ATRA<br/><br/>The household was awakening, the other slaves were about now doing their various jobs and from beyond the balcony I could hear the clicking of wood on wood and the calls of the men as they practised their fighting. I would have loved to have gone to watch them moving and bending, twisting and striking, their muscles shifting and their sweat rising... but... I sighed. I had work to do and if I didn't do it I would be whipped.<br/><br/>Ooh! The Young Master went by the<em>culina</em>doorway on his way in that direction. He must have arrived late last night long after I had gone to sleep. One of the male slaves would have served him as he readied for bed after his travels. We had been told of course that he was returning but I had expected him today. While crushing mint in the mortar and pestle I stuck my head round the door and watched his back receding as he made his way across the<em>hortus</em>towards the balcony steps. I liked Young Master. He was kind and had a pleasant face and a straight back.<br/><br/>I hummed a little tune as I went back to my work, my step suddenly a little lighter.<br/><br/>I left the flat loaves slowly rising in the bake oven and began to take in dishes of food to the<em>triculinium</em>placing them in the centre of the group of couches on the long table. I placed out the cold food first - the soft corn-dough cakes and the wheat cakes, the fruit and the honey snaps, the figs wrapped in vine leaves and drizzled in oil and the fresh milk and water jugs with lemons and oranges sliced and standing by should the family wish to add zest to their water.<br/><br/>The hot food would be served as the family went in to dine, but I took the loaves from the oven and let them cool before breaking them into fresh warm sweet smelling chunks and piling the pieces in a bowl to be dipped in milk and honey or in salted oil as the diners preferred. There was also the hot porridge and even warmed milk seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg and sweetened with a little honey if that was preferable to their stomachs. Lastly there were the meat cakes of minced beef rolled with breadcrumbs and finely diced onions and green peppers which could be dipped in a sweet sauce or in a hot spicy one made from a paste of olive oil, chopped hot small peppers and herbs.<br/><br/>Master and Mistress would be up soon. I waited, keeping the cooked food hot on the stone shelf over the oven whilst remaining in the<em>triculinium</em>doorway bearing a long fan of peacock feathers that I used to keep the insects away from the prepared meal. My stomach was grumbling but of course I had eaten nothing yet - merely tasted the dishes to ensure they were properly cooked. My breakfast would be the leftovers if there were any, or bread dipped in olive oil if not.