I warmed his cold blood

Helen cooked the soup and asked Lucas to pray silently.He carefully wiped his face and hands in case Lucas felt sticky.He also clipped some herbs, sprinkled some honey on it for Lucas to chew, and tucked him in to keep the cold wind out of the bed.

He soaked the towel in herbal water, wrung it dry and looked at Lucas, "Take off your woolen blanket and coat, and I'll wipe your back."

Lucas froze and said hesitantly: "My master, I'm afraid you have broken the dignity of being a master, and it is definitely quite serious."

"Stop talking nonsense!" Helen sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his arm to make him sit up.

He tore open the collar of Lucas's coarse cloth, pulled it down, and the gladiator's strong chest bloomed in his field of vision.

This is a chest with a very masculine beauty, with a dull golden color under the firelight, like the vicissitudes of gold leaf that has been through the years.The muscles are strong and plump, the skin is tight, slightly rough, and the beauty of the shape is by no means inferior to the statue of the sun god.

As in memory, the chest is covered with scars. Of course, the biggest and deepest is Polio’s family seal, which is like a monster entrenched in the heart. This kind of seal is similar to some kind of apocalypse, implying some truth that cannot be revealed .

Helen's fingers touched his chest, stained with sweat, but he didn't feel disgusted at all.

He began to paint the family seal again, and remained silent all the time, like a dull, hard and beautiful stone sculpture.

"When ironing...it hurts, right?" he said suddenly.

Lucas was stunned for a moment, "It doesn't hurt, it's like being bitten by an ant." He replied.

Helen didn't say anything, and patiently wiped off his sweat, then asked him to turn sideways, and wiped his wet back.

The lashes, now healed, criss-crossed his back.Thinking that these scars were all caused by herself, Heron felt sour and sighed slightly.

He really, really wanted to say some words of gratitude—for example, thank you for your loyalty, thank you for protecting the Lord with your life, you are my most trusted confidant, I decided to give you a reward...

However, these words of gratitude were choked in his throat, and as soon as he uttered them, they condensed into a sad sentence with a final sound as light as a feather:

"You idiot, Lucas..."

Lucas' throat felt hot.For some reason, he suddenly felt like crying.

After cleaning his body, Helen asked Lucas to change into his own silk clothes, and gave him another cold compress.

"I'm not very good at taking care of people." Helen helped him to lie down, "You'd better get well soon, and we can all suffer less."

Lucas was covered with a thick quilt and touched his forehead, "I think I'm already cured, and my body temperature is so normal that it can't be normal anymore. I'm as energetic as if I'm fighting in a theater!"

He sat up again and beat his chest; he bent his arms again, showing Herron his plump muscles and showing off his strength.

The corner of Helen's mouth twitched, he glanced at him lightly, and made him a bowl of light honey water.

"Recite the holy name of the god of fever silently, and then drink this." He handed out the bowl.

Lucas took the bowl and drank it in one gulp.He drank water violently, and the honey water poured into his neck.He wiped it casually and lay down, his rough habit was fully revealed.

Heron frowned, trying to wipe the corners of his mouth and neck with a wet towel.As soon as he reached out, Lucas grabbed him.

This kind of work of serving people is definitely not what the master should do.

The two looked at each other, and Helen withdrew his hand and wiped it clean for him.

Lucas pursed his lips, just about to say something.

Helen cut off his unspoken words: "Stop talking, go to sleep!"

He touched his forehead carefully to make sure his body temperature was normal before blowing out the candle.

……

After a day and night of recuperation, Lucas was back to life.A large amount of medicinal supplements made him full of energy, his body seemed to be much lighter, and he walked with his head held high.

Wearing a black cloak and a bunch of blond hair, he sat on the carriage with a grin.His occasional softness faded away, returning to that hard temperament.

Clashing his whip vigorously, he arrived in Capua in his chariot at noon.

Unlike the noisy and prosperous Rome, Capua is like a comfortable rich girl.There are snowmen piled up on the side of the street, tall and short, fat and thin.The snowflakes obliterate everything, only revealing the brown-red wooden houses and green pine trees, embellishing the vast and wide white.Women put clay pots on their heads and painted bright oil paint on the outside of the pots; marble fountains were frozen, and naughty children were skating on the frozen river.

Helen lifted the window screen lazily, and reached out to fish a small handful of snow from the window.He stared at Lucas' straight back, smirked and tore off his collar, pouring a little ice and snow into it.

Lucas shuddered, and met his smiling eyes as soon as he turned his head.

"You want to have a snowball fight?" Lucas pointed outside, "Like those kids?"

"Of course not. I just wanted to tease you. I'm not as childish as they are."

Helen pointed forward with his chin, "Apega Mountain is ahead. Gattuso said he would rent a wooden house halfway up the mountain, and there is an open-air charcoal fire in the yard, which can be used for barbecue and potatoes. We will go there now, maybe we will go there again." You can eat cinnamon-flavored dormouse baked by Sura! She's so good at it!"

The carriage came to the foot of the mountain.Lucas tied the horse and gave it some water.

The two climbed up the stairs holding on to the iron chain.

The fog in the mountains is getting thicker and thicker, and it is hard to tell whether it is white fog or white snow.The mist sticks to the eyes like glue, swallowing up all the colors, leaving only the frightening white.Heron could only see the steps closest to his feet, and the long road ahead seemed to be a ghost, evasive.

He suddenly felt palpitations, with a bad premonition, gradually wrapping his heart like an invisible devil's hand.

Heron's foot slipped, and the iron chain jingled, and Lucas quickly hugged his waist.

"Are you okay?" Lucas looked at him worriedly.

Helen was silent for a while, then said, "...it's all right."

His complexion was not very good, and his cheeks were light blue.He knew very well that without Lucas, he might have slipped down the mountainside.

When they came to the agreed place, both of them gasped.

It has been licked by the fire, the pine trees are blackened, and there are black and soft particles floating in the air.The wooden house was burned beyond recognition, like a charred corpse that had been burned alive.The burnt smell is very pungent, piercing the heart from the tip of the nose like a dart.

Among the white mountains, here is like a drop of dirty ink coming in, polluting all the whiteness.

All life seemed to be swept away by the fire.

"My God! Gattuso and the others..."

Helen couldn't help trembling, dripping with cold sweat.His legs and feet were weak, and he knelt on the snow, his eyes covered with black mist.The thunder-like bad news made him feel that he was in a dream, and his mind went blank. He wanted to escape from this nightmare, but was shocked to find that he was still in this cruelty.

Lucas hugged him from behind, holding his trembling shoulders.

His golden eyebrows moved slightly, his ears caught the slight sound, and he said in surprise: "There are cries...they are not dead!"

Herron calmed down a bit.Lucas followed the sound and slowly explored into the pine forest.

He saw Gattuso and Sura, but not Seneca.

The couple sat slumped on the ground, and the white mist that poured from the top of the pine tree wrapped around them.

Sura was hugged by her husband, her face was ashen, even her lips were white.She was completely messed up, as if she had been sucked out of her soul by a demon, and her eyes were nothing but holes penetrated by the demon's hand.

"Gattuso...Where's Seneca?!" Standing behind Lucas, Herron saw that their arms were empty, "Damn it! Who will tell me what's going on!"

Su La suddenly became excited.She screamed in pain, her arms beat her chest, her legs kicked nervously, her nails cut her husband's hand, and her face was so hideous that it was not usual.She seemed to be possessed by some ghost, she lost her gentleness, and her whole body and mind were darker than this scorched wood.

"Ah... my Seneca! My Seneca! I might as well die... Oh! The god who killed a thousand swords, go fuck Fukuzawa! I will curse the damned god for the rest of my life... ...told him to give me back my son..."

She wailed like a ghost, tearing her hair crazily, the corners of her eyes almost cracked.Gattuso held her tightly, preventing her from hurting herself.

Sura twitched like crazy, and finally passed out in her husband's arms.

Herron panicked.Gattuso looked sideways, his face was ashen, his eyes were bloodshot, and there were purple bags under his eyes, as if he was wearing a clown's mask.

"Last night, we fell asleep after eating...then the house caught fire..." he hoarsely said, "Sura passed out. In a coma..."

He was breathing heavily, his face was pale, like a drowning man, "Seneca...my Seneca...God! I am an incompetent father! I can't even keep my son..."

The air was as still as stagnant oil, and the sobs of despair floated like ghosts.

Helen's scalp was numb, and a cold chill penetrated his skin.

Lucas looked around, didn't say much, carried Sura on his back and went down the mountain.

When the four returned to the carriage, Gattuso carried his wife into the carriage to take care of her.

Herron sat on the carriage, beside Lucas who was whipping and reining.They were no longer in the mood to admire the snow and pray for blessings, and planned to return to Rome immediately.

The carriage walked alone in the white snow, leaving horseshoe marks and two rows of wheel marks.

Lucas looked forward and said heavily: "Even a small baby will leave a charred body when it is burned to death. But we didn't see anything."

Herron thought for a while in silence, "Seneca is not dead."

"It's very possible." Lucas said, "And...the weather is so cold, and there is still snow on the ground, it is impossible to create such a big fire out of thin air."

"Gattuso said they went to bed after eating," Herron said. The beginning of his evening entertainment..."

Lucas looked solemn, "I think...someone planned to set the fire. The arsonist also knew the destination of our snow appreciation, and he should have snatched the infant Seneca."

Herron's breath was short, "If you weren't sick, we would have caught up with this disaster."

"Yes, if the God of Fever doesn't punish me." Lucas looked at him worriedly, "Even you were almost in danger, just like the last two times you almost ran into the God of Disaster."

"I didn't tell anyone that I was going to Mount Apega," Herron said. "Gattuso's children were robbed, probably by his enemies. You know he is a politician who is easy to offend. It’s not that the child’s threat hasn’t happened before.”

Lucas thought for a while, "This matter is very complicated, confusing people like a fog. I don't know who this hatred comes from, I only know that you must pay attention to safety."

Herron nodded, "After returning to Rome, we have to inform the court as soon as possible. Who knows if I will be in danger again? In the past six months, I have narrowly escaped death three times."

Lucas looked at him, "I will continue to protect you, just like the previous two times."

At this time, the sky was covered with cotton-like snow, and there was a rustling sound.Lucas had salt flakes on his hair and shoulders, as well as on his eyebrows and eyelashes.His ears were red from the cold, and his cheeks were bloodshot.

Herron stared at him for a moment, then pulled the cloak hat on for him over his ears.