of meat. The crowd cheered and hollered, throwing flowers down onto the beast. "What have they done to deserve such a cruel, unspeakable death?"
Romulus shrugged and stepped onward, but Antonius did not follow him, so he had to stay. The boy couldn't have possibly walked past a school, or an aqueduct, or even a sewer, nothing that appealed to his sensitive nature of preserving 'innocence' (what was innocence, anyway? Romulus had yet to meet a human, much less a nation, with it. It was a notion dreamt up by those who could not face reality). "That could be the murderer you saw earlier. Deserters, conspirators, Christians..." He didn't know how to explain concisely to Antonius that Christians were once persecuted much more heavily, generally begrudgingly tolerated. Under the current leader, they were only slaughtered if and when they spoke against Jupiter or deserted the army so as not to cause anybody harm (the campaign for peace was another thing Romulus found time-wasting. Wars were fought and people died. It was the way of the world). Unfortunately, many of them chose to do so. "They will have done something wrong. They are not innocent."
Antonius would have given everything he had to go back to his village and see the usual flow of people, the mothers with their children so lovingly carried on their backs or on their hips. He saw nothing of that, here, only women with elaborate hairstyles and jewels lining their faces, jewels that could only be used for money and not such trivial uses. However, he had not a clue what a Christian was, only rumors that they believed in one God and that was it, or how people could conspire. After the afternoon passed, he knew several ways how they could, and feared another stroll like this might end his life. He walked on with him, clutching his hand tight instead of letting himself be clutched by it, and moved on. They saw a school and a temple, both of which Antonius was fascinated by but didn't know how to deal with. Romulus said he had saw another murder, but Antonius was too busy people-watching to notice.
Honestly, on an average day, Romulus would have been surprised to see two attacks. He supposed it was simply because he felt some kind of tension, turning in time to see one man put his hand back into his robes as another clutched his side and fell against a wall, but he felt that Antonius had been given the impression that all they did of a day was murder people and watch wild beasts tear human beings apart. He was enthusiastic to show him the theatre, and the public baths, but he didn't seem as influenced. He didn't see why a theatre was necessary ('to improve culture' didn't hold any water for him), or why anyone would make an effort to get outside when he had bathed perfectly well in the house. Romulus felt his pride bruise every time the boy struggled to compliment his proudest achievements.
Antonius had made it back to the estate after a long-winded insult of Rome that sent Romulus into a huffing fit, mostly consisting of his lack of order, surplus of useless amenities and a need for better forms of punishment than simply throwing them to the lions. Once he was let in, servants offered a bath for him, which he feverishly denied, and followed his leader. "What is the matter? I merely only gave you advice? These techniques have worked well in my village."
"Was anyone of them starving?" He asked bluntly, cutting over Antonius and turning to face him, still in his foul mood. "They worked well in your village because your village is full of backward people who know no better and are uncivilized and uncultured... in everyone but me you see something positive, you assume they are innocent and we have cruelly misjudged them, and I am some fool who does not know how to conduct his own people."
He straightened. "Perhaps you should stop making excuses for your ill-planned actions and try to fix the problems." Antonius said curtly, trying to measure up to his tall height by rolling up onto his toes. "Who are you to say we are uncivilized and uncultured when you did not live a day in our lives? And, for the record, they were not starving! We were perfectly used to fasting for a day or more, in fact, it was healthy. I cannot tell you how many overweight men and women I saw today that were on the verge of death by the hanging of their bellies." For reason that he couldn't count, but he'd keep that secret.
"I have been patient," Romulus warned him carefully, stepping forward and putting his shoulders back, staring down at him to remind him that no matter how he positioned himself, he was inferior. "But I have also allowed you to witness what happens to those who choose to cause trouble. I will not have anarchy in my city and I will certainly not have it from a child who thinks he knows better than I do. It is the opposite— your ignorance allows you to believe you can say these things and go unpunished... let me instruct you, Antonius, you cannot. I am already too lenient, any other man would let you starve for saying as much," he threatened, standing straight again. "If you would like to be fed and watered, begin by learning some humility. If you would like to suffer at the hands of the law when you are taken for stealing your meals, then go ahead. You may not die, but I for one would rather be killed than survive my punishment against a lion," he finished, embellishing, perhaps, but he was sure it would have the desired effect.
Humility? If Antonius knew the meaning to the word and how one could suffer at the end of the law's stick he would obey, but he knew either, so he laughed in the face of the man even if his legs quivered in fear and every inch of his body was telling him not to go any further. "I merely stated my opinion of this town! Yet, you say I will be thrown to the lions for my words, which are not physical like a murderer's knife? If you find no error in the law you control, I pity you for not having a human heart!" He said after him, stepping back when Romulus drew closer. "I am not causing trouble as you think, my friend, I am simply saying what I believe. There is no harm in that."
"Even if what you say is inoffensive, which it is not," started Romulus again, taking another step forward, to eventually corner him against the wall like vermin, and remind him of his place. "Your manner is out of line. You are a captive, you are a particular type of captive but you are still only a captive. We had no responsibility to treat you with any dignity at all, yet we clothed you and bathed you and fed you, you had no question over whether or not I had a heart then!"
"Purely for the reason that I had been taken from my home and I was grateful for anything given to me after I had been left in a room with nothing!" Antonius yelled back at him, faltering from his glare, looking at his new shoes, and shying away from him. "If I am still a captive, why am I treated so different if you insist I am out of line? Even so, I felt no dignity being scrubbed until my skin burned with pumice rocks, and truthfully I preferred my old clothes over these..." He muttered.
"Then you will be given nothing!" He shouted, looking away quickly to catch his breath again, he couldn't face the idea of looking as if the boy had bested him, even if it was true. "Until you show some gratitude you can expect nothing more from us, do not complain to me when you starve. You are given fair warning."
Antonius winced at him raising his voice, but shrugged at him, intentionally bumping him on his way out of the corner he had been backed into. He heard Romulus stiffen and sigh, but nothing more. Antonius was intending to get himself lost, however if he got hungry there was no way he'd find his way back. He instead slowly shuffled around once he was out of his leader's view and glanced at the paintings on the walls.