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Leaving Macro dozing quietly in the sunshine, Cato made himself walk through the camp towards the elaborate tents of the Emperor's followers. Each step towards Lavinia was an effort, and on all sides the light-hearted mood of the legionaries increased the weight of misery bearing down on him. It did not take him long to find the tent of the legate's wife and her travelling household, but it took a while to steel himself to approach the entrance. A burly slave he had never seen before stood guard and from inside came the muffled chatter of female voices. Cato strained his ears to catch the sound of Lavinia's voice.

'What's your business?' asked the slave, intervening between the entrance flap and the young optio.

'Personal. I wish to speak with a slave of Lady Flavia.'

'Does the mistress know you?' asked the slave contemptuously. 'Yes. I'm an old friend.'

The slave frowned, unsure whether to turn this filthy soldier away or risk interrupting his mistress in her unpacking.

'Tell her that it's Cato. Tell her I'd like to talk to Lavinia.'

The slave narrowed his eyes before reluctantly reaching his decision. 'Very well. Stay here.'

He entered the tent and left Cato standing alone. He turned away and gazed out over the camp while he waited for the slave to return. A rustling behind him caused Cato to turn back quickly. Instead of the slave he found Lady Flavia facing him, a strained smile on her face as she held her hand out in greeting.

'My lady.' Cato bowed his head. 'You are well?' asked Flavia.

'I'm quite well, my lady.' He raised his arms and did a quick turn, hoping to amuse her. 'As you can see.'

'Good…'

The silence was awkward, and when Flavia's usually cheerful mood failed to materialise, a cold sense of dread welled up inside Cato. 'My lady, might I speak to Lavinia?'

Flavia's expression took on a pained look. She shook her head. 'What's the matter, my lady? Is Lavinia all right?'

'Yes. She's all right.'

Cato's anxiety quickly abated. 'Then can I see her'?'

'No. Not now. She's not here.'

'Where can I find her, my lady'?'

'I don't know, Cato.'

'Then I'll wait for her to return. That is, if you don't mind.'

Flavia stood silently and made no reply. Instead she looked him in the eye and her expression became sorrmvful. 'Cato, do you respect my opinion as you once used to?'

'Of course, my lady. '

'Then forget Lavinia. Forget her, Cato. She is not for you. No! Let me finish.' She raised her hand to quell his objections. 'Cato, you deserve better. Lavinia is no good for you. She's changed her mind about you these last few weeks. She has… higher ambitions.'

Cato recoiled from Flavia, and she was distressed by the cold anger that hardened his youthful face.

'Why didn't you tell me about Vitellius, my lady?' he asked in a strained voice. 'Why?'

'For your own good, Cato. You have to believe me. I have no desire to hurt you unnecessarily.' 'Where is Lavinia?'

'I can't tell you.'

Cato could guess where Lavinia might be easily enough. He stared at Flavia, jaw working as he struggled to control his churning emotions. Then he suddenly clenched his fists, turned, and strode away from the tent

'Cato!' Flavia took a few paces towards him, and stopped, hand half lifted as if to restrain him. She stared sadly at the thin, almost frail body of the young man striding stiffly away, the hurt he was suffering evident in the tightly clenched fists at his sides. Since she had been responsible for allowing the youngsters' relationship to nourish in the first place, and had used it for her own political ends, Flavia felt the weight of guilt descend upon her. Despite her private justifications for her deeds, the human costs they entailed were hard to bear.

Flavia wondered if a simple brutal statement of Lavinia's present location might not have been a quicker and kinder way to help Cato get over his youthful adoration of Lavinia.

Chapter Fifty-One

The setting sun flooded into the tribune's tent through the entrance flap, burnishing one side of its contents with a rich orange glow and casting long dark shadows over the other side. Lavinia snuggled her head on the tribune's shoulder and ran her fingers through the dark curls of his chest, each hair highlighted by the glow of the dying sun. His sweaty scent filled her nostrils with the sharp tang of his masculinity, and she breathed in rhythm with the smooth rise and fall of his chest. Although his eyes were shut she knew he was awake from the light touch of a finger on the curved cleft between her buttocks as he gently traced the contours.

'Mmmm, that's nice,' she breathed softly in his ear. 'Don't stop there.'

'You are insatiable,' Vitellius muttered. 'Three times in one afternoon is more than any man can take.'

Running her hand down his chest and over his stomach, Lavinia cupped the soft malleable flesh of his penis in her slender fingers and slowly worked it.

'Are you really sure?'

Vitellius raised his other hand and extended his index finger, the gesture of a defeated gladiator appealing to the mob. 'I beg for mercy.'

'I accept surrender from no man.' Lavinia chuckled as she continued her attempt to elicit a response.

'Not even that youngster you were involved with?'

The tone of the remark was just the wrong side of frivolous, and Lavinia withdrew her hand and shifted round, raising herself on one elbow and looking down at his face.

'What's the matter? Jealous?' Lavinia waited for a response, but Vitellius silently gazed back up at her. 'Could you really be jealous of a young boy?'

'Not so young that he didn't kinow his way around, apparently.'

'But young enough to need to stop and ask for directions from time to time?'

'From an even younger woman?'

'Ah!' Lavinia smiled. 'I had the advantage of a head start. Thanks to you, my very own tribune.' She lowered her head and kissed him on the lips, then slowly grazed her lips across the stubble on his cheek and kissed his eye and forehead, before reclining back on her elbow. 'I'm so glad we're back together. I can't tell you how much I've missed being with you like this. I don't think I have ever felt so happy.'

'Not even with that boy?' Vitellius asked quietly. 'Are you quite sure?'

'Of course I am, silly! I've told you, it just happened after Plinius threw me out when he caught us together that time. You remember?'

'I'll never forget!' Vitellius smiled. 'That pompous fool had it coming to him.'

'Plinius was all right. He looked after me well. I've a lot to thank him for. In fact I felt very sorry for him afterwards, for a while at least. And then Cato fell for me.'

'What on earth did you see in him?'

Lavinia pouted as she thought about her attraction to the young optio. 'I suppose he looks handsome in an odd way. He's tall and skinny to be sure, but he has lovely eyes. Very expressive. And there was something quite sad about him too. Always seemed preoccupied with how others saw him, never at ease with himself. Maybe I felt sorry for him.'

'Hardly an adequate reason to bed him,' protested Vitellius.

'Oh you!' Lavinia punched his chest. 'Why shouldn't I sleep with him? I enjoyed it. And I couldn't see you very easily as long as I lived with Lady Flavia. What was I supposed to do?'