New Rome

45. Quaking Senators

Senator Proclus' daughter tugged on her father's arm – her keen eyes fixed on the pastries for sell, their sweet scent filling the market. Proclus laughed good-naturedly.

"Very well," he allowed, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he handed his card to the seller. "But keep word of this from your mother. She is anxious over both our waist lines."

"Gratitude, father."

His daughter ate her pastry, tearing off little pieces with her hands. Whilst she slowly eyed the contents of a clock makers stall, Proclus drifted a little away – his attention stolen by a book seller. It wasn't often you could find hard copies of the old texts. Proclus was leaning over the vendors wares when a prickling sensation on the back of his neck made him suddenly wary. He had the strange feeling that he was being watched.

Proclus looked around uneasily. The market seemed oddly quieter than before. He craned his neck, looking for his daughter, but the stall he'd last seen her at was unoccupied. Taking a step away from the books, he turned his head to recheck the pastry stall – had she gone back for more?

Two men approached him from his right, their faces covered by masks. An uneasiness trickled down Proclus' spine. He opened his mouth to call out his daughter's name and that's when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the men had been hiding a baton up his sleeve. It extended out with a sharp click. Proclus flinched back, but too late.

The baton cracked down across his neck and Proclus collapsed onto the ground. Proclus covered his head – whimpering – as the men started kicking him. His head smacked the ground repeatedly and he heard and felt the crunch when his nose burst. Blood sprayed out from his face and -blinking through the bloody rainfall – Proclus looked around for help. But there was none. Everyone else had melted away.

His attackers stopped kicking him. Proclus moaned, his heart hammering in fear.

"My daughter..." he rasped – his voice distorted due to his broken nose. Where was she? A gloved hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close.

"It would be a shame, wouldn't it?" Purred a cold voice. "If we followed your daughter from her tutor's house one night..."

"Please..." Anything, he'd do anything to protect his little girl.

"Perhaps this will help you develop a conscious." The man spat and Proclus clamped his mouth shut as his attacker's spit trickled down his face. "Freed slaves should remain freed."

Proclus nodded his head.

"I'll vote against the Consul's bill." He promised frantically. "I swear it."

**

There was a change in the mood of the senate – Consul Sextus could taste it in the air. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the arm rest of his throne. Consul Lex finished the day's speech on the Abolition of Freedom and, rather then being met with hefty applause – only weak clapping came from the benches.

Sextus edged forward in his seat, intrigued. He coached his face to appear disinterested – but cast a glance at his colleague. Lex's nostrils were flared wide, fury burning behind his intense dark eyes. He was losing his majority.

The talks over the new law had been raging for a month already. But, so close to the final run, something had changed the tide. Sextus curiously scanned the senators. Didn't there seem to be a remarkable number of injuries on these noble faces?