A very wealthy and potentially very powerful man, wishing to meet the mere wife of an ordinary carpenter. Julia asked herself no questions about the prospect; the simple pleasure of its existence was enough to deter any uncertainty about it. It exceeded even her exultation at being reunited with Quintus.

She only began to wonder at the ludicrousness of the situation when she laid eyes upon the gentleman, Quintus's friend, for the first time. The previous night, she had dreamt vividly, gloriously, of the beautiful silent lady again. Consequently, all morning long she had been in a joyful daze, only sporadically spoiled by fears of Marius suddenly appearing, breaking the spell with his status as her husband and symbol of her mundane, stifling marriage – the reality of her life.

Her visitor was a strikingly handsome young man. He approached her home on horseback, alone, simply dressed although with the unmistakeable air of one of the patrician classes. The closer he came, nevertheless, the more she became aware that he was probably of an even higher caste than that.

Julia's breath caught in her throat, her head feeling light, as he dismounted and approached her cautiously, respectfully, one hand outstretched to take her own. His expression belied, however, his studied confidence; he was every bit as dumbstruck as his hostess, and she had no way of telling why.

 "You are welcome, sir," she said, alarmed to realise that she was deliberately holding his watery blue gaze with her own. "It is an honour. Although, Quintus did not mention why you wished to meet with me."

"The honour is mine, my lady," the gentleman replied, holding her hand tightly as he bowed over it.

"Julia," she added quickly, absently. A cold chill had passed through at the words 'my lady', used to address her.

"Ah, yes, Julia. Your mother chose a beautiful name for you." A wistful look clouded his eyes over, only slightly marring his ecstatic expression. "I am Lucius. I wished to meet with you because I knew your mother once. When I heard that this was where you had settled, I longed to see you. Quintus has told me much about your beauty and goodness, and now I know that he spoke nothing but the truth."

She smiled broadly, unable to prevent such a show of emotion. Her anxiety gradually disappeared. Somehow, it failed to puzzle her how Diana could have known a young man of such obviously high stature.

"When did you know my mother?"

"Long ago. Far too long ago. We cared for each other, when I was a child." His voice quietened until he was silent, and again he fixed her with a gaze of sheer awe, which, oddly, did not frighten in the least.

"Do you have a title, sir, by which I may address you?"

His genial expression fell suddenly, replaced by a look of acrimony. "No title anymore. Please use my name."

She exhaled gradually, feeling more and more comfortable with each passing second. "You must come inside with me, where we can converse in private."

"I have not seen my mother for almost a year," she found herself confessing, minutes later as she sat with her highborn guest inside the villa. "I never thanked her, or my stepfather, for granting my wish to live here in Rome. The strange thing is, I think that when I parted from her, she was glad in some way to see me go."

            "That cannot be so," Lucius interjected, frowning, and sharply breaking the polite silence he had maintained. "You are among the sweetest women I have ever met. I will not believe that she desired your departure."

            Julia smiled, appreciating his support, but at the same time asking herself how she could be having this conversation with a stranger. The answer, though she could not see it at that moment, was that he did not seem like a stranger at all. They had bonded instantaneously, it seemed. She found a kind of ease in his presence quite unlike any she had known before, even with her own family.

            "I barely even know why I desired Rome to be my home so badly. Except that, perhaps, I clung onto dreams from when I was a child of some special purpose to my life, that could only be attained in this city, the heart of the Empire. Dreams were all that they were, and no more tangible."

            "Have you an interest in politics, then?" her guest queried, somewhat incredulously. She laughed.

            "No, absolutely not. I might have, though, if only I had been tutored in such things. No, I only knew that Rome was my spiritual home, if such places exist. But I seems I belong to the countryside, inexorably. Each time I have tried to leave it, you see, I have met with…trouble. The Gods no doubt mean to keep me in my place in this way."

            A small, complacent smile formed on Lucius's face as he watched her attentively. "I am sure they do only what is right for you. This place, these lands, are Elysium itself compared with the innards of Roman palaces." He lowered his gaze to the stone floor of her parlour then, seeming completely unaware of the admission he had just made.

            "You have been to the palaces?" As Julia spoke, she realised with some mortification that she sounded enthralled.

            He looked at her, sighed, and smiled. "I grew up at the Imperial Palace."

            "Oh…well…how then can you think of this place as Elysium?"

            "Because it is. The palace is a cesspool unlike any other." For the first time, anger and impatience blighted his expression and his voice. Julia wished passionately that she had held her tongue for once, instead of allowing her curiosity free rein. She cursed her own fascination with the world from which Lucius claimed to come, and yet so plainly despised.

            "I'm sorry…" she began, only to be interrupted.

            "Do not be. Julia, my dear," His modified his tones, infusing them with genuine affection for her. "I did not come here to unload my burdens. But you must know that you could have hoped for no better fate than the one obviously predestined for you, here…you have everything you will ever require, and with luck, nothing will ever harm you. You will encounter nothing like the dangers I have faced almost every day of my life, simply for being who I am."

            Julia sucked in her breath, a need to contradict him overwhelming her. She longed to tell him how agonisingly trapped she felt every minute of every day within her own home. How she disliked her husband and his disgusting attentions, and how loneliness reduced her to tears unfailingly every day. How totally unready and unwilling she was to bear the child growing like a deadly cancer inside her, and what a hopeless mother she was doomed to be.

            "I hope you are correct, sir," she said quietly.

            "I am."

Without hesitation, then, he reached out a hand to touch her face. Long, tapered fingers, almost olive in colour, passed before her eyes as he stroked one cheek, then the other. She thought, absently, how strangely like her own hands they were, and how no one had ever touched her this gently before. There was nothing at all erotic, reproachful or demanding in these ministrations; only simple and tender expression of his love. The love he bore for her even though until today they had been strangers to one another.

            Closing her eyes, she felt a tiny stray tear escape down her face. Shivering, she wiped it away, overcome with sudden and unfathomable shame, but at the same time, a delicious, warming confusion.

            "You are very dear to me, little Julia. You always have been, you know."

            So maybe he had only been a stranger to her. She met his gaze again with all the dignity she could muster, understanding nonetheless that she could not conceal the gratitude and fondness now shining in her eyes. He grinned, his own eyes glowing, making it impossible for her not to smile back.

            "What was it like?" she asked him.

            "What was what like?"

            "Growing up at the Imperial Palace." She waited for him to slip back into the sombreness of minutes before. Incredibly, he did not.

            "It was difficult. Unbelievably so. My mother had no choice, of course, but to let powerful men commit the greatest cruelty possible and deem that her child be raised within its walls. I saw precious little of her, or indeed of anyone save my nurses or my tutors."

            "And that was the greatest cruelty possible?"

            "Yes. You can't imagine the loneliness, or the pressure to carry out duties you can barely comprehend."

            "I suppose I can't."

            "Then, there was the anxiety in everyone's eyes. The fragility of the Empire…everyone understood it. Emperor Marcus Aurelius restored some stability; his son Commodus destroyed that. There is such danger in high places, Julia. In comparison, you must understand what a haven these unsullied lands in which you live are. You do understand now, don't you?"

            "I do," she replied, relishing her own honestly. Fleetingly, she was reminded of Quintus in the way Lucius spoke to her, educating her, enlightening her. The only difference was, Quintus's words had chilled her, excited her and made her ever more desperate to truly know the world she dreamed about. Lucius confused her; when he spoke of the same Roman past as his friend had, he did so with bitterness and hatred. Whose memories were accurate – whose should she trust?

            "I hear," Lucius continued, smiling, "that you will soon have your own family. Teach your child to love his home as you do. For I know that you do, in honesty."

            I do not want this child, she ached to cry out, but remained silent. Faithfully, dutifully silent. The infant had done no wrong in being conceived.

            The parlour grew cold, darkening as dusk descended upon the city. Julia glanced around, picturing Marius as he would look as he returned home. Most probably drunk, stumbling around, ready to embrace and kiss her whether she desired his caresses or not. The servants would leave them in peace. He had instructed them to, she knew.

            She looked towards Lucius, unable to expel the anxiousness in her face. "I am afraid you should…my husband, you see. You will not wish to be riding these country roads too late into the night."

            "I understand. My dear, please say that I may visit you again soon."

            The tears sprung up again, unbidden. "You needn't ask me that."

The idle days at the villa, when the servants took care of what little work there was to be done, proved to be a blessing to Julia as her advancing condition made her increasingly tired and sluggish. The thought of journeying by herself to the nearest marketplace, full of strangers, unpleasant sights and pungent smells, began to make her feel ill. She habituated her bed more and more often, feeling large and useless, though as comfortable as she could possibly be. Most fortunate of all, however, was Marius's increasing and surprising respect for her personal space.

            Frequently, she was still awoken at night by her own weeping, having dreamed, most probably, of Quintus. She would not cease pining for him completely until she had seen him once more. For the time being, however, she was content to wait for that meeting to take place. Whenever she stirred beside Marius, crying after one such dream, he would hold her, never asking an questions, his lips resting upon her head and his hands stroking her belly, savouring the closeness of the infant he so looked forward to rearing along with his precious wife.

            His happiness cheered Julia immensely – it was all the proof she needed that she was not a failure as his wife, and so far at least, as the mother of his child.

            As yet, however, he remained unaware of her frequent visits from Lucius. She could not imagine telling this new and irreplaceable friend that she could no longer see him, as in a way, she had been deceiving her husband in doing so. No, she would not give up Lucius, the closest companion she had ever known and the one she loved the most. The only one it would surely kill her to lose.

            Unlike Antoninus, he had never judged her. Unlike Quintus, he made no demands of her. Unlike Livia, he truly knew her. They were startlingly alike one another, as she had noticed more and more with each of his visits. They talked for hours, about everything and nothing, with never a trace of awkwardness between them. When he left, she felt empty once more.

            Sometimes, she suspected that Marius knew of their friendship, however impossible it seemed. One night, he had lain beside her, dozing peacefully as she sat up, idly writing on a piece of parchment. When she had looked down at him, however, his eyes had been open, watching her intently.

            "Is something wrong?"

            "No, my darling, I was only thinking. You are so intelligent and refined…I find it hard to believe sometimes that you have lived all your life in the country."