Today Constantine was in the Caesar household and everyone was celebrating. They were in front of the home shrine and there were piglets, eight of them, before the images of the house Gods.

Constantine was kneeling before the shrine as the priest spoke of the glory of Julius Caesar and how Mars himself had sent him to expand the Republic. The Battle of Bibracte was spoken of in the entire Rome.

A horde of 130 000 Helvetii had attacked the valiant Roman legions, and Julius Caesar had routed them in a decisive rush. The four legions, for it was not needed for all six to engage the rabble, had crushed the Helvetii.

Constantine had gotten a letter that Romulus was going to go and join Caesar in Gaul. Whatever it was to protect Franconia’s people or to speed up the conquest, the young boy did not know.

The nation did his best not to dose off as the priest droned on. He was going to be here the entire week. Training with Octavian, being nudged towards Octavia and being doted on by Atia Balba, who thought he was scouting up her family for the next ruling family of his potential nation.

And, if he hadn’t been told by Antonius that his father favored the Caesars, then he might have. Even Octavian had warmed up to him, despite him spending time with Scribonia with almost a religious fervor.

Those two would marry one day, or Constantine would eat his sandals. As the priest finally closed his mouth, the man looked pointedly at Constantine.

“I am sorry, what?” Octavia snickered next to him, and Constantine blushed.

“I asked if you think that Julius Caesar should have a triumph upon returning,” spoke the priest. Well, this was a tough spot. If Constantine said yes, then, he would need to make it happen.

“I think many more battles and glory await him. And that I am too young to decide such things. I better leave them to my wise father,” Atia Balba ran a hand through Constantine’s caramel curls and smiled.

“Yes, dear, but just between us family members,” the slight suggestion was not lost on Constantine. It was good that Gnaeus Pompeius had married Julia, for else he would need to choose between the two families.

“I do believe that Julius Caesar deserves a triumph, but I also believe it is not his time to come back. Gaul has to be conquered first, and he is the only person my father can trust with the job,” the flattery appealed to Atia Balba, and she beamed at Constantine.

“Now, children, I need to pray. Go ahead to the garden. See if you can’t spend some time among the greenery,” Octavia looked at her mother like she had grown a second head. Constantine had been told that the woman rarely behaved so nicely to her children.

“I was hoping if we can go to the market?” Came from the usually reserved Octavian. Constantine got hopeful. He was given an allowance every day, for appearance’s sake, but so far, he had not been allowed to explore Rome.

“Yes, I am in need of a new tunic, mother,” piped in Octavia.

“Yes, yes, you are a growing girl. In a couple of years, I will see you married to a handsome man,” Atia looked pointedly at Constantine, who gulped. He just hoped the enterprising woman was not speaking with Antonius about this. Beshter, Constantine was certain, would not force a marriage on him.

“Go, take slaves with you,” and Atia Balba turned around and bowed to the priest, who began to speak about the glory of the Caesar house again. The three children stood up and ran to the slave quarter of the estate.

“Let us take Tycho, he won’t care what we buy,” said Octavia excitedly.

“Yes, lets,” agreed Octavian.

Tycho was a big Nubian with arms like boulders and a shaved head. He wore a color on his neck and just a gray burlap tunic. Maybe it was his many letters with Kyla that prompted the discomfort at the sight of the color. Or possibly, it was the way the slaves here were treated differently than in his mother’s household. But Constantine felt guilt when he regarded the Nubian.

What was worse, there were whip marks on the man’s arms.

“Octavia, are your slaves whipped?” Constantine hoped that they were not and that this was from before.

“Sure are. Mother even has me whipped with a wet cloth from time to time. She is a tough mistress. You are lucky you don’t live with us, or you wouldn’t find her as nice,” Constantine looked down.

There was nothing he could do. Slavery was something his father approved of. Even though it created unemployment among the Romans. Once, Constantine had asked his father why he let slavery take place in his Republic. This bastion of civilization and freedom.

Rome had shown him pictures of the many monuments that were built around the world and had told him they were the work of slaves. Freed men just weren’t as motivated to serve. And, it wasn’t like Rome didn’t let his slaves earn their freedom.

And that had been that. But now, faced with Tycho’s scars and not pretty pictures, he found that he disagreed about the need for slaves more than ever. He turned to Octavia and spoke.

“Do you think Atia could gift me Tycho?” He wanted to save just one person from an abusive household. For Antonius and Beshter did not mistreat their slaves, despite drinking from them to sate their thirst. 

“Now listen here, Tine,” Octavia had a finger pointed at him and Constantine took a step back. “You can’t steal, Tycho! He is practically rising us. If you are squeamish about him being beaten, know that we do our best to make sure that happens seldom. We can go to the slave market, and you can snatch and pamper someone from there. But Tycho is ours.”

Constantine saw a slight smile on the Nubian’s lips and figured he must be found of the two children of the house of Caesar. But, Octavia’s suggestion to save someone had merit.