Bathed in the deep golden rays of a late afternoon sun, she stood near a marble railing and stared at the back of the legendary tribune, holding a goblet of wine close to her bosom with both hands. She wore a gown of white Egyptian linen sewn with wine red and silver thread. The linen was thin and translucent, almost scandalous in its near transparence for a recently widowed Roman matron to wear. It fell across her long, lithe figure with a seductive beauty. The gown was comprised of several layers of the expensive and very thin cloth. But while it did not hide completely her statuesque frame from the eyes of any potential admirer, what was hidden by the gentle folds of cloth only accentuated her natural beauty. And the way she moved with such fluid grace across the gardens in the rear of
