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Murum Aries Attigit.

To these things Caesar replied, "That he, in accordance with his custom, rather than owing to their desert, should spare the state, if they should surrender themselves before the battering-ram should touch the wall; but that there was no condition of surrender, except upon their arms being delivered up; that he should do to them that which he had done in the case of the Nervii, and would command their neighbors not to offer any injury to those who had surrendered to the Roman people." The matter being reported to their countrymen, they said that they would execute his commands. Having cast a very large quantity of their arms from the wall into the trench that was before the town, so that the heaps of arms almost equalled the top of the wall and the rampart, and nevertheless having retained and concealed, as we afterward discovered, about a third part in the town, the gates were opened, and they enjoyed peace for that day.

Caesar's Gallic Wars, 2.32

The Roman City of Placentia, 32 BC

The tavern's main room felt overwarm, even though I was wearing only a basic tunic and leggings. After months on campaign, I had become accustomed to the cold. A legionary did not feel the cold anyway; when Caesar crossed the Massif into Gaul it was said half his men were eunuchs by the end, not a cock between them without some frostbite. Still they marched; and still they won.

Rome's legions always won. At least against the enemies without; that of course made me ponder the difficult position that I faced now, along with every Roman soldier. Loyalty, bravery, obedience never seemed enough when Rome's legions faced each other, as they had many times since Marius and then Sulla fought the enemies within, before even the great Gaius Julius crossed the Rubicon, all while the republic burnt around their eagles.

Now Rome's legions fought each other more than the barbarians. Civil war was never very civil.

As I stood by the doorway of the tavern, surveying my many fellow legionaries loyal, or should I say, thought to be loyal to Octavian, enjoying the questionable attractions of the place, I wondered what the great God Jupiter Optimus Maximus must feel about all this. All these armies of Rome, all praying to him for support and guidance, carrying their eagles and their banners, and killing each other in his name.

Perhaps he just sat back and watched the show, amused by the petty doings of the mortals.

"Stallion? You there? A drink soldier?"

With a sudden start, I realised I had shuffled closer to the bar in my musings, away from the uncomfortable heat of the open fire pit near the door, and there was an aged buck behind the bar looking on impatiently, wanting a quick sale before he got on to the next drunken Roman.

"Aye...wine..."

"Anything particular?"

"Ahh....Falernian, if you have it..."

The buck nodded, pulling a cup from under the bench, and upending a pitcher into the cup, filling it to the brim with deep red liquid.

"Your health stallion!"

I tossed him a coin and turned back to the room, taking a good long sip of the drink and grimacing slightly. The buck kept his wine well watered, it seemed. And I doubted it came from within a hundred miles of Falernia. I kept my silence though, content to stay in the background and watch, for the moment at least just happy to be somewhere other than the camp.

As an 18-year-old mere ranker soldier, I knew I was nothing special. An undistinguished member of an ordinary century of the last but one cohort of the 9th legion. A mere cog, in a much larger machine; a machine trying hard to rend itself into pieces thanks to the contending personalities who sought to send their names into Rome's firmament over the bodies of their rivals and their own men.

Legio IX Hispana. A long way from either Spain.

"Well young stallion...would you buy me a drink?"

I felt her breath and smelt her scent in one. Both were hot; a flood of heat over my coat, making my mane twitch and flick and my ears perk up tall. The Lampascan cow snorted, catching a response, seeing herself on a good thing. I did not need to see her flame-coloured toga to know what her business was.

In spite of many things though, I was still and all a polite horse.

"No my lady; that is to say, I would buy you a drink, if you are willing, but your time may be spent better with others tonight, as that is all that will be happening."

The cow looked disappointed, and sidled up even closer so I could see her eyes. Deep brown and soulful, with highlights round the eyes to make them seem almost Egyptian, full lips with a hint of rouge, and generous amounts of gold at her neck and wrists. Her breasts swelled magnificently under sheer cotton, the crevice between highlighted by a gold and amber necklace. Obviously no mere common whore this one...

"Such a pity! And such a beautiful young stallion too."

Her hands roamed under my tunic, seeking out something to their liking. I felt myself backed against the bar but could go no further, and the prostitute laughed with her eyes as she felt my clumsy attempt at escape, smacking my hooves into the wood and almost falling. Her fingers wrapped around my sheath and scrotum, and she stroked with expert fingers. Beyond a wide eyed stare, and a nicker of anger, though, I did not react.

Beautiful...how I had longed to hear that word again, from another muzzle though...

She laughed again, this time with more than her eyes, and spoke with her muzzle close to my ear, her words just for me.

"Indeed stallion. Such a pity...but you are beautiful in any case. Well, you might find what you are looking for at the Sabine Lion tavern, near the Appine gate."

My look was probably embarrassed now, but her expression was kindly, even conspiratorial. She gave me a peck on the nose, and stroked my mane, the questing hands now removed from under my tunic. As always, I wished inside that her hand had remained; and that I had responded as a stallion should, instead of the thing that I was.

With a rueful smile I kissed her back instead, handing the cow my still full wine cup.

"Falernian"

"Not in this house!"

I snorted. "Well, whatever it is, drink it and wish me luck lady. What is your name if I may?"

"Lucilla. And yours soldier?"

"Sextus Lentullus at your service my lady Lucilla, though the services of a poor orphan plebeian are not much value. Well Lucilla, with any luck, you will find some soldier far better at filling that sex of yours than I, and almost certainly wealthier than I as well."

I tried to dismiss her, but she seemed impervious to my anger, instead giving me another kiss on the cheek, and a lingering stroke of the mane. It felt good, but not in a sexual way. I realised it was the gesture my mother had used to calm me, whenever danger came near as it always seemed to do. The whore's care confused me, as well as touching me deeply. Perhaps I had unlocked some deep maternal instinct in the cow, or perhaps she saw something of how troubled I was inside. Either way, I felt myself relaxing at her touch in ways I had not in many long months.

Eventually she pulled back, with a long appraising look, and a final kiss on the nose.

"Good luck youngster. With any luck, you will find some stud to fill your needy tailhole as well..."

I gave a whinny then as her appraising look turned wicked.

"Dear dear colt, I have to be able to tell these things in my profession. How else am I to serve all my client's needs?"

She gave a salute, and headed back into the room, for all the world like I never existed, throwing one last comment over her shoulder.

"Nos morituri te salutamus my dear colt...and tell them Lucilla sent you."

With a last snort, I turned on my hooves and walked out the doorway into the street.

*****

The Sabine Lion was difficult to find, and it took a good hour before I managed to take the correct turning at the Appine gate, past the Via Latium, under the arch and into the small ancient square under the shadows of the city walls. The sign gave little room for doubt though; a large lion's head, with thick red mane, under the sign of the three Sabine kings, Tatius Pompilius and Marcius.

Light streamed into the courtyard from a large door, flanked by two huge Nubian bull guards. I trotted hesitantly to the door, where the guards stopped me with their scimitars, otherwise seemingly unmoved, their bored stares never changing. They were magnificent, even in their stolid stance, naked to the waist, long loincloths bulging with heavy promise, their hair braided and tied with gold, and gold torcs and bicep rings glinting in the light from the doorway.

I cursed myself for my stupidity then, realising that such an establishment that could afford such guardians probably did not welcome strangers, and prepared to retreat back to the camp frustrated and bitter when I remembered. It was worth a try.

"L...Lucilla sent me."

The two Nubian bulls exchanged glances, then lifted their scimitars as one, stepping to each side and staring straight ahead. Flushed with new success, I walked into the tavern with an unfamiliar confidence, hooves stepping high and ears flicking.

The sense of triumph did not long survive however. The room was perfect, of course, decorated lavishly with frescoes that would not be well received in a polite Roman home, and the warmth was just perfect, enough to make me feel almost relaxed. No fire could be seen; the establishment must have a proper hypocaust with underfloor heating, a rare extravagance for a brothel.

The clientele gave the clue however , well beyond the normal run of the mill crowd expected in a brothel for a drink and a quiet fuck. Knights, at least, seemed to predominate. There even seemed to be one or two of senatorial rank, eying this mere ranker soldier with surprise and a tinge of hostility. I was looking around desperately for any friendly face when I spied a scowling wolf to my left, one I was unfortunately familiar with.

One of the Military Tribunes attached to our force, placed on the personal staff of our commander the Procunsul Flaccus by his ambitious father, even though Flaccus was a mortal political enemy. That was how the Rome of the elite worked; regardless of their battles between themselves, they still helped each other even as they kept the likes of me under their paws. The young noble wolf would not be pleased to see a mere ranker soldier privy to his indiscretions.

I was about to turn tail and flee when a figure detached itself from a long richly decorated bar and came to greet me with a warm smile almost as if I were a long lost son.

"My boy, and one of Rome's finest I see, a legionary of our forces no less. The Ninth I see; a most noble and worthy legion, the Hispania. Welcome colt, welcome to my little tavern."

I realised suddenly that I was standing in front of the actual Sabine Lion himself, red mane and all, as the big cat's accent betrayed his origins like a placard. Still, he seemed genuine enough, and the smile reached his eyes as he pulled me into another hug.

A soft muzzle pressed itself against my ear.

"Do not worry young stallion. The rest of these supposed boni will forget your presence soon enough. Tell me though; how did you find us?"

"Lucilla..."

"Ahhh, that cow is a sentimental one. Luckily, so am I. So colt, what is your name, and what did you have in mind?"

The lion had pulled me towards a small alcove on one wall, shielded by wall hangings, and I could not see the others in the room. Nor could they see or hear me; or hear the lion. I realised the lion was an astute operator.

"Sextus Lentullus Sir. I...I don't know, Sir. I...all I wanted was a night not in a stinking camp for once. And when Lucilla tried...well, I wasn't interested in her, but she knew I might be...well, you know..."

"Yes, well enough young stallion. A night without a cold tent, real food and drink, and an agreeable companion, away from prying eyes. When did you last have such a companion, eh?"

My eyes dropped, the thought hurting more than I wanted to show. The lion nodded and stroked my mane.

"Well youngster, I wouldn't mind taking up the offer myself, if you were agreeable, but unfortunately the needs of my business preclude such an...ahh...interesting diversion."

Now I was blushing scarlet.

"How much do you have lad?"

"Ahh...about ten denarii."

It sounded pathetic, really, but it was a fortune in coin for a mere ranker. Most of my meagre fortune rested as a line item in the legion accounts, payable only when I finished my 20 years enlistment. I had managed to get some small amount of coin only by doing things for a certain stallion in my century that still made me embarrassed, though part of me enjoyed it to my shame.

As I looked at the lion, whose muzzle had broken out in a condescending smile, I realised that an establishment such as this probably didn't even serve a drink for that much, but the lion held out his paw, and I dutifully placed the meagre coins in his palm. Long fingers closed on the shiny metal, weighing it before making a decision.

"What a happy coincidence. Ten denarii is exactly the price of a room with drink and food, and a companion to keep you warm. Go down the corridor to the left colt, and the fourth entry on the right hand side past the impluvium is your room for the night. A companion will be in shortly to look after you...I have just the one in mind, perfect for you I think. And I wish you the night you were hoping for young stallion..."

With twinkling eyes, the lion led me out of the alcove, and past the other clients, most of them openly staring in curiosity. Not the wolf though; his malice was overt, rather than curiosity, teeth bared and eyes twinkling as they followed me, even as he roughly groped the groin of a big young German bull seated on the couch beside him.

I would offer to Jupiter Optimus Maximus next time I was at his shrine, in thanks that at least I was not that bull tonight.

As I passed through the left hand doorway and started down a long corridor illuminated by hanging lamps, I was grateful to leave the common room behind, and its staring faces. I passed doorways, with long hanging tapestries masking the rooms, though I could make out the sounds from inside well enough and they made my blood burn. Sighs; cries; moans and the slap of body on body. Male voices, full of hunger, deep and needy. Like me.

Entering a second hallway, with the dark expanse of an impluvium in the middle, I stopped. The night sky was visible through the ceiling portal above the pool, the stars gleaming down and reflecting in the water. The moon rode high, it's almost full bulk shining yellow in the sky. I wondered what the priests might make of these signs, were they here beside me. They would probably be too busy warding off the evils attendant in being in such a place to read the signs. For some reason, I stood there a long time, contemplating the stars above, and the flat pool below, my thoughts darker than the still water.

"Hail stallion...are you the one called Lentullus?"

"Yes"

In the semi-darkness I could make out a figure, and as he came closer, I realised he was a ram, tall and well built, but young, probably no older than me if even a little younger. He was wearing a Greek tunic with a stylized lion on the breast, and a necklace, and a pair of soft sandals on his cloven hooves. He looked at me with a smile, holding out a hand.

"Welcome then. I am your companion for the night. I was expecting you in the room, and when you didn't arrive, I came looking."

"I am sorry, I stopped to think for a while. Don't get the chance too often..."

His smile broadened if anything, and he gripped my left arm at the elbow, pulling me towards him in an embrace.

"I am glad I found you then. Titus doesn't like us to lose customers."

Yes, that was what I was I guess...a customer...still, he seemed pleasant enough, though like Lucilla, it was probably part of the profession...

"Will you lead me on?"

His smile turned wicked.

"Always...but I will satisfy you too, don't worry..."

It worked, getting a snort and a slight chuckle, and putting me at my ease in ways I could never be in the room full of wealthy important furs who could dismiss me with a look. My companion would not do that, I was confident. I felt myself warming to the young ram, in my heart as well as other places.

We passed a second doorway, into another corridor, before stopping at one of the tapestry hangings that covered the entrance to a room. The ram pulled it to one side, but not before I had a chance to gaze at the fabric. A minotaur, having his way with a captive Cretan wolf, the wolf bent over and held down, tongue extended, cock leaking onto the ground, while the bull lent his head back and snorted out his pleasure at conquering his captive.

The ram saw me looking and winked as he gestured to the open room.

"So, do you envy the bull, or the wolf?"

I passed him without comment, though in truth, I could not answer. For tonight, I felt like a little of both, unusual as it was for me.

Two times I had been inside another male, only two. Both were with my beloved; my stallion, and older cousin, Gaius. Once when I had won a bet by beating him wrestling and taken the bruised and chagrined stallion hard and rough, like he often did to me, enjoying his cries and his angry looks as I spent in his depths within minutes.

The second; well, the second was altogether different, when I showed him instead how I wanted to be taken when I needed to feel, long and slow, love in every sigh and every long deep penetration, and in the long glide of heated flesh against flesh until we both cried out into each other's muzzles and spent as one.

It was our last time together but one; and the thought made me incredibly sad this night. Still, a part of me craved for that feel again, giving or receiving, as much as the feel of rough handling and a male's member deep in my soul and pounding into my body like the hammer of the Gods.

Perhaps this ram could be versatile.

The room was warm, and I could feel the heat rising slowly from the floor, warming my hooves and fetlocks on the way, and I took off my shawl and laid it on the one long couch in the centre, deep crimson cushions looking inviting but for the moment I waited.

There were lamps everywhere, with good quality oil it seemed, as they burnt bright without smoking, and there was if anything only a slight hint of the scent of flowers and musk in the room, nothing unpleasant certainly. A large bed sat in an alcove, and then a table with various pitchers and platters sat next to the couch.

"Can I interest you in some food and drink first stallion?"

"Lentullus, please...and what is your name?"

The ram looked pleased then, his voice showing warmth as his muzzle formed the words.

"Carolixus, lord."

"Carolixus..." I let the name roll across my muzzle. "Gaul?"

"Yes. My mother told me I was descended from Vercingetorix, though I doubt it. Still, I am proud of my heritage, even as a slave. What about you lord?"

I winced a little at that, and my voice was a touch harsh, though I wasn't really angry.

"Nothing so grand. A roman citizen by birth, though of the lowest reaches of the 5th class even so, and an orphan. My uncle brought me up...grudgingly, until I joined the legions for all our sakes as the only way out."

"I can see from your face that you have left much out lord"

"Please, no more of the lord. I am nothing, and never have been. Lentullus is enough, or stallion."

He was close to me now, looking into my eyes, and I saw his were green with a tinge of gold. Enticing...and erotic. My breathing quickened.

"Yes Lentullus...and yet you are a Roman citizen, which puts you above the mightiest Gaul in this world, whether you know it or not."

"I do not feel that way Carolixus"

"No. That is one of the things that make you beautiful."

His hands were on me now, and his muzzle pressed against mine. I could see into his eyes, looking for any sign of dissimulation, but all I saw was what he said, reflected in those green pools of light. I felt a distinct sensation of drowning and pulled back momentarily. He stood watching me, slight disappointment on his face, but no more.

"Lucilla called me that."

"Well, Lucilla is a good judge of stallions. And in case you were wondering, she only uses the word if she means it. Otherwise it is sexy, or handsome, or stud. Never beautiful. Pulcher...it suits you. You should take it as your cognomen."

That made me laugh. "Nice idea, except usually we have it bestowed on us, and for ironic purposes. The Cornelii Pulchrii are the ugliest bastards in Rome."

"Then you shall be the exception."

The ram had poured a small flagon of wine, and held it out, perhaps wanting to break the ice again as I had retreated into maudlin self-reflection. I took a sip and suddenly a long swallow as the nectar flowed into my muzzle.

"Falernian?"

"Yes stallion. The real thing; only the finest in the Sabine Lion. And not just the wine..."

His smile was back, and cheekier. I knew what he was alluding to, and had to agree.

"If you are anything to judge by, the...er...companions are even superior to the wine. Alas, the customers don't seem to match."

He laughed, a musical laugh that made my mane shiver. "You are right. Usually it is a constant stream of fat older furs with money and rough hands and no manners. You are different in so many ways stallion...young, beautiful...and in how you are with me. None of them would have lasted this long without bending me over the couch and raping my ass until I bleated for mercy."

"Like a certain wolf I know..."

"Ahh, the Tribune outside? Friend of yours? Yes, poor Brogdanus. The bull will need a day off and a whole medicine jar of ointment up his tailhole once the wolf has finished with him. Still, Titus is a good master, and will take care of Brogdanus afterwards, and buy him special gifts and suck him until he moos and offer his tailhole and Brogdanus will feel like a bull again until the next one. It is not all bad, stallion, even as a slave. Titus buys us young, and trains us well. And he always chooses carefully."

The matter-of-fact recitation floored me, and I took another long swig of the wine. I could not do that to this ram, that much I knew. He seemed to know it too.

"I knew I was lucky when Titus told me of my client. I am even surer now; I shall make an offering to thank the Gods, once you leave. For now though; would you let me attend to you stallion?"

"Yes...but how?"

He gestured to the couch, and obediently I reclined, reasoning that with the wine and food laid out, a leisurely dinner would make a good start, not to mention ice-breaker. The ram smiled and nodded, reaching for a platter of olives and cheeses and bread fresh from the oven, and soon as I wolfed down the delicious if simple food, all uncertainty was forgotten.

A year on campaign had accustomed me to poor and fairly simple food at best. I found I could no longer take the epicurean delights anyway, which was just as well as my purse could not have afforded them. The food that the ram was slipping into my muzzle between sighs of contentment was perfect for me, without the rich and pungent sauces favoured by many, fresh and tasty and simple. I finished off one platter in a flash, and the ram laughed his musical laugh, taunting me for my hunger even as he fed more morsels.

Then he started on the apples and carrots. Like all my kind, I guess, I had an insatiable love of them, especially apples. He seemed to take almost erotic pleasure in seeing me eat, fingers lingering on my muzzle and stroking as I let the crisp juice from apple after apple slide down my muzzle.

It was a long time before I realised my companion had not eaten, and I felt ashamed to my core. I picked up an oat cake as he watched quizzically, and brought it to his muzzle, watching the skin on his nose wrinkle as he sniffed the treat.

"Please..."

Green eyes sparkled as he extended his tongue to sample the cake, before opening his lips to nibble and then take it into his muzzle and chew, before bending forward to kiss my nose.

"I have eaten tonight Lentullus, so don't worry, but I can never get enough of these..."

Laughing I fed him another one before he begged off and reached for the pitcher to refill my wine. Then he pulled out something else for me to see; a small bowl of oil, atop a lamp warming its contents.

"It has many uses...but if you will permit me stallion, perhaps a massage for a soldier's weary muscles..."

The suggestion sounded wonderful, and I nodded enthusiastically as the ram reached for my clothes. In an instant, he had knelt to remove my leggings, taking the opportunity to run fingers across my fetlocks and play with my feathering, drawing long sighs of contentment from my muzzle. Then up to untie my tunic and remove it, leaving me naked and shivering but not cold, my nipples suddenly hardened in anticipation, and my unruly cock poking at the lips of my sheath, the wide flare just visible pink and needy surrounding a fat head and leaking slit.

The ram pointed to the long couch.

"Perhaps lie down first stallion."

I obeyed, eagerly, resting my head on one crimson pillow, my hooves slightly spread, tail swishing across my thighs and rising before flicking his muzzle as he knelt behind me. I felt my tailhole clench, and the shivering strengthened.

"Relax soldier...that's an order."

Then a ram hand slapped my ass playfully, and I nickered back.

"Yes Sir!"

"Better."

His voice was full of laughter, and pleasure, and I felt his breath on me, first on my back, then cascading down my cleft as I whinnied in arousal, my cock poking out long now and sliding against the soft fabric of the cushions as it reached full erection.

The warm breath continued, down my thighs, and I could feel the cheeky bastard huffing on my skin, making me cry out and grip the couch hard whenever he came close to something especially sensitive; my fetlocks had always been that way, and my pasterns, and he tested these out before finally touching my hooves with slick fingers and rubbing before beginning an expert soothing massage on my pasterns.

I spread my hooves wider to give him better access and moaned out my appreciation.

"Satisfactory my stallion?"

"More than, soldier. Keep that up and you will reach centurion in no time."

"Hmmm...I was aiming for consul!"

We laughed at that together. "Well, you will have to show me a lot more for that, but I'm looking forward to it."

Not to be outdone, his hands travelled higher, up the back of my thighs, soothing muscles burning with the accumulated burdens of many miles marching, and making them sing with pleasure instead. Up, up the inside of my thighs now, as I nickered and writhed, and then higher, thumbs sliding along the silken fur of my ass, parting my mounds and digging in as he roughly fondled my rump. I wanted him to press into my cleft so much, but instead he went higher, past my dock, working the cradle of my hips and lower back, then sliding along my flanks as I moaned and felt him rest on my legs, the delicious feel of ram skin and fleece on my thighs, and a taut belly against my tail.

Then his fingers wrapped around my shoulders and I was in heaven.

"You are tense stallion. You need this more than any senator of Rome."

"In your hands I feel like a senator of Rome."

That made him laugh in pleasure, and he worked my shoulders and then my neck, withdrawing slightly when he touched a spot at the junction of the two and I cried out suddenly.

"A wound?"

"Aye...a sword, not enough to get through my armour, but it did something to the spot and it remains tender."

His thumbs were back, now rubbing along the spot, testing me out, until the pain lessened and I could move my shoulder easily. I wondered what would be next, and he showed me soon enough, gripping my shoulder and pressing until I rolled onto my side facing him.

"Time to massage the front soldier..."

His hands slid down my chest, playing with my nipples as I bit my lips to try and avoid giving him the satisfaction of crying out. He gave me a taunting look, and rain fingertips down my belly, playing the ridges of my abdominals like a lyre, and drawing musical sighs from my muzzle. He was drawing ever nearer, and my stallionhood was out and ready for his touch. Still, I hissed when he gripped the shaft, just below the head, and then bent his muzzle to my flare.

"So beautiful...even for a stallion, you are beautiful..."

My head threw back and I cried out as he opened his muzzle, a soft pink tongue lapping at my flare and drinking deep from the glistening excitement at my opening. Then he took me in his muzzle as I rested my hands on his head, feeling the fleecy hair between my fingers and the cold hard edge of horns as his lips slid down my shaft to the medial.

Hooves twitched and jerked, as I enjoyed my first real sex in far too long. Furtive times suckling off my fellow soldiers for a few coins while I jacked my length. One time in Brindisium when a centurion, a bull from the Eleventh, found me in the town and fucked me rough and hard all night until I was spent. Nothing real though, nothing loving and slow and tender, nothing to find my heart as well as my cock. Nothing like him, like my Gaius.

Until this ram.

He cupped my testicles, rolling them in his palm, as he slowly made love to my cock, all the way down to the medial with his tongue working the underside, then up to nuzzle the flare, up and down like a waterwheel, constant and yet powerful. The pleasures grew, and I reached down to the kneeling ram, finding the hem of his Greek tunic to slide under and explore.

He was hard, according to my touch. A good length, tapered at the tip, magnificently thick at the base, and under it a huge set of balls. I ran my fingertips across the soft fuzz decorating his scrotum, enjoying the amazing feel. My own sack was leathery and naked, as was the bull's. I had never had a ram before, or any male who felt like this. It was magical, and I gripped his bag and pulled gently, wanting him close. The ram pulled off my cock with an expression of exasperation.

"I want to taste you too."

He shook his head and stripped for me slowly, before straddling my body laid out on the couch, his muzzle nuzzling at my sheath, while his sack loomed over my nose. I knew what I wanted; sniffing deeply of his musk, then reaching up with my muzzle, I took his left orb into me, with difficulty, sucking on the fuzzy mass while my fingers explored his groin, wrapped around a ram cock, finding every ridge and vein, while stroking his long crevice all the way to his short tail.

He tensed over me and let out a bleat that warmed my heart and made me redouble my efforts, before diving onto my cock, taking it even deeper into his muzzle as he worked hard for my pleasure. I was soon writhing and nickering as his muzzle brought me close to the edge, before backing off my overheated length and kissing my tensed belly.

"Muzzle or tailhole soldier..."

"What...what..."

I was panting, tongue extended to lap absently at the underside of his scrotum, too lost to lust to understand.

"Muzzle or tailhole...which do you want to cum in first stallion? You are close...and I don't think I can hold you back much longer."

I knew what I wanted in an instant.

"Tailhole!"

He rose to his hooves, and I moved to a sitting position, watching his body, the sure movement of muscles under skin and fur, the leap of his cock as I touched his scrotum. His eyes glinted, and I reached for his head to pull him down for a kiss, fingers caressing his horns.

He led me to the bed, lying back on the coverlet, then on his front as I gripped his hooves and turned him. Laid out perfect and beautifully male; my ram for the night at least.

"Lentullus..."

"Yes Carolixus?"

"Ahh...the oil..."

I looked questioningly as he pointed at the small pot of oil atop the lamp, wondering what he meant. It had proven an excellent massage oil, though I did not really intend to massage him, except with tongue and cock.

"For your cock stallion...if you want to, that is..."

I had never had the advantage of such preparation before, spit and preseed doing the job mostly, and a bit of pain was part of the territory, sometimes even the attraction. I was intrigued though, stepping over to the pot and taking it in my hands, bringing it still warm to the side of the bed as he watched me through half lidded eyes, ears up and eager, tail poised and ready.

There was much to savour first though. I straddled his thighs and bent my muzzle to him, licking at the nape of his neck and enjoying the sweet reward of his groans. Then down the line of his spine, and circling his tail. I moved back, knees between his legs and spread my own to force his legs wider. His crevice fascinated me, the tight wrinkled pucker so unlike a stallion's large muscled ring, the short white hairs coating his taint, and the bulging mass of his sack laid out on the mattress. I knew I had to explore.

"Baaaaaaaaaaa...."

The sound was exquisite music, a long bleat of pleasure, as I used muzzle and tongue and lips and fingers on him, gentle at first, then rougher, until my lips circled his pucker and ground against his taint, and my tongue ate his depths with ravishing hunger. My beloved had played like this with me on occasions, letting me eat out his musky tailhole as he sat on my muzzle, but not even he seemed to enjoy the experience as much as the ram. His body jerked and shuddered, and his loud bleats and cries rose in intensity as I plunged ever deeper.

I could not wait. I needed. I ached.

Sitting back, I reached for the oil, coating my cock in its slick warm fluid as the ram watched, his tongue protruding slightly. Then I knelt between his legs, my body bent forward over his, kissing his neck as the tip of my cock kissed his pucker. A brief wait, and then pressure and I felt his opening yield and take my flare as he let out a long constant sigh while I sank ever deeper into his guts and the consuming heat of my ram.

I had to will myself to breathe then, panting like a chariot horse as I held him against my body, skin on skin, cock buried to the hilt. It had taken only a brief while that yet seemed like an age, one long entry until my orbs rested on his taint, the soft hairs tickling my scrotum, and I felt my flare gripped and caressed in his depths. I licked at his neck while he moved under me, finding the position that worked the best while I gently rocked a little in and out, before he let out a long sigh as I touched him in the place I longed to be touched too.

First I would enjoy his depths though, finding a new appreciation for the feel of a tight tailhole gripping my length. I was determined to make it last; my body had other ideas.

Lying atop the ram, with my muzzle on his neck, I could smell him as well as feel. A rich male scent, unfamiliar but appealing. Under it, the sweet tang of precum; our foreplay had the ram going as well as me, and I nickered in pleasure as I sniffed the scent. My hips flexed, and I slid all the way out, flare poised at his clenching pucker, and he drew in breath in a rasping hiss; then all the way in, another long sigh of contentment filling my ears.

I wanted it to last forever, but I could not, not after so long, and after the way he pleasured my cock with his muzzle. I felt my body tense, and I responded instinctively, thrusting harder and faster, eyes rolling and tail flicking in tense anticipation, and suddenly it happened, a long body filling sensation that started in my balls and my cock and spread and I climaxed forcefully, biting his neck in my pleasure and whinnying an unrestrained whinny of triumph and fulfilment.

As I rested buried to the hilt, still hard, my own seed warming my cock in his depths, I tried to apologise, but the ram turned his head and looked at me shaking his head.

"Soldier...you're the one paying, remember?"

I stopped, but still must have looked apologetic, as he pulled my muzzle to his and kissed me warmly and I responded in kind, while his tunnel flexed and gripped my cock drawing surprised and delighted nickers from me.

Soon in the midst of the kiss, I found myself moving again, long slow strokes of my cock in his tunnel, an age for each stroke, finding every part of his sex, the firm ring of muscle guarding his tailhole, the fluttering stretched skin of his opening, and the warm nub of his nut, buried deep but not deep enough to evade a stallion. I rubbed over it with my flare as he cooed like a bird, and his body shook with need as his fleece glided on my coat.

I leaned back, all the while watching him watching me. One hand gripped his left ankle, and I swung his body with all my strength, and suddenly he was on his side, one leg out straddled by my knees, the other over my shoulder. I had him opened wide, exposed, vulnerable and I loved the feel of control, as much as the look of lust in his eyes. I wanted to see him, and see him watching me. His hunger looked genuine, and I wanted to feed it until he had his fill.

Sitting upright, with my length buried inside him, I began a gentle rocking, the pace steady like a road march, forward and in, watching his pucker flex as he took me, back and out, the shaft reappearing from the clenching muscle still slick with oil and now a new coating, my seed covering the shaft and leaking from his ring as we mated again.

His body fascinated me still, and all the time we coupled, I touched and explored. The line of fur starting at a patch of fleece between his pectorals, down his belly, and circling the base of his cock. I traced that line with my fingers, feeling the touch of skin, and muscle, and soft furs, while my thrusts sped up and became deeper and his moans grew and deepened. I reached for his cock, the tapered tip leaking against his belly, and stroked the head as he arched his back in pleasure and I savoured the sight.

Then his legs, bunching with muscle. Leaner than a legionary, there was no way to march as much as we did without developing thighs and calves to match. His were like cords, wiry and strong as a snake, and I rubbed them with my hands, up his thigh, across his calves to the hoof raised over my shoulder. I took his ankle in one hand and lowered it to look, finding his small cloven hoof enticing. My tongue lapped at it, tasting him, and licking at his ankles while I sped up, feeling the twitch of muscles against my tongue. I looked down again and saw the hunger burning, muzzle open and tongue extended, and I bent forward at last, pressing his leg to his side and stretching his tailhole into a tight oval round my cock, and kissed into his groaning lips.

Out mating became heated then, a wild hard ride of stallion and ram. He wrapped an arm around my neck, holding me against him as we kissed, and my hips bunched and bucked as I fucked into his depths with the pace and force of a stallion on the charge. My hand gripped his cock tight and willed an orgasm from his flesh, stroking the length as I battered his nut with my flare. He bleated, eyes staring into mine, and I felt him suddenly give a great shudder and my hand was covered in the sticky evidence of his pleasure, pouring out ram seed to cover his belly, my hand, and the covers of our bed as his climax continued.

I felt the heat deep in his tunnel grow, and the tight grip on my cock built until I could resist no more, unloading into him for a second time as we both writhed together in our joy.

Panting hard, I lay against him, moving to lie behind him and cup him against my body, still buried inside. He was panting too, his tongue extended and eyes closed enjoying the aftermath. His cock still twitched against his belly, and I stroked it teasingly while he nuzzled against my chest and shared his warmth with me, inside and out. I felt home, but I needed more...

"What is wrong stallion?"

I had pulled out, a long sticky withdrawl that released a small trickle of seed from his ring to drip down and mat the short hairs on his scrotum. He looked worried, as if he had done something wrong. I let him know with a kiss that he had done nothing wrong; quite the opposite.

"Stallion, is there something you need?"

I looked into his eyes and nodded, a little embarrassed, before taking up a stance on all fours, my tailhole exposed as I raised my tail, my face burning as I saw his reaction. The tip of his cock shook, a little droplet of seed falling from the opening to drool towards the bed as he watched my wanton display.

He went to reach for the warm oil.

"No!"

He jerked at my sudden command, his muzzle breaking into a feral grin.

"They breed them tough in the legions I see."

"Yes...I...need..."

"Shhh my beautiful stallion...no explanation needed."

I was glad, for I did not know if I could. How much I needed to be taken, rough but not too rough, like my beloved had. Even the last time we were together, when he was more gentle and loving than ever before, moving into me like a mist across the river, he still ended up pounding into me with his stallionhood exactly the way I craved, with my hooves over his shoulders, tailhole open and vulnerable, and his hips moving like the wind.

It was all beautiful, until I saw my uncle, his father, watching with anger in his eyes. My love had been terrified, and his terror made him forget what we shared, loudly denouncing me as his seducer until my uncle seemed satisfied.

He took me in disgrace into the courtyard, tied to a whipping post like a common slave. He had started with the ferula, a thick leather strap, his blows landing over and over on my body, my back first as I twisted and writhed and bit my lips to stop from screaming out. But then he took his rage out on my rump, flogging over and over as my cries built and tears flowed freely down my cheeks and a terrible burn of pain built, matched with the burn of shame and pain on my face.

That was not enough though, and he brought out the scutia, a many-thonged whip normally reserved for slaves, and lay about my body without reason or restraint. I felt the thongs wrap around my sides to kiss my chest in indescribably pain, and then he landed one on my ass, the cruel tips digging into my cleft. I fainted, coming to only to find him still flogging me, his snarls of anger like a wild animal. And all through it, I watched my love, my cousin Gaius, standing there with pain reflected in his eyes, unable to stop it. The sight of his horror still haunted me as much as anything.

I was banished from his household, still in pain and marked with the whip, and told to find a living on my own. The recruiter for the legions had asked no questions, a big but rawboned 17 year old colt with no home was a gift too good to refuse.

My memories faded as I felt a muzzle sniffing at my tailhole. Gaius never did like to lick me there, though he did like it when I ate him. The ram felt different, his narrower muzzle getting deeper into my crevice, and then he pulled on my tail and pressed his lips to my ring.

I could not avoid crying out then, a little to my shame, and it was a cry of joy feeling him take my hole like that. His tongue rasped, rough against sensitive flesh, wet and warm, and it felt so good. His hand fondled my balls and gripped my length, playing with me roughly. Like Gaius, and yet unalike.

Then he knelt at my rear, and I felt his tip kiss my hole.

I had no time to prepare, before he plunged forward, burying the first inches of his cock inside me, spearing my tailhole wide.

I cried out again, ashamed but needy.

"Ahhhh! Mercy! I haven't had anyone in there for a while, please, have pity and take it slow!"

His musical laugh made my face burn, and suddenly my ram was over my body, touching my back, spreading my legs with his. His muzzle rested on my shoulder, and he nibbled my ear painfully.

Another wild thrust, and I saw stars, his cock plunged in to the hilt, the thick base spreading my ring painfully wide, his tip slapping my nut, and I clenched down hard to try and protect my screaming tailhole but instead just managed to increase his pleasure. The devil ram laughed into my ear, biting before licking as I relaxed and the burning pain turned to deepest pleasure.

"You should know better than to beg for mercy Roman. The ram has touched the wall; murum aries attigit. No mercy, you know that. You taught us Gauls well."

I had to laugh then, as he used our own traditions against us.

"Your battering ram has conquered already."

"Now to plunder without mercy, like a Roman would. Besides; I know this is what you want."

I had to groan, as he pulled back and thrust forward to the hilt again. He had me right; I needed this. Like Gaius, yet unalike.

He was hard, like stone, body and cock and lips. His body moved effortlessly as he ravished my tailhole and I pushed back to take it, revelling in the feeling. His cock pounded inside, scraping over skin that had gone far too long without knowing the feel of another male, hitting my nut over and over.

I whinnied, and moaned, and begged, and he laughingly mocked my pleas and kept on. I felt him climax once and keep thrusting without pause, those huge ram orbs swinging and slapping into mine, always on the edge, always needing more.

"Harder..."

"Yes Roman?"

"Harder..."

"Is that an order soldier?"

"Harder!"

The bed shook with his rutting, and he reached down to take the flare of my cock in his palm, rubbing in circles as he took his pleasure from my tailhole, while he gave me my ultimate need.

I bit down on the cushion to stifle a scream as I sprayed a floodtide of seed on the bed, my climax powerful and long lasting. At some stage in my release, he followed, and I felt my guts bathed in ram seed again, the feeling so comfortable and pleasing I never wanted it to pass.

The he pulled my mane, until my head turned to him, and he kissed, and we fell exhausted flat on the bed and held like that until we drifted off to sleep still covered in our seed, smelling of sex and sweat, muscles aching with remembered strain, but minds free of any torment and only able to remember the joy of belonging.

*****

When I woke, it was to find the bed empty. I stretched in leisurely fashion, checking my body with my hands. Patches of coat were matted with seed, and my tailhole ached. I winced as I stroked my tailhole, testing it and finding it still open and leaking, as well as tender. The memory was a warm one though, and my cock spread from its sheath even as I soothed my ring with a touch.

"If you keep that up I will want more stallion."

The voice came from near the couch. I sat up, and saw the ram reclining, his hands moving easily as he wrote on a wax tablet, the stylus scraping its minute symbols with ease.

"Who says I don't want more?"

His smile was brighter than the lamps, a green-gold twinkle from his eyes and a white flash of teeth lighting the room.

"Insatiable like all stallions. Lucilla was right."

"Oh? Is that why she sent me here?"

"Her first love. Probably only love. A young stallion, like you, a soldier. She married him and followed him on campaign, but he died in battle still young and beautiful. Rather than marry again, she decided to work for herself and remain independent."

"So how did you get to know her?"

"Titus was a good teacher. But for certain things, he knew when to get the best. Lucilla taught me how to suck off a male, and if necessary bring him to the edge so he would not need much time in my tailhole. A professional, if a cunning one."

The image of Lucilla giving the ram such instruction made me fall over laughing and he threw an apple at me in mock anger, the crisp fruit smacking into my head and dropping to the bed. It worked; I rubbed my sore head, but before I could get angry, I had to bite into the apple instead. The delicious juice in my muzzle calmed any lingering thoughts of revenge.

Instead I sat back, looking hopefully at the ram. He gave a sigh and tossed another apple, which lasted barely as long as the first.

"Food or fuck. All roads in a stallion's mind lead to one or the other."

"Hey, just because you have some learning..."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Now I was embarrassed, and turned away to pout.

"Stallion...I am sorry...I didn't mean..."

"I was never sent to school. We were too poor, and my uncle didn't see me as worth his money. I worked, and that was all. Gaius...my cousin, taught me some. I can read a little Latin, but no Greek. What about you?"

"Ahhh, a slave is valuable stallion. Too valuable to waste. Latin, Greek, and Avernian Gallic. I can be sold as a secretary, or a scribe, if I get too old for this without finding..."

"Yes? Finding?"

"Nothing...eat your apple."

"So what are you writing?"

The ram looked a little coy now, and I threw the apple core at him with a slightly triumphant smile. He batted it away with the tablet, before trying to ignore my question as he wrote, but he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye. To make things as difficult as possible, I spread my legs wide, kneeling on the bed facing him and slowly stroking my stallionhood with my balls resting casually on the coverlet. Soon he gave up the fight, staring with that cute pink tongue just peeking from his lips.

"You really are insatiable."

"Tell me what you're writing and I will show you how insatiable."

He seemed to swear softly and shake his head. The stylus and tablet were placed on the couch though, and he swung round to face me.

"I like to write about the furs I meet. How they feel, how they react, how they are when we are together. Impressions, feelings, all of it."

"A strange pastime!"

"I know, and it is not to be read. Indeed, the next day, I wipe the slate clean for the next one. The act of writing though, it helps me make sense of it I guess. Puts it to rest."

I had stopped my teasing now, as the young ram became serious suddenly, his face clouded. He seemed to realise he had affected me, and threw the last of the apples to distract me. It worked, of course, which I acknowledged by grinning at him with a muzzle full of apple.

"So what did you write about me?"

"N...nothing...just things..."

"Oh?"

I stared at him, waiting him out, as I took my time finishing the apple.

"You are different stallion."

"That's for sure." I managed to add a sour note to the sentence.

"I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"Well, for example, no customer would have cared that I wrote, and if they did, would have ordered me to show it, not asked."

"It is your writing..."

"No, it isn't. I am a slave, Lentullus. I own nothing, not even myself."

"Maybe I was lucky Carolixus. We were too poor to own even a single slave. I had to suffice."

"Perhaps that is part of it. But not all..."

"What do you mean?"

"No customer, in two years, has cared if I came or not, let alone cared as much as for his own pleasure. I saw it in your eyes stallion..."

We both fell silent, and I left him to his own thoughts for a moment as I rose to pick at the remaining food, adding grapes and cheese and fresh bread to the apples. Carolixus had been busy it seemed, as the food was fresh that morning, replenished while I slept.

"Did you always want to be a soldier?"

That brought a nickering laugh.

"Hardly. And I still don't. Perhaps I am no Roman after all. What about you?"

He broke into a wistful grin, face alive with desire.

"A farmer. Or a poet."

Now I was surprised.

"A Gallic Virgil! Writing odes to the plow while his oxen till the fields!"

"Now you are mocking me stallion. But yes; I was raised on a farm before I was sold to a dealer who appreciated my looks and learning and knew I might find a higher price in the city. I loved working with the animals. Tell me, do you have many in the legion?"

"Not so many. Some mules to draw the siege artillery and small amount of baggage, but most of the hauling is done by us. Marius' mules."

"I did not know you had any donkey in your blood Lentullus."

I gave him a kiss when he looked surprised and a little hurt at my laughter.

"No, pure draft horse. The term comes from Gaius Marius, greatest military mind of Rome. He organised the legions as a profession and reduced the amount of baggage and hangers on the soldiers took with them. It made the legions fast and agile, and strong, but it meant the soldiers carried most of their pack on their bodies instead of taking a huge mule train that was vulnerable to attack. He dubbed his legionaries Marius' Mules and the name has stuck. We only have one slave between our decury of ten at the moment, and one actual mule; need another but we haven't had the money. Civil wars are never as profitable as conquering barbarians...or Gauls. We all just carry more; one reason my shoulders have become as bulging as my thighs."

I returned to the food, determined to savour it as much as I could. Once I had eaten my fill, I fed my ram companion in spite of his feeble protests, enjoying the simple closeness of it. I was about to reach for his cock again, wanting a morning treat to complete my breakfast, but he stood and kisses my mane and gestured to the door.

"It is time for your bath stallion, almost dawn."

We headed for the baths located at the rear of the complex, as I felt the first stirrings of regret. It was almost over.

As we entered, another couple were just about to leave, the wolf with the bull in tow. The bull walked gingerly, his legs spread comically wide and tail firmly flattened in his crevice. The ram gave him a reassuring smile.

The wolf was about to walk past, but he stopped, muzzle pressed to mine, eyes red and angry.

"Greetings soldier."

"Greetings Tribunus."

"One word soldier...just one word..."

"Who would I tell, Lucius Calpurnius Piso?" I wanted him to know that I knew who he was; the threat to balance the soothing words.

"I am watching you soldier..."

Then he turned and walked away, with the bull following. I caught a glimpse of a wide open red raw tailhole, leaking wolf cum like a fountain.

"Poor Brogdanus. Looks like he was tied several times. Might need a few days off not just one. And I bet he will watch you Sextus; you should see the looks he was giving your ass. That wolf is hungry."

I committed myself to the intimate attentions of my ram, and he knew perfectly what to do. My coat cleaned, washing away the signs of our coupling; tail and mane washed and groomed then braided. Finally my tailhole was washed and soothed, a large pot of oil making the hurt go away and replacing it with an itch, a deep needy itch.

He laughed as I took a large scoop of oil and returned the favour, though his tailhole seemed to have taken my attentions better than I expected. Perhaps practice made it easier. The Gods knew I hadn't been practicing much.

"Lentullus, I saw...when I was licking you there. A scar, on your taint. What happened?"

I frowned, shaking my head. The last strike of the whip had cut deep, leaving a scar that always tingled. How much I had longed for Gaius to soothe it with his tongue; the feel of the ram's tongue on it last night was like nothing I had ever imagined. But the memory made me feel sad, and reminded me that my night was ending, and reality was about to return; a reality in which I was still, after all, just a ranker soldier of the 9th, with a love for my own sex, and a lover lost for all time. The sorrow threatened to overwhelm me.

As I leaned back against the edge of the pool, lost in melancholy, I felt him kissing me, nuzzling my nipples as my cock poked from the water, needy again. He used all the skills Lucilla had taught then, bending to my length and suckling gently then rougher, his hands on my balls under the warm water and fingertips sliding under my scrotum to stroke my taint and play with my tailhole. I gripped his horns, holding him down, sheathlips touching his lips as I bucked my hips to meet him and spent inside his muzzle finally, then collapsed back against the marble and watched him lick the seed from his lips with an expression of delight.

"You taste even better than I imagined."

Not to be outdone, I had to taste too, and found to my joy that ram seed tasted like honey in my muzzle.

The display shocked a large portly goat, a wealthy merchant knight if I was any judge, but I did not care. I sucked off my ram, having pulled him from the bath to sit on the marbled edge, hooves dangling in the water, huge sack hanging down heavy and begging for my touch. All the while the wicked Gaul looked up grinning at the goat, whose prominent cock bulged out and dripped from the erotic vision while he stared at our coupling. He still managed to look as much scandalised as aroused at the sight of a Roman sucking off a slave and taking his seed, even as he forced his companion, a lithe tiger, to take his cock into his muzzle. The goat lasted less than a minute, climaxing as he watched my muzzle fill with ram essence. Then he ran from the baths with the tiger trailing behind.

"A satisfied customer Carolixus?"

"Perhaps stallion...he is a regular. Though I'm glad we still have the capacity to shock even a regular."

We walked back to my room silently. I was lost in my thoughts, and I assumed the ram was readying for another day, and another customer.

He dressed me still in silence, then pointed to the couch.

"Please sit stallion. I will be back shortly."

I watched the lamps flicker, and time seemed to pass for a while, as I finished the last of the food. No sense in wasting it; I would not be having anything this good for a long time, if ever.

At last, the ram returned, his eyes wide and shining with tears. He beckoned me to follow, and I did, unsure what was wrong.

When we reached the impluvium, I saw that the lion, Titus, was waiting. His expression was a match for the ram.

"I take it you had an evening to remember soldier."

"Yes Sir, and thank you."

"No, no need. I need a favour of you it seems though."

"Anything Sir...I am in your debt, your client if need be..."

"No, I do not need clients. I am a failure as a patron, that much I know, and my patronage would be of limited help to you stallion. No, I need you to look after my ram here."

I blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"I...do not know..."

"I mean, I am giving him to you, soldier. At his request."

I looked at the ram then and saw that I was not dreaming. His wicked smile was back, counterpoint to the tears.

"I still do not understand." I turned to watch the lion then, knowing I could not make sense of the world watching that grin full of erotic promise. He was smiling too, but sadly.

"I give all my boys a choice stallion. After they have reached 18, if they find someone. Someone who will look after them, and who they like; customer, or otherwise, and I will not stand in their way. Carolixus has more than paid back my investment, and he has chosen you."

I was terrified now, as much as elated, and still perplexed, and it showed in the way my ears twitched. The lion could read the signs, reaching out to ruffle my mane and play with my ears as I tried to bat away his paws.

"There are other reasons stallion, I don't deny it. The conscript fathers of our little city were wise when your forces approached. They begged the legates of the traitor; leave, and let us declare the city open. When they refused, the city senate arrested them and did it anyway. Fortunately, the rebel legion fell into line, otherwise it would have been a siege, and you know what the outcome would have been."

I nodded grimly.

"Murum aries attigit."

My ram couldn't help but giggle, and I stilled him with a look.

"Aye soldier. The moment the siege ram touched the wall our fate would be sealed. No mercy, no escape. For me, or for my boys. I would be the lucky one, at least I would be dead. But for my boys..."

I watched him rub the ram's head affectionately and realised the hints of Carolixus had been accurate; somewhere, somehow, the lion loved his slaves, even as he used them. I think I envied him.

"I know the risks remain though. This region is a hotbed of sympathy for the traitor; and my patron, for all his strengths, is a poor choice of friends. He is going to be declared a public enemy, I know it, and probably soon. My turn may come..."

The ram looked suddenly afraid, clinging to the lion's toga, but Titus calmed him with a gentle stroke under the chin.

"Your force is aligned with Octavian, isn't it soldier?"

"Aye...not that it matters much for a ranker but..."

"It matters. He is the coming force. The republic is gone; our world belongs to the Octavians now. And as strange as it seems, I think that in the armies of Octavian, my boy will be safer."

"Sir, I cannot afford a slave, and he cannot join the legion as a freedman...the Gauls would never accept him in their auxiliary units..."

"I am giving him to you, not selling, Sextus Lentullus. And as for freeing him...I do not think he even wants it. You may not realise, but I think you own his heart already, even after one night. He says you are different; perhaps you will find that stands you in good grace with the Gods for the times ahead. Now, soldier, it is time to return to your camp with your new property. And to leave our fair city unmolested, for now."

The journey back to camp was not like I had expected, when I had gleefully accepted the leave pass from our centurion and walked under the gate. I was far happier, but also far more worried. I had acquired property; but more than that I had acquired someone to care about, and to worry over. It was not a sensation I had felt for a long time, and the memory filled me with forboding.

*****

I felt the hand on my shoulder, waking me from a deep slumber. I had been having a dream, one I had often it seemed, with my cousin Gaius against me and our bodies entwined. The heat and hunger remained, like echoes in my mind even as I blinked away sleep and tried to find something familiar to orient me.

It did not take long, the rough skin of our tent and the smiling face of Marcus from the bed next to mine as they always did brought me back to reality. I saw the bulky wolf staring at my crotch under the sleeping skins, the tell-tale bulge of excitement. He had a wicked grin on his muzzle and a twinkle in his eye I could make out even in the darkness of the tent.

"Morning Sextus. Been enjoying yourself in sleep I see..."

The hand on my shoulder gripped tight and squeezed, just once. It was all the reassurance I needed.

"Good morning Marcus. A Lampascan whore...she was worth every denarius."

The wolf winked. He knew, or at least I thought he knew. By now, several months on, my whole decury knew, but by unspoken agreement, they had shrugged their shoulders and got on with the business of soldiering. Every now and then I caught someone casting a glance at Carolixus and I, tinged with a hint of envy even. For all that you spent your time with so many of your fellow soldiers, it was a fundamentally lonely life. I had experienced that, after I had joined and fled the wrath of my uncle and the desperate need for my Gaius. Now I did not feel the ache, except as an occasional twinge, like the pain in my shoulder from that sword wound.

My ram had seen to that. I could smell him, even feel him nearby as he prepared for the day. Our servant and auxiliary; and my property. It sounded amusing, when I said it out loud. He owned my heart, if anything, or at least the parts that did not still reside in Gaius' arms.

He would not leave my dreams though, my stallion. I had been dreaming of him, and his presence when I woke. I wondered sometimes if I spoke of him in my sleep. Carolixus never mentioned anything; and he never seemed anything but happy. Perhaps he knew, and did not mind.

"Right you lot...we have work to do!"

The voice from outside our tent belonged to Gnaius Rebrius, our centurion and commander of the cohort. When he spoke, you moved, fast. The slow and steady process of entering the day sped up inside our tent, given extra impetus by the sound of his voice. We all knew the tone and what it meant. Action.

Soldiering really was a boring affair, most of the time. When you knew action beckoned though; that was when you realised how much the boredom hid the fear. I could see the uncertainty in some of my fellow soldiers, and then their attempts to hide it, the exaggerated yawns and the forced laughter. Everyone knew you were afraid; just as long as you tried not to show it, all would be well.

The trumpets sounded for morning parade, and we finished dressing with the aid of our servants. We had two now, a proper complement for our decury. My ram and a sullen goat from Cyrenaica. The goat barely spoke, but he was good at his work. My ram tended to make enough chatter for both of them.

"What do you think Sextus?"

The young equine next to me looked eager, but apprehensive. I gave him an easy smile and slapped his shoulder.

"I try not to Memmius. It hurts my brain."

That drew a good round of laughter, and a swat on the arse from my ram. He didn't like me playing the fool, he thought it beneath my dignity. It was all I knew though; my way into acceptance by the grizzled veterans of our legion. The young and silly horse gained a stay of judgement; and when I showed how I could fight, the stay became permanent. I remained a joker though; by now it was expected of me.

When we formed up, I could sense the tension. Flaccus had an expression on his muzzle that I had rarely seen, like he had been prodded with a red hot poker. The normally sanguine wolf looked fit to burst. His Tribunes waved for order, and for once the legion became quiet in an instant. We had all caught the scent of something that spelled danger.

"Right my boys...apparently, our lord and master is not pleased with progress."

Ahh...that would explain it...

"Shh!" I got a swat on the rump from one of the senior men, and realised I had spoken out loud. I fixed my muzzle tight and concentrated on the address. I felt a slow stroke, just one, my ram soothing my body and my mind with his touch. He always knew did Carolixus.

"So we are going to do some hunting..."

When our Cohort centurion gathered us in our centuries and went to great lengths to check our gear, I knew something was up. I was right.

"Men, we have a job to do, for Rome. Our commander has decided to attempt to flush out the enemy legion to our North. We are going to march towards Sentinum, where the traitor has a force holed up. But we will not be marching as a legion; we will appear to be a lone cohort, heading for the coast to cut off recruits for the traitor. We know there are plenty of spies just north of here; they will report our progress to the local Legatus; one exposed cohort, an easy prize."

The mumbling was soft, almost not there, but I could feel it in my mane. The eyes of my fellow soldiers looked dark.

"The rest of the legion will track West and then follow by a parallel route. They will keep us under observation, until we hit the hills south of Sentinum. It is there we expect the enemy to strike."

Bait. Live bait; it was not an appealing prospect. The second in command of our cohort, Flavius, found his voice at least.

"Sir, this seems a risky venture..."

The senior Centurion nodded. "Our lord Octavian has demanded action...and though Flaccus preferred to wait, his hand has been forced..."

"Right into our throats..."

"Silence!"

Every face turned to the newcomer, mounted on horseback. It was the wolf, Piso, looking grim faced and pale. He had clearly not enjoyed his breakfast.

"Do you dare allow such insolence in your cohort Centurion?"

The mumbling subsided, and all of us waited holding our breath. Gnaius Rebrius was a good soldier, brave, intelligent. We owed our lives to his leadership many times, and one thing he prided himself on was the right of any soldier in his cohort to speak his mind. Orders were orders; it didn't mean we could not let our thoughts be known.

The Patrician wolf seemed to have other ideas though.

"Dare Tribune? I dare in the name of Rome every time I draw my sword. Are you to join us in that today?"

The wolf swallowed and hauled on the reins of his restive mount. His expression became more troubled, and I realised with a curse that he would be joining us. The most useless Tribune in the force, ostensibly in command. I just hoped he had the sense to leave it to the professionals.

"I will be joining you Centurion, and I will be in command. Do not forget that; or I will remind you with the lash." He gave a curt salute and wheeled his horse to trot back to the commander's tent, tail swishing faster than his mount's. We watched him go solemnly. Gnaius was struggling to remain unmoved though.

"Of all the useless pretty babies..." our Centurion's eyes glinted now, no longer guarded. They glinted with malice.

I found my ram before we formed for the march, in a quiet place behind the parade ground. One last stolen kiss, the latest of many. It was all we could arrange often, though the men of our decury seemed to find it in themselves to clear our tent as a unit some nights with a quiet nod and wink. Those moments always seemed fleeting, like my dreams of Gaius, the dream competing with the dream until I no longer knew what was real.

This was real though, and for all the danger, I welcomed it. My ram was not so sure though.

"Lentullus...please promise to be careful my love."

He had dressed me as perfectly as he knew how and tested my gear twice even after our Centurion had grunted his satisfaction.

"Carolixus, chances are this will not work and the enemy will not come out. We will march back sore-hoofed and miss our dinner." I could see he did not believe though. His eyes told me so.

The road was quiet. As we marched, with the steady beat of hooves and paws that I knew so well by now, the cohort remained strangely quiet. Even in difficult times someone could be relied on to strike up a conversation, but on this occasion everyone seemed to have retreated into their own heads contemplating the dangers to come. The lead Centurion marched at the front with his century, the wolf Tribune riding beside the columns as if not really part of them. Every now and then he would exchange a word with Gnaius then return to his place in the saddle, sullen and angry. The second in command brought up the rear, keeping the cohort nicely bunched for security.

We had no cavalry with us though; no scouts to warn of impending danger. Sitting ducks; but with a purpose, though whether we would survive our stint as bait remained to be seen.

I caught the stare of the Tribune on my neck as we headed past the ten mile point. It was a familiar feeling by now, many times in the last months I had felt the same burn. He watched me in camp, always from a distance though. He had become careless only once though; enough for me to know how he thought of me.

We had been rotated back to the rear in winter quarters, and I had been taking a well-earned bath. The hot water felt so fine on my coat, and I let myself soak longer than I intended but the feeling was too good to leave. Carolixus had departed, laughing that I had become a seahorse and might soon become part of Neptune's cohort. When I felt a presence in the bath, I assumed he had come back for me. It was not my ram though; and from the stench of wine on his breath, the patrician wolf was well on his way to being drunk.

"Well, if it isn't the little colt. Where is your lambkins soldier...being spitroasted like a lamb should perhaps?"

I had tried to ignore him, not wanting to get involved, but the wine had made the wolf foolish, and persistent. Before I could react, one wolf paw gripped my scrotum, while the other cupped my rump. Then I felt a muzzle on mine and instinctively I opened to accept the tongue, tasting wine on a heated kiss as my stallionhood dropped into the warm water.

When I came to my senses I pushed him away, hard enough to slam his body into the stone beside the pool. He looked at me with undiluted hate, mixed with a consuming hunger, and he looked about to say something when our centurion came in with one of his friends. The wolf gave the two newcomers a disappointed glance and left. I was grateful that the centurion asked no questions, though he plainly knew something had happened. I did not know how to explain it, even to myself.

Since then the wolf had watched, and I saw the same look of hunger as I saw in the pool, mixed with envy whenever he saw me with Carolixus. My face burned as I remembered the humiliation; and the heat. When he took me like that, I knew it unlocked something in me, for when I dropped I was already harder than almost any time in my life. A part of me had wanted, even needed.

Why do the Gods torment us like this?

"Psst...Lentullus....do you feel it? We are being watched." The whisper came from my fellow equine Memmius, young and eager as always. I tended to forget he was actually older than me, but somehow he always seemed like a colt still, naïve, open, honest. He alone had found us, me and my ram, indulging in our passions. I had wondered what would happen, but he had only given a soft smile and held a finger to his muzzle and backed out of the tent. We had never spoken of it, but in a way it felt good that he knew, and did not care. Such mercies were few and far between.

"If you mean the Tribune, I know the feeling, but it is nothing new."

He gave a roll of his eyes. "I did not mean the wolf..."

I had come to respect Memmius' senses, he always seemed to pick up danger before anyone else. I raised my head, scanning the ridge line to our left. A line of trees protected whatever was on the ridge from view; it would be a perfect place to keep us under observation...and the gap ahead just the perfect place to stage an ambush. I nodded to my friend and looked at the wolf. He was startled at my sudden gaze, and tried to pretend he had not been looking. I had no time for such games right now though.

"Tribune!"

He trotted over on his horse, reluctantly.

"Need some hand holding soldier? Perhaps miss your little lambkins?"

"Neither hand holding nor my ram Tribune. Tell the commander; we are under observation from the ridge. I think the moment is here."

I tried not to enjoy the sudden gulp from the wolf, or his pallid complexion as he spurred his mount forward to the head of the column. The beacon was lit, even without the trumpets to sound though, as word spread along the column. We bunched up tighter, but kept marching. Whatever was waiting, our duty was to be found, and then hold ground until relieved. If any of us remained that is...

The cohort crested a small rise and entered a short defile between two hills. I noticed the air was uncommonly still, like even the winds held their breath. No animal or bird sounds could be heard, not even a swallow. The tension mounted.

Then a trumpet sounded.

"Hold fast boys!" the cry went up. Then the trumpeter blew form square, and the cohort began to move. At that moment, we saw the hills on either side turn black with men coming down the slopes in battle order. Half a legion at least.

The wolf saw, just as we began to form into our defensive square. His mount pranced, sweating and chomping at the bit, but the wolf was sweating more. And he began to lose his nerve.

"Gnaius! There are too many of them! More than we expected!"

The centurion was busy and didn't realise what he was dealing with at first.

"Aye Tribune. Plenty of targets. A good day's work here..."

"We will never hold them! We must retreat!"

Several heads turned now, finding counsel in the wolf's fear, as well as new fears. The centurion woke up, a little late, and tried to be reasonable.

"Don't you worry Lucius Calpurnius, we know what we are doing. They won't breach the square in a hurry there are too many of them to get near..."

"You fool, you will get us all killed! That idiot Flaccus has doomed us all...I order you to blow form columns and lead the retreat! I will ride ahead..."

The centurion could not speak for a moment, he was too astonished. His second in command found voice though.

"Tribune...we are safer here in our defensive square...if you try to lead us on a retreat we will be cut to ribbons..."

"I said that was an order!" The wolf drew his sword, eyes wide and shining, his fear beginning to infect the men around him. The mumbling started.

"Tribunus, we cannot..."

"That is an order Centurion! I am the law, I am Rome here. You obey or I will be forced to execute you now for treason!"

I saw the centurion hesitate for a second. His muzzle screwed up tight.

Something came from inside me, some anger, some strength I did not know I had. In two leaps I was next to the wolf, before he knew I was there. With the flat of my sword I knocked him on the side of the head, and he fell off his mount with a stunned expression on his face. He was bleeding, not badly, but bleeding all the same. He stared at me, just as I brought the point of my sword to his neck.

"Gnaius, the tribune has been injured. You are in sole command..."

I exchanged a look with my commander, and his second. No words were needed, just a nod. The lethargy that had overcome the cohort as confusion reigned suddenly fled replaced with professionalism and a cold realism. We knew we may die this day, but not in disorder retreating across the valley. That was something at least.

The square formed just in time, and I took my place in line beside Memmius, with our centurion just behind. The enemy was almost on us.

"Form!"

The line closed.

"Shields up!"

In well-practiced drill we took up our defensive hedgehog and waited for the impact. It was not long coming. I dug my hooves in, with my fellow equine beside me, and pushed back. It was just the beginning. The sun rode high in the sky, and sweat dripped onto the dusty earth at my hooves as I heard the cries of our opponents. I realised with a start that the voices sounded familiar; they must be from just North of here, my own adopted home. I could almost hear the accents of my uncle in their speech, and in that moment found extra steel I did not know I had.

I could hear his mocking hatred.

"A disgusting pervert, in my own house, corrupting my own son. To think I showed you such generosity, demon. Well, it is time to cast the demon from my side..."

My battle whinny echoed, and I found a chink in the shield wall opposite. My sword found flesh, and I heard a cry; a deer by the sound, screaming for his mother now as blood pooled under the shields. The sun glinted off steel, and I felt my blood rising. The minutes fled, then the hours. I felt we would hold on.

Then I heard a cry as our enemy made an effort to break our line by the third century's section. There the second in command tried to hold his men, as the numbers began to tell. I saw beyond our line a large bull, decked in the armor of a general with a red cloak, exhorting his men to the action. Then a spear found a gap, and our second in command fell with a wound in his neck.

I did not know what impulse took me, only that I knew I needed to get that bull or we would fall. With a screaming whinny I charged, ignoring the cries from my own decury. Across the gap in a full gallop, I jumped over the wall and into the bull, my leap taking me over and past the enemy commander's guards before they could react.

I had time to see the shock in his eyes, and watch it turn to decision and anger. His sword began to move; I remembered my own blade, still gripped tight in my own numb hands.

My thrust met resistance, armor and flesh and sinew. The look turned to astonishment again, never pain. His eyes were wide, and I saw his nose flare as if he was registering my scent for future reference. I calmly pulled back, seeing the blood now, spurting over my armor and dripping to the ground. The bull sank to his knees, scarlet cloak against scarlet blood. I caught a flash from the side and managed to deflect a sword blow just in time, but I knew it could not be long delayed.

Then there were figures all around me, and everywhere was chaos. I confronted a ranker soldier, a feline, and we exchanged blows, both exhausted, both terrified. My compatriots had made use of the time I had bought to reform the square, and I felt myself ushered back into line with the exhausted remains of the third century. My own century had fared a little better, I could see, but we were all on an edge of a precipice. The enemy were regrouping, though there appeared to be uncertainty as to what to do next. I could see three centurions arguing, angrily, and pointing in different directions.

Just then, as I felt my strength waning, I heard a trumpet call. There was an answering call, from deeper in the valley, and I saw legionaries in full battle array. I strained to see the banners.

"Memmius! Who is it!"

I searched for my equine friend, but could not see him. Our centurion was grinning though, and tears coursed down his cheeks.

"It's our boys lad. And the traitor's lot know it too."

The enemy broke, trying to find a way out of the valley, but Flaccus had boxed them in. Our cohort was beyond exhausted, but at the call of the trumpet from Gnaius we formed a line and charged, catching the enemy in confusion. It quickly became a rout.

We brought back over two cohorts of prisoners to the camp. We had lost a hundred of our own men, but they had lost two cohorts killed to match those taken. A worthy day's work for our commander. I was too tired to think about what I had done, or even take any solace in being alive.

And my heart was too full of tears. I had found Memmius, eyes wide and smiling like he normally was, but there was no life in him. He had taken a sword to the stomach and collapsed where he stood, gone just like that. And the guilt I felt filled me like lead.

The commander of our cohort would have none of it.

"Well soldier...you did well. Very well...with the wolf, and with the bull."

"I disobeyed..."

He shook his head and patted my shoulder. "Son, any fool can obey orders. It takes a soldier to know when he needs to disobey them. If you hadn't taken the wolf, I might have had to obey him, or do something similar myself. I can only thank you, from all of us."

"Memmius..."

"You saw what had to be done Sextus Lentullus. You are enough of a soldier to know that soldiers die...today it wasn't your turn, and thanks to you, the rest of us lived. Your friend paid the price...one day it may be you. Make an offering to Jupiter Optimus Maximus if you like, but do not regret. That will definitely get you killed horse...and we need soldiers like you alive."

The march back was slow, but triumphant. I could not feel the triumph. I saw the wolf, still bleeding, watching me as he rode back. He had survived too, somehow the Gods had decided he should live. His hate had taken new life though, that much I could see, and as we marched he watched me the whole time, his gaze fixed on my mane. I could feel it burning there, making me twitch like a fly buzzing at my coat. I tried to flick my mane several times to ward off the feeling, but it never left, not once the whole way back.

*****

I collapsed in my tent, eying the empty place where Memmius had slept. I knew sleep would not come, not any time soon in any case. My ram held me, stroking my mane, and I felt him relax into slumber. When I was certain he was asleep, I crept out of the tent, careful on my normally clumsy hooves to make no sound.

The Tribunes had accommodation beside the commander's quarters, a series of tents laid out in a grid. I knew which one was the right one from the scent. The wolf was hard to miss.

When I opened the flap, he was resting on a couch with a goblet of wine in his paw. His servant bowed and retreated, and the Tribune waved him to leave. He was sure of himself...surer than he had been in combat that was for sure.

"Ahh...come to offer your tailhole have you soldier?"

He was drunk, again, it seemed. He had the glint in his eyes, glazed over hunger and heat. I shivered as he looked me over.

"What did you say Piso..."

"My, have we progressed to that level of informality? A mere ranker calling me by my cognomen? I said...horse...have you come to offer your tailhole?"

I shook, seeking control where none could be found. I had left my gladius behind, and my armour, only taking my dagger and clad in my tunic as if for sleep. The wolf was fully armed, and clad in full battle armour still. And he gripped the hilt of his sword, even as he taunted.

I managed to find words.

"How dare you. Coward! You almost got us all killed..."

He snorted in contempt. "I did nothing of the sort. I commanded a successful expedition, held the line and was wounded by an enemy..." and here his eyes glinted in malice" and came back triumphant. The likes of me are above you, horse. Though not above using you...have you come to celebrate my triumph perhaps? Ready for my knot where you know it belongs..."

I could see his tongue, pink, drooling as he eyed me up. He reached for his groin, hefting his swelling cock under the tunic. I stood, stock still, willing myself to stay calm. Then I heard the tent flap open.

"Ahh...Geminus. Good of you to join us."

The fourth centurion in seniority in the legion, Geminus was not liked or respected. He was also a client of the Tribune's father...I had a sudden feeling of being trapped.

"Tribune...do you need assistance?"

"That depends Geminus. As to whether this horse takes my invitation for an evening in my tent..."

He rose off the couch, triumphant, walking over to me with easy predatory grace. I felt him beside me, close, far too close, and smelt him rich in my nostrils. I smelt his musk, the scent of wine, still thick on his coat. I gave him a contemptuous smile.

"I don't spent the night with cowards..."

His paw struck out, slapping my muzzle. I went for my dagger, but before I could move, the point of a sword pressed in the hollow of my back. The wolf grinned, a wide triumphant grin.

"Such a stupid horse...typical of your kind, low, base. Fodder for the spears, a loyal cog in Rome's legions...nothing."

His paw stroked my cheek, and I shook, staring into his eyes but remaining rigid. Then he let his paw roam, over my chest, teasing my nipples through the tunic, then lower. I lost my composure as he gripped my scrotum and squeezed, hard enough to make me cry out.

"A pity...horse. You would look so beautiful on the end of my cock. Or perhaps I could make you watch while I fucked your little lamb..."

"You are nothing wolf!"

"On the contrary soldier...it is you who are nothing. Geminus?"

"Yes sire?"

"This soldier struck me, defied my orders, and abused a tribune of the soldiers properly elected by the people of Rome. Take him under arrest."

I tried to remain calm as the soldiers from Geminus' century entered the tent, even as they bound my wrists behind me. The wolf gave a mocking smile, and stroked my sheath leisurely, laughing as I dropped in spite of my horror. His claws played with my flare, and then one delved into my urethra and I begged shamefully. He seemed to love my disgrace as much as my touch.

"Take him to the parade ground Geminus. I think our little colt needs a flogging, as a warning to others..."

The centurion shuffled his paws and coughed. He plainly had his misgivings.

"Err...Tribune...shouldn't we wait for the commander...this is highly irregular and you know how much he likes to look after disciplinary matters himself..."

"Silence!" The wolf roared, spittle flying across the tent. The centurion quailed.

"Are you defying me Geminus? Have you forgotten how much your family owes to mine?"

"N...no sire..I..."

He motioned to the soldiers to take me out, unable to give the orders himself it seemed. He followed us to the parade ground, head bowed, as if realising how deep he was in now. He had to pray to the Great God that the wolf would protect him.

There was a small guard detachment at the parade ground, guarding the fires and otherwise on watch. This was punishment duty, for the most part, and all would have preferred to be safely back in their tents. They looked surprised at the little delegation that appeared, but not minded to do anything.

"String him up centurion."

I was hauled to the whipping post, standing at the end of the parade ground furthest from the camp commander's tent. One tall oak frame in a broad A shape, and shackles handing from the apex and lying on the ground at the two base points. The soldiers did their jobs well, and I felt my arms pulled up tight, then my hooves spread wide and shackles tightened at my fetlocks. I fought for calm, but at the sight of the lash, it eluded me at last and I stared at the wolf.

He had taken up a place right in front of me. I wondered why; surely he wanted to see the whip fall? Then as I saw his eyes, I realised he was watching mine. He wanted to see my pain, most of all.

Shielded by my bound body from the soldiers, he stepped closer, and whispered in my ear even as he tore my tunic from my shoulders. The garment fell from my hips, a little pile of fabric about my waist, and he took a moment to touch my chest and fondle a nipple.

"Such a shame horse. You are beautiful; so beautiful. I know I should not love you, but I do..."

I jerked at the word, letting out a whinny as I fought the bonds.

"Love? Love...you don't know the meaning of the word..."

He bent forward and gave me a long lingering kiss, one I felt myself responding to, to my shame. His paw stroked my groin, almost tenderly, just barely touching my scrotum with his pawpads. I ached...I needed...

"And you are no Roman, horse. Weak...sentimental...nothing, as I said. You could have been something with me...but you are content to fuck that little Gallic lamb and be brave and noble...stupid, and weak. I am Rome...I am power. And I will prove it to you."

He stepped back, and gave me a lingering smile, then signalled to the soldiers. I heard the swish of leather, then the crack.

My back exploded in lines of pain as the three tongs of the whip lashed my body, knots biting flesh. I would not scream...

Another, and I bit my lips until they bled, and another. I shook, and the pain built into an almost beautiful crescendo, and I felt a paw on my mane, pulling my head up painfully to stare into eyes filled with malice.

"Scream for me horse..."

The whip fell, and I screamed. His eyes went wide with joy.

"Stop!"

I hung, panting, grateful, as a sudden flurry of activity descended on us. I recognised the primus pilus centurion, most senior of our legion. And beside him was Gnaius, commander of my cohort, and Quintus Decimus Brutus, one of Flaccus' legates. They were not happy, judging by the looks.

Most beautiful, and most troubling though was the sight of my ram, Carolixus. His hurt, his anger, and his worry pierced my heart. I loved him, more than I could express, and I hated the hurt I saw in his eyes seeing me like this. He ran to my side as the two centurions took charge, and as I was cut down from the flogging post, I felt his body surrounding mine, the soft warmth of his fleece and the beat of his heart on my chest. I rested my head on his shoulder, while curt commands were exchanged behind us. I no longer cared. I was home.

The Primus Pilus was taking Geminus to task it seemed, while the Legate Brutus dealt with the wolf. He had the sense to take the wolf off the parade ground, leading him towards the commander's tent with a small detachment of soldiers at his side. Geminus was left to carry the weight of retribution it seemed. He had learned an important lesson.

"Geminus...why are you illegally flogging a centurion of the Ninth without authority?"

I thought I must have misheard, and the centurion did too.

"Centurion?"

"Yes...the commander has made the appointment, thanks to this stallion's efforts on the field of battle today. Of course, if you had bothered to approach him and ask before taking this action, you would have known..."

"Ahh...I didn't..."

"No, you didn't...I have however had authority from the commander for some chastisement. Our commander has a proconsular imperium, if you remember. And his lictors are...adept, at using the fasces...."

I sat on my haunches, comforted by my ram, and watched in a daze as the commander's chief lictor unbundled his fasces, releasing the rods. A stammering Geminus was held against the whipping frame as the lictor administered a salutary thrashing, though the centurion managed to avoid crying out. Then the two centurions took me in their arms, one on each side, and led me back to the lines. I was not taken to my normal tent though, instead being led to the grounds for the third century of our cohort.

It was the Primus Pilus who finally let me know what was happening.

"You did well little one. You have come a long way since you joined us, I know that from your centurions. And from testimony of many, the commander knows exactly who saved the day. He cannot give you the grass crown, as you probably deserve. But he can give you this...you are now commander of our lost friend Flavius' century. Look after them well, horse. You are now the youngest centurion in the legion...do not let me down."

I got a pat on the back from Gnaius Rebrius, though he refrained from giving a second when it drew a wince as he hit my wounded skin. Instead he looked at my ram and gave a wink.

"Master Gaul...would you do me the favour of looking after our new centurion? I think he needs your...ahhh...unique attentions..."

Carolixus wasn't entirely satisfied though. I could hear him bristling.

"And what is going to happen to that...wolf..."

The Primus Pilus now broke into a grin. "I think he has a date with the commander's lictor too...a somewhat more leisurely affair than that fool Geminus though..."

I saw the feral grin on the ram, matching the two Romans perfectly. I found I could not join them. The memory of his grip on my cock, the kiss, the way my body reacted with need still haunted too much. Instead I let my ram comfort me. It took a second to realise we were alone. As a centurion, I would have a tent for myself and my slave alone. We would have some privacy, and some time.

Carolixus lay me gently on a sleeping skin, and he left the tent to give a few curt commands. I tried to get up and stop him, but it appeared it worked. Even roman soldiers would not disobey him in this hour. He noticed me grinning at him, and gave a smile.

"It is not for me they obey love. It is for you. You saved them all; they will not forget."

I heard the stomp of hooves outside the tent, a guard detail taking their place.

"In case that wolf tries something after his interview with Flaccus...you have nothing to fear my love."

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt that to be the truth. The fatigue left me, replaced by warmth, and I lay back easily and allowed myself to be cared for. A bucket appeared at the tent flap, bearing hot water and cloths, and I rolled onto my front and felt the gentle caress of my lover as he tended my wounds. Each cry and grimace brought a kiss, until he had cleaned off the blood and tended every lash. Then I cried out as he held me just to get more kisses; he seemed to know what I was doing, and laughed at my plans as I playfully swatted his hands with my tail. Then I spread my legs, wide, offering him a view of my scrotum and, as I lifted my tail high, the deep cleft of my ass. I looked behind, and saw his indecision.

"You are hurt..."

"So make me feel better..."

"But it will hurt more!"

"And then it will feel so good I won't hurt ever again..."

He bent forward, reluctant but needy, and I felt the heat of his breath on my tailhole. He opened wide, lavishing me with kisses, licks, prodding my tailhole with his tongue then gradually opening me with his fingers. He found a small stock of lamp oil in the tent, and used it on his fingers, slicking my tunnel in easy stages, one finger, two three, spreading me as I rubbed my straining cock against the sleeping furs and spread my legs wider and forgot about all the pains and grief.

Then he knelt between my legs and pressed on me and filled me so gently, and his mating was slow, careful, almost too careful, until I grew tired of his unwillingness to hurt me and pushed him off and lay him down and mounted his cock and slammed against his hips hard and felt the burn deep inside.

"This is life my ram..."

"No mercy my love?"

"Never, when the ram has touched the wall..."

I heard the sentries outside our tent change during the night, when I woke spooned against my ram with my burning tailhole overwhelming the pain in my back. I was hard, pressed into the crack of his ass, and needy but not for long. His bleats and moans sounded so perfect, and I rode him for an age on the edge of climax while I milked his length of two loads of thick seed before the final shattering climax that sent me to sleep holding him tight against me. Grief, pain, anger could wait, even the loss of Memmius. I would lay an offering for him tomorrow when the priests said the prayers for his shade and pray to Charon to guide him in the underworld better than I could in this life. For now though, I had what I needed.

And in spite of what the wolf said, with my own honourguard outside my tent, I felt like a Roman, for the first time in my life.

*****

30 BC, Outside Interamnia, Picenum, North-East Italy

"Almost my love."

My Carolixus was watching me as he often did these days, with a slightly distant look. He was laying out my armour in our tent, ready for the next day. His fingers moved over the complicated fastenings with practiced ease, and he chose to ignore my comment for now.

"I said my love, it is almost over."

Now he looked up.

"It never ends Lentullus. I am a Gaul remember? One Roman or another...it barely matters. It never ends; war, plunder, repression, slavery, death. The names change but the play remains the same."

He was often distant these days, and in truth I knew why though I did not want to. I could see it in his eyes on nights like this; the worry.

"My love, I know you think I have changed, but it is still me inside..."

He gave a little shake of his head, before he even realised what he was doing, and smiled when he did as if to apologise. Then he shrugged.

"Perhaps. Perhaps you always were...you are a Roman after all."

"And I say, it is almost over. Lepidus is gone, and Antonius cannot long withstand the might of Octavian. He carries the power of Gaius Julius with him my love; great Ceasar's clients flock to his side. It will be over, and we can have peace."

The ram shook his head again, sadly. "Peace? There will be no peace. Victory breeds anger, hate, revenge..."

"Gaul has been quiet Carolixus, or had you forgotten."

"That is because there is no one left to rebel. Your Gaius Julius killed or enslaved all who defied him, which was most. Gaul is empty, hence it is quiet."

"The Gallae defied us, even when granted Friend and Ally status. They brought their ruin on themselves, even your ancestor Vercingetorix knew that..."

I saw the eyes cloud again. "As I said...a Roman, after all."

"You are just nervous my love. You need not be; Flaccus may have his limitations, but when it comes to a siege, few can withstand him. He is patient. And he is a coming force under Octavian, for all that Agrippa has his favour. I may go far with him."

The ram gave a sigh, finishing his preparations hastily. "And that is another thing Lentullus. Since when were you so engaged in the doings of the mighty, or thought you mattered to them?"

He had managed to find my weakness, and I reacted with anger before I could catch myself.

"And what would a Gallic slave know about the workings of Rome, or the way to behave as a Roman citizen?"

I cursed myself, realising I had hurt him badly. I trotted across the tent and took him in my arms, holding on even as he tried to break free, trying to still his shaking anger with my body. He would not speak, though I knew his thoughts.

"My love, I am sorry. You know why I am doing this though; I want to retire early, with enough money to buy us that little farm you always wanted..."

"I know, you have said it enough my stallion. And yet, part of me thinks that you like this life, the power of the legions, the money. And the fear...tell me, do you like seeing the fear in your enemies? Even when they are people like me? Or even my love, like you?"

I dismissed his words with a raised hand, not wanting to taste that drink tonight. Not with battle so near. Anger was a necessity for a soldier, but toward the enemy, not towards your own. That would bring death, not victory. Even the wolf Piso knew that; we had remained at a respectful distance since the night I became a centurion, and though my back had healed, the anger had not, and it flared whenever I saw him. The commander had wisely kept us well apart and so far it had worked.

Instead I tried to change the mood of my dear sheep, and remind him of what we shared. The morning would bring danger enough after all.

His tunic dropped to the floor as I undid the clasp, and he stood, not participating yet, but not withdrawing. I would bring him back with my body, and my love. I could always find that, when I needed.

My lips rubbed softly over his neck, and he began to relax. Then I opened my muzzle and licked, suckling the join of shoulder and neck where he was most sensitive, drawing a soft gasp finally against his will. My tongue followed a well worn path, down his spine, over the short nub of tail, and I felt him melting as I caressed his cheeks, gentle then harder until the muscle dented and spread wide as I dug my fingers into each cheek and delved between to my prize.

Muzzle against his hole, I worshipped my idol. His taste always excited me, as much as the feel of him slowly spreading and opening for my tongue. Before long I was buried deep in him, lapping at his tunnel, my hands on his testicles just gently stroking the underside. I wanted him in control, my love, my mate. There should be no master and no slave between us, no matter what the law may say.

He had begun to bleat, unable to contain himself as I prodded his prostate with my tongue. I reached around in front of him, finding his cock already hard and leaking, and I stroked it steadily while sawing into his hole with a willing tongue. His bleats became cries, then became a hiss.

"On your knees soldier..."

I hastened to obey, taking up my stance, ready, eager, tail raised high, head to the floor. My knees spread wider, opening me to him. I was his for the taking.

A white hot tip of flesh probed my hole, teasing, slow and gentle. Now I hissed, wanting it harder but knowing his way. Loving in all things, my Carolixus. Even mounting me like a ram takes an ewe, he was gentle.

The slap of his heavy testicles felt good on my body, and the red hot lance of his cock inside me built a delicious pleasure. When he reached for my stallion's length I knew I could not last and sprayed an offering to the God's on the tent floor, and he was not finished, was my ram. I groaned.

"Something wrong soldier?"

"Ahhh...I want your seed Gaul..."

"You Romans...always taking. Well, this time, only when I say so..."

He pounded, hard, and jerked my length until I unloaded a second climax, and yet he did not spend himself, instead slowing when he came close. A game; and one I was happy to lose to my Gallic lover, and I turned my head to stare into his eyes and plead only silently but secretly hoped he would not yield. His twinkling eyes told me he would not.

Twice more he drove the ultimate pleasure from me, twice more he paused himself on the brink. When I begged, pleaded, subjugated, he finally relented, but only to make me lay back with my hooves over his shoulders while he stroked his red raw cock and made me watch it pulse with life and jerk in his hands.

When he came it was as if his balls emptied an ocean on me, streaks of ram seed coating my mane, my muzzle, my chest and belly. I was painted like some Brittannic tribesman in woad, but instead in Gallic ram seed, thick, white, potent. He bent forward to lick it off me, and then we kissed and fell asleep together with the slick sticky mess between us.

In the morning I had to give a wry smile for his creativity. Without a chance for a full bath, I would stink of ram seed all through the upcoming battle. I would take a little part of him with me, and everyone around me would know it. Even the enemy.

As he dressed me before I went to round up my troops, I gave him a smile to match his wicked look.

"Tell me you didn't plan this."

"Would I?"

I gave him a slap on the rump and he gave me a long lingering kiss, enough to sustain us through the day. There was work to be done though, and my mind was already there.

"This fortress should prove easy enough. And enough of Anthony's supporters there to provide some rich pickings once we have them. They have been declared public enemies already, and we share in the spoils once we capture them. Flaccus will have enough to run for Praetor at this rate."

My ram gave me a disappointed look. "Do you think Octavian will let anyone stand for election unless he has already chosen the winner?"

"Well, Flaccus should be able to make it easy for him."

I ignored his bemused stare as best I could. It had become a thing between us, no matter how much I tried not to let it. My ram remained a cynic, whatever I might tell him about our leaders. I had come to feel that connection in these last months, a sense of belonging that I had craved all my life, and I could not fail to feel a debt of gratitude to my commander, and his master for that. My Gallic ram could not understand.

Or perhaps he understood all too well.

"Ready sir?"

I was jolted back to reality by my comrade Terentius, the stag always knew when to approach me to break me back to reality. I saw my Carolixus retreat back to the tent, seeing me lost to my century already, as I welcomed Terentius with a smile and a pat on the back.

"As I will ever be Terentius. A day to remember."

The stag suddenly looked confused, and his nostrils twitched as he sampled the air. I saw the understanding dawn, followed by a sly grin. He always knew. I remained impassive, even when he winked at me, but I broke into a laugh in the end and he returned the pat before leading me towards the lines.

That was another thing that had changed, and a further reason for my sense of belonging. It had started not long after I took command of the century, and at first I thought nothing of it. Shuffling men between decuries and centuries was uncommon, but we had sustained casualties and one of the jobs a centurion understood was the task of ensuring they had the right balance of trained and seasoned men amongst the youngsters. Some reorganisation was inevitable.

At first I thought I was receiving the ones nobody wanted in exchange for my veterans, but quickly realised that was not how it was, for the men seemed at least as good soldiers as the ones I lost. Then one night when I couldn't sleep I passed a tent and found out the real reason for my new men.

Opening the flap I found to my surprise the occupants still awake. All were newcomers to my century, moved from their own place in various parts of the legion. And all were engaged in the same night time activities as my ram and I; a long slow sighing mass of furs loving and being loved, in a moment of quiet between storms.

I had become the semi-official guardian of the legion's smaller legion of the unwanted, the ones like myself. Not many, but enough, and in a century whos' commander was himself a lover of males, it would cause less comment. I had proven myself on the field, and over time, all of us would.

Suddenly I had a family, stronger than the brotherhood of the legion as a whole, more accepting than my old one. The feeling sustained me, in ways my ram saw but could not accept. I had found brothers, at the cost of our own unique bond. I saw the hurt, but I could not heal it.

And now they were waiting for me; they trusted me. I didn't usually feel the burden, but today I did.

We waited in our lines as the commander addressed us.

"Boys, today is the day. We have had this picturesque town..." a laugh, for it really was a stark place "under siege for long enough. Our preparations are complete, and today we strike whether they are ready or not."

The murmur began, the wave of excitement and tension that passed like the ocean and left my mane tingling under the helmet. I could feel it in my hooves, and in the expressions of my men. Anxiety, fear, as well as joy and hunger. Money; the same reason for all of Rome's wars, one way or another. It all in the end came down to money as much as pride.

"We have given them every chance. Do not forget that in that town are men who killed a Praetor and his lictors, ambushed when they went in peace to ask for a meeting. A crime for which they have already been condemned...but many more in that town support them, and will share the same fate if they remain."

We knew the drill by now. I looked to my ram, and gave him a reassuring smile, one he returned. The time of decision would come, when our siege ram approached. Would they surrender, give up the murderers, and beg for mercy?

For once the ram touched the wall, there would be none. The thought brought the image of my love inside me, his heat and his hunger as he pounded into my flesh, filled my mind. I could smell it on me still, taste it, savour it. And it made me lust for action.

Our progress towards the fortifications was leisurely once we were in full battle order. The siege towers began their slow march, the drums rolled, metal clashed on metal. A hail of arrows and spears came, hoarded for this moment, but there were few casualties. We were too good by now.

Then a trumpet rang out, just as the siege tower reached the wall.

"You are ordered to surrender in the name of Rome! Surrender and you will receive mercy!"

There was no sound for long seconds of doubt. We waited, poised. A cry came from inside the town, followed by trumpets, and then silence. Whatever had happened, the answer seemed certain enough.

The trumpet sounded the attack, and a cry went up from our men answered on the other side. The machine rolled forward, with my own century one small part, detailed to cover the siege towers.

It was then that I saw the danger. A puff of smoke, then more, right near the point the siege ram was about to strike. My cries of alarm were lost in the moment of truth though; I saw the siege ram swing, back, forward, then right back, and the noise died as if everyone was holding their breath.

The sun glinted off painted horns, red like fire, and the heavy mass streaked forward. It impacted the wall, between two guard towers, with a sickening thud but no splintering sound. The exhalation carried a sigh, not of regret. It was done.

Murum Aries Attigit.

"Well, that's it." Terentius sounded pleased, and I had to agree with him. There were more pressing matters to attend to though.

"Terentius...look there. Do you see what I see?"

The stag shielded his eyes and stared, following my extended finger. At first he could not find it, but then he stiffened in alarm.

"Heated oil?"

"I think so...get the men ready."

It was not part of the original plan but needs must. The siege towers were in danger, and that could not stand.

I sent one man to warn Gnaius Rebrius, our cohort commander, and gathered my century around me. We headed up the ladders, joining the auxiliary archers on the top and avoiding enemy fire as best we could. The top of the enemy wall was just across from us, you could almost touch it, and the whole structure shook as the siege ram went to work, each fresh impact drawing a new sound, crunching, grinding, as timbers began to give way.

I poked my head over the parapet and stared.

There was a detachment on a walkway just below the peak of the town wall, and they had large pots of oil well alight. We did not have much time.

"Boys! Follow me! For the Ninth!"

It was funny how, when the real action started, it was never for Rome, or glory. It was for your brothers, your fellow soldiers that you fought. The hollow slogans were just that.

Their screams and yells caught the enemy by surprise, and I had time to catch the look of astonishment on the wolf in charge of the oil as I leaped over the gap and landed awkwardly on the walkway. I did not give him much time to regain his composure, lunging forward with my sword and striking deep just as he reached for his own.

I felt one of my companions go down beside me with a spear to the side, but I could not afford to go to his aid. Surprise and movement were all we had in our favour, and we could not afford to draw breath. As more of my men joined me, we formed a mass and charged.

It was bloody work, and close. The normal strengths of the legion, order, discipline, helped us but also hindered. We were not so used to such freewheeling fights as this. We took the ascendancy though, quickly before reinforcements could arrive up the ladders. Enemy bowmen turned a murderous fire on our century, and many of my men fell, but we had our objective in sight and that was enough.

It was Terentius who upended the burning oil, tipping the flaming contents into the town below, setting the fires inside that they hoped to inflict on our siege towers. Cries and curses flowed, and a large press of enemy legionaries appeared, ready to scale the wall. I knew we could not last long.

Terentius held my gaze, and nodded.

"Boys! Back to the siege tower!"

The cry of triumph from our enemies was galling, but in truth we had done what we came to do. Their end was now a matter of calculation, a when not an if. And the when would be soon.

As I made the leap back, I heard the splinter and the cheer as the siege ram broke through, crumbling a section of wall. With the breach begun, it would be widened easily, and the smoke billowing up from inside told of the damage being wrought already by the enemy's own weapon of desperation. The crisis had come.

I turned back to the wall, holding out a hand for Terentius, a smile on my muzzle to welcome him back. Just as he tensed, I saw it; the sudden eruption of a sword from his chest, the gout of blood, the pain.

He was still smiling though, with the same conspiratorial wink, as he sank to his knees. The siege ram swung again, a red streak like the sword that had done for my second, and the wall heaved and tumbled. He was gone, and a great hole had taken his place, in the wall and in my heart.

A great shout went up, followed by the sound of trumpets. The main gates had opened, and out poured the enemy legionaries and their auxiliaries. They knew there was no point staying inside, it would be decided on the plain before the town.

Flaccus went into action. A methodical man, not in the mould of Fabius Maximus, but no less determined, he had anticipated this moment and prepared orders. At the pre-arranged trumpet sound, the legion disengaged and formed into battle order, while the enemy was still milling around with their officers struggling to get their men to respond to orders. Before they were ready, we hit them, hard.

It was not a battle, as much as a rout. I looked back to our siege camp, wondering if my ram was watching, hoping he was. I waved, knowing he could probably not know it was me, but hoping against hope anyway. Tonight I would be in his arms again; and this time, I would be doing the pounding. Victory felt beautiful; when I sheathed my sword, it would only be to sheath myself in his willing depths over and over until I slept. The bad memories would not come then; Terentius, or others.

When they surrendered, we held their soldiers together on the plain, and a detachment went inside to round up all the citizens. They had given up their chance of mercy, in all probability under duress from the enemy commander and his men, but it would not save them. They would forfeit all they had, their town razed to the ground. As the cleaning up continued, I saw a familiar but not welcome sight appear; the wolf, Piso, mounted on his restless horse, trotting towards us. He had the Primus Pilus with him, and he looked anything but happy. His scowl was an unintentional mirror of my own.

"Tribunus...you survived."

I allowed just enough disgust, and surprise, to enter my voice. I was rewarded with a deeper scowl, and a supressed laugh from the Primus Pilus.

"Without resorting to stupid heroics like some I can name..."

The centurion gave a mocking salute to the wolf. "Aye, a true Roman of virtue you are master patrician. No one could accuse you of heroics..."

It was bad form to laugh, but the Primus Pilus and I were struggling to hold on. The wolf decided to change the subject then, knowing he was beaten.

"I have been given a job, by Flaccus...and I decided you would be the perfect horse to carry it out. Bring a few of your men with you, and come with me."

I looked at them both with surprise. It was unusual for the wolf to come anywhere near me, especially when my men were there. The question came unbidden, and I addressed it to my fellow centurion. He was after all in my direct chain of command; military protocol could be a help on occasions.

"Petronus, what is this?"

He gave a sombre nod, almost apologetic.

"Aye lad. Some dirty work but it has to be done. The commander has directed young Piso here to get it done, and me to witness on his behalf. Not something I like, but we are soldiers lad. We know our duty, to our commander, and to Rome."

"I don't understand..." the wolf piped up, distaste for his job giving him a petulance that suited him well.

"You are too stupid to understand much soldier, I have told you enough times. The town leaders have sought to buy their freedom, at a price. Some in the city may be spared their lives, but not many. In order to buy their own lives though, they have identified the soldiers who killed the Praetor and his lictors. We have them to one side."

That made me sit back. "Are we sure these are the ones?"

The wolf made a face. "Does it matter? After all, they were given a chance to surrender. They chose not to take it...you know the consequences as well as any horse. Most of them will die in the end any way, soon enough. You are Roman enough...even you."

I ground my teeth and nodded. I did, sure enough. With a flick of eyes I chose a few men, ones I thought could handle this duty, and followed Petronus and Piso. The wolf affected a high stepping parade gallop, as if leading a triumph through Rome, and the old centurion and I shared an exasperated glance and rolled our eyes. I was preparing to do my duty when we reached a small group on men, kept to one side and surrounded.

The feeling was like nothing I had experienced before, as if the great god Jupiter Optimus Maximus himself and sent a bolt from heaven to cleave me into fragments. The effect on the traitor soldier across from me was no less, the equine wide eyed, his tail flicking and ears sideways in nameless emotion.

It was Gaius, my cousin. Amongst about twenty, mostly injured. The enemy appeared to have selected some sacrifices they could afford to lose, to take the blame and win them some concession. And amongst those was my own lover, the one who still held part of me.

The wolf looked bored. "Well...get it done then. In the name of Rome, and by the power of the proconsul Flaccus, commander of her armies, you are declared hostis, and sentenced to death for murder."

My Gaius gave a sudden shudder, and he looked at me, pleading. I shook my head in a trance, hooves unable to move, muzzle unable to open.

"Sextus Lentullus...is there a problem?" the Primus Pilus was gentle, but firm. I knew what was expected.

"Petronus, these men...they are surely not the real culprits. Look at them..."

"Sextus, I did not think I had to explain. It does not matter, not really. The law is upheld; that is what matters. Rome's vengeance is fulfilled. They may be the men, or not. They certainly were complicit. It does not matter; any Roman knows in this time, that their life is not their own. It belongs to Rome; and Rome is calling to repay the debt."

"But Sir..."

"Make him get on with it Primus!" the wolf was enjoying this, I realised. I gritted my teeth and prayed.

"Petronus...that one, the equine. He is my cousin...please, he would not have done this, I know him. Let him go!"

I heard the wolf move, his presence suddenly there by my side, malignant, like a storm. His triumphant voice filled my mind.

"Well, a traitor...we will have to watch you, centurion. Clearly you cannot be trusted..."

"Like you wolf?" at least the Primus Pilus had come to my aid, though he was clearly troubled. "I gather most of your family have been proscribed...your own father.."

"All the more reason why I know. Loyalty to Rome is paramount! And a traitor's cousin needs to prove his loyalty...by doing his duty. Well horse; in fact, I know the best solution. You shall deal with this one yourself...prove yourself or be damned."

I turned to Petronus, pleading, but he looked on with some pity but no mercy. "Lentullus...he has the right to give the order. And don't forget, he is acting with the authority of Flaccus, on this occasion at least. I am not going to pardon them, you cannot change his fate. I will grant you one thing though...if you do not wish to kill the stallion yourself, I can make one of your men do it...but I will do it now."

"No!" The screaming whinny was mine, short, final. I meant it as a plea to the great God, but he was not answering my prayers today. The little tableaux waited, for an almost endless moment, before Petronus gestured to my Gaius and spoke to one of my men. I stopped him with a look.

"I will do it. No one may touch him."

The old centurion nodded, sadness written in his eyes. I could barely see it through the tears that coursed down my cheeks. I barely saw the first one die, kneeling, his throat cut by Loratius, a young feline from Latium who dreamed of becoming a sailor. All I could see through the tears was Gaius, his eyes on mine but not believing yet.

"Gaius...how did you come here?"

"The armies of Antonius came through our lands, we had no choice, we had to join or be killed"

"Oh my love, I wish you had run."

"Sextus...love...please..."

"Close your eyes my love."

I stood behind him and pushed him to his knees. He shook as he knelt, body receiving the commands, and knowing the reality, long before the brain. He closed his eyes though, as I asked. I stroked his mane, gently, like I had the last time I saw him, when we made love, just before my uncle found us and the world ended. His beautiful mane, dark and silken, that I loved to play with as he slept, and feel between my fingers as he took me.

"Please..."

"Shhh my love. Do you remember...remember the first time we were together."

I went there too, hoping to take him with me. A spring day, full of the scent of blossom. I had gone to the river to bathe, eager to be away from the angry scorn of my uncle who seemed determined to find fault in whatever I did. He came to me in the shallows, his words the perfect balm to an injured soul. Then his fingers...

"The river sounded like birdsong, so sweet. And the wild grass tasted sweet..." he was there now, his body relaxed under my fingers. My tears flowed like the river, but not sweet.

"Yes Gaius. And then you kissed me..."

"You tasted as good as you looked. I had wanted to for so long..."

"I had wanted to for as long as I had been there. When you touched me, I felt home..."

"And when I held you, I knew...I knew...I loved you Sextus, though I did not know how to say it..."

I almost broke then, hearing him say the words I craved for so long. My voice was husky, low, lost. "Shh...stay there, hold me, do not let me go Gaius..."

It was time. One last sweet memory, to take him across the river. One last sweet memory, to make him forget the fear for a moment.

One last memory to let me do what I had to do.

My dagger moved, with practiced touch. He gave a shudder and fell forward, his life blood spewing over the grass from the gaping wound at his neck. His tail gave a shudder and fell still, his hooves dancing just once, and his eyes glazed. I saw the last look, the anger, mixed with the peace. His shade would not forgive. No more than I could forgive myself.

"Always said the only good horse is a dead horse."

I moved before my mind had time to make the decision. The dagger shone, poised to strike. I was saved by Petronus, barely, by inches, the knife poised to sink into Piso's chest and a wild battle whinny echoing off the bodies of the fallen as I prepared to join my stallion in death. By the time I recovered, the death wish had gone, but not the hate. I had the satisfaction at least of seeing fear in the wolf, real fear. It would need to sustain me for now.

My men gathered around me, and we headed back to camp, all sombre, lost in our own worlds. I knew I probably needed to say something to them, but I had no words to give. Instead I headed for our tent, and threw myself on the sleeping furs.

"Lentullus?"

My ram was worried. He never worried, but he was now. He was right to worry.

"I guess I am a Roman after all."

"What has happened my love?"

"Death...all is dead. Even me my love."

I threw pieces of armour off, flinging them across the tent as if they hurt me, scratching flesh and coat in my haste until I was naked. Then I took up a stance on all fours, wanting release from pain and guilt the only way I knew.

"Come on Slave. Take me, hard. I command it. Your master demands you fuck me, dry, painfully, and do not stop. I am a Roman, I have no feelings. Do your worst Gaul."

"Lentullus?!"

"I said do it slave! Now! I need to hurt! And you will do it!"

He said nothing, nor did he obey. Instead, he got down on all fours beside me and held me as I shook.

"No mercy you filthy Gaul! We taught you that, remember? Do it!"

But he just held me. The ram had touched the wall, and found the defences already crumbled into ash. I broke like the walls, and the tears engulfed me like a storm of Neptune brought forth on earth.

Eventually, I found words, to tell him of my stallion, my love, and my loss.

"Do you still love him, Sextus?"

I closed my eyes as the answer came too easily. "Yes. When I killed him, I killed myself."

"Even... even now you have me?"

"Leave me. Nothing matters anymore."

He retreated to the other side of the tent, silent and brooding, while I hugged my pain to my chest and dreamed of revenge. I would end it, as I should have done when I had him in my grasp, and this time, Petronus would not be there to stop me. The thought lulled me to sleep.

*****

I woke with a start, disoriented and dazed, and took a moment to realise what I was seeing, or more accurately not seeing. My ram was not there; nor was my dagger. Carolixus knew me too well; he had anticipated what my grief would do, and decided to take things into his own hands. I did not have much time.

My hooves echoed through the camp, setting the dusty paths flying as I ran as fast as an equine could towards the tents belonging to the Tribunes. After Piso's exploits as a coward, and the way it had rebounded on Geminus, he now had no protectors in the legion, and there was nobody to cover his back. I knew the one belonging to Piso, the memory of our last interview before he had me strung up for a flogging still sharp, and I could hear raised voices inside. I opened the flap and tore straight inside.

The lamps burned low, and it took me a moment to take in the scene. The wolf's servant lay to one side, blood streaming from his muzzle, limp against his master's low dining couch. On the other side of the tent, near a small camp desk, the wolf was kneeling, his eyes wide, with Carolixus standing over him and my dagger at the patrician's throat. The blade glittered in the low light, a glitter matched by the wolf's eyes. Both turned to me as I entered, though neither looked happy to see me.

"Carolixus..."

"Do not stop me, my love. I know what you were planning, and I cannot let you do it..."

"Carolixus, please stop." I whispered, finding an intensity of command even in the quiet. My ram heard it, and the blade wavered a moment.

"Tell him what happens to non-citizens who murder a Roman, horse." The wolf had his own harsh whisper, and I knew he was right.

"My love, you will be crucified. Do not do this, please..."

He looked at me with such love, such hurt. I almost broke for the second time that day.

"Lentullus, you need to be free. I am a slave; I never will be, but you can be. Please, promise you won't do it."

I nodded to him through the tears, wiping a hand over my eyes even as I stepped towards the two, and then held it out for the dagger. I could see the indecision in the wolf's eyes, and tried not to look at them. Inside I was dead, but I had to pretend for my ram, for a moment longer.

He placed the dagger hilt in my hand, and I hefted the blade, staring at the metal. Then I tensed, and my ram gave a gasp.

"No, Lentullus!"

He tried to stop me, but I was a soldier, and anger, hate, grief gave me strength. My fist collected his muzzle and sent him flying, to land beside the dazed servant with the same look of bemusement and the same trickle of blood from his nostrils. He looked at me, pleading, as I turned to the wolf.

Piso's eyes went wide now. He saw his fate, reflected in my eyes, and I watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard to quell the fear. I pressed the tip of the dagger against his windpipe and then, as he shivered, a little harder, enough to draw a trickle of blood that ran unchecked down his neck and across his collar bone.

"Any last words, wolf?"

"No, Lentullus! Please!"

I ignored my ram, even when he began to cry, though I had never known him to cry. The wolf's eyes went wider still, and his nose trembled. He looked about to say something, anything, but he could not.

I tensed. Then my nose crinkled, as I smelt it. He had urinated, and I looked down to see the wet patch at his groin. Under the powerful stench of urine I found another smell too, the thick cloying scent of fear. He was ripe with it, oozing from every pore.

Somehow the spell broke, and I laughed.

"Not so special now, patrician. I can tell. You are just a coward, as I always knew. I smell your fear, wolf, worse than in the ambush. You fear the end of your pathetic hide."

I saw the anger now, the sudden flash under the wide-eyed stare of horror. No Roman could take that quietly, even the wolf.

"Silence, horse!"

I slapped him across the muzzle once, then again, leaving him punch drunk but still awake. His eyes rolled as he stared at me.

"I say you are a coward. The fear on you stinks, like the rest of you. You are nothing, wolf. Pathetic; and you will always know it too, if I let you live."

"Me, a coward? You are the coward, horse. Not even able to avenge your little bum boy; did he feel good, plundering your sloppy ass? I know who was the real stallion there..."

The wolf suddenly stopped as I gripped his windpipe and squeezed, eyes bulging wide. I knew what he was trying to do, and it took every ounce of my control to stop. His talk had another effect though, an unintended one, reminding me of my times in the arms of my stallion. And the memories drove an entirely different response.

"Know a lot about it, don't you, Tribune. Buying your holes for the night, taking and never giving. I think you need to learn more about what comes out of that disgusting muzzle of yours..."

Incomprehension gave way to incredulity in his eyes, as I gripped his tunic and pulled. The fabric tore easily, and I grasped the scruff of his neck roughly and turned him round, throwing him over his little desk. He was struggling now, and begging, and I tried not to see my ram watching, his eyes wide with pain.

"Time to know what it's like to submit, wolf."

"No... no..."

His scream filled me with heat. I took him only a little way, my flare spreading his hole and plundering like a spearhead, and he clenched down tight trying to ward off the invasion. There would be no mercy though, and as his claws scratched the wood trying to find some purchase to hold on and gain traction to fight back, I was determined to give him no respite. My hips flexed, and I drove in deep, almost bursting at the feel of his tunnel spread and fluttering in pain, and then the loud demonic scream of violation. I felt immortal, pure.

The ride was hard, fast, and brutal. He went slack as I drove in past the medial, head resting on the desktop, his tongue out and eyes glazed. I bent over him and bit on his neck, tasting blood, and lapping at his scruff almost lovingly, before I pulled back until only my flare remained inside him. Then I let him have my full length in one powerful thrust that lifted him off the desk before he subsided with a cry and a long shuddering moan, while drool pooled on the wood from his wide open muzzle that now only emitted a silent scream.

Another rutting thrust, then another, and his body took the wild breeding, hunching up under each new thrust but not otherwise moving. I felt his insides slacken a little and slid in easier, kissing his cheek in mockery of loving affection.

"Such a good bitch, patrician..."

I fucked him with all the pain, all the raw anger at my disposal. Remembering the pain of the lash on my back, I took my payment from his ass, with my cock, drawing grunts and cries and then, as the wild fuck went on, moans. He was moving with the fuck, pushing back to take my thrusts, and his ass tightened and demanded more debt to be paid then and there.

I did not last much longer, and when the moment came I threw back my head and let out a screaming whinny of triumph as my whole body shook and my tail flagged against my thighs, and I unleashed a torrent of seed to mark his depths for all time as the property of a mere lowly plebeian stallion who hated him with all his heart.

As I lay over him, panting, I smelt the acrid stench of wolf seed, and knew that he had ejaculated during my assault. I reached for his length then, finding it still dripping, and brought my fingers to his muzzle.

"Smell this wolf... and know I did it to you."

"No..."

I pulled out, the long sticky withdrawal so satisfying, and I stood, stretching aching muscles and watching his ravished hole spread wide open and twitching, a river of my cum drooling out to coat his taint and drip from his testicles. It reminded me of the sight of my ram, so beautiful. I reached out to stroke his torn hole, gently, feeling the seed slick on my fingers. It was mixed with blood. With a start, I realised the hate was leaving me, replaced with something else, almost pity.

"Such a good fuck, little wolf... looks like you got what you wanted after all."

As I pulled my tunic back into place, I caught sight of my ram. His eyes were bright with tears, his muzzle wide with shock, and his fingers red with the blood from his muzzle. The blood I had caused to flow. He looked at me, as if I was a stranger, and I suddenly came to myself, the blood lust and hate dissolving as I realised what I had done. I really had given the wolf something he wanted; the realisation came too late.

"Carolixus... please... wait..."

He ran for the tent flap and disappeared into the night, while the recovering servant stared at me as if he expected to be killed out of hand there and then. He was in no danger though, and I trotted past him as if he was not there and into the darkness of the camp. At first I headed towards our tent and my ram. I would talk to him, calm him, tell him how much I had healed even in the act of taking the wolf. But something stopped me, and instead I fell to the earth shaking like a leaf and vomited all over a ranker soldier from the third cohort who was standing guard at the fire. His astonishment was total, and I waved off his attentions as best I could.

As I stood, still shaking, with the future opening up for me even as it may have contracted to nothing, I formed a plan. I had never been good at it, but this one seemed to work, and I owed it to the memory of my Gaius, and to my Carolixus to try and see it through. The memory of what could have happened tonight, and what may still happen thanks to what I had done, gave me strength as I headed for the region of the commander's tent.

I knew his scribe would be hard at work still. The poor mouse rarely seemed to get any sleep, but he bore the burdens of his office stoically. I would need his services, and my small stash of coin managed to purchase what I needed. He wrote out the simple documents with an ease that made me burn with embarrassment, and not a little envy, all the while doing his best to ignore the wild scents coming from my body, cum, fear, death. I smelt of life, but not an easy one.

When he melted the wax and motioned impatiently, I almost did not know what he was after, and I realised only as he pointed to my hand what he needed. I felt even more of an outsider, and covered my uncertainty in brusque formality while I applied my personal seal to the parchment. The mouse handed me one copy, the other retained in the records of the legion. The deed was done; now it was time for my final act.

When I returned to our tent, my ram was waiting. He had wiped his tears, and he faced me with bright eyes full of concern, and hurt. I could not speak at first, and he tried to calm me with his body. I melted into his arms, but not entirely. I had work to do.

"Lentullus... what..."

"Please, my love. I am sorry..."

"Why?"

"I do not know. I wanted to conquer him so much, I wanted him dead... but more, I wanted him to suffer. Then I wanted him mine, body, soul..."

"Are you happy now, Lentullus?"

I looked at his hurt. I knew the answer. "No. But what is done is done. All I can do is prepare for what is next."

"And what does happen next, my love?"

I gave a sigh from deep in my hooves. "I do not know. That depends on the wolf. But one thing is sure. I can only protect you one way my love, and this is it."

Ignoring his shocked stare, I handed him the parchment and closed his fingers over the vellum.

"Congratulations, my love. You are no longer a slave; I have freed you. Sextus Lentullus Carolixus... it sounds good, better than it does for me."

His face brightened for a second, then the implications hit home, and I prepared to face his anger.

"Do you no longer want me with you?"

I nodded and drew a fresh round of tears. "You need to go away, my little lamb. You will be better without me. One day, probably soon, I will get myself killed. It may even be tomorrow, when the wolf has me charged, or one of his clients hunts me down and a dagger in the night does the deed. I cannot protect you, except by setting you free. Please..."

"Lentullus, I don't want to be without you..."

I pulled him into my arms and kissed him, licking away the blood I had drawn, soothing the hurt I had caused. The only one I could soothe for now; the larger hurt being beyond my ability to fix. I told myself I was doing what was right for him. I had looked after him as best I could, now I would free him to find someone whose heart was still in one piece who could look after him properly.

I just wished it didn't hurt so much.

When the summons to the commander's presence came, I was not surprised. I took my place between the two soldiers sent to collect me and marched to my fate with head held high. I was a Roman, after all. Whatever came, I would face it.

Flaccus stared at me with an unreadable expression. His scribe waited, watching, and I remembered his stare the previous night. He seemed happy about something though, and I wondered if he was glad to be rid of the annoying horse. The Primus Pilus was the one who worried me the most though; he was smiling.

"Well centurion, a busy night I believe, after an exciting day."

It was a statement not a question, so I really only had one possible answer. "Yes, commander!"

"Hmm...."

I waited, staring at a spot somewhere above his left shoulder as he examined a document in front of him on his campaign desk.

"An interesting choice, freeing your slave now. I have the instrument of manumission here, of course. Anything to add?"

"No, commander."

"Are you dissatisfied with his work?"

"No, commander."

"Some reason why making him a Roman citizen at this time might be... beneficial?"

I swallowed, unable to answer. He nodded slowly, and his expression became a little sad.

"You know he will not be able to stay. He cannot be a slave attendant, he is too old to take as a ranker and train, and the Gallic auxiliaries will never accept him now he is a Roman. He has no martial skills in any case."

"I know, sir. He will be safe."

"Hmmm... I am not sure any of us is safe, Sextus Lentullus. Even now."

I looked at him now, wondering at his words. He waved a paw at me, motioning to a seat across from his desk. I dropped into it, still a little ill at ease.

"It is almost over, soldier. Antonius has been run to ground. Octavian is triumphant, and the war will be over soon."

"My ram says that it never ends..."

"He is wise, your Gaul. For now, my time will be coming to an end. I will be entrusted with mopping up, then probably return to obscurity. The wars will not end, though. Sooner or later the proscriptions will start coming, I know my Octavian. Your friend the wolf knows it too..."

His eyes blazed with a tinge of amusement. I waited it out, wondering.

"We have lost a Tribune, it seems. Lucius Calpurnius Piso has begged leave to return to Rome. I fear his time is coming, along with the rest of his family, and he knows it too. Octavian does not like leaving loose ends untied, even blameless ones."

His gaze bore into me like a spear, and I found my tail swishing in nervous response. He nodded again.

"I hear you had a... disagreement last night... do not be alarmed, the Tribune has told me nothing happened, so whatever transpired, you are free it seems. Like those from the town we took yesterday; the messenger was a little late unfortunately. With Antonius gone, they are freed from their obligations to him. They have been pardoned by Octavian... those you executed were the last."

My emotions ran through so many places as he spoke, until the final horror sank in. One more day. One more day, and Gaius would have been spared. Instead...

My head sank into my hands, and I wept.

"Your cousin, I am told..."

"Yes, Sir."

"I have faced down family members in this whole mess, even seen a nephew killed. Civil war has scarred us for so many years; we almost cannot feel any longer. Your grief does you credit, centurion. See it as a blessing from Jupiter Optimus Maximus."

"I cannot..."

"I know. And I am sorry. There is nothing I can do... well, not much. One thing I have done already though. Your ram is going to be staying here, as a freedman. My scribe has been crying out for help, and it appears your Gaul has many skills appropriate to a, ahh... shall we say, highly skilled slave."

Now I was astonished. "I wanted him to go away and be safe..."

"As I said Sextus Lentullus, none of us is safe, anywhere. Even me... but for now, here is probably as safe as anywhere, until things settle down in Rome. Meanwhile... what of you, my warhorse? I heard of your exploits; first over the wall, and saving the siege towers. More decorations, of course, but what do you really want?"

"I want to go. I don't want the glory, or the decorations, or anything. I want to take the money I have earned, and buy a farm, and take my ram there and live quietly."

The commander nodded sadly, and I saw the Primus Pilus looking on wistfully. I knew it was impossible though.

"Soldier, you enlisted for 20 years, like all of the men. We cannot let everyone go who wants to, the legions are needed, now more than ever. This is just the beginning; Octavian will want to spread Rome's power out lest it turn inwards again and destroy us all. The Ninth will be marching soon enough."

"You asked me what I wanted, Sir.."

I saw him exchange a look with the Primus Pilus, a nod, a wink. I began to hope.

"Well, as it happens, I do have a task I need done, Sextus. Orders that came with the last messenger. And it is important enough that I could procure your release from the legion, and enough money for your farm, if you complete it well."

"Name it, Sir..."

"I fear you may not like it, soldier."

*****

I waited in the small office with my companions. We had learned patience by now, after a few months of our dirty work. None of us were especially eager for more, and if there was a delay, the more the better. It gave us time to relax.

The officious wolf finally entered, flanked by his scribes bearing great lengths of parchment and holding wax tablets ready to take down fresh notes. The machinery of retribution was essentially banal, I had found. Names, places, dates, all written down and codified and neat. The execution of the orders was never as easy or neat, but that was our problem.

"Well, this is the last of them for now, Sextus. You should be grateful; you complain enough."

I ground my teeth and nodded. My mind turned to my ram, Carolixus, letting the thought of his voice, his smile, his body sustain me. If he would still take me, after what I had done. One last mission, one last harvest, one last payment. I just hoped the blood would wash away.

"Now, nobody very important here, but still, the Emperor has decreed they must die. And die they shall... you are efficient at least, horse."

I nodded, not wanting to meet his gaze. My companions shuffled their hooves and also refused to meet his eyes. I reached out to nudge them, letting them feel my support. I knew, better than anyone. I hoped they forgave me too.

When Flaccus had told me of my work, I had been appalled, but the lure of getting what I needed so much was too strong. It would take me away, and maybe that was what Carolixus needed too, a time without me there to find someone else, or forget the words that had hurt more even than the sight of me taking the wolf like a stallion mounts a mare, no longer caring about my love but only revenge.

He had been horrified, had my ram. But he knew my mind was made up.

To my surprise, some of my men agreed, even pleaded to join me. I was touched by their loyalty, and their support. Once again I felt belonging, even as I knew I had to go. They were still by my side, right to the end, Valerius and Craxus. I had learned to trust them with everything, even my soul.

"Well... time to get to it, horse. The Empire waits..."

We took the list, last of many, and headed to the stable to discuss our plan. None of these should be able to afford much protection from the sound of it, and may even have fled already. Collecting their property for sale to fill the coffers of Rome would be a simple affair. I read through the list, names, places, until some caught my eye and I stiffened. My companions caught the sense of disquiet, they knew me by now well enough. My ears, my tail... as an equine, they broadcast my thoughts better than a herald, and I had not learned to still them.

"Sextus Lentullus... what is wrong..." it was Valerius, the kindly bull who spoke first. I could not answer.

"Lentullus?"

"Valerius, Craxus... I fear you may not be able to join me for this one..."

Their expressions were flat, their bodies eloquent. I gave a long deep sigh, and let it out.

*****

The Roman City of Placentia, 30 BC

We rode together, swords at the ready, down the familiar road I remembered so well. I took the turning, at the Appine gate, past the Via Latium, through the narrow network of lanes that had not changed in the years since I had last come here as a young lost stallion. When we came to the end and dismounted, I took a moment, sizing up the situation.

The sign was still there, the Sabine Lion under the three Sabine kings. The red mane had ever received a fresh coat of paint. The doorway was as I remembered it, down to the presence of two massive Nubian bulls guarding the way. This time though, far from looking bored, they were nervous. Their tail tufts swished in uneven tempo, their nose rings jiggled, and they fingered their own weapons as if expecting the Gods themselves to descend in vengeance.

In a way, they were right.

I led my little party forward until we were ten paces from the guardians, and stopped. I didn't draw my sword, yet. The bulls' eyes darted, nervously, as I pulled out the scroll.

"I am Sextus Lentullus, a representative of the Senate and People of Rome, and I come to arrest traitors to Rome who I believe to be inside. Let me and my men pass, in the name of Rome."

The bulls looked at each other, eyes wide in fear, snorting. I saw one flexing his hand next to the scabbard containing his scimitar. It did not look good.

"Think, man. Let us pass... there is no need to die here today."

I had tried to appeal to fear; it had become natural, like breathing. It was everywhere. I had miscalculated; these bulls were not afraid. Uncertain, but not afraid. And now they were angry.

The leader seemed to draw himself up, letting out a bellow of alarm as he drew his weapon. His companion was not far behind, and my fellow legionaries joined me with their own swords flashing in the light from the tavern. For a long second, nothing happened.

Then the lead bull charged.

It took only seconds, and I stood panting with exertion as the two Nubians bled out their lives on the cobbles, eyes full of respect as much as sadness. We lay them to one side with reverence. I would make sure they were buried with honour, when the time came. I had not wanted to kill them; after all, once long ago they had done me a great service.

As had some of those inside; we charged through the outer room, looking for our quarry. In the small office behind the bar, I found two of them, waiting patiently.

The cow gasped when she saw me. The lion only managed to look sad.

"Sextus Lentullus, my dear colt... I wondered if one day we would meet again. I had not dreamed it would be in these circumstances, though. I always knew you would go far though..."

The lion looked to have aged in the intervening years, more than the passage of time could explain. He sagged into his seat as if defeated, pulling at his seal ring with busy fingers.

"Hail, Titus. You did not tell me who your patron was, I remember. A pity..."

The lion nodded sadly. "It is one of life's great problems I agree, that we cannot choose our own patrons better. I wish now I had never known the wolf, or his son..."

"Is Piso here?"

The lion seemed about to deny it, then just nodded. "He had nowhere else to go. I have known him since he was a pup, as much as I am ashamed to say it. He is not all bad, that lad. Remember that when you have to do... well, what you must. Once he was a frightened pup I told stories to in bed, and who held me while he slept to keep the evil away. If it found him, I am as much at fault as he is."

"I will remember it, my friend. And other things, Titus, things best not spoken of. But for now, I have to deal with you two..."

The cow looked surprised at that, and the lion looked as if he would protest. "Me?"

"Yes, Lucilla. A courtesan can have many guises, and many roles. Such as spy for Antonius, for example. I believe your clients were always eager to gossip."

I hated her fear. I needed it though, for now. She was not taking it well, knuckles white as she gripped the desk next to Titus.

"What are you going to do with me..."

"You two have been declared hostis, public enemies. Your property has been confiscated, and I am here to execute you before I display your severed heads on the rostra as a warning to those tempted to rebel against Rome's lawful authorities..."

The lion snorted, amused. "Lawful..."

I showed him my scabbard. "This is all the law required, Titus. And I know you expected this."

He nodded, all fight gone. "How is Carolixus?" The name made me pause, almost undone by the sound. I managed to cough away the lump in my throat, thinking of my ram. I hoped he still thought of me... and I feared that he did.

"He is... he is well."

"Good. I managed to save them all you know."

"I never doubted it, Titus."

My men brought them around to stand in front of the desk, preparing to take them outside as we agreed. I caught the looks from Titus and Lucilla, the resignation, and felt myself falling but caught it in time. Instead, I gave each of them a kiss, soft and gentle for the lion, long and hot for the cow. Then I let my men lead them out, and headed into the maze of remembered rooms.

I found the wolf sitting on the edge of the great bath, his hindpaws dangling in the water, almost oblivious to the world. I could almost see the pup Titus spoke of, playful and at peace. The effect was spoiled though by a large flagon of wine that stood beside him, and as I approached I saw him take a long draught of wine and throw the flagon against the wall. His tail stopped moving as he heard my approach, and he turned and stared in astonishment.

"You! Why did it have to be you?"

"Hail and well met, Lucius Calpurnius Piso."

"I have money, enough to buy..."

"I know, Tribune. It has been confiscated, for Rome. Now I have come to take the last thing you own."

He stood now, already shaking, but his eyes were calm. They stared into mine, deep with sadness.

"I will beg for mercy, if it makes any difference."

My sword sounded harsh in the echoing bath chamber as I drew it from its scabbard, the sound crashing back and forward as the wolf's nose quivered. He stared at the blade, seeing his fate written in the steel.

"Mercy is not Roman; you taught me that, patrician."

"Ahh, but you aren't very Roman, are you, horse?"

I grabbed him by the scruff and forced him to kneel. My fingers flexed in his coat, and I remembered for a second the feel of him as I bent him over the desk in his tent. The power, the fear, the hate. It coursed through me again, sustaining, warming. I brought my sword up to his neck.

"Your stallion... I will ask his forgiveness, when I see him." He sounded defeated, even sad.

"Good. I will not forgive."

"I know. Make it quick."

I bent down to kiss his ears. "Then close your eyes, Piso."

He did.

*****

I knelt on the bed on all fours, needy, anticipating the touch, the caress, and more. The nights were so beautiful with him. I had missed that feel more than I knew.

Outside, the soft warm air caressed the vines that struggled from the earth, the rich red earth of our farm. Wine was always in demand, especially good wine, and our old and tired vines still made for rich wine that found buyers in the best parts of Rome.

We were not rich. We were barely staying afloat, but that was good. Nobody would bother us, we were not worth bothering about. I did not dream, back when I was 18, that being so ordinary could be such a wonderful thing.

The scent of vines came through the window, along with the scent of apple trees. I opened my nostrils wide to drink in those scents. They reminded me of Gaius, but I could think of him without breaking now. He was part of me, always, but his loss did not define me. Not while I had my love with me. In the two months we had been here, I had begun to heal, thanks to my ram.

When I returned to the Ninth, and my ram, I had not known what to expect. The months acting as executioner of Rome had made me hardened, and I worried what he would see. Perhaps I feared it and wanted it. A part of me would have been grateful if he had sent me away; at least I could not let him down.

It was both better and worse than I feared.

When I joined him in our tent, my armor removed carefully and his hands washing away the dirt of the road, I caught him crying, tears coursing down his cheeks unhindered. I caught one on a finger, his cheek hot, and he turned to me with eyes full of pain and love. I wondered if I had looked like that, contemplating Gaius at the end. The thought almost unmanned me.

"Hail, Sextus Lentullus. A Roman, after all."

I had wanted to strike him then, as the bitterness in his voice went straight to the bitterness in my own heart. But the moment passed, and I curled up on a couch, body shaking and I could not look at him, as he could not at me.

"It seems you are Roman too Carolixus. Your ram has touched my wall, and I am not to be spared."

"Like you spared those you executed, my love?"

He was crying openly now, and I looked at him suddenly. He had said the words, still. I ached.

"Am I still that, Carolixus?"

"Yes Lentullus. And that is the worst of all; I cannot begin to stop loving you, even now."

We made love then, hungrily on my part, dutifully on his, until I gave him the lead and he took me with such anger, and such power, I had never felt before. Lying together afterwards, with his body lying behind mine, I felt his fingers trace the wound on my shoulder and felt his breath on my neck.

"Why, Lentullus?"

"I did it for us, my love. I want to be away from this, and with you at my side. This was the only way."

"But you have given up the best parts of you my love. How do I know there is something left to hold?"

"Give me time Carolixus, and I will show you."

There was one more difficult conversation to come though, when I showed him my new slave. I thought he might leave me then, but instead he looked searchingly into my eyes, and said no more.

Over the months since, as the horrors of my days receded, we had healed some of the wounds I opened up between us, though I still feared what might come. His first kiss in our new farmhouse made all my fears disappear with the wind however, and our first night together we made love with more passion and heat than we had even managed in the carefree environs of the Sabine Lion. The ghosts had departed for a moment, safe now in Charon's embrace. I could give myself to him completely. Well, almost.

"Are you ready, stallion?" the voice was full of laughter, as well as heat. He knew I was ready, the rogue.

"You know I am, Carolixus. You can smell me well enough..."

His hand found my full sheath from behind, leaking musk like a river. He reached out to cup my testicles and stroke the soft velvet of my sheath up and down the length of my swollen cock. I dropped for him so easily now, some days as we worked in the sun I caught sight of him bent over and could not contain my body and we took each other in the dust and the grass wherever we were; the soft grass beside the river, the rough dust of the vineyard, the straw floor of the barn. His body was mine, as mine was his. And there was still infinite exploration to be done before we reached an end.

I let out a soft gasp as his fingers travelled the length of my cock, fingertips tracing the line of my urethra, until the hand clasped my flare and stroked, and I neighed and nickered as my tip leaked, and I shuddered with the building need for him to take me. He knew it was time, and just as I was about to beg, he stopped me with a kiss planted right on my clenched pucker.

He ate me with relish, soft and hard, gentle and rough, lips, tongue, fingers until I pounded my fist on the bed in desire and begged for him to mount me and fuck me into rapture.

As he rested the tip of his cock against my wet pucker, I lifted my head off the bed and looked across the room to the third member of our farm community. Our single slave, all we could afford to keep, sat, unhappily, on his seat, watching.

"Enjoying yourself, Tigellus?"

The wolf did not look like he was enjoying himself. Or to be more correct, he looked like he was enjoying himself too much. His cock was erect, red and hard, the knot already swollen, the tip leaking a steady stream of precum. He probably would have done something about it if he could, but his paws were bound behind him, and his ankles also bound to the seat. He had a view fit for the best seat in the Coliseum, but he could not applaud. Or anything else his body craved at that moment.

We kept him caged normally, the cruel metal and leather device clenched tight round his scrotum and sheath. He could relieve himself, but not touch. No long slow stroke for our slave. Just need upon need.

Then at night we let him free, but not to touch, just to watch and ache and leak until the cage returned with the morning. He was almost used to it now, though how his balls must feel defied description.

And need he did, I knew. Though it made Carolixus frown, I enjoyed my play with the former Tribune, and before we began our loving in earnest, once he was tied securely, I would tease his cock exquisitely, until he was leaking like a viaduct. I gave him a long slow teasing tonight, delighting in his moans and cries, and the way each stroke drew fresh gouts of clear prespunk from his aching cock, and the way his balls danced demanding an ending. His eyes were half-lidded, but as my Gaul took me, they were wide open, shining, and aching as much as his needful cock.

I was more interested in other things though.

"Please... have mercy..."

I shook my head, almost sad.

"_Murum aries attigit..._you know what that means."

My ram knew too. With a wild full throated bleat he speared my hole. I arched my back, feeling him take me deep in one long sighing stroke, my head back, ears flat in submission, mane shaking with my answering whinny of love. He knew my body so well now, and when he began his slow steady thrusts, testing my depths, teasing, I responded as I usually did, urging him on with my voice as I watched our slave watching on helpless.

As our loving became harsher, I leaned back against his body, sitting up, while he rocked his hips and rode my body with his, hands now on me. I felt him grip my length already hot and leaking, stroking fast then slow then concentrating just under the flare as my pleasure built, and I gripped his cock with my tunnel greedy for his balls to fill me.

My ram rested his muzzle on my shoulder, kissing, and he looked at our slave wolf too, enjoying the show we were giving. I knew Carolixus' eyes would be troubled. It troubled me that that did not matter right now, or not enough.

"Now you see how a Gaul loves, Roman. And know, for as long as we keep you, you will never know this love. Ever."

The wolf nodded, and at last I saw him cry. I was surprised, for he had not cried even as I held the sword to his neck in the Sabine Lion and made him a last bargain that Charon would be proud of.

I had always intended to save Titus and Lucilla. It was not easy, getting them away, but at least they could be free. They had enough money and contacts to survive, once my friends got them to Brindisium.

The wolf though, there I pondered, and there I could not decide. It was not until I had him kneeling and caught the scent of his fear and saw the resignation that I decided. Dead he would still have some hold on me. Alive, I could exorcise some demons and use him as I saw fit.

And so Lucius Calpurnius Piso died, and Tigellus, wolf slave from Thrace, was born. He had come willingly, it seemed, even though for a Roman patrician, purchasing your life in such a way was shameful. Now he knew the true cost of his life though, and the pain had begun to tell.

As my first climax for the night overwhelmed me, spurting long ropes of seed into the air only to fall in long gashes on the bed, I locked eyes with the wolf, and gave him a smile.

"You asked for mercy, Tigellus? How is this?"

The wolf nodded, suddenly solemn. "I did. And I was wrong. You are a Roman, after all, Sextus Lentullus."

Afterwards, lying in my Gallic ram's arms, I felt him shudder against me as if Charon had touched his cheek. We were looking over to Tigellus, who had been allowed to lie on his bed, sobbing quietly, his aching cock still hard. I had left the cage off for now, and he had obeyed my command not to touch. He was obeying, I saw, and hated that that did not satisfy me. I knew the cause and gritted my muzzle against it.

"Lentullus..."

"Yes my love."

"I thought you wanted to be free of him?"

I turned and stared into his eyes, seeing the hurt, and wondering how he could see into my heart.

"I am..."

"That is not what I see my love. He owns your soul still, even now."

I turned again to look at Piso. He was shaking, curled in a ball, and I felt the war inside myself then. I had once looked like that, I knew, a lost and frightened colt, cast out and humbled. No Roman, or so I was told, I had both hated and desired that title. The words of the former patrician from before came to me again, and I realised they were the same ones my Gaul had spoken when I returned from my time as executioner of Rome. You are Roman, after all. I realised I felt no pride at it then, or now. Only disgust.

"What have I become, Carolixus?"

He kissed my shoulder, right over the wound, and wrapped his arms around me.

"Only you can tell that my love. Only you."

As the quiet of night stole over our home, I rose and walked over to the other bed. The figure on it turned, his eyes glittering in the moonlight as he looked at me. I realised his eyes held many things; and chief amongst them was fear. I gritted my muzzle and made my decision.

"I am releasing you Tigellus. And myself. I will arrange the act of manumission, but you will no longer be my slave. And you may do as you will with your body. It is yours."

His eyes widened, and I nodded to him and turned, taking my place in bed again as I felt arms enfold me from behind and a voice at my ear.

"Not very Roman, my love."

"Maybe Carolixus. Perhaps I was not very Roman after all. What am I then?"

"Yourself, Sextus Lentullus. The stallion I loved, always, even when he went away for a time. But now he has returned."

As we lay there kissing softly, I felt a presence. Looking to the side, I saw Piso, his cock jutting, stroking gently. His eyes were troubled, but I saw need. I beckoned with my eyes.

"I am afraid you failed to teach me how to be a Roman after all, Tribunus."

He managed a ghost of a smile.

"You always were a poor Roman, plebeian. But perhaps you can teach me this, instead."

The night passed unquietly, but it passed. And while little mercy was shown to my body, for my soul, the Gods smiled down. And if my Gaius was waiting patiently for me by Charon's side, I knew he would at least recognise me when my own time came. And that was the greatest mercy of all.