The Prince had given her the medallion- a circle of brass with a plain surface, marked with rings of small letters that radiated out from a central point. That center was a hole cut through the brass and notched with tiny marks. For a brief moment, since it was so obviously something that he had made with his own hands, she had been very happy. No one had ever given her something they had made expressly for her before. The visitors that had come and gone from the Duchess' house had often given her flowers or gewgaws or presents refused by the Duchess, but they were second-hand things.

Then, of course, the Prince had explained what it was for, and her heart had turned cold.

In this amulet, he had explained in a brisk, professional tone, is trapped a fragment of my power. It holds a similarity of the Shield of Athena that I maintain around all of us at all times. While I live, the device will echo my power and my shield- though around you rather than me. It is less powerful, but it should serve to protect you if you are away from my immediate presence. I have made others for Gaius and Alexandros, of course.

Though she feigned sleep as they rattled and rolled and creaked up the mountainside with Gaius Julius and the others in tow, her mind was turned to thoughts far away from the Prince. She thought more of her home and a hot bath and even the hectoring voice of the Duchess.

The Prince tsked at the mules, and the wagon passed under an old arch of hand-carved stone. They had entered the domain of his patrimony. The clouds seemed very close, and the sun waned. Krista sat up, disturbed from her doze by the chill in the air. It was not cold, exactly, but cooler than it had been down on the plain. Orchards surrounded them, grown wild from lack of care. High grass heavy with seed pods and flowering weeds clogged the ground under the apple trees. The hedgerow that marked the road fell back, becoming a low wall that ran along the verge of the track.

"Just a minute more." Maxian smiled at her, his face open and cheerful. Krista smiled back, though there was the hint of a shadow in her eyes. "Fret not, love. We should be quite safe here."

Clouds parted again as they came out of the apple trees and a house lay before them. Krista smiled involuntarily, seeing the simple, clean lines of the brick walls and the slightly canted roofs of the buildings. This was the kind of place that she knew well- a classic Roman rural villa, all square buildings and tiled roofs, pillared colonnades, and atriums open to the sky. A brick wall, overgrown with roses and creeping yellow vines, surrounded the house. The front gate stood open, the old iron latticework green with rust.

"Ah." The Prince looked abashed. "It's smaller than I remember."

Krista laughed and put her hand on his arm. He flicked the reins, urging the mules to hurry up, and then they rolled through the gate, the stretched cloth top of the carruca barely passing under the archway. Within, an open square of hard-packed earth sat between the out buildings and the main house. The edge of the yard was piled with reefs of blown leaves and twigs. Krista stepped down from the wagon and looked around with wary interest. The place was empty and abandoned, with closed doors and shutters on all sides, but she did not feel like a stranger. It had the feel of a place where the hostess had stepped out and she would be back in just a minute. The walls of the buildings were still plastered and trim, without any fallen-in roofs or broken doors. The other wagons rolled up and parked in a line along the side of the yard toward the mountain. There were Barns clustered there, and the faint smell of old manure.

The Walach boys ran past, freed at last from the boring confines of the wagons. They sketched a bow as they ran past Krista, their bare feet thudding on the ground, and loped off between the buildings. Krista took a straw hat- much smaller and more demure than Gaius Julius'- out of the wooden box under the wagon seat and tied it on her head. After undoing a lock, the Prince and Alexandros were opening the doors to the main house. Gaius Julius had already disappeared; doubtless off to find the cellars and winepresses.

A pitiful mew drew her attention, and Krista smiled, her teeth flashing white in the shade under her hat. Two little yellow eyes peered at her out of a red wicker basket stowed behind the seat. Reaching in, she dragged the basket out and held it up. The little black cat was sitting in a nest of old sheets, staring out with wide eyes at the yard and the sky. It mewed again, imperious in its desire to be let out.

"I think not, little squeak." Krista pulled her bag of clothes and sundries out, too, and walked toward the front door of the house, now standing wide, with the faint gleam of sunlight on tiles shining from within. "We have to get settled first, but then I'll get you some cream."

Old wooden shutters creaked open, and Krista coughed as dust hazed the air in the kitchen. Unlike the dark, enclosed rooms of the kitchens in the Duchess' house in Rome, here, a long rectangular chamber set at the far end of the house held the iron stove and marble countertops. Nex to the stove was an open, bricked, fire-pit with a griddle built over it. There was a big basin-shaped sink fed by round ceramic pipes, too, which sat under a long series of windows that looked out on the north side of the big house. With the shutters opened, the room was flooded with a cool, northern light and treated to a fine view of the mountain sloping away above the villa. It would be cool in the summer, with its high ceilings and a row of grillworkcovered windows under the eaves.

Krista clapped her hands together, trying to get the dust and grime off. It was no use; the whole house needed a thorough cleaning, and she grimaced, realizing she was likely the only one to care. All of the Persian and Nabatean servants Abdmachus had gathered were dead or missing, which left her only the Walach boys for helpers. They were not very good at cleaning, having a tendency to get into fights with one another or loll about grooming themselves or sleeping. If there was hunting to be had, or some dark business in the nighttime, they were the very soul of attention. But sweeping or scrubbing down countertops? Never.

Footsteps clattered on the smooth tiles of the kitchen floor, and she turned.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

Maxian had changed into a short kilt, leather sandals, and a Greekstyle tunic that bared one arm and shoulder. Krista blinked, not having seen him look so, well, rustic before. She stifled a laugh, imagining him with a crown of laurel leaves and an amphora of wine under one arm. He looked relaxed, and the thin creases of strain and worry around his eyes had faded. "What is so funny?" He leaned on the counter, his head at a slight angle, looking down at her.

"Oh, my Lord Bacchus," she said, turning away and smiling over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. "have you come for a revel?"

Maxian was perplexed for an instant, and then looked down at his costume. "Brat! We're on holiday in the country!" He grabbed her waist, and she skipped back, laughing. "Come here!"

"No!" she caroled, and darted out the door to the back garden. Behind the house and lying under the kitchen windows had been a large vegetable garden fronting on a brick porch with a stout roof. Now it was as overgrown as the orchards or the cattle pens, but a walkway of round stones had been laid from the back door to a gate in a fence of wooden slats. Krista sprinted across the garden, laughing, and the Prince was hard on her heels. "You're too slow, my lord! But catch me if you can!"