Arretium, circa 128 BCE
Death, when it comes, rarely arrives with a knock at the door, waiting politely while one prepares oneself. This is a lesson I had learned long before, yet still the following events struck me with a force beyond any I had experienced in many centuries.
Two days before it came, Salia was playing in the library while I read. Her childish musings were no distraction to me; indeed, they were almost calming. Sometimes this place was simply too quiet for my liking?a thought that would have seemed passing strange not so long before. In a way her presence there was also an act of defiance, for Marieko had forbidden her to speak to me. This naturally rendered me irresistible to her, but I respected her grandfather’s wishes as best I could, feeling that I outraged the old man sufficiently as it was.
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Posted on January 31st, 2006
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Pennsylvania, April, 2005 CE
She woke me up the next morning some time after sunrise. She was already dressed and told me if I didn’t shower and come downstairs soon I’d miss breakfast.
When I got downstairs she seemed cool, distant. She was making pancakes, eggs, and bacon, puttering around and humming absent-mindedly. She insisted I sit down and not help. As she poured me some coffee and put a plate of hot bacon, eggs, cakes, and grits in front of me, me told me she normally had servants come in and cook but she didn’t want anyone around today.
She seemed constantly distracted, like she didn’t want anything but small talk. As I ate I occasionally caught her staring at me, only to look away quickly. When I finally started to ask her what was up, she promptly said, “So I understand you ride. Finish your food and then we’ll take the horses and I’ll show you around.”
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Posted on January 27th, 2006
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And so I found myself that next morning on a sun-drenched stone patio engaged in light verbal sparring with an old Greek, envying him his family and the joy they gave him. Once Marieko sent Salia on her way he turned his gaze fully upon me and his displeasure was clear. I tried to imagine his reaction when Rufus handed him the task of teaching me to read and write, for I felt certain it must have been an interesting moment. He seemed fond of Rufus, but at the same time he held him in a sort of disdain, somewhat as if he were a father looking upon a son who simply had not turned out so well as he had hoped. I was even more amused when I came to understand that Rufus’s chief failing in his eyes was simply that he was Roman rather than Greek.
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Posted on January 19th, 2006
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Circa 129 BCE
I watched as the young man left the patio, his olive skin rippling over smooth muscles, his body alive with energy that can only be captured by youth in full bloom.
“He’s beautiful,” I offered, then stifled a laugh as I saw Marieko’s spine stiffen. “There are things I could teach him… but you already know that, yes?”
The old Greek turned to face me as I reclined on my left side and snatched another pear slice from the tray before me. His face was unreadable, a skill he thought he had perfected years ago, but had been forced to re-learn since Rufus brought me to this place. It was his only defense against me.
“My grandson is none of your concern, Felicitas,” he growled at me, and this time I did laugh, but quietly.
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Posted on January 16th, 2006
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What follows is the recounting of a conversation told not by me, but by my companion. I will admit to finding some of his characterizations mildly irksome.
-ZM
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Posted on January 9th, 2006
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The forest enveloped me as I ran in a long, loping stride while watching my footing along the game trail. Branches tore at me unnoticed as I let the seething anger in my breast drive me forward, expending it in the physical exertion of separating myself from the Roman camp. Following the game trail let me make good time, but it also rendered me somewhat easier to follow… except that I knew Rufus would not pursue me. I slowed once I felt the mad rush of anger waning?why run when none followed? I was near my altar clearing and I set myself to pass to the northwest. It was unlikely anyone was there, but I had no desire for a confrontation. I needed to reach one of my camps and collect myself.
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Posted on January 6th, 2006
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I awoke swinging by my ankles and wrists, bound to a pole carried on the shoulders of two men, like some fresh kill being carried home after a hunt. I was naked, my throat was on fire, and I could feel neither my hands nor my feet. As I realized my predicament a roar of incoherent rage pushed from my chest but came out of my aching throat with considerably less force than I intended. Still, it was enough to attract attention, and my captors stopped briefly, stared at me, and called out to some others in that strangely clipped tongue of theirs. After a few pokes at me and some infuriating laughter they continued their march.
Warning- what follows may be disturbing
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Posted on January 2nd, 2006
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Seven days. Seven days of running, hiding, backtracking and on occasion, killing. Seven days of knowing he was out there, relentless in his determination to bring me to heel. I could see it in him whenever I ventured close enough to spy him, see that this was not about punishment, nor about revenge. This was all about his honor and his power: he would not permit that I should stand against him.
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Posted on December 27th, 2005
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Rhumenk, Slodhe had called them. They were rumored to have killed and enslaved some of the tribes to the far south, but Slodhe said they were not hostile in their encounters with his people, merely sought trade and hunting. I was angry at that last, for if they were hunting in my woods, they had yet to pay their respects to me.
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Posted on December 20th, 2005
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Circa 130 BCE
Communing with the mother-goddess, Nerthō, in my dreams, I felt a slight breeze upon my face and heard her voice upon it. Your people are calling you, sister, she whispered in my ear. Stirring myself awake I heard a group of men in the distance, chanting in the old tongue. My people, the Darrihardōz tribe, were calling to me.
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Posted on December 12th, 2005
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