his lips. Heat surged between her thighs as she imagined leaning forward and kissing him.
The centurion held his ground, a wicked smile playing across his face. ‘Those buildings are houses stacked on top of one another. Most ordinary Romans live in them. The wealthy live on the bottom,’ he pointed to a building nearby, ‘while the poorest live on the top.’
Xanthe’s eyes followed his gesture. So much hustle and bustle. How did they stand the noise? And the smell! The stench of so many people living in one place made her eyes water.
‘What is that?’ she asked Titus, nodding to crude drawings covering a wall.
‘Graffiti,’ he replied. ‘The good citizens of Rome take it upon themselves to write, or draw, their opinions on the issues of the day on the city walls.’
‘Are they not punished for this?’
Titus shrugged. ‘Only if they get caught. Politicians find it a handy indication of the way public opinion swings. I don’t think they mind as long as they are not the ones appearing in a compromising position.’ He indicated a drawing of a man copulating with a woman, and a Latin inscription scrawled beneath.
‘Such a strange place,’ Xanthe sighed. She watched as the women of Rome sauntered past, their hair dyed unnatural shades and piled on top of their heads in outrageous fashions. Their faces were painted, and their dress flowing and elegant.
As Xanthe watched, she realised that she could never be one of them. Give her a pair of leggings and a saddle, not sandals and makeup. Who could be bothered with all that fussing?
A soldier barked an order at them. Titus stood up, and Xanthe scrambled to her feet beside him. Soldiers fell in around them.
‘What is happening? Where are we going?’ she asked, in an exaggerated whisper.
‘To the Colosseum.’ Titus did not look at her and she knew the fear lying heavy in her belly lurked in his heart, also. Swallowing hard, Xanthe simply nodded and fell into step beside him.
The sights and sounds of Rome blurred as they marched through the narrow streets. Shop keepers called out their wares, and groups of people came and went from buildings, and she wondered what went on inside. People bought food from shops and ate on the street. She’d never seen anything like it.
Titus must have noticed her curiosity. ‘Bath houses.’ He nodded towards a group of men who had exited such an establishment. ‘Romans like to gather together to bathe in communal baths.’
‘Truthfully?’ Xanthe’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You Romans will never cease to amaze me.’
The crowds parted to allow them through, showing them little notice as they did. Xanthe side stepped a foul-smelling puddle, just in the nick of time. Her head began to pound, as the sights and sounds of this first encounter of the great Empire overwhelmed her senses.
Trying to gather her energy and focus on the ordeal ahead, Xanthe concentrated on watching the legs of the soldier in front of her, trying to block out all of the sights and sounds clamouring for her attention.
Before long, they reached the famed Colosseum. Xanthe craned her neck back in awe as she gazed up at the towering, magnificent building. Never had she seen anything like it. Arch upon arch of carved columns—how did they manage to get it to stay up? Surely it must be the work of Gods, not man.
Yet it became rapidly clear to her as they entered that the Colosseum was inhabited not by gods, but men. The gloom enveloped her as they marched through a doorway, which seemed to be leading them to the holding pens beneath the arena. The smell sent her reeling, and Xanthe soon found her hand grabbing at her nose.
‘Animals,’ said Titus, ‘large animals that are kept somewhere in the vast complex of rooms and cages. They like to pit them against criminals as morning entertainment for the masses.’
Xanthe turned to look at him, eyes wide. ‘You’re joking,' she said, even as the sound of roars and growls echoed in the
The centurion held his ground, a wicked smile playing across his face. ‘Those buildings are houses stacked on top of one another. Most ordinary Romans live in them. The wealthy live on the bottom,’ he pointed to a building nearby, ‘while the poorest live on the top.’
Xanthe’s eyes followed his gesture. So much hustle and bustle. How did they stand the noise? And the smell! The stench of so many people living in one place made her eyes water.
‘What is that?’ she asked Titus, nodding to crude drawings covering a wall.
‘Graffiti,’ he replied. ‘The good citizens of Rome take it upon themselves to write, or draw, their opinions on the issues of the day on the city walls.’
‘Are they not punished for this?’
Titus shrugged. ‘Only if they get caught. Politicians find it a handy indication of the way public opinion swings. I don’t think they mind as long as they are not the ones appearing in a compromising position.’ He indicated a drawing of a man copulating with a woman, and a Latin inscription scrawled beneath.
‘Such a strange place,’ Xanthe sighed. She watched as the women of Rome sauntered past, their hair dyed unnatural shades and piled on top of their heads in outrageous fashions. Their faces were painted, and their dress flowing and elegant.
As Xanthe watched, she realised that she could never be one of them. Give her a pair of leggings and a saddle, not sandals and makeup. Who could be bothered with all that fussing?
A soldier barked an order at them. Titus stood up, and Xanthe scrambled to her feet beside him. Soldiers fell in around them.
‘What is happening? Where are we going?’ she asked, in an exaggerated whisper.
‘To the Colosseum.’ Titus did not look at her and she knew the fear lying heavy in her belly lurked in his heart, also. Swallowing hard, Xanthe simply nodded and fell into step beside him.
The sights and sounds of Rome blurred as they marched through the narrow streets. Shop keepers called out their wares, and groups of people came and went from buildings, and she wondered what went on inside. People bought food from shops and ate on the street. She’d never seen anything like it.
Titus must have noticed her curiosity. ‘Bath houses.’ He nodded towards a group of men who had exited such an establishment. ‘Romans like to gather together to bathe in communal baths.’
‘Truthfully?’ Xanthe’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You Romans will never cease to amaze me.’
The crowds parted to allow them through, showing them little notice as they did. Xanthe side stepped a foul-smelling puddle, just in the nick of time. Her head began to pound, as the sights and sounds of this first encounter of the great Empire overwhelmed her senses.
Trying to gather her energy and focus on the ordeal ahead, Xanthe concentrated on watching the legs of the soldier in front of her, trying to block out all of the sights and sounds clamouring for her attention.
Before long, they reached the famed Colosseum. Xanthe craned her neck back in awe as she gazed up at the towering, magnificent building. Never had she seen anything like it. Arch upon arch of carved columns—how did they manage to get it to stay up? Surely it must be the work of Gods, not man.
Yet it became rapidly clear to her as they entered that the Colosseum was inhabited not by gods, but men. The gloom enveloped her as they marched through a doorway, which seemed to be leading them to the holding pens beneath the arena. The smell sent her reeling, and Xanthe soon found her hand grabbing at her nose.
‘Animals,’ said Titus, ‘large animals that are kept somewhere in the vast complex of rooms and cages. They like to pit them against criminals as morning entertainment for the masses.’
Xanthe turned to look at him, eyes wide. ‘You’re joking,' she said, even as the sound of roars and growls echoed in the
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