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A cruel wind blows across the midwinter lands of Northern Britain, flapping Senna’s cloak as she hurries inside the praetorium on the heels of the blustering Tutonius, legion cook and dear friend. In Rome, Saturnalia would last a week and include a day of relaxation for all the slaves. But, she sadly acknowledges, this is not Rome but a miserable outpost on the westernmost boundary of Roman-occupied lands.
Senna does her best to relieve some of her friend’s staggering workload as he prepares the holiday meal. The governor of all Britain will feast here tonight along with officers of three legions. Hurrying outside the fortress to the sprawling campgrounds of refugees, camp followers, and traders of all kinds, Senna shops for last-minute gifts for her enslaved Briton mistress Caerwin and food supplies Tutonius must have.
Upon her return to the kitchen, Senna blushes as Teutonius shares a moment of personal pleasure.