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-M


Rome was magnificent. Caelia could have never imagined such a glorious city, even with all the tales that endlessly circle about this pinnacle of humanity. They passed by enormous structures, and Lucius would lean down just a bit to explain each of them to her. The Forum of Trajan, the Pantheon, the gymnasiums, bath complexes, libraries. It was all incredibly overwhelming and Caelia found herself nodding breathlessly as her Master spoke. Her favorite was the Colosseum, and she nearly halted before it. Lucius indulged her, and the rest of the group behind him halted awkwardly as they waited. Caelia stared wide-eyed at the massive marvel, while the hooded face of their Master was tipped downward toward the slave-girl.

Finally, however, he urged her onwards as well.

"More than a million people reside in this city," he said, speaking loudly now because of the noise. Iron chariot wheels and the sound of horses hooves created a loud din that she struggled to hear him over.

The little tour of the city continued, through the city center and it's ghetto-like ambiance. Thousands of tiny apartments were packed together, and it seemed inumerable amounts of people were forced to share them. The glitter was gone from this area of Rome, and Caelia found herself clinging to her Masters' horse and breathing a soft prayer of thanksgiving for the first time since she had arrived in his villa. The loss of her freedom would always be difficult to bear, but Caelia realized for the first time how true the words of the other slaves were. They were indeed very lucky to serve the Master they did, in the marvelous home they shared.

Before long the elegant Palatine Hill was visible and again they paused. With clipped words, Lucius indicated that the imperial residences were located there. His features were taut with barely surpressed anger, and Caelia noticed that the tension in his shoulders returned. She did not have time to consider what could have made him so upset at the mere sight of the hill, however, as he interrupted her reverie.

"Return to the others," he muttered brusquely, his voice a bit gravely with emotion. Caelia nodded, touseled curls bouncing about her shoulders as she released her hold on his mount and stepped away.

"Master?" she intoned softly, before she turned.

He only glanced toward her, the distant expression still upon his features.

"Thank you," she continued, and offered him another sweet smile. For a moment she saw his features soften, and a smile that did not reach his lips illuminated his eyes. As quickly as it had come, though, it passed and he nodded mildly and then spurred his horse onwards. He disappeared quickly into the crowd, and Caelia stared after him.

"He is a strange man," a male voice muttered into her ear. Reverie broken, Caelia glanced over the slope of her shoulder to find Marcus. Only a few feet behind was the rest of their little caravan. She disregarded his comment, much to Marcus' chagrin, and asked instead..

"Where is he going?"

Marcus chuckled a bit, as he placed a broad hand upon her shoulder and guided her toward the rest of her group.

"It's impossible to tell, Caelia. Come, we must find our lodging before night-falls."


Lucius sat alone, mentally cursing himself for making his partiality for Caelia so obvious in the previous hours. As he considered this, he began to curse the very fact that he was partial to Caelia, and to question it. What did the girl have that was so damned appealing? She was certainly not the most beautiful in his villa, and probably not the most intelligent. Her voice, though raw and untrained, was magnificent but he had been exposed to the best of the world. Though he thought, with proper attention, she could easily rank among them – he should not be affected so much by a mere song. And it was times when she wasn't singing that seemed to impact him the most. The way her fingers seemed so small as they curled around the bridle of his horse, or the sprinkling of hair atop her small hand that was so light it could only be visible when the sun shone upon it. The way the wind danced in her wild curls, lifting them and tangling them together, sometimes sending an errant strand across her face. The way she would lift those slender fingers to brush it away. The best, however, was probably the way she would smile when she regarded him. As though he was not a deformed, hideous bastard hiding within a cloak. As though she could see past the mask and all that it represented. Somehow he felt as though she was the first person he had ever met, since his father, that truly smiled at him.

Such thoughts were dangerous. They distracted him, and even now was he sat in the darkness of another man's home, waiting for his arrival, he was paying little attention. Thoughts of the girl dulled his senses and he had to force himself to purge those visions and focus upon the sight and sounds around him. He must be prepared for this encounter, and being taken by surprise would not help matters in the least.


To say that the Emperor was an arrogant man would be an understatement. Upon succession to power, Octavius (now known as Augustus) became almost maniacal in his need to control. It dominated his every waking moment, until he would work himself into an absolute uproar over some trivial detail. His closest advisors encouraged that he calm himself, that he learn some restraint and with it trust. He must learn to trust others, at least with details that were not of vast importance. Augustus, in his copious amounts of self-worth and pride, thought that nothing could be done without his direct intervention, however. He meddled in the affairs of all of those beneath him, and those closest to him began to worry for his sanity.

That same exhuberance was cast into his most recent of worries. At a recent festival the name of Julius' biological son had been dropped in conversation, and though he had long since had the fool who muttered it tortured and killed, he could find no peace. He began to dream of Lucius coming for him, murdering him viciously in his sleep. In others Lucius would ride through the streets of Rome on a great steed and all of the people bowed to him as though he were a god. In the daylight hours he would fret over any possible infiltration, until finally he knew he had to end it. Lucius must die.

He considered sending an assassin to accomplish the goal quite simply, but instead he chose to make a game of it. Many of the men who had been so influential during the time of Julius were gone, and most of his most fervent supporters were. One remained, however. He had been the financial backbone to many of Caesar's campaigns and a close friend.

Crassus.

The plot began to hatch within his twisted mind, until it had come full circle. That is why the blithering old man was awkwardly attempting to find his knees before his dais at nearly midnight.

"Ah, Crassus.." the Emperor spoke, and the older man quaked with what his vain ruler perceived to be terror.

"You have long been a champion for Rome, have you not? Throughout your political life and beyond, the interest of our beloved Empire has always been at heart, has it not?"

Crassus found his feet again, anger causing his hands to tremble at his sides. The vicious snake before him could not be trusted in the smallest sense, and he knew that no good could come of this impromptu summons. He could do little, however, but bow his head mildly in acknowledgment to the false words falling from cruel lips.

A pleased smirk lifted Augustus' face, and he continued with his practiced speech.

"Your faithfulness has not been overlooked, Crassus. It is that faithfulness and my desire to reward it which brings you here tonight. You see, I have heard quite clearly that there is a threat to your life."

Crassus stiffened at mention of reward, and even more so when his ruler continued.

"Emperor.." he began, but in a childish gesture Augustus lifted a single finger to his lips and shushed him.

"I know that you may find this difficult to believe, old man, but the bastard child of your former friend..." here the facade slipped a bit, anger and jealousy tinging each word as Augustus stalked toward Crassus like prey. His eyes shone with a heated fury, and Crassus immediately felt concern for his person.

The heated moment stopped awkwardly, the unusual man slipping behind the facade once more to smile an unusual and expectant smile at Crassus.

Crassus, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably and when it became clear that he would be forced to answer, breathed a reply and question with more than a little dread.

"Lucius?"

The Emperor seemed to explode with laughter. He clasped his hands over his sides and laughed loudly, the sound filling the great hall. It echoed, like the cry of demons. Again, just as quickly as it began it stopped. An immediate ending, abrupt and in mid-laugh. After the echoes fell, silence reigned. With a scowl he continued.

"Yes. Lucius." The name was little more than a hiss. "He intends to kill you, Crassus. You see, he believes that you convinced his precious father to adopt me in place of him. He's jealous, angry, and we both know how dangerous he can be. I only thought to warn you."

Without another word of explanation, Crassus was ushered from the grounds and sent into the dark Roman streets. It was late and he was fatigued, but his mind was racing. For a moment he did not believe a word of Augustus' words. The troubling thought, however, is that it all meant something. Some diabolical plot or event was no doubt looming on the horizon and with a very tired sigh, Crassus began toward his home. Perhaps after a glass of wine and a good night's sleep, he could begin to piece together what tonight had meant at all.