4th November 37 AD

Every time the eyes of Caligula and Aurelia met, Gemellus was seized by another wave of jealousy. Likewise, his heart ached when the simple-minded crowd cheered for the two. This was all supposed to be his. Him and his sweet Persia. But ever since that fateful night, she had vanished off the face of the earth.
Ever since this Teutonic Helen had appeared, Gemellus had been thrust into the ranks behind Caligula and Macro among the three most obnoxious women in his family, apart from Caligula's new plaything - his three sisters. Only Drusilla's presence could be called anything like tolerable, because with her almost scandalously shameless manner she at least provided some entertainment that was to his taste. Agrippina had been able to send a cold shiver down his spine with a glance even as a child, and Julia put off any interesting company with her morality.
Gemellus couldn't even get drunk because someone had made sure that only juice was served. Where was all the fun in that? In any case, the ludi plebi were spoiled for him according to all the manners of the art. He had actually been looking forward to these games, since they were organized by the aediles, and he had not thought that Gaius could use these games for his production. But all the Aediles paid homage to this pompous hereditary brigand and the people jumped all over it every time. How stupid the world was? But everyone heard only what they wanted to hear.
His thoughts returned to Persia. Would he ever see her again? With each passing day without a word from her, the hope that she was still alive faded. No matter where she hid, sooner or later she would fall into the hands of Macro's men and Macro would not let her live. She knew too much and that was Gemellus' fault for including her in their plan. His gaze landed on Caligula again because Aurelia had just made him laugh with a quiet remark. Lovingly, Caligula looked at his pretty toy. Cold hatred rose in Gemellus. He was not to blame for Persia's absence, but Caligula alone, who had stolen his inheritance from him. For instead of respecting his grandfather's last wish, Caligula had portrayed Gemellus as incompetent and too young - as if those paltry seven years of age difference would make such a gigantic difference!
When he thought that for the next thirteen days, he, too, would have to endure this absolutely miserable farce in his miserable place, he wished fervently to return to his grandfather's court in Capri. His grandfather had cheered him on in his appetites with all his might, and not spoiled everything that was even half fun for him like Caligula. Silently rumbling, Gemellus emptied his cup and told himself an old Falernian was trickling down his throat.

No sooner had the games ended for the day than Gemellus took advantage of the disturbance that had arisen, retreating into the shadows, and throwing a simple cloak over his fine tunic. For one day, he had had to be content with his place in the puny shadow of Caligula's splendour for long enough. Now he just wanted to be able to move freely without Caligula's sisters or a Praetorian watching his every blink closely.
Quickly he lowered his head and disappeared into the crowd of spectators streaming out of the amphitheatre. These fools around him had no other topics of conversation than Caligula and that snipe Aurelia. Gemellus just couldn't understand what everyone in the world saw in that bitch. He didn't find her repulsive now, and if she hadn't treated him so condescendingly back in Misenum, he certainly would have courted her to escape the boredom of everyday life. But she had too concrete views for a woman, which she trumpeted to the world unbidden like a second Cicero.
As Gemellus entered Rome's shadow world, his body began to relax. Here he felt at home. Here he could leave Caligula's glamour for a few hours and be himself. Confidently, he opened the door to one of those cheap bars that any good mother would forbid her son from ever going near. Gemellus nodded to the sullen looking innkeeper and sat down in an alcove. Shortly, a steaming bowl of puls, the pulpy food of the lower class, and a large mug of the worst and cheapest mulsum, a kind of honeyed wine, stood before him. Smiling, he downed the swill and wiped the remnants from his mouth. The innkeeper nodded his understanding and placed a large jug in front of him. This was exactly what he needed after this horrible day.
Slowly the bar filled, and the familiar sounds soothed his upset body while the wine distracted his thoughts. Perhaps he would even help himself to one of the whores later, though none could give him such satisfaction as the good Persia. She knew how to make a man feel truly powerful, while the other women just spread their legs and hoped for a quick business deal.
At some point, just as Gemellus was about to make his move on the third jug, a figure slid into the small alcove with him, and his heart skipped a beat. Surely it was one of Macro's sleuths that Caligula had set upon him to drag him back to the boring stuffiness of Rome's upper society. But first he would finish his wine, after all he had paid for it. Defiantly ignoring the figure, he drained his cup in one go and slammed it down on the table. Hostilely, he glared at the figure, whose face remained awkwardly hidden in the shadow of its hood. A cloying perfume assailed his nose, but he had learned early on that this smell was by no means reserved for females. Rude, he barked at who disturbed him and refilled his drink.
"We have a mutual friend who needs our help," a woman's soft voice replied, and Gemellus paused in mid-motion. The figure looked around the crowded pub discreetly, then let her hood slide back a tiny bit so Gemellus could catch a glimpse of her face. Her features were pretty, though he personally would prefer a Persian to a Thracian any day. Her dark eyes seemed to look deep into his soul. A fine smile appeared on her lips, then she pulled her hood back into its former place. Stealthily, she leaned toward him.
"Come to the seven-arched bridge of the Via Praenestina on the night of the eve of the Nones of December," she murmured, then stood up and disappeared unobtrusively into the crowd. A grin spread across his face. Smugly, he brought the cup to his lips. If anyone would manage to sneak away unnoticed that day, it would be him. Soon enough, he would have what was his due again.