“Heard and witnessed”, Idris said quietly and dropped all pretence as he rose like a living shield between Aricia and his friend. The woman tilted her head, and her mocking laughter filled the room. “Heard and witnessed”, she repeated mockingly and met the Silure’s gaze with a victorious smile. “And who would believe you? You’re nothing but a barbarian vagabond.” “I’m ready to put it to the test”, he replied calmly, stretching the truth. “My testimony combined with your reputation - Sextus’ lawyers will tear you apart in front of the court in no time, and the citizens will bear down on what’s left of you.” He longed to glance at his friend who still sat on the couch behind him, digesting what his wife had revealed, but didn’t dare to show any weakness in front of her by turning around. “Do you think? I don’t think so”, she mused with a sweet smile. “When I‘m finished with you”, for a moment her gesture seemed to include both Sextus and Idris, “it’s you who’s begging for mercy.” Something was wrong. Very wrong. All the Silure’s senses screamed in alarm, his mind was racing, yet he couldn’t find the flaw in his hastily made-up plan. Considering Aricia’s expression there had to be one.

Aricia decided it was time for the backup of the backup - the final blow. “Your father”, she now talked through the Silure as if he wasn’t there, “has changed his conditions.” Sextus now rose as well and stood beside Idris, facing his wife. “You’re a liar”, he shot back, but the Silure noticed the undertone of defeat that had crept into the Roman’s voice and his own misgivings intensified as he realised that there was nothing he could do right now. “Fetch me the scroll”, she commanded; one of the slaves left immediately and returned a few moments later with a small capsa, closed with a seal. He handed it over with a bow. “This, my love”, she informed her husband, “is your new life. We will be such a happy little family, you and I - and, of course, our son.” Sextus balled his fists and glowered at her. “Never! Do you hear me? Never!” “We’ll see”, she cooed and broke the seal.

”Quintus Manlius to his son Sextus, greetings. I entrust this letter to my daughter-in-law, your wife, Aricia, who will see to it that my orders as paterfamilias are obeyed to the letter. She acts on my behalf.” Idris glanced uneasily over to his friend and was alarmed to see Sextus’ face devoid of blood, a pale mask, framing feverish brown eyes. Aricia looked up from the scroll, and a wicked smile spread over her face. “Already nervous, husband? But the best is still to come ...” Whatever it was, Idris had no idea - he just knew one thing: Sextus’ case was lost, irrefutably lost.

He felt the reassuring touch of the hidden blade and instinctively gauged the distance from Aricia to the strongest slave. The result was sobering - though he could effortlessly take out two, maybe three of them before anybody was able to react, one question remained - what next? Even if he’d wipe out all of them there were too many witnesses left. He would be able to disappear without a trace, it was part of his profession after all, but Sextus wouldn’t make it. And what would become of Eirik and Spurius who needed him, relied upon him? Aricia, oblivious to the fact that death himself had just breathed down her neck and reconsidered, continued reading with a gleeful smile on her pretty face.