"Are you sure you told them we wanted to watch the boat race?" Faustina asks, staring down at the object in the water.

"Yes, Domina, I'm sure!" Aithne insists, frowning as the object swayed from side to side. "It is difficult for me to undestand their words, but I know I did not misunderstand that."

"That is a BOAT." Faustina points out the obvious. "Romans do not do boats! We leave that to the Greeks! And where in the Seven Hills of Rome did Virodox get to?"

No one seems to know where the cook has run off to, but little Atia seems to think the boat makes a fine place to play. The adventurous child scrambles down and into the boat, much to the dismay of the women. "Why don't we go sailing?" the little girl asks. She looks at the adults with winsome eyes. "I don't see anything that looks like a race around here. Maybe all the other boats have left? We should catch up with them."

"Come out of there at once! You'll drown!" Aithne stomps one foot and points to the shore in the universal gesture of motherhood.

"I don't see what's wrong with a bit of sailing," offers Cicatrix. "It looks like a little skiff. When I was a boy, we used to run up and down the local waterways in crafts such as this one. What do you say, little one...want to go for a ride?"

Of course Atia thinks this is a fine idea. "Who put you in charge, you lout?" Faustina demands and gets a grin in return.

"Don't worry, Domina. You won't get so much as one patrician toe wet. I'm part Phoneican!"

"You are part Sammite, you big lout!"

Atia wins the day -- it is awfully hard to disappoint the little girl. She already has the two big gladiators wrapped around her pudgy little finger. With Cicatrix manning the tiller, they set off down the river. His fellow lout Carnifex sits in the prow, with the women in the middle. The current carries them along, past all the sights of the town. Aithne starts to point things out and tell what stories she remembers from her childhood. Atia leans out and dangles her fingers in the water, calling for the fish to come out and play.

"If those cackling clumps of Caecilia Metallas could see me now," Faustina mutters, although secretly she is glad they decided to take to the water. "They would say, 'Oh look...she's gone native. How quaint'."

"Cook off the starboard bow!" calls Carnifex. They all look to see the rotund Gaul on the shore, arguing with some of his countrymen, who appear to be running a provisions stand of some sort. He has several barrels with him.

"Did he bring us lunch? I'm hungry!" says Atia.

Cicatrix guides the skiff over to the bank to see what's going on. "Hey now, no making them mad," he cautions.

"Mad? Mad?" The cook unleashes a volley of his native tongue and Aithne covers her daughter's ears. "They are mad to think they can call these things provisions! I am shopping Domina. While we are here, I wanted to get some REAL things to cook...except that these charlatans are trying to pass off curdled milk as fine cheese! But I did manage to find some nice salted fishes and cheeses for us. I told them you would pay them whatever they asked." And those Parisii look like they could ask for quite a bit.

"Virodox, when we return to Rome, I should turn you over to some sestercii pinching Pythagorean, who'd have you cooking only fava beans for the rest of your days!" Faustina complains, but just to make the peace, she pays the men for what Virodox has picked out. He loads his precious cargo into the boat and they are off again.