The praefectus, the governor protector of the coloniae civium Romanorum Byzantium, Thalius Maximus, strode into the domed vault of the atrium of his villa.

'I beseech the God Janus to stand watch at this door and protect the humble wretches that dwell within.  And the virgin Goddess Minerva to grant wisdom to all of those who seek its pure embrace,' he muttered and he tugged at the fastening of his soiled and filthy purple-trimmed toga.  He was tired and weary and his temper was frayed at the edges.  'Drusus,' he bellowed as three slaves approached to help him remove his clothing.  A tall and imposing man with a bald head and piercing brown eyes strode from the direction of the kitchens.  Despite his subservient position to the praefectus within the household, there was nothing remotely fawning or weak about the way in which this freedman carried himself or went about his, and his master's, business.

'Forgive me, master,' he said with complete sincerity and regret and yet also dignity.  'We did not expect you to return to this place until some days hence'

'My bowels did give me a sudden desire to leave Rome far sooner than anticipated.  I am weary and require that my bath be filled for me and fresh garments made ready.  My head aches from the lack of food, so prepare a meal, which I shall take in the peristyle after I have bathed and rested.  I should like Gemellus to join me there, also'

Drusus ran the household of the praefectus, ruling it and those within it with a rod of iron.  He bowed and within the space of no more than a dozen words, had effectively conveyed a series of sharp commands which made certain that everything that Thalius had asked for would be done.  Quickly.

As the praefectus retired to his bath and sank deeply and gratefully into the soothing hot spa waters, he was thankful that he was surrounded by men like Drusus and Gemellus, and others within his house who did what they were told and also, frequently, what they were not, but should have been.  And who protected him from his enemies and, more often than he would have liked, from himself.

Other praefecti, he reflected, were not so fortunate.


The governor was just finishing the first of several courses of dinner, vegetables and shellfish with black olives, when Gemellus Parthenor arrived.  Thalius's advisor, Gemellus was a wise and clever little man, with piercing eyes.  Studious, and with a sparkling infectious enthusiasm that made him popular amongst Roman society in Thrace and beyond, perhaps Gemellus's only major failing was that he was unable to see the worst in his enemies, believing that he was a man who had none.

But few men are so fortunate.

'My good friend,' said Thalius, half-standing and offering a seat to Gemellus in the peristyle, a secondary atrium courtyard with a wide, opened ceiling that allowed exterior light to flood in.  The yard was surrounded by a garden shrouded in shrubs and bright and colourful flowers.  Candles were lit around the praefectus's table as sunset was approaching with the stealth of a fox.  'Please join me, we have much to discuss,' commanded Thalius.

Gemellus sat beside his friend and looked around the newly decorated yard.  'I approve of the changes here.' he said.  'Your absence has, at least, proved beneficial to the decor.  If not to the political and social situation.'