Constantine woke up from the smell of smoke. His eyes shot open, and he looked around, worried. Kyla was calmly looking at him.

“The neighbor’s manse is burning. The children are in the baths,” Constantine stood up and went to the window. Smoke was rising from different manses. All property of supporters of Greece and Herakles.

“What is happening?” Asked Constantine in a stupor. He had not ordered this.

“Octavian has a list hanging on the forum. With all the names of the people who had anything to do with Caesar’s death. I hear it was his idea to set the slaves on their masters,” Constantine didn’t like the glint in Kyla’s eyes. To him, this must appear like justice. To Constantine, it was a barbaric act of violence.

“We have to stop this,” Constantine cleaned his hands and face and began to dress.

“We can’t. Octavian issued a reward for the killings. Entire families, killed. Root and stem,” Constantine emptied the water basin out of the window and threw up inside it. Infants were going to die now, too.

“When I killed Greece, I told him that was the end of it,” suddenly, he felt glad he had sent his uncle away. Octavian was going to kill him too. Constantine was sure of it.

“As long as Herakles is alive, there can never be an end,” Kyla was behind him now, patting Constantine’s back. Constantine looked at an errand curl, and found it covered in barf. He scrunched up his nose at that.

“We need a bath,” said Kyla, noticing the same. “You go on ahead, I’ll clean this.”

“You? Where are the servants?” They had servant, not slaves. Mostly Bulgarians. Kyla had brought them from his lands. They were loyal to him and could fight, even the women.

“Guarding the house. I don’t trust the riots now,” Constantine shivered. He imagined his children being stabbed by rioters, and he looked at Kyla, panicked.

“We have to get away from here,” Kyla shook his head.

“We can’t. The streets are not safe. Octavian sent some legionaries to guard the front gate, and I have the servants guard every other entrance. We have to hunker down here for today. I say we stay in the baths. We won’t hear anything there, nor will we smell the smoke,” the baths were a closed room. As big as the public baths. Constantine’s new manse was about three times the size of Beshter’s. Something the caramel haired man felt Kyla had done deliberately.

“Ok, the baths,” the day was spent in playing with the children. Kyla would exit the bath for food every so often. But, he did not let Constantine get out of it. Constantine stood as he waited for Kyla to return each time, gladius in hand, and imagining the screams of the people from the neighborhood manses.

Almost all of his neighbors had been supporters of Herakles. Some of them had been nice to Constantine, in the past. But they had thrown their lot with his uncle. And now, there won’t be any mercy for them.

Constantine’s thoughts went with his two other brothers. They should be far enough away from Rome for the riots to not reach them. Britannia, Hispania, and Germania had taken their children and left before Greece’s death. They had not wanted to see her humiliated.

And neither had Constantine. Yet, the crowds that had gathered to watch her die had still thrown things at his grandmother. Had called her names. Had been less than kind about his uncle’s current situation, too.

Constantine knew that it was not borne out of any love for him. Had he been up there, on the cross, he would have gotten the same treatment. Crowds were bloodthirsty things.

Greece, despite the treatment she had gotten, had kept her pride to the end. She had remained, silent, until the end. Constantine had not given her water out of pity. Better for her to die from thirst than for her suffering to be prolonged.

Shaking his head, Constantine took his thoughts away from his grandmother and stepmother, all wrapped up in one. He looked at the children, all huddled together in a single cradle. Little Ivan looked determined, holding a wooden sword. Even now, still a baby, he was a fighter.

Francis was playing with the girls, not noticing anything. Constantine was glad for that. Panicked children were the last thing he wanted. He went to the cradle and petted each of the babies in turn. First Francis, for he saw him as his son. Then Katyusha, since she was next to him. Then, it was Ivan’s turn and, finally, Natalia’s.

“Won’t you four sleep? Do you want a story?” The four regarded him with interest. “I can tell you of Hades and Persephone?”

Ivan blew him a raspberry, and Constantine took that as a confirmation that his story was needed.

“Hades is the God of the Underworld,” began Constantine as he slowly arranged the four to lay down. “And he wanted a lady love.”

He told them the story, the same way his mother had told him, long ago. He knew now why this story was Helena’s favorite. She had seen herself as Persephone and Rome as Hades. But, while Hades had been faithful only to Persephone, Rome had replaced Helena.

By the end, the four were asleep. He pulled a blanket over them and noticed with amusement that Ivan was still clutching his toy sword.

“You protect them, now,” and Constantine went to sit by the cradle. It was warm in the baths. Steam was rising from the pool. Kyla had spent extra for a heating system. Constantine supposed that, even now, servants were feeding the furnaces that kept the pool warm.

Kyla came then, a wine skin in his arm and a bag with fruit in the other.

“They are asleep,” whispered Constantine, and Kyla set the wine skin down. He rummaged in the bag and took out an apple. Constantine bent down and bitt it right from Kyla’s hand.