Whenever Gaius's father, Julius, had been away for a long absence, Aurelia insisted on a formal meal in the long triclinium. The two boys would sit on children's stools next to the long couches, on which Aurelia and her husband would recline barefoot, with the food served on low tables by the household slaves.

Gaius and Marcus hated the meals. They were forbidden to chatter and sat in painful silence through each course, allowing the table servants only a quick rub of their fingers between dipping them into the food. Although their appetites were large, Gaius and Marcus had learned not to offend Aurelia by eating too quickly and so were forced to chew and swallow as slowly as the adults while the evening shadows lengthened.

Bathed and dressed in clean clothes, Gaius felt hot and uncomfortable with his parents. His father had put aside the informality of their meeting on the road and now talked with his wife as if the two boys did not exist. Gaius watched his mother closely when he could, looking for the trembling that would signal one of her fits. At first, they had terrified him and left him sobbing, but after years an emotional callousness had grown, and occasionally he even hoped for the trembling so that he and Marcus would be sent from the table.

He tried to listen and be interested in the conversation, but it was all about developments in the laws and city ordinances. His father never seemed to come home with exciting stories of executions or famous street villains.

"You have too much faith in the people, Julius," Aurelia was saying. "They need looking after as a child needs a father. Some have wit and intelligence, I agree, but most have to be protected…" She trailed off and silence fell.

Julius looked up and Gaius saw a sadness come into his face, making Gaius look away, embarrassed, as if he had witnessed an intimacy.

"Relia?"

Gaius heard his father's voice and looked back at his mother, who lay like a statue, her eyes focused on some distant scene. Her hand trembled and suddenly her face twisted like a child's. The tremor that began in her hand spread to her whole body, and she twisted in spasm, one arm sweeping bowls from the low table. Her voice I erupted violently from her throat, a torrent of screeching sound that made the boys wince.

Julius rose smoothly from his seat and took his wife in his arms.

"Leave us," he commanded, and Gaius and Marcus went out with the slaves, leaving behind them the man holding the twisting figure.

The following morning, Gaius was woken by Tubruk shaking his shoulder.

"Get up, lad. Your mother wants to see you."

Gaius groaned, almost to himself, but Tubruk heard.

"She is always quiet after a… bad night."

Gaius paused as he pulled clothes on. He looked up at the old gladiator.

"Sometimes I hate her."

Tubruk sighed gently. "I wish you could have known her as she was before the sickness began. She used to sing to herself all the time, and the house was always happy. You have to think that your mother is still there, but can't get out to you. She does love you, you know."

Gaius nodded and smoothed his hair down carelessly.

"Has my father gone back to the city?" he asked, knowing the answer. His father hated to feel helpless.

"He left at dawn," Tubruk replied.

Without another word, Gaius followed him through the cool corridors to his mother's rooms.

She sat upright in bed, her face freshly washed and her long hair braided behind her. Her skin was pale, but she smiled as Gaius entered, and he was able to smile back.

"Come closer, Gaius. I am sorry if I scared you last night."

He came into her arms and let her hold him, feeling nothing. How could he tell her he wasn't scared anymore? He had seen it too many times, each worse than the last. Some part of him knew that she would get worse and worse, that she was already leaving him. But he could not think of that-better to keep it inside, to smile and hug her and walk away untouched.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked as she released him.

"Chores with Marcus," he replied.

She nodded and seemed to forget him. He waited for a few seconds and, when there was no further response, turned and walked from the room.

When the tiny space in her thoughts faded and she focused again on the room, it was empty.

Marcus met him at the gates, carrying a bird net. He looked into his friend's eyes and made his tone light and cheerful.

"I feel lucky today. We'll catch a hawk-two hawks. We'll train them and they'll sit on our shoulders, attacking on our command. Suetonius will run when he sees us."

Gaius chuckled and cleared his mind of thoughts of his mother. He missed his father already, but the day was going to be a long one and there was always something to do in the woods. He doubted Marcus's idea of hawk-catching would work, but he would go along with it until the day was over and all the paths had been walked.

The green gloom almost made them miss the raven that sat on a low branch, not far from the sunlit fields. Marcus froze as he saw it first and pressed a hand against Gaius's chest.

"Look at the size of it!" he whispered, unwrapping his bird net.

They crouched down and crept forward, watched with interest by the bird. Even for a raven it was large, and it spread heavy black wings as they approached, before almost hopping to the next tree with one lazy flap.

"You circle around," Marcus whispered, his voice excited. He backed this up with circling motions of his fingers, and Gaius grinned at him, slipping into the undergrowth to one side. He crept around in a large circle, trying to keep the tree in sight while checking the path for dry twigs or rustling leaves.

When Gaius emerged on the far side, he saw the raven had changed trees again, this time to a long trunk that had fallen years before. The gentle slope of the trunk was easy to climb, and Marcus had already begun to inch up it toward the bird, at the same time trying to keep the net free for throwing.

Gaius padded closer to the base of the tree. Why doesn't it fly away? he thought, looking up at the raven. It cocked its large head to one side and opened its wings again. Both boys froze until the bird seemed to relax, then Marcus levered himself upward again, legs dangling on each side of the thick trunk.

Marcus was only feet from the bird when he thought it would fly off again. It hopped about on the trunk and branches, seemingly unafraid. He unfolded the net, a web of rough twine usually used for holding onions in the estate kitchens. In Marcus's hands, it had instantly become the fearsome instrument of a bird catcher.

Holding his breath, he threw it, and the raven took off with a scream of indignation. It flapped its wings once again and landed in the slender branches of a young sapling near Gaius, who ran at it without thinking.

As Marcus scrambled down, Gaius shoved at the sapling and felt the whole thing give with a sudden crack, pinning the bird in the leaves and branches on the ground. With Gaius pressing it all down, Marcus was able to reach in and hold the heavy bird, gripping it tightly in his two hands. He raised it triumphantly and then hung on desperately as the raven struggled to escape.

"Help me! He's strong," Marcus shouted, and Gaius added his own hands to the struggling bundle. Suddenly an agonizing pain shot through him. The beak was long and curved like a spear of black wood. It jabbed at his hand, catching and gripping the piece of soft flesh between thumb and first finger.

Gaius yelped. "Get it off. It's got my hand, Marcus." The pain was excruciating and they panicked together, with Marcus fighting to hold his grip while Gaius tried to lever the vicious beak off his skin.