Idris gazed thoughtfully at his friend, not sure how to phrase what was on his mind. He had not the foggiest idea how the Roman law usually dealt with such a constellation – maybe his friend could simply refuse to acknowledge the child as his? Idris dismissed the thought, sensing that this approach was beside the point anyway. In the Roman’s brown eyes he could see the shy pride his voice and words had already revealed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Sextus filled his cup and, again, drained it in one single gulp. “Go ahead”, he prompted with a wry smile and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It can’t get worse, I assure you!” “Oh, it can always get worse”, Idris assured him cheerfully, and Sextus, not entirely familiar with the Silure’s peculiar view upon the world in general, gave him a dirty look and reached for more wine.

“I’m not kidding”, Idris pushed the jug out of reach and ignored the scowl. “It can get worse, and it will get worse if you’re going to blur your senses. Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to be honest with you?” An amused grin flickered over Sextus’ face as he arched an eyebrow. “Both, I think.” Idris smiled at that. “Alright then, so I’m going to be honest first.” He took Sextus’ hands in his. “She’s got you dangling on her hook already, you’ve swallowed the bait.” The Roman opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything and motioned for the Silure to continue. “I know you’re shocked by it all, but you’re also thrilled by the prospect of being a father, not matter how much you despise the woman. She knows that, and that is what she’s using against you. It’s time to change that.”

A slave woman brought the plates and left almost unnoticed by the men. After she was out of earshot Sextus groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, the thought is thrilling. But then, as I’ve said, she’s a liar. Even if the child exists, I might never know if he’s mine. No, I haven’t seen him yet”, he answered the unspoken question in the Silure’s eyes. “He’s about five years old, there should be some visible likeness by now.” “Not necessarily”, Idris argued. “Yes, and that’s the point, isn’t it?” Sextus conceded and looked glum again. “Maybe I’ll never know.” “Is it really that important?” The Roman looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Of course it is. I– “ “Why?” the Silure interrupted. “Maybe I’m thinking along the wrong lines, but why is it so important that you’ve sired the boy – apart from pride? I’m taking a more practical view upon the matter. It’s like this: You’re not going to sire a child anymore, unless you discover your taste for women – which, I might add, is not very likely. You’re thrilled about the idea of being a father anyway. So why not acknowledge him regardless of his origins? You wouldn’t be the first one.”

The Roman’s face went utterly blank as he pondered the implications. “Moreover”, Idris added, “you’d be off the hook and have gained leverage. She wants your money, and from what I’ve seen you might well part with a good amount without even noticing. And this means she’d be on the hook since she’s after your money. And this is exactly where you want her to be, no?” The Roman stared incredulously at his companion who’d popped a bit of cheese into his mouth and chewed with gusto. “Impossible! I could never tolerate that woman around me again!” Idris took his cup and washed down the cheese. “Who said you’d have to? If she’s as greedy as you say, and you should know best, she’ll agree to leave the boy in your care – if you’re offering her a sufficient sum.” He smiled a quite mischievous smile and nudged his friend.

“You’re a Roman, Sextus, make a legal contract.”