It was the neighing that woke up the Praetor Urbanus’ doorman from his mid-morning reverie. Initially he dismissed it as a figment of a dream; there were no horses on the Palatine, none in Rome during the day. He was just settling himself back into his chair when he heard the sound again, and louder this time. Hmm…? he thought to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got to his feet. And it was then that he noticed the other sound.

The sound of people; lots of people. And the sound was coming from the other side of his doors. He left his cubby-hole and crossed to the main entrance of Messala Rufus’ beautifully renovated domus. He opened one of the doors a fraction, and gulped when he saw what was on the porch.

Amidst a sizeable (and noisy) crowd stood a chariot. A racing chariot with full team of thoroughbred horses. And they had just been left on the doorstep.

There was one clue as to their origin however. Tied by a purple ribbon to a hand-grip on the chariot was a short note:

To Marcus Valerius Messala Rufus, Praetor Urbanus. Sent with the best wishes and compliments of Lucius Caecilius Cinna Pontifex Maximus, care of L.C.S.