Olaf glared as Phobos exited--at least he thought it was Phobos--with the twins you couldn't ever be sure; almost of their own will, he found his fingers rolling the scroll toward its end, taking only occasional stops at the intervening pictures--surely not all these were true, or even sexual positions? Some of them had the appearance of exercises which might try even the abilities of an olympian! He got to the last picture, and his eyes bugged out--why on earth did the man have one leg twisted behind his head, with the other extended far out to the side?! He showed the picture to his father.

"Why--how--what possible advantage could such a position have?" His voice was clearly puzzled. Eirik took the scroll, turned it in several different directions before shaking his head and passing it on to Spurius with an evil chuckle.

"Mehercle! Surely bones can't..." Spurius put the scroll on the table, but his eyes kept returning to that final picture. In frustration he took the thing and rolled it back up and stored it in it's cover. His look at Eirik was sharp--he could see speculation in the german's eyes--and wanted no part of such a discussion in front of Olaf.

"Olaf, I think some of those are just made up pictures--it seems very unlikely that anyone could get into those positions without breaking at least several bones! You know how artists always exaggerate in their work--that Priapus who is weighing his--phallus--in a large set of scales...well, there's no way that was drawn from life! You understand?"

Olaf thought about the roman's words for a moment or two, then nodded. His limited experience in sexual matters had taught him that no matter what you did, a thing could only grow so large. His blue eyes glanced to the door, and took on a look of puzzlement. He turned back to his father, who had now started in on the tray of food

"Why would Philandros have..." Spurius handed the young man a plate heaped with cuts of chicken, and even some small cubes of melon...something which would be very refreshing on a hot day as this was turning out to be. As usual, the smell of food cut the boy's question short.

"Eat up, Olaf...we don't want to make Corinna mad by sending any food back to the kitchen! She'll think we're starving you!"