I warmed his cold blood

Chapter 10 A Different Moment

In Rome, social class was divided by property.Commoners can become knights by obtaining 25 dinars; if their property exceeds [-] dinars, they are elders.

Brutus belonged to the class of knights, a lowly nobleman, below the senators.

Herron threw a lavish dinner for the two of them.

There is a dining table in the center of the dining room, surrounded by sofas on three sides to form a half square, on which nobles lie down to eat dinner, with silver plates and napkins spread in front of them.When they drank all the wine in their glasses, they raised their glasses aloft, and beckoned the slaves to pour them.

Lying down to eat is a symbol of noble status.The civilians could only sit on chairs and eat.

Slaves shuttled back and forth with wine, a towel draped over their shoulders, ready to pour wine and wipe their hands.

Heron lay between the two of them, scooping out a lump of fish sauce with a spoon.

Gnaia danced her spoon happily, and the fish sauce on her plate was scraped clean, revealing a bright silver surface.

She drank a lot of wine, and her cheeks flushed: "Pliny is really capable, leaving you such a big house and so much money. I dare say this fish sauce is the most expensive I have ever eaten."

Helen ignored this tentative flattery, and just smiled lightly.

Gnaia curled her lips, rolled up the roast meat with lettuce leaves, and bit down slowly.

Glancing at her empty silver platter, Brutus scooped up his fish sauce and put it on his mother's plate.He doesn't eat much, and the food in front of him is still whole.

Herren glared at the slave.The slave understood and quickly added food to her.

"My father left a lot for me, but I don't even remember what he looked like," Herron said. "I lived with my mother all the time and only moved here when I was an adult."

Hearing "mother", Gnaia's expression was not very good.

She smacked her fingers, pretending to be sad, and said, "I heard that she was ill. Oh, what a pity... I don't know what the doctor said?"

Helen pretended to be stupid, "I don't know, she never mentioned her illness to me. After her father died, she always wore black mourning clothes, never bright colors. She prayed for him in front of the shrine, and his Soul communication. She's a good wife, isn't she?"

Gnaia swallowed the barbecue abruptly, and sipped her wine in anger: "She is such a good wife, and Pliny's smooth career is due to her. But..."

She gently stroked the cup with her hand, her tone softened, "It's more about his own talent."

Helen noticed her change, and deliberately said contemptuously: "He is an irresponsible guy. He cheated his wife's dowry, ignored his own son, and is as cold-blooded as a snake. He is just talented , the heart must be like a poisonous insect..."

"Oh no... he's just volatile, I know him. He's political, he's good at making money, and he's as handsome as Adonis."

Her fingers trembled slightly, "He's perfect..."

A bang cut off her words.

Brutus knocked over the wine glass, he withdrew his hand embarrassingly, lowered his head heavily, with an unclear expression.

Herron caught a glimpse of a small smear of blood on his exposed wrist, which flickered like a shadow.

The slave hurriedly brought him a new cup and wiped the wine stains from the ground.

"Let's not mention that guy." Helen said with a smile, "He left such a large family property, to be honest, I also have a headache. I think there should be many people coveting my property."

Gnaia's eyes changed, and she coughed guiltily, "How is it possible... You are the owner of Polio, the only son of the noble Pliny."

She picked up the glass stiffly and took a sip of the wine absent-mindedly.

At this time, the slave brought out freshly baked bread.A smell of wheat and milk is ignited in the dining room like fireworks.

The slave sliced ​​the bread with a long knife and served it to the three.

Brutus picked up the silver plate, closed his eyes and smelled it.

Gnaia glanced at him and said sternly, "Brutus, don't smell your food before eating, it will make you appear greedy."

Brutus had no place to rest his hands, he lowered his head and said in a muffled voice, "I'm sorry, mother."

"Real nobles don't show greed." Gnaia didn't care about his face, "at least Pliny never did that."

Brutus lowered his head almost into the socket of his neck.

When the dinner party ended, it was not completely dark yet.Helen sent the mother and son to the courtyard.

Gnaia drank too much, she staggered, and Brutus took her arm.

She raised her hand to caress the marble column, and said drunkenly, "This is Polio..."

Harun winked at the slave, and the slave stepped forward with a feather.She opened her mouth cooperatively, the feather brushed her throat, she bowed her head and vomited into the clay pot.Brutus patted her on the back.

After finally vomiting, she wiped her mouth and looked up at Helen.

She smiled suddenly, pinched Heron's face provocatively, and her red nails touched the corner of his lips intentionally or unintentionally.

Brutus hastily pulled back her hand.

The mother and son staggered into the carriage.

"Remember their addresses." Helen instructed the groom in a low voice.

The groom nodded slightly and raised the whip in his hand.The carriage walked alone on the dark road.

Helen wiped her face vigorously, with a look of disgust, as if this could wipe away the breath left by Gnaia.

He took a long breath, turned around and almost knocked over a glass of milk.

"Lucas?!" He took the cup in surprise.

"You just had a drink, I think you need this. But your expression..." Lucas smiled slightly, "It's like seeing the volcano erupting in Pompeii back then."

"Get out!" Helen took a sip of milk and walked straight back.He stopped after walking a few steps, turned his face and said, "Follow me to the backyard to feed the pigeons."

The two came to the backyard side by side and sat on the steps.

Lucas spread the rice in his palm, and some pigeons took the initiative to peck at it.

Heron threw the rice out like a fisherman casting a net, and it fell to the ground with a clatter, even hitting the pigeons.

The pigeon was frightened by the rice stray bullet and ran around, and the rapid cooing sound immediately sounded.

Lucas turned his face and stared at Herren, without making a sound for a long time.

"They've grown up, why don't they run away?" Heron said slowly.

"I tied the feathers of the outer wings with ropes, so the pigeons can't fly." Lucas said, "They have lived here for a long time, and they will regard this place as their home, even if they untie the feathers, they will not escape."

Helen threw out all the rice in his hand and clapped his hands.His arms hung across his bent knees, his wrists drooped limply.

Lucas could hear his long breaths, and he could smell the faint smell of alcohol stained on his clothes, with the fragrance of grapes.

"You're not quite right today," Lucas said, staring at him.

Herron took a sip of milk slowly. "I'm fine."

His voice was muffled like a rusty bell, and he didn't meet Lucas' eyes.

Lucas looked at him seriously for a moment, then turned his gaze to the pigeons.

"wrong."

After a long time, Lucas said, "One pigeon is missing."

"Less is less." Helen said indifferently, "Maybe he broke free from the rope and flew."

"This is very strange." Lucas rubbed his chin. "It has been tied for a long time, and the pigeon is very tame. How could it escape..."

"These animals have no humanity at all." Helen stood up, "They only follow instinct and bestiality."

"Even if it is an animal, it will develop feelings for people after being kept for a long time."

Herron looked down at him from above, "Think whatever you want."

He tore off the heavy robe, frizzed it into a ball, and threw it to Lucas who was sitting on the ground.

"Wash it for me and scent it with cardamom."

The robe was too big and covered Lucas's head.He saw Harun dimly through a layer of cloth.

His master scratched his hair and lifted his feet out of the clearing, his steps were unusually disordered.

"It's really not right." Lucas said, looking at his back.

He picked up the robe, sniffed it closely, stroked the soft material, and looked at the patterns on it.

He was so careful that he could see the mesh of the seams and the balls of the fabric that were so small that they could be ignored.

He stroked along the direction of the silk weaving, as softly as if he was stroking his lover's hand.

He saw a faint smudge of grease, where Herron had picked it up from dinner.He drew circles around the oil stain with his fingers, thinking of countless scenes of oil stains in his mind.

He folded the clothes neatly, walked to the courtyard humming a happy tune, and patted the washerwoman on the shoulder.

"Popina, can you teach me to wash clothes?" He paused, "There is also incense."

The female slave put down her wet hand and gave him a strange look.

……

It's midsummer, and the last trace of coolness has been eaten up by the heat.The slaves took out the ice cubes stored in winter, and skillfully fanned out the cold air with fans.

The vitality of the Romans seemed to be burned out by the heat, and they didn't come out and walk around very much.The whole city fell into a scorching slump.

In order to inspire the people and raise taxes, the emperor held a grand gladiatorial performance in the amphitheatre, ordering that all gladiators must participate.He hoped to awaken people's enthusiasm with bloody fighting.

And he got his wish.

According to the regulations, Lucas also needs to play.

He stood in front of the mirror and straightened his clothes.

Black leather armor fits tightly around the muscles, and gray iron knee pads are bound to the ankles.He tied his right armguard without haste, biting the rope in his mouth, coordinating back and forth with his left hand.The edge of the sword has been sharpened by him for a long time, and the edge gathers a dazzling light.The sharp attire blends perfectly with himself.

His master came over specially to cheer him up.

For some time in the past, Lucas had been wearing a slave's coarse sackcloth. Helen hadn't seen such a fierce Lucas for a long time, and almost forgot his essential sharpness.

"Yo, the gladiator is in his proper clothes."

Herron walked into his room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.Half of his face was in the shadow of the corridor, and his exposed eyes drooped slightly, seemingly casually teasing.

"Actually, this set of equipment is not very comfortable."

Lucas bit the rope and wrapped it around his wrist, his voice was quite vague.

Herron walked over.He saw the black belt criss-cross around Lucas' forearm, the skin bulging from the skin.The bluish blood vessels protruded powerfully, running vertically and horizontally between the strong muscles.

He stretched out his hand, pulled the rope out of his mouth, and tied the rope for him under Lucas's surprised eyes.He entangled patiently, moving his slender fingers as if conjuring, very elegant.

"I said... don't die."

Helen looked up at him, her brows and eyes arched teasingly.He wasn't nervous at all.

For this competition, he is confident.

At that time, it was precisely because Lucas became a blockbuster in this gladiator that he spent a lot of money to buy this expensive gladiator.

The two are very close.Lucas could see himself reflected in the black eyes, and had the illusion of being engraved on obsidian.The protruding browbones cast shadows on the eyelids, as if painted with eyeshadow; the eyelashes inked his eyes, a kind of visually deranged beauty.And even when he raised his eyes, he didn't reveal much of the whites of his eyes.

And it was this pair of black and white eyes that made Heron's facial features more beautiful.

Everyone has special moments in which they are more beautiful than usual.The amazing thing is that this kind of strange beauty comes from this person, which makes other people's eyes shine and at the same time, they are more familiar with admiration.

Lucas felt his throat dry, and his mouth felt like a fire was burning.