That suited Flaccus. For days now he had been feeling an itch on the back of his neck; his worry bump, the men called it. It always foretold of impending trouble, he'd never known it once to be wrong, and the only trouble he was currently aware of was six foot of black haired, blue eyed, slave whom he would swear held 'Trouble' as a title amongst the myriad that she had once owned.

His grey eyes narrowed as he watched her stumble, then somehow manage to regain her footing avoiding taking a heavy fall on the cobble paved yard. He'd had her hauling those rocks for two complete days and nights now, with only short periods off to water and feed her. She'd been allowed no sleep and her exhaustion was becoming apparent. Satisfied that she'd had enough for now, he was just about to have her taken to the baths before being locked up for the night, when the messenger had appeared before him.

"The mistress would like to see the new slave," the youth had told him simply. The lad might only be a slave, but his mistress was Caesar's wife, the wife of the de-facto ruler of Rome and a powerful woman in her own, and her family's, right.

"This slave is Lord Caesar's personal property," Flaccus answered tersely, "She is highly dangerous and needs to be kept under tight guard at all time. I think your lady might wish to seek approval from her lord before asking that this slave be brought before her."

Undaunted by the centurion's words, the youth answered, "My mistress said to remind you that she runs this house while her lord is away and that all within it fall under her dominion. She wishes you to bring the savage to the solarium so that she can inspect her properly." His message delivered, the boy turned and left without waiting to hear further objection from Flaccus, secure in the knowledge that Pompeia would protect him from any ire that the soldier felt.

- Damn all women, - swore Flaccus in silent frustration as he signalled one of the guards over.

"Sir," the legionary snapped to attention and waited for his centurion's orders.

"Dorphus," snapped the officer, "I want you to go and turn out the reserve guard and collect the collar chains and oak beam for the slave .. and be quick about it."

"At once, sir," answered the soldier and quickly sprinted off, remembering to salute before doing so.

"Gravis," barked out Flaccus to another nearby sentry. When the man presented himself, the centurion motioned to the two items of furniture and the paperwork, saying, "Take these things back to my quarters then get back here as quick as you can."

"Sir," saluted the soldier as he hurried to carry out his task.

Stretching unhurriedly, Flaccus winced at the cracks and pops his bones made as he straightened up and made his way across the parade ground to where Xena continued to toil under the hot afternoon sun. He stood and watched as she passed him carrying the last rock from the pile, down to where the others rested, accompanied by the four guards that held the long chains secured on her ankles. It was a boring duty for the men, so it was assigned to those who had to work off minor transgressions. Even so they were relieved every third candlemark, unlike the slave who was forced to carry on relentlessly until given leave to stop.

As she dropped the final rock onto the pile, Flaccus barked, "Alright, bring her over here."

In short order, Xena stood before the senior centurion. The exhaustion etched into her body was evident, even though she did her best to banish it as she came to a halt before him. She could feel Flaccus' eyes upon her and could sense his satisfaction at what he saw. Anger flared momentarily in her eyes before she smothered it ruthlessly. She had no intention of watching helpless children take another beating because of her pride and temper. So, she kept her eyes cast down on the stones beneath her feet and waited to hear what Flaccus had in mind for her next.

She hid her surprise well when the reserve guard appeared along with her travelling restraints; she'd been certain that Flaccus was getting ready to lock her up for the night, and she'd been relishing the thought of curling up on her blanket, on the hard ground, for some much needed sleep. As the various chains and wood beam were locked into place, however, she pushed such thoughts from her mind and set herself to endure whatever else lay before her.

Once everything was secured, Flaccus checked all of the locks himself to be absolutely certain there was no risk of his captive breaking free, then gestured for the procession to follow him as he led Xena, her normal six guards, and forty other soldiers through the palace towards the solarium where Pompeia awaited them.

Pompeia sat quietly embroidering an intricate pattern on a new cover for a favourite cushion. Many women of the Roman aristocracy felt that such mundane activities were not worthy of their time and effort, but Pompeia found it to be relaxing, giving her something to occupy her hands whilst allowing her mind the freedom to consider and explore the many facets of the political life that she was so heavily emersed in.

Since she had returned to Rome two evenings ago, she had spent a considerable amount of time in collecting information about the woman that her husband had gone to such considerable lengths to capture. What she had discovered had intrigued her .. so much so, that she wished to have a closer look at the woman who was capable of besting the great Julius Caesar in the arts of war, and who hated her husband with a passion that was almost holy.

She wasn't really sure why she was so interested in the slave. Normally she would avoid any female who could eclipse her own beauty and, although she prided herself on her own education and intelligence, what she had learned from Caesar and her other sources, made her feel certain that this woman's accumulated fund of knowledge and innate mental abilities would make her feel inadequate. Something she hated when she occasionally encountered it amongst her peers, and she knew that she would loathe it in a social inferior. However, as the woman was merely a slave, she could always take out her angst by impressing her with the fact that she was inferior.

Then, of course, there was the question of Nicolette's beating, received as punishment for the savage's misbehaviour. She didn't object, in principle, to the child being beaten, she had, after all disciplined the girl far more harshly on more than one occasion. No, what she objected to was her husband's cavalier appropriation of her personal property without consulting with her first. - I might just take this opportunity to reciprocate in kind, - she contemplated maliciously.

Andreas, the young slave she had sent down with the order to bring the warrior slave before her, had returned some time ago from his errand, and Pompeia was beginning to become impatient. She was aware that Flaccus was totally devoted to his commander and might well ignore her summons if Caesar had specifically laid down instructions pertaining to the woman, but the noblewoman doubted that would be the case in this situation as she suspected her husband would never consider her to be interested in this dangerous slave.

The light was beginning to fade quite badly and she put the embroidery aside with an impatient sigh annoyed that she was being kept waiting. She was about to send Andreas to discover just what was taking Flaccus so long, when she recognised the heavy tread of many soldiers' boots echoing down the corridor to the room where she awaited them. She frowned slightly. She expected Flaccus to bring the slave up under guard, but it almost sounded as if he had brought a century of men with him. - Damn the man! I really don't want fifty or more dirty soldiers traipsing through the palace just for one barbarian slave. He's probably doing this as a way of getting at me for making him bring her here. Well he can just march them all back to their quarters! I won't have it! -

Flaccus entered at the head of his sixty-six man guard squad. Quickly noting that there were four doors to the solarium, he ordered fifteen man squads to stand sentry outside each one. He glanced up a the high glass dome that gave the room the abundance of light that made it perfect as the palace's sewing room and judged that the slave would not be able to use it as an improvised exit whilst hampered by the chains that were securely held by the six biggest soldiers he had available.

He motioned the six forward and Xena responded obediently enough to the tug of the chains. She was beyond tired and beyond caring what this spoilt scion of Roman nobility wanted her there for. She halted, when the guards did, just in front of Caesar's wife. Fixing brilliant blue eyes on the woman, the Warrior Princess assumed a bored expression as she waited for the small woman to speak.

"You may take your soldiers and wait outside, centurion,' instructed Pompeia sharply as her gaze took in the heavy chains and oak beam that were used to control the slave she had ordered brought to her.

"That would be impossible, ma'am," returned Flaccus stiffly, "Standing orders state that this slave must be watched by six men at all times day or night. She has too many skills that could help her break free if not closely observed."

"Come, come, senior centurion," the noblewoman soothed sweetly. I will be here to call warning should the savage," she fought the urge to swallow as the blue eyes went cold and deadly, "show any sign of trying to break loose."

My lady," Flaccus tried to explain patiently, his voice heavy with the suppressed urge to bark cuttingly at the woman, "I think you should know that it took two full centuries to capture this she devil. She's put more of my men into the healers hands in the last few moons than the Gauls managed to in six. She doesn't need a weapon in her hand to be deadly, and there are many recorded reports of the ease with which she breaks loose of restraints. Apart from my orders from the Emperor, I could not in all conscience allow you to risk your life by being alone with this murdering savage."

Xena shifted her stance a little, her aching muscles protesting now that she had stopped moving, the long lengths of chain rattling and clinking at her slightest movement. She smothered the crooked grin that crept onto her lips as she saw her guardians tense at her shifting, understanding that the centurion's little lecture had stirred up their own fears once more.

Tuning out the continuing dispute between the woman and the soldier, she allowed her gaze to drift up to the glass dome above her, - If I was loose of these chains, it would be so easy to flip through that roof, - she assessed, - Hades, if I could just get loose of the guards I could do it anyway! Then a quick run across the roof, a drop into a quiet street and before they could organise a decent pursuit, I'd be well away from here. Just another slave in a city full of them .. if I could find a way to get loose from the shackles. -

She was brought back to her present circumstances as her defences registered the movement of Flaccus' vine staff. Without conscious thought her defensive instincts took over. As she swayed away from the stave's path and, as the centurion overbalanced from not meeting the expected resistance to his blow, she whipped her body around sharply to punch him heavily in the stomach with the thick spar of wood that helped pin her arms.

When the centurion collapsed to his knees gasping for breath Xena cursed herself for allowing her attention to wander, - God's dammit! - she raged at herself, knowing that she had scant moments before the guards reacted with the heavy handed brutality she had come to expect from them

Formulating a desperately hurried plan of action, Xena powered herself into a backward flip, that spun her over the heads of her guards, jerking the lead chains out of their hands. Although her neck and ankles were wrenched by the restraints upon them, she pushed the pain from her mind as she used the wooden beam as a battering ram to fell her guards in rapid succession, leaving each of them writhing on the ground desperately sucking air, all in the matter of a few heartbeats.

Pompeia sat transfixed by the sudden burst of violence, her mind failing to register that she should be screaming for the legionaries to come to her immediate assistance. Only when she realised that the, supposedly, restrained slave had disabled her guards, did the Roman noblewoman find her voice. As Flaccus showed signs of forcing himself back to his feet, Pompeia screamed, "GUARDS!" only to watch in astonished disbelief as the heavily shackled slave shot, like a coiled spring, into the air, described a somersault that allowed her to smash her way feet first through the glass dome and land somewhere on the palace roof, before the first of the soldiers had managed to gain entry to the room.