The House of the Vestals

Ursus grinned. "Yes, bees can sting. But I always say that bee-keeping is like loving a woman. You get stung every so often, but you keep coming back for more, because the honey is worth it."
"Oh, not always, Ursus," I sighed. "Not always."

Crime takes no holidays. Or more accurately: crime enjoys the holidays immensely.

I shook my head. "Trapped between warlords and brigands, with the Roman Senate to lead us-sometimes I despair for our republic."
"As do all thinking men," agreed Lucius. We shared a moment of silent contemplation on the crisis of the Roman state, then he eagerly launched into his tale again.

Lemures do exist-perhaps not as visitors perceptible to the senses, but in another way. The dead do have power to spread misery among the living. The spirit of a man can carry on and cause untold havoc from beyond the grave. The more powerful the man, the more terrible his legacy.

The wicked are often cowards, even the coldest heart may be haunted by crime, and human foxes as often as not step into traps of their own devising.

"(...)I would investigate the circumstances by myself, only"—the great bulk of his body shrank a bit—"I'm not exactly brave…"
I glanced at the glittering jewelry about his fingers and throat. "I should tell you, then, that I'm not exactly cheap."
"And I am not exactly poor."

All men become the same in death, whether slave or citizen, Roman or Greek, genius or pretender.