Disclaimer: I don't think this is pulling from anything, but I'm sorry if
it does. Also, I've taken some artistic license with my descriptions of
the ancient Romans and Rome.
Forum in ancient Rome at the time of the last gasp of the Republic
The forum bustled with life, as was normal at midday in the summer, filled with exotic
smells of spices from the East, the musical rhythms of Latin intermingled with Egyptian,
Aramaic, and the other languages of the vast empire. The air was cloudy with dust kicked up by
the sandals of passing citizens. Over it all, the oppressive heat of the Mediterranean sun beat
down creating a haze that bleached the sky and drained the mind. Which was why Marcus stood,
leaning lethargically against the doorway of the baths, loathing the thought of going back out
into the heat of the day.
He stood and watched the multitude of faces, the weathered face of the fruit seller behind
his stall, determined to look uninterested while the round matron, sweat shining on her full face,
examined his dates. Across the forum, looking pleased and satisfied, a wealthy citizen marked
by his intricate toga of pure white linen, exited the atrium of his home and moved unerringly
towards the group of equally distinguished men loudly discussing the political gossip of the day
across the way. A group of slaves, marked by their plain tunics and the collars that bore the
marks of their households, passed quickly by carrying baskets filled with the goods purchased
for their masters. A group of four soldiers loitered by the fountain, the red plumes of their
helmets lying in the dirt as they flirted with the women who had come to draw water.
Amused despite himself, Marcus adjusted his toga, securing the red fold of cloth more
firmly on his shoulder and moved out of the shaded doorway into the heat and the haze. His
stride was long and sure as he moved toward the fountain; the soldiers amused by the coy looks
and bare shoulders of the woman did not see him until it was too late.
"I'm sure the general would be amused to see his soldiers, members of the most feared fighting
machine in the civilized world reduced to infatuated schoolboys, their awe inspiring helmets
lying in the dust as if scattered by the enemy after a battle," drawled Marcus in a slow, sardonic
tone that had the soldiers snapping to attention with a clatter of steel, amusing him so much that
a smile almost broke free to twitch on his lips.
Marcus stared at them while working to keep a straight face as the blood drained from
their faces, their smiles vanished, and panic crept into their eyes. Marcus spared a glance at the
women still standing around the fountain. They stared back at him, not with panic but with
blatant appreciation in their gazes. Marcus was the embodiment of the might of the Roman
soldier. His hair, cut short but long enough to show just the hint of curl was a deep sable brown
that almost exactly matched the color of his eyes. He was tall, with a build of graceful strength
and he possessed an arresting face that few who saw him ever forgot. The uniform of a
lieutenant in the Roman army that he wore only added to his allure, but he was aware of none of
this, his attention wholly focused on the erring soldiers before him.
One soldier who seemed to be designated the role of speaking for the other three opened
and closed his mouth a few times before stammering, "Lieutenant, we ah...we ah didn't mean
any disrespect sir and we were ah...just having ourselves a rest by the fountain...Hot, its very
hot out sir..." He lapsed into silence as he saw a grin break onto the face Marcus and the grin
dissolve into a great burst of laughter.
"Stand down, stand down men. I have no problem with you taking a break in the
company of these beautiful ladies here", he said as he nodded graciously to the tittering women.
"On a day like this it is too hot for even the thieves to move quickly. Just make sure to pick up
those helmets in case the general does happen to make a trip to this end of the forum, however
unlikely that case may be." With that, Marcus turned, preparing to leave and head to his father's
house where he was supposed to meet with the patriarch to discuss for their normal midday meal
and discussion. He stopped suddenly, his eye caught by another young woman carrying a pitcher
to be filled at the fountain.
It was her eyes that stopped him, eyes of a blue so deep it rivaled sapphires, yet so empty
and seemingly completely devoid of emotion. When he finally was able to wrench his gaze from
her eyes, he saw her face was equally beautiful, with strong features that complimented her body,
svelte but strong. Her hair, caught in a thick braid that reached halfway down her back, was a
raven black that gleamed in the sun. She wore a simple stolla made of fine material but devoid
of any embellishments. Dazed, Marcus couldn't move as he watched her come to the fountain
and fill her pitcher, without a word to the other women or a glance at the soldiers still standing
around nervously waiting for their lieutenant to leave.
Only when she turned to leave, gracefully balancing the full pitcher on her shoulder did
Marcus break out of his reverie and notice, the silver collar around her neck. He took a stunned
step backwards, unprepared to fully comprehend that the woman whose beauty had struck him
like no others, was a slave. She obviously belonged to a wealthy household, her collar bearing
the distinctive mark of the Senator Caecus and was a valued member of that household, given
her dress and appearance. Marcus, the only son of the great General Sidonius, could only watch
her as she walked away.
Forum in ancient Rome at the time of the last gasp of the Republic
The forum bustled with life, as was normal at midday in the summer, filled with exotic
smells of spices from the East, the musical rhythms of Latin intermingled with Egyptian,
Aramaic, and the other languages of the vast empire. The air was cloudy with dust kicked up by
the sandals of passing citizens. Over it all, the oppressive heat of the Mediterranean sun beat
down creating a haze that bleached the sky and drained the mind. Which was why Marcus stood,
leaning lethargically against the doorway of the baths, loathing the thought of going back out
into the heat of the day.
He stood and watched the multitude of faces, the weathered face of the fruit seller behind
his stall, determined to look uninterested while the round matron, sweat shining on her full face,
examined his dates. Across the forum, looking pleased and satisfied, a wealthy citizen marked
by his intricate toga of pure white linen, exited the atrium of his home and moved unerringly
towards the group of equally distinguished men loudly discussing the political gossip of the day
across the way. A group of slaves, marked by their plain tunics and the collars that bore the
marks of their households, passed quickly by carrying baskets filled with the goods purchased
for their masters. A group of four soldiers loitered by the fountain, the red plumes of their
helmets lying in the dirt as they flirted with the women who had come to draw water.
Amused despite himself, Marcus adjusted his toga, securing the red fold of cloth more
firmly on his shoulder and moved out of the shaded doorway into the heat and the haze. His
stride was long and sure as he moved toward the fountain; the soldiers amused by the coy looks
and bare shoulders of the woman did not see him until it was too late.
"I'm sure the general would be amused to see his soldiers, members of the most feared fighting
machine in the civilized world reduced to infatuated schoolboys, their awe inspiring helmets
lying in the dust as if scattered by the enemy after a battle," drawled Marcus in a slow, sardonic
tone that had the soldiers snapping to attention with a clatter of steel, amusing him so much that
a smile almost broke free to twitch on his lips.
Marcus stared at them while working to keep a straight face as the blood drained from
their faces, their smiles vanished, and panic crept into their eyes. Marcus spared a glance at the
women still standing around the fountain. They stared back at him, not with panic but with
blatant appreciation in their gazes. Marcus was the embodiment of the might of the Roman
soldier. His hair, cut short but long enough to show just the hint of curl was a deep sable brown
that almost exactly matched the color of his eyes. He was tall, with a build of graceful strength
and he possessed an arresting face that few who saw him ever forgot. The uniform of a
lieutenant in the Roman army that he wore only added to his allure, but he was aware of none of
this, his attention wholly focused on the erring soldiers before him.
One soldier who seemed to be designated the role of speaking for the other three opened
and closed his mouth a few times before stammering, "Lieutenant, we ah...we ah didn't mean
any disrespect sir and we were ah...just having ourselves a rest by the fountain...Hot, its very
hot out sir..." He lapsed into silence as he saw a grin break onto the face Marcus and the grin
dissolve into a great burst of laughter.
"Stand down, stand down men. I have no problem with you taking a break in the
company of these beautiful ladies here", he said as he nodded graciously to the tittering women.
"On a day like this it is too hot for even the thieves to move quickly. Just make sure to pick up
those helmets in case the general does happen to make a trip to this end of the forum, however
unlikely that case may be." With that, Marcus turned, preparing to leave and head to his father's
house where he was supposed to meet with the patriarch to discuss for their normal midday meal
and discussion. He stopped suddenly, his eye caught by another young woman carrying a pitcher
to be filled at the fountain.
It was her eyes that stopped him, eyes of a blue so deep it rivaled sapphires, yet so empty
and seemingly completely devoid of emotion. When he finally was able to wrench his gaze from
her eyes, he saw her face was equally beautiful, with strong features that complimented her body,
svelte but strong. Her hair, caught in a thick braid that reached halfway down her back, was a
raven black that gleamed in the sun. She wore a simple stolla made of fine material but devoid
of any embellishments. Dazed, Marcus couldn't move as he watched her come to the fountain
and fill her pitcher, without a word to the other women or a glance at the soldiers still standing
around nervously waiting for their lieutenant to leave.
Only when she turned to leave, gracefully balancing the full pitcher on her shoulder did
Marcus break out of his reverie and notice, the silver collar around her neck. He took a stunned
step backwards, unprepared to fully comprehend that the woman whose beauty had struck him
like no others, was a slave. She obviously belonged to a wealthy household, her collar bearing
the distinctive mark of the Senator Caecus and was a valued member of that household, given
her dress and appearance. Marcus, the only son of the great General Sidonius, could only watch
her as she walked away.