by Carol Ashby
The blood drained from Aulus’s face. “What am I going to do?”
Marcus’s placed his hand on Aulus’s bicep and squeezed. “I’ll think of something.” A slow smile crept across his face. “I guess we need to plan a kidnapping.”
“I thought that was a joke.” Aulus bit his lip. “We can’t actually do it.”
Marcus rubbed his chin before the half-shrug. “Why not?”
Chapter 3: Invisible Man
The Secundus villa
Dacius stood by the right rear pole of the litter, cleaned up and dressed in the blood-red tunic with cream banding along the lower edge and around the armholes. He stood and waited. Waited while he looked at the horses that needed grooming and the stalls that needed cleaning. No one had been told to do either. Nothing was being done while he stood doing…nothing.
He glanced at the other three bearers. They all appeared content to simply stand there. He turned to the man at the left rear pole. “Does the mistress usually come soon after the call for the litter, or do you think we’ll be waiting for a long time?”
The left rear man shrugged. “Does it really matter? Either we stand here and wait or we stand at her friend’s house and wait. I just hope we’re going to one of her friends who lives nearby. Or maybe her sister’s where we get to sit in the shade while we wait.”
It mattered to Dacius. The other three had nothing to do but carry the litter, but he had horses waiting for him to care for them. The sooner they took her, maybe the sooner they would return. Then he could get his real work done.
He heard girlish laughter and turned his eyes on the door to the house. He was curious to see what the young mistress looked like when she was conscious. He hadn’t yet seen her face.
She and her maid stepped into the sunshine, and he was not disappointed. Mistress Julia was a pretty young woman of sixteen. Her nut-brown hair was braided and wrapped at the back of her head, held in place with gold picks decorated with butterflies, and she wore a crown of curls made of slave hair that matched her own.
As she walked toward the litter, she moved with such grace that she almost seemed to float across the paving stones. Her green tunic draped and wrapped her form in a way that left no doubt that she was no longer a mere girl. Her light brown eyes brightened with the sweet smile she directed at her maid, who walked beside her with a box decorated with ivory inlays and carvings of flowers.
She reached the litter, sat down, and swung her legs in―all without even glancing at him as he stood within three feet of her by the right rear pole.
It was no surprise that she didn’t. In fact, it would have surprised him if she had.
He was a man you could pass in a crowd and never realize he was there. He was well muscled but not more than other farm slaves, and neither tall nor short. Not ugly, but not so handsome a woman’s eyes would be drawn to him. No one would mistake him for a gladiator or a charioteer with their aura of arrogance that drew women like moths to a flame.
Reddish blonde hair in the ragged slave haircut, gray eyes that were almost always calm, eyebrows and mouth that were usually at rest, although the trace of a smile that lifted the corners of his mouth a little was unusual on a slave. He was not someone you would notice unless you looked deep into his eyes. Concern for others, born of his love for Jesus, shone there, so out of place amidst the cruelty of Rome. But who bothered to look deep into the eyes of a slave?
He’d never been a house slave, where the master or mistress might actually know his name and call him by it. He had no expectation of any friendship between owner and owned that might grow and lead to freedom. The most he ever expected was that the overseer might call him by name, but even that was unlikely in this household, where everyone was simply “you.”
Her escort, a tall, blond German muscled up like a gladiator, approached. “Mistress, where shall we take you?”
“To my sister’s.”
The escort bowed. “Yes, mistress.” He stepped back and signaled the bearers. “Ready the litter.”
Dacius knelt like the man across the litter from him and placed his shoulder under the pad on the pole.
“Lift.” At the escort’s command, all four stood.
Dacius placed his left hand on the pole to steady it. It felt odd to have so much weight pressing down on his shoulder and against his neck, but it wasn’t too much different from carrying a sack of grain. Like the left rear bearer, he hoped they wouldn’t go too far today. He was muscular and strong, but he wasn’t used to carrying unbalanced weight on one shoulder. He’d be sore tomorrow if they went too far.
The escort walked to the head of the litter. With a flick of his hand, he commanded the men to move out.
Julia settled in against the backrest cushion as the litter passed through the gate. Apicula walked beside her, carrying the carved chest of hair ornaments.
She leaned forward and patted the seat cushion. “You don’t need to be carrying that heavy thing, Apicula. Put it here.”
Her maid obeyed, turning the box to give Julia the most room for her legs beside it.
“I think Flavia will be surprised by what I’m bringing. Now that she’s six, she’s ready to start her own collection of hair ornaments. I packed some that her mother gave me when I was little. I’m planning to let her keep them. I’m sure Antonia will love seeing what she gave me on her own little girl.”
A smile curved Apicula’s lips. “I think so, too, mistress. She always liked doing your hair when you were Flavia’s age.”
“I know her husband was disappointed that both their children have been girls, but I’m glad. Little girls are such sweet treasures, although I do hope the new baby will be a boy. I’m sure I’ll love their son, too.”
Apicula’s smile faded. “A son to carry on the family name is important. Some men get discontented if they don’t get one.”
“For Antonia’s sake, I hope her Titus isn’t one of those.” Julia shifted against the backrest. “I wonder what my first baby will be. Another six months, and Metilius Nepos will be home. I wonder how long after our marriage I’ll have to wait for my own little one.”
“If the gods look on you with favor, perhaps less than a year, mistress.”
“I can hardly wait. Metilia says her brother will make a wonderful father. I hope I have a son first to make him happy. Then I want a girl for me.”
Dacius trudged along with the weight of the ornate litter and the mistress pressing down on his shoulder. It was good she was a slender woman. His quarter of the total weight was more than the sacks of grain he was used to carrying, and they’d already traveled more than a mile without stopping.
Hopefully, the steward would buy the replacement for the dead man that afternoon. This was not a task he’d want every day, but at least it had proven interesting. He’d never been this close to one of his owners for so long, and some things he’d learned about the young mistress were pleasant surprises.
As she chatted with her maid, she never said a single unkind thing about anyone. Not at all what he’d expected from a Roman noblewoman. She also spoke with her maid as if she were a friend, not a slave. He’d heard that happened with some house slaves, and now he could say he’d seen it.
Finally, the escort led them through a gate into a walled courtyard. He stopped, then spoke. “Down.”
Dacius knelt in sync with the other bearers until the legs of the litter rested on the ground. He tipped his shoulder and stepped sideways as he rose. He reached across his chest and massaged his left shoulder and neck. His muscles appreciated the break after carrying her for almost an hour.
If she visited long, most of the day would be gone before he returned to the stable. He took a deep breath and blew it out. If the overseer hadn’t seen fit to put someone else working there, he could be working past dusk to finish what must be done.
He watched the mistress’s maid pick up the box. Then the legs of the mistress swung out of the litter. Legs with smooth,
womanly curves drew his gaze until he flipped it back onto the box.
Her maid offered a hand to steady her as she rose from the seat. Without a glance toward him, the mistress strolled toward the entrance of the house, still chatting with her maid. His eyes drifted from the box to her. Her shoulders floated, like her feet weren’t even moving beneath the flowing tunic that swept the ground.
No man could help enjoying the way the mistress moved, not even a slave. He forced himself to turn his eyes away and stop that train of thought. Thinking about the beauty of the mistress wasn’t the right way to serve as if serving the Lord. He turned and followed the other bearers to the benches under a tree to await the command to carry her back home.
Dacius pushed the handcart of straw over to the stallion’s stall. A day of sitting and waiting had ended exactly as he expected. No one had been told to clean the stalls, and the overseer ordered him to get it done before he could join the rest of the slaves for the evening meal.
As he pitched the first forkful of straw into the stall, the steward marched into the stable yard.
“Vilicus.”
The overseer’s domineering stance relaxed into subservience. “Yes, steward. What do you wish?”
“The slave you put on Mistress Julia’s litter this morning. Did he perform well?”
“I think so. Taurus didn’t say there was a problem.”
“If her escort is satisfied, that’s good enough. Master Aulus spent too much on that useless stallion that killed the last litter slave. I don’t want to waste more money buying a replacement. I’ll be selling the other three when Mistress Julia marries in six months, anyway.”
Dacius forked more straw into the stallion’s stall. The steward and overseer weren’t even six feet from him, but he was invisible.
“If you can spare that one she used this morning, I’d like to keep using him on the litter when she needs him. He can do other work when she doesn’t.”
Dacius’s jaw clenched. God, once wasn’t bad, but all the time? He tossed another forkful into the stall.
“Good idea, steward. I can spare him without any problem. He doesn’t do anything special that another slave can’t do when he’s carrying.”
Dacius glanced down the row of stalls. Maybe another slave could, but Vilicus hadn’t bothered to assign one today. Would he next time?
The overseer stood close enough that Dacius suppressed the sigh. Nothing he did with the horses was appreciated. But he took pride in serving as if serving his Lord, and the horses needed him.
If he must, he’d start rising an hour before dawn to make sure they at least got fed and watered before he ate breakfast himself. It shouldn’t be more than six months. After she was gone, his work load should go back to normal.
Chapter 4: No Better Alternative
The Drusus townhouse, Day 3
Aulus leaned over and drew his fingers through the water of the pool in the peristyle of the Drusus house.
“I don’t know, Marcus. I thought about asking my oldest brother for help, but he’s too much like Father. He never got himself into any kind of trouble. If I told him, first he’d give me a lecture on being more responsible, and then he’d send a letter to Father about what I told him.”
Marcus wet his fingers and flicked the water in Aulus’s face. That usually made him smile, but not today.
“My brother Lucius wouldn’t tell anyone if I asked him not to. He might even have the money. He’s getting the tribune’s pay of 1500 denarii a month, and he’s probably not spending much since he doesn’t like to gamble. He’d help me with most things, but never if I told him the truth about what we need it for.” Marcus’s nose twitched. “He’d keep telling me you should tell your father right away because it was the honorable thing to do. What about Manius?”
“He’d help if he was serving in Rome, but he’s off in Britannia right now. Even if I could get a message to him, he’d never be able to get the money back to me in time to pay off Sabinus before Father gets home.”
A sly smile tugged at the corners of Marcus’s mouth. “I know! We can drug Gallio long enough to get the strongbox key. You can get the money and slip the key chain back around his neck before he wakes up.”
Aulus gave Marcus a light shove. “We couldn’t drug him without him knowing, and when he counts the money in the box, like he does at least once a week, he’d know it was missing.”
Marcus shoved back. “I was joking, Aulus. But I have been thinking about that kidnapping idea. We could stage one and get Gallio to take the 10,000 denarii out of the strongbox himself. It really is the best way to get it, given the lack of alternatives.”
Aulus furrowed his brow. “Well…maybe. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I don’t have fixed plans yet, but suppose we send Taurus on some errand, then have Julia go somewhere with someone we pick as the escort. We could have her kidnapped from there, held until we get the ransom money, and then have her sent back home.”
Aulus rubbed his neck. “It sounds simple, but how would we find the ones to do it?”
Marcus’s smile drifted toward a grin. “Just leave that to me.”
Aulus stood. “I don’t know. It sounds risky to me.”
Marcus also rose. “Think on it a while, and you’ll like it better. Let’s go to the baths, then dinner at your house.”
With Marcus’s arm draped across Aulus’s shoulder, the pair headed for the door.
The Secundus Villa
Dacius swung the pick into the ground and jerked it toward him to loosen the hard-packed dirt enough to shovel.
He fought the sigh. First, he got dragged away from the stable by litter duty, and now Vilicus had decided he should help dig the reflecting pool. He wasn’t sure which was worse: heavy labor where at least he was doing something, or hours of boredom waiting for the mistress to decide to go home.
As he set the pick aside to grab the shovel for loading the handcart, the voices of Master Aulus and his best friend, Marcus Drusus, drifted over his shoulder.
“I wish we’d gone to the Baths of Titus today instead of Trajan’s. That gladiator who works for Sabinus wouldn’t have been there. The way he ‘accidentally’ knocked me into the wall before mumbling something about men paying debts with money or blood…” A shudder jerked Master Aulus’s arms into his side as they passed Dacius.
Drusus rested his hand on the young master’s shoulder as they walked toward the house. “He was only bluffing. He’d never dare to attack a governor’s son with so many people watching. The baths are too public for anything like that.”
“Maybe, but we walk to the baths, and there are too many places where he could do something between the baths and our homes.”
Drusus stepped away and punched Master Aulus’s arm. “I’ll protect you. I always carry a dagger, and I know where to cut a neck to kill even the biggest man before he can make a sound.”
Dacius scooped the first load of dirt into the handcart as the pair disappeared into the house. He’d seen enough of Marcus Drusus to believe he’d kill to protect Master Aulus. There was something about Drusus’s eyes. If Dacius were a betting man, he’d even bet Drusus would enjoy it.
Julia bit into the sweet pastry and let the fruity flavor of the strawberry filling flow across her tongue as she lounged on the dining couch. Dinner had been delicious, but something didn’t feel right.
She glanced at Aulus, only to find him watching her again. But he wasn’t simply watching her; he was contemplating her. And every time she caught him doing it, he flipped his gaze away from her and said something to Marcus.
Marcus was his usual smooth self. His words were always friendly, but the warmth in his voice often didn’t match the coolness of his eyes. She never had been able to read his thoughts, and maybe that was a good thing.
And there was that flattening of Aulus’s mouth as the corner twitched. When Father was home, that usually triggered a question about what Aulus
had been doing. What followed wasn’t always the truth. Father was extraordinarily good at catching the whiff of a lie coming from anyone, and he was especially good at sniffing out one of Aulus’s.
“Why are you watching me, Aulus?”
“Watching you? I’m not watching you. Why would I? You’re only my sister.”
“No, you’ve been watching me all dinner. Like something’s wrong.”
“You’re my sister, and if I want to watch you, that’s my right.” Aulus swung his legs off the couch and stood. “Only Father has the right to tell me to stop doing something. Not you.”
He balled up his napkin and hurled it at the couch before striding from the dining room.
Julia’s head bounced back, and she stared at the door through which Aulus had disappeared.
Marcus also rose. “I’m sorry, Julia. His stomach didn’t feel well this afternoon, and I think he isn’t better yet. Please excuse me. I’ll go take care of him.”
“Of course, Marcus. He’s lucky to have you as his friend.”
A not-quite-genuine friendly smile curved Marcus’s lips as he tipped his head to her before heading out the door.
Julia shook her head. Something was wrong with Aulus, and it wasn’t his stomach. Her lips tightened. It would be good when Father returned. He’d get Aulus straightened out as soon as he got home, and that couldn’t be too soon for her.
Chapter 5: True Friends
The Secundus villa, Day 4
Dacius stood by the right rear pole of the litter, waiting for Mistress Julia. He glanced at the row of stalls. Patience was a virtue, but a lot of work waited for him. If only she’d hurry. The sooner they went, maybe the sooner they’d return.
The thuds of trotting hooves drew his eyes to the gate. Marcus Drusus passed through and reined in.
Dacius left the litter and hurried over to take the horse’s halter before the rider dismounted. “Shall I stable your horse?”