Ashen

Saved

Poppilia turned on her mattress and stared at the wall. She couldn't sleep, nor could she stop thinking of her encounter with Augustus the previous afternoon. After his apology, she had decided to give him a chance. Not only was he immensely attractive, but he'd proved himself intellectually equivalent to her.

Poppilia shook her head. "I'm already taken," she mumbled.

The final arrangements of her betrothal had been finalised just the previous week. Nowadays, engagements were required to be of equal consent, and could be broken off at any time with no reason necessary. But she'd already given her consent. Poppilia groaned. It was impossible to break it. Father would never let that happen. She was betrothed to a successful Centurion, Julius Petrovus. He was thirty-seven, an inch shorter than his future wife, and a gluttonous pig. But all that mattered to her father was money and name, which Julius certainly had. He was not obnoxious, but Poppilia found him intolerably boring. He didn't read, nor did he even have a library for decoration in his massive villa, which had more than enough room. Poppilia didn't think she could survive without books. What else was a woman to do? Furthermore, after he came home from the Forum where he worked, he took a two hour nap, then woke starving for a massive supper.

Poppilia couldn't take thinking about him for more than a few minutes at a time. I should go for a bath. She grabbed a woolen blanket, wrapped it about her shoulders, and padded downstairs. Tiptoeing across the cold marble floor, she slipped her shoes on and opened the wooden door. As she was about to take a step outside, an object on the stoop caught her attention. She bent over to pick it up. A small rectangular shape with a leather bound cover sat in her hands. A book. She opened to the first page, perplexed.

'Socrates' Dialogues: the Complete Volume.'

Her lips opened slightly. Augustus. A page was marked with a slip of paper, and it fell out as she flipped to the page, labeled 'Apologia.'

Poppilia picked it up. In neat handwriting was written a little note. "I hope this Apology is to your liking. Perhaps you'll get farther than I did. See you again? A.P."

A smile spread across her face, mimicking the sun's rays as they spread across the horizon.

"No bath today," she mused to herself. "I believe I have a thank you to give."

After a small breakfast and change of clothes, Poppilia exited the house and turned left down the clay road. Already were vendors out on the streets selling their wares; figs, grapes, and freshly picked herbs. The market was filled with slaves purchasing the day's supplies of food. Poppilia approached a middle-aged woman with bright blue eyes and crinkles around the corners.

"Forgive me, do you know an Augustus? I'm trying to find his villa. I'm forgetting his last name, but it starts with a P. " She cringed, knowing her question was vague. To her delight, the woman's eyes lit up.

"Ah, of course! Any slave would know that name. Yes, Augustus Petronius. Maximus Petronius' son. I hear he's a work of art." The slave continued. "My daughter works for the household. His villa is on the main road. Blue mosaic floor in the front courtyard. You can't miss it."

Poppilia thanked the woman and moved on. It was only a matter of minutes before she arrived at one of the main roads of the town, an impressive lane with massive villas on either side. Here was where the men and women of real wealth lived.

He's a Petronius. How could I not have known? The Petronius family was one of incredible wealth and owned a proud reputation for being the cleverest businessmen in the region. Surely her father would be thrilled if such a match could come about.

Stop! Stop it, stop it, stop it! She rebuked herself irritatedly. You're betrothed and that's that. And remember how much of a boor he was to you. She quickly cleared all such thoughts from her head.

Poppilia brushed her hair behind her ear, checked her appearance, and entered the courtyard. As mentioned, the courtyard floor was composed entirely of a mosaic made from different shades of blue painted rocks. She hardly had time to observe the fountain-piece when a slave came around the corner.

"What do you want?" He asked in a vexed tone.

Poppilia looked him in the eyes. "I simply wish to thank Augustus for a gift he gave me. Is this the right household?" She smiled sweetly. Perhaps she could win him over with her looks if he didn't like her request.

The slave turned into the house without a word. A few minutes went by with no sign of the slave or Augustus. 10 minutes, 22 seconds. 12 minutes, 13 seconds. Eventually, Poppilia decided she wouldn't get an audience that day. Apparently, it was too much of a hassle for his royal highness to get out of bed for a guest. Augustus' second chance was spent and she would waste no time giving him a third. She turned out of the courtyard in a huff, regretful of her journey.

Staring crossly at her clenched fists, she stepped out onto the road, unaware of the horse cart hurtling towards her. She looked up, with almost no time to react. The road blurred as she screamed, the sound strangely cut off by her stola being yanked backward as she was pulled to the safety of a man's chest. Poppilia clutched his toga as her legs went weak.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm finally back from holiday and have been itching to write! I've got lots of good things in store. Stay tuned :)

Mac