A/n: I apologize for the late update-- endings and setting up endings is a hard task. but can I just say how much I love all of yall? This story is on 42 faves which I find absolutely mind-blowing that so many people are reading this and like it. Can you believe it? It’s been four years, 20 chapters, nearly 200 reviews. What a trip. We’re almost at the end and I want yall to know that you make my life!

Chapter XX

Cleansing

About the time at which Calysta was being tossed up onto the barren shores of southern Gallia, the Ides of March, Pyp’s breath caught in the back of his throat and darts of heat nettled his chest uncomfortably. Quick, sharp pricks of panic; his world constricted to encompass himself, his aggressor and fright, his most steadfast companion of late.

“What is this, then?” continued the gravelly voice and with a purposeful blink, a summoning of all things brave in that small twitch of a lid, Pyp turned around to face his captor. preparing himself to flee and when he recognized his subjugator his stomach swung even lower than before, a sway of relief.

“Gaius!” exclaimed Pyp, identifying their cook and was immediately enveloped in a warm, putrid hug; where Gaius had worn the perfume of flour, fish and wine, he now smelled of sweat and dirt underlying the aroma of food: another reminder of the distance they had traveled in the space of a short, monumental year and with a start Pyp realized that his father’s features were weakening in memory… “Gaius!” repeated Pyp, disbelievingly. “Gaius, Gaius, Gaius. How long since I have seen you! How have you been? What are you doing here? What is happening in Larochel?”

Gaius grinned, a wide gesture which molded skin of his cheeks into tiny hills. “I was taking a walk Master Pyp. What--?”

Pyp, turning around interrupted, “Look! Here come Mother and Nuina!”

Indeed, the nurse and mother staggered near and Gaius immediately leapt up to support Olympia, who blinked dazedly at the white brightness of the sky, stunning even without the radiating presence of the sun. His mother looked even more wan beneath this leeching illumination than she had beneath the earth, but she breathed in the fresh salty air with new vigor, perhaps the first smile, light and abandoned, since Antonius’s death crossing her face. She could still recall her husband’s face with dutiful clarity, the passage of the time without him blurring into the youth the marks their time together had lovingly caressed upon him.

Olympia’s face was dazzling in its rapture, alleviating some of its fragility, and she, abandoning all protocol between servant and master, dashed and stumbled forth to embrace Gaius. “It is good to see you old friend,” she said into his shoulder.

After a few moments of reunion, where even Nuina patted Gaius on the arm grudgingly, Olympia asked, all efficiency again, “Where do we go?” brushing Pyp’s now-gritty, once-soft, curls with her fingers as he ran into her soiled woolen skirts.

Pursing his lips in thought, Gaius said, “I’m none too sure. I didn’t expect to find you two, to be perfectly honest, out here in the open like this. Once they discover your mother missing along with you, they’re bound to tear up the entire town searching for the pair.” Gaius paused for a moment, but when no divine inspiration struck him, he added, “Let us go into the woods where we may think more freely for at least we’ll be hidden from view.”

He turned into woods, the branches bowing with the weight of leaves, and the rest of the group stumbled after him, especially Olympia whose legs had been underused for months. The fabric of her robe quivered tellingly, but her face was wreathed in the beatific smile of thanks and she ducked beneath the boughs, following Gaius until they arrived the tiniest of clearings, hidden by a sprawl of bushes and thorns, which they had carefully slipped through. Olympia sank to the ground, laying her cheek on the cool, damp earth, inhaling steadily the sweet scent of life which had been denied her.

Pyp joined his mother, laying his head on her stomach and Olympia responded by stroking his hair with a newly renewed sense of wonder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured to no one in particular and yet to all, imbibing in her surroundings as if they were wine and she dying of thirst. The limbs of the trees bowed with their green weight, a supplication to Demeter, and fluttered lightly in the breeze glinting silver and gold with each passing thread of light which skimmed from the sun.

“It was my honor, Domina,” Gaius answered gruffly, and then quickly turned the subject to the more pressing matter upon them. “Domina, perhaps…what would you say to hiding in the tavern of my sister’s husband? I have good stock there with the man. Many a time I’ve supplied him with something or another from the villa, begging your pardon,” he added abashedly.

Cut in Nuina sharply, “What of his politics? And what if someone searched the premises. No, no Domina it’s much too risky.”

Gaius did not so much as bristle at Nuina’s tone: such bickering was habitual for them. “That’s sensible, Nuina,” he said, surprised at her sense, and for a moment, Gaius looked stumped, his brow furrowed in thought.

Pyp attempted to exchange worried looks with his mother, but she gave him a look of such determined optimism that Pyp felt a sudden sense of peace and softness wrapping around him, luxuriating in the warmth that only a calm mother can bestow upon her child. Tenderly, he placed a secretive kissed on Olympia’s cheek. With a steely look in her eye, Olympia fingered the kiss and clutched Pyp closer to her. Finally, Nuina declared, “What do you think, Domina? After all, it’s your life which we are weighing.”

“What do you think, my little man?” asked Olympia, turning towards Pyp with a mild smile. “What do you suggest?”

Shrugging, Pyp responded, “I don’t know.”

Olympia pulled Pyp up and began straightening his dirty tunic, gently brushing the caked on mud off. As her hands moved absently, her brow furrowed in thought for she knew that the decision she made at that point would very well determine her survival, her son’s survival. She knew that she owed it to Antonius to live, to scream defiance until breath left her body. And this defiance, she decided, must be a subtle scream. The knowledge that we are out there somewhere but not found. That should drive him mad. “I suggest that we go to Gaius’s sister’s tavern. We have no where else and some succor is better than none.” Olympia unpinned her messy locks, letting them tumble into the ground.

Nuina crouched behind Olympia, brushing the dark hair with her fingers and as Calysta would relax beneath her nurse’s touch, so did Olympia. “Are you sure, Domina?”

Olympia craned her neck and facing Nuina, responded steadily, “Yes.”

Nuina clucked and chided but Olympia would not retreat, no matter how soothing Nuina’s ministrations.

Finally, the nurse relented. “How will you get into the tavern?”

“We walk.” Iron resolve laced through Olympia’s voice.

  

Striding through the paved streets of town, bold as you please, neither Olympia nor Pyp were much noted. With their scraggly hair and dusty clothes, no one took much notice of them, a fact upon which Olympia had been counting. They could have waited until night, but her impatience would not let her, but every step she took which did not yield the door to the tavern, frightened her. Would her impatience be her undoing? Each soldier who passed her caused her heart to drop with worry, each soldier who glanced at her engendered in Olympia the desire to vomit, but with little Pyp looking so brave she centered herself. Upon reaching the tavern, a sturdy wooden building, Gaius led them in but the proprietor only had eyes for Olympia and Pyp.

“Out you ruffians, out!” exclaimed the man, a thin and weedy fellow with hair shorn short in the Caesarean style. A Gaul with Roman tendencies then.

All the eyes in the busy room turned upon the two visitors, something Olympia would have sought to fight at any cost and to prevent anyone from recognizing her face. She studied her fingernails, noting the darkness beneath formerly white crescents of finernails. Measured breaths, calm, she thought.

Gaius approached the man with a laugh. “Come on now, brother. These are my guests. Don’t make a scene.”

“Guests?” He studied them suspiciously. “I don’t hold with any kind of funny business in my tavern, you hear?”

Giving him a steady look which brooked no further discussion, Gaius slowly said, “Might I remind you of the favors I have…” He let the sentence hang tantalizingly in the air without finishing and his brother-in-law quickly turned the tide of his action, ushering Olympia and Pyp into a private room of the tavern and admonishing the patrons to tend to their own matters.

“Well, what is this about then? Who are these folk?

Gaius opened his mouth and for a moment Olympia feared he would divulge the whole tale to this fellow but what actually came from Gaius was even more shocking than Olympia expected, causing her to turn pink at the base of her neck.

Bluntly, he explained, “She is my lover and this our son. She was a slave, newly escaped, and you must help me hide her. You must hide her and let no one know of us for her master would no doubt have me crucified for this. Look at the boy, Vitus, your own nephew! Would you do that to him? Would you deprive him of me?”

For a moment, Vitus looked quite tempt to do just that but assented with a great sigh. “Very well, I will hide her, although I must say you have acted quite rashly for a man of your age. I cannot keep them hear forever, you know.”

“As soon as the wind shifts,” promised Gaius.

“Now settle them down in the door behind the cellar. No one has been there for years. I’ll send Prisca down with a few blankets and food. Do not become too comfortable.”

Gaius guided them down the dark wooden stairs and Olympia shuddered at being put down beneath the ground again after such a short time above. There was something warmer and cleaner about this cellar at any rate, but it was still far from the sun. Something about the smell though comforted her. She realized it was the familiar scent of olives, wine, honey, goat cheese, flour. All those things she had enjoyed in the past, taken for granted, and had subsequently lost. It was the scent of home. However, Pyp was intrigued, not by the odor although that had some subconscious impact on him but rather by this new realm and eager to explore and climb the mountains of stacked barrels and crates.

“We will go out in the sun though, Gaius?” said Olympia. It was not a request.

He made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll have my sister bring some water and soap down for a bath and new robes. There’s a few empty barrels and if you come out smelling like olives,” he added to Pyp, “so much the better.”

Pyp chuckled at the thought and even Olympia cracked a smile as Gaius jogged up the stairs to find his sister. What that meant caused Olympia to sigh in joy loudly. At the moment, despite the import of their undertakings, Olympia was suddenly in a hurry to be ride of this robe she had worn for months on end. The scratching to which she had grown habituated disgusted her anew and the thought of washing her hair and body with soap filled her with a new buoyancy of spirit.

Barrels were opened and were divided by a wall of crates to give some semblance of privacy. Water was poured into the barrels everyone, soap and robes were left and within an hour both Olympia and Pyp appeared to bear new faces, new bodies. Clean. That was a word they had not had associated with them for a while and it did the spirit a world of good. It seemed strange that something so simple could have wrought such a difference but at that point, that moment when Olympia emerged from her bath like Venus from her sea foam, she knew that Gracchi would die. She would expect nothing less of herself.

  

Upon the straw pallets and blankets Gaius’s sister, Prisca, had provided, sat Pyp, Nuina, Olympia and of course Gaius. They were, on appearance, very likely the last group you would expect to orchestrate a revolution but perhaps it was that very fact that had them poised for success. Or, at the very least, not immediate failure.

Olympia, eating with great relish the olives, tangy white cheese and fresh bread provided, said, “It will have to be simple. Simple and quick. And easy.”

“Might as well add ‘impossible,’ ” grumbled Nuina.

Olympia smiled and it was obvious that the weakness that had overtaken her during those months in that dungeon of a cellar was receding. Some of the new creases in her face and nearly all the silver threads that wove through her night-black hair would still be there but there was a certain leavening of spirit, which somehow ruled them—she dominated her face again versus those signs of age. “I have been thinking and it may not be as impossible as you think. It will be hard though, so perhaps ‘easy’ should be removed as a qualification for a plan.”

The light of a half-lit moon filtered languorously through the small cuts in the cellar that served as vents. Realizing that the light would be meager, Prisca had also supplied oil and lamps, which cast nearly as many shadows on the packed earth floor of the cellar as they dispelled. Looking around caused Pyp’s back to prickle and he snuggled closer to his mother. Her very real warmth when compared to the imaginary threats that lurked won out. Sleepily, he nodded in accordance with each person’s point. His tunic, a bit long and a bit rougher than he was accustomed to but nonetheless absolutely divine after months of the same garment, swathed him snugly. Master Pyp was not long for the world of the awake.

“What do you propose, domina?” asked Gaius, handing Olympia a cup of water.

Taking a thorough draught, Olympia paused to observe the motley crew assembled before her. She loved each of them fiercely but even that could not cause her to deny the sheer impossibility of what they would soon attempt.

“Caesar. Julius Caesar. He ruled the Empire, made the Empire an Empire. He was the most powerful man in the world. He was not killed by the large army of an invading foreign power. He was not killed in battle. He was killed by a small group of men in his Palace. Today, my compatriots, is the Ides of March. The self-same day he died. By assassination.” Her arm curled protectively around Pyp’s drowsing form. It was also the same manner in which Antonius had died, she had heard, but she did not say that.

A look of approval crossed Gaius’s face. “Domina, that just may work. It will be difficult for me, but I am certain I can do it. Who has more experience with knives in Larochel than me?” he added with a grim chuckle.

Shaking her head, Olympia softly corrected Gaius, the softness, the silkiness of a knife cutting through tender meat. “I am afraid you are mistaken friend. It is I who will be undertaking the role of Brutus. Gracchi is mine.”