Spurius enjoyed himself immensely for having escaped the confines of the house, luxurious as it might be. His patient had no need for him right now and Olaf’s prolonged absence had given him the excuse he’d needed. He had dutifully but quite half-heartedly searched the markets, but hadn’t spotted Eirik’s son. The only downside was that Eirik couldn’t be with him, they always had so much fun browsing the countless graffiti – not the ‘official’ ones; they preferred the local gossip. He had read a few quite saucy ones and had grimaced – either the remarks of the citizens here definitively lacked the necessary inspiration, or without his lover it was only half the fun it usually was. Nevertheless he committed some of them to memory to entertain Eirik when he returned.

He’d even run into Idris. A wry smile darted over the Roman’s face as he thought about the incident. At first, as was to be expected, the Silure had been everything but pleased to find his friend out on the streets again, but had taken it good-naturedly in the end. After all, even Idris had had to admit, with his shortened hair and carefully chosen tunic Spurius didn’t any longer resemble the half-barbarian fugitive the soldiers were looking for. He looked like an ordinary citizen. As always the Silure had been quite vague about his own plans. Spurius only learned about a planned meeting for the evening and that he was going to retrieve his bags. And he’d said something about Hylas and Felix having kittens, or rather their cat, Flora. For some reason the Silure had looked remarkably awkward when he mentioned them, and Spurius had asked himself with an inward smile whether the Silure would be living alone for very much longer.

In a little shop on the northern side of the Forum he finally treated himself to a scroll, the doubtless educated findings and views of a Roman scholar about the barbarians of northern Germania – which would most likely send Eirik and him into fits of hysterical laughter since such descriptions very rarely even came close to reality. Yet most of them were written quite well and contained just the right amount of gruesome rites ripped out of their context, fierce giant warriors, ever-ready for battle, and their equally impressing golden-haired warrior women to please the Roman readers’ tastes and lead them to believe it was plain truth, so they could put aside the scroll with a delicious shudder, feeling glad to live in a civilized part of the world. The farther south they’d travelled, the more it had proved worthwhile for them to utilise this image, though Eirik had always flat-out refused to appear in front of their respective employers’ guests dressed in animal skins or even yell artificial battle-cries as one of them had suggested.

Out of a sudden impulse he decided to pay a visit to Felix and Hylas. Not only because he’d enjoy their company, but also because Idris’ mentioning of the kittens had piqued his curiosity. He’d often dreamed of a cat but had agreed with Eirik’s opinion that the kind of life they led wasn’t suitable for one. He glanced at the sun and strolled at a leisurely pace in the direction of the insula Arriana Polliana. Suddenly a loud and somewhat startled outcry shook him out of his thoughts. “Spurius?! Can it be?!” The Roman paled and stiffened in panic as he tried hard not to locate the caller, all the while telling himself frantically the man couldn’t be addressing him, after all this name wasn’t too uncommon. “Spurius! I’m over here!” People were staring at him by now, so Spurius reluctantly turned towards the voice, prepared for the worst.

When he saw the tanned face and the open, honest smile something stirred in his memory and finally broke free in a surge of pure happiness that brought tears to his eyes. “Rufio!” he yelled in unbridled joy and ran across the street to leap into the man’s opened arms, causing even more citizens to look at them, some clucking their tongues at this undignified display of emotions. Neither Rufio nor Spurius spared them a second thought. The freedman whirled Spurius around; they hugged and kissed, parted for a few moments only to hug each other again. “I cannot believe it”, Spurius gasped and then squealed in delight as Rufio whirled him around again as he’d used to when they’d been boys. “Stop crying”, Rufio grumbled fondly as he put the Roman on the ground at last. “You’re not a child anymore.” “I certainly feel like one again”, Spurius smiled and wiped off the tears with the back of his hand before he playfully poked Rufio in the ribs with his elbow. “Are you well? You’re even more handsome than you were when I saw you last! Are you a freed now? What are you doing here in Pompeii, of all places? Oh Rufio, I’m so happy to see you again after all these years! And, say, do you –“

Rufio laughed out loud and raised his hands to fend off more questions. “I’m fine”, he smiled and again squeezed the breath out of his childhood friend. “And I’m also awfully happy to see you again! Come on, this really cries for a celebration! How long has it been?” Spurius frowned. “I had to leave Etruria when I was thirteen, so it’s been – eighteen years!” Arm in arm they walked off towards the next tavern, chatting happily.