‘You’re fortunate that those fools haven’t packed up my study yet. Do sit down.’

Cato resumed his seat as Flavia wafted over to a large shelved cupboard with dozens of scrolls neatly stacked in sections. She paused a moment and fondly ran her hands over some of them before she addressed the optio.

‘You’re welcome to whatever you want, or at least whatever you can carry. You can take the Philippics — bombastic delivery but with flashes of wit — and the Georgics — fertile reading matter — and here’s a few volumes of Livy. Would you like some poetry?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Nearly an hour later a pile of scrolls lay on the couch beside Cato and he was engaged in the heart-breaking task of deciding which of Flavia’s offerings he would be able to fit into his marching pack. Flavia watched him thoughtfully as he mentally weighed up each book before deciding which pile to place it in.

‘You were quite taken with Lavinia, weren’t you?’

‘My lady?’ Cato looked up, scroll poised in hand.

‘The slave girl I bought this morning.’

‘Oh, her!’

‘Oh, her, indeed. You’re not fooling me, young Cato, I know the signs. The question is, what do you want to do about it?’

Cato stared back, mind reeling with shame at the transparency of his feelings and a desire to see Lavinia again, to stare into those emerald eyes.

‘Well, maybe I was wrong then,’ Flavia teased him. ‘Maybe you don’t want to see her again.’

‘My lady! I… I…’

‘Thought so,’ laughed Flavia. ‘Honestly, I can read you men like a book almost every time. Don’t worry, Cato, I’m not going to stop you seeing her — far from it, but give the girl some time to settle into the household and then I’ll see what I can arrange.’

‘Yes, my lady… Thank you.’

‘Now you’d better take those scrolls and leave. I’d love to talk but there’s too much work still to be done. Another time, soon. And maybe Lavinia can join us?’

‘Of course, my lady. I’d like that.’

‘I bet you would!’

As she watched Cato’s back disappear down the Via Praetoria Flavia smiled to herself. A lovely boy, she thought, and far too trusting. If she cultivated him carefully he might well be useful to her some day.

===OO=OOO=OO===

‘So what is all this stuff?’ asked Macro suspiciously as Cato handed over the scrolls, each one neatly encased and labelled.

‘Essays and histories mostly’

‘No poetry?’

‘None, sir, as you ordered,’ Cato replied. ‘There’s some pretty exciting material here—’

‘Exciting? Look, I just want to learn enough to read. That’s it, as far as I’m concerned — all right?’

‘Yes, sir. If that’s what you really want… Now then, sir, how have you been managing with the letters I showed you?’

Reaching under his bed, Macro brought out a wooden wax tablet and handed it over to his subordinate. Cato flipped it open and scanned the contents. To the left-hand side of each tablet were the letters of the alphabet that he had neatly inscribed on the wax-coated surface. Immediately to the right of this were the centurion’s rough attempts at copying — straggling lines and curves that occasionally bore a passing resemblance to the original.