by Carol Ashby
“I could wait with you at the taberna.”
“No, it’s better if you go back to Gallio to wait for a message.”
Aulus’s eyebrows shot up. “But no message is coming.”
“I might send one. I’ll join you later, after I’ve met with the man and found out how to get Julia back. If I can fake the rescue myself, I’ll get her and bring her home.”
“And if he doesn’t show?”
“Don’t assume the worst until it happens.”
Marcus started walking, and Aulus fell in beside him.
He kept telling himself not to assume the worst, that things might turn out better than he hoped. But no amount of optimism would save his sweet sister from the fallout of their stupid plan if the man who had her now was everything he feared.
A taberna near the Ludus Bruti
Marcus scooped the last bite of pork stew from the clay bowl. For a low-class taberna, the taste hadn’t been too bad. He took another bite from the wedge of bread that came with the stew. It wasn’t the fine bread he was used to, but it, too, was edible.
For three hours, he’d been waiting for Callidus to come and tell him where Julia was. Long enough for him to be forced to order two cups of cheap wine and then the stew if he wanted to keep sitting at the table in the back.
The sun was getting low. If he waited much longer, it would be dark enough to be dangerous to be in that part of Rome alone.
He stood with a sigh. Callidus wasn’t coming, and he’d have to report to Aulus that Julia wouldn’t be coming home that night.
His jaw clenched. And maybe never. He shook himself mentally. No, they would hunt, and they would find her. Callidus needed money. The only good reason to keep her would be to sell her, and if he did, there would be some trail of where she went.
He walked briskly until he reached the Amphitheater and started up the stairs to the Fagutal. A laughing group of drunken men jostled each other on the stretch just ahead. Hand on his gladius, he stepped aside to let them pass.
It was deep dusk when he reached the Drusus stable. A snap of his fingers and pointing at his stallion made the stable slave scurry to get the horse ready. The moon would be close to full. Plenty of light for a ride to the Secundus villa.
For a moment, he considered waiting until morning. That would give one more chance for him to check the taberna to see if Callidus would show or at least leave some message for him.
But that was a fool’s dream, and he was no fool.
He jumped to toss his leg across the stallion’s back and trotted through the gate.
Real men made decisions and then took action. Callidus had played him and betrayed him. It was time to face Aulus with the bad news and then figure out what to do next to get Julia back.
The Secundus villa
Aulus sat across from Gallio, drumming on the ransom tablet with a stylus, while Gallio sat with his elbows on his desk, face buried in his hands.
The steward turned desperate eyes on Aulus. “It’s been hours since you paid the ransom. When was that message supposed to come?”
Aulus massaged his neck. “He didn’t say exactly. Soon.”
Gallio stood and began to pace. “It’s already long past soon.”
The slap of sandals in the atrium drew both set of eyes. When Marcus strode into the room, Aulus’s breath caught. A single small shake of Marcus’s head, and Aulus’s heart spiraled down toward black despair.
“Any message yet?” Marcus settled into Gallio’s empty chair and placed his palms on the desk.
Aulus’s eyes saucered. He opened his mouth, then shut it when Marcus lifted his fingers and palms from the surface and offered a fleeting smile.
Gallio returned to the desk and leaned on his fists. “No. I need to contact the Urban Cohort immediately and tell them the kidnappers took the ransom but didn’t return her.”
Marcus stood and motioned for Gallio to take his own chair back. As the steward dropped into it, Marcus’s face turned grave.
“It’s definitely time for that.” He turned to Aulus. “I need to put your father’s gladius back. Join me.”
As they entered his father’s office, Aulus grabbed Marcus’s arm and spun him to face him. “What am I going to do?” His heart pounded in his chest. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ve killed my sister, Marcus. For 10,000 denarii, I’ve killed my sister.”
Marcus placed his hands on Aulus’s arms and gave him a quick shake. “No, you haven’t. They aren’t going to kill her. That soldier needed money, or he never would have taken the job. He’ll sell her, and that means we can find her and get her back.”
“But how? Neither of us knows anything about the slave trade. Where would we even start to look?”
Marcus’s hands moved to Aulus's shoulders. “You and I don’t know anything, but we don’t have to. We know someone who knows the underbelly of Rome better than we ever could. It’s time to talk with Brutus.”
Chapter 21: Hand-Off to Gaius
Servilia’s shop
The faint light inside the room dimmed until Julia felt the darkness smothering her. Only the soft in and out of Dacius breathing gave her comfort. Her only way back to Father was still alive.
She sat close enough to touch him, even though she didn’t. She had her feet tucked up under her floor-length tunic and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat beside him. Even as weak as he was, knowing he was close to her in the darkness made it a little less frightening.
She finally heard the scratching of a key in a lock and the iron rods being drawn aside to free the door in the night shutters. The pale light of dusk burst into the room as the inner door swung open.
Servilia entered and pushed the door partly closed behind her, blocking the view of Dacius from outside. She knelt beside him and rested her hand on his uninjured shoulder. When he didn’t stir, she shook him a little.
“Dacius? Time to wake up. Gaius is unloading now. Then he’ll bring his wagon here. Do you think you can walk to it?”
She had cast Julia a quick glance and then ignored her while she spoke with her slave. That still felt odd, but Julia was relieved to have someone besides herself take charge.
Dacius’s breathing quieted as he shook off the last remnants of sleep. “I can try, if someone helps me.”
Servilia patted his arm. “Gaius is not so young anymore, but he’s strong. Between the two of us, we can get you to the wagon.”
Dacius rubbed his left hand across his eyes. “They might still be hunting my mistress. Any men out there you don’t know? We can’t let them see her. I couldn’t stop anyone from taking her now.”
She turned her gaze on Julia. “I already thought about that. I’ll give her one of my tunics. She’ll look like Gaius’s daughter in it, not the noblewoman they’re hunting. I have one of my husband’s tunics for you, too. Yours smells too much like blood. It could betray you even in the dusk. I’ll wash and mend it and send it out to you later.”
“God bless you for all your help today.”
“I’m glad He led you to me so I could.” Servilia rested the back of her fingers on his cheek. “When you get to Marcella, tell her I wasn’t able to clean your wounds. She’ll take care of them better than I could here.”
She rested her hand on Julia’s knee. “Marcella will take care of both of you.”
She opened a chest and drew out a plain woman’s tunic and a pair of unadorned sandals. “These should help you get out of the city without being recognized.”
Dacius turned his head so he could watch the mistress. She looked more like a frightened little girl than a grown woman. She sat with her arms wrapped around herself, rocking slightly, as if she needed someone to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.
For the moment, he was the only someone available.
She stared at him with fear-filled eyes, eyes that begged him to take care of her. She made no move to take the tunic Servilia offered
. It was not his place to tell Mistress Julia to do anything, but tonight she needed him to.
“Mistress, would you like to change now so we can go as soon as Gaius comes?”
She startled at his words, then shifted her eyes from him to Servilia and back. “Yes. Where should I go? I don’t see any place...private.”
He understood. He was a slave, but he wasn’t a eunuch. A proper Roman maiden would never disrobe where one of her male slaves could watch.
He took the tunic Servilia had given him and draped it over his face. “The whole room is private now, mistress.”
Servilia stood and offered Julia her hands. “Come over to the corner. I’ll help you change quickly. The cart shouldn’t stand in front of my shop too long. Just in case.”
Dacius heard the rustling of fabric as Mistress Julia changed. Since the first time he carried her litter, he’d tried not to notice what a pretty woman she was. It was hard sometimes. She was willowy and moved with the grace of a dancer. The fine linen and softest wool of her tunics draped her elegant curves in a way that fired a man’s imagination too much. And that day she slipped in the pool... It should be much easier once she was dressed in the rougher fabric of a working woman.
Anything that would help him keep her in the mistress box was welcome. His wounds had drained his strength, but God had spared his life…so far. If infection didn’t kill him in the next few days, he’d have to stay close to protect her for almost a month.
He would never betray his Lord by yielding to sexual temptation, but it would be much easier if she were a homely old woman. There was no way to avoid looking at her pretty face when she spoke to him, but it should be easier to ignore the rest of her in a drab, loose-fitting tunic.
Servilia’s voice reached his ears. “You can look now, Dacius.”
He pulled the tunic down. Mistress Julia was dressed in a plain tunic of undyed wool, but it hadn’t helped a bit. It draped her figure just as well as the fine linen. She actually looked better without the towering crown of curls made from slave hair. Her nut-brown hair flowed in waves across her shoulders, tempting a man to wrap it around his fingers and sniff the sweet perfume that always wafted around him as she rode the litter. She was still much too pretty. It would be a tempting month...if he lived.
That was beginning to seem more likely. The sparkles were gone, and he felt a little stronger than he had before Servilia locked them in.
Servilia came over and knelt beside him. “Now let’s get you dressed.” She slid her arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up. The room shifted as he tried to focus on the tunic in her hands. He looked down and closed his eyes. God, I can’t do this alone.
“Reach up.” Her voice slipped farther away. He wanted to obey, but his body didn’t.
The voice came again. “Julia, come help me. Guide the tunic over his head and hands.”
Rustling told him she had come to help. Servilia guided his right arm and he guided his left to a position where Mistress Julia could line up the openings with his head and hands and drop the tunic over them.
A man’s voice forced his eyes open. “Servilia, are they ready?”
“Almost, Gaius. Come help me with Dacius.”
A wiry man with gray hair stepped through the door. His face was wrinkled from long hours in the sun, which made it hard to tell if he was forty or sixty. He strode across the room and knelt on the other side of Dacius.
“I’m Gaius Sempronius Rutilus. Servilia told me you need a place to heal, so you’re coming home with me. Let’s get you and the young lady into the wagon, and we can be home in a little over an hour.”
Dacius picked up his belt with his left hand and flipped it around his back. When he tried to use his right hand to fasten it, pain ripped through his shoulder. His teeth clenched.
Gaius rested his hand on Dacius’s forearm. “I’ll do that.”
“God bless you for helping us, Gaius. My mistress needs a place to stay until her father returns to Rome in about a month. Can you shelter her that long?”
“You’re both welcome to stay as long as you need.” Gaius slid his hands under Dacius’s arms and lifted him to a standing position. “Put your arm across my shoulder, and let’s go.”
With Gaius’s arm wrapped around his back and a shoulder to lean on, he was able to take a step. But how many more to get to the cart? He wasn’t good for too many. Some of the sparkles had returned.
God, please give me enough strength to at least get her safely out of Rome.
Servilia went out the door first to make sure no one was watching. Julia was right behind her. A four-wheel plaustrum with a team of mules stood before her. The back panel of the wooden box had been lifted and set aside for her and Dacius to get in.
After folding the blood-stained rug, she placed it on the wagon bed to soften the ride over the stone roads. Julia turned and hopped up to sit on the bed. Then she swung her legs in and scrambled forward to rest her back against the front wall.
Dacius had almost reached the wagon. She bit her lip as she watched him hobbling toward her with Gaius as his crutch. With each step, his head dipped lower. When they were only a few steps away, she patted the bed beside her.
“Put him here with me so I can cradle his head in my lap. He can lie on his side then to keep off his shoulder and thigh.”
Dacius raised his eyes to hers. “You should be up on the seat, mistress. I shouldn’t be in your lap.”
“Hush. I’m your mistress, and I’ll decide how we should travel. I’m staying back here to make sure you don’t get hurt more.”
She caught the twitch of Gaius’s mouth. He probably thought it was funny for a slave to tell his owner not to take care of him. Well, he could laugh if he wanted. Dacius was hers, and after what he did today, it was only right that she look after him at least this much.
Servilia leaned across the wagon wall to whisper in her ear. “You want to be more careful, Julia. Don’t talk about him being a slave where anyone can hear. You don’t look like his owner anymore, and someone might try to take him from you. They could get a good reward for turning him in as a runaway. He’ll die for certain if that happens. Don’t tell anyone who you are, either. Someone tried to kidnap and sell you once. There might be another waiting to try again. Too many will do anything for a few denarii.”
Julia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. She hadn’t thought about the danger to them both of just being where someone might hear her words for the next month.
Servilia handed Julia the sack of her own clothes and a blanket. “He’s lost a lot of blood, so you should cover him and keep him warm. You can send the blanket back with Gaius when he no longer needs it. I’ll wash the blood from his tunic and send that out to you.”
She patted Julia’s arm. “I’ll be praying for you both.”
Julia nodded her thanks, but what could praying do?
The men reached the wagon, and Gaius turned so Dacius could sit on the bed. As Gaius climbed into the wagon, Dacius’s shoulders slumped, his chin dropped to his chest, and he started falling sideways. Gaius caught him before his head hit the sidewall.
Julia’s hand shot up to cover her mouth. “Is he dead?” Her voice wavered. She held her breath.
“No. He’s only passed out.”
She blew the breath out. “Give him to me.” She patted her lap.
Gaius pulled him up beside her and rolled him onto his left side. He shook out the blanket, and draped it over him. “It’s better for him this way. The ride can be rough. It takes a little over an hour to get to the farm.”
Gaius clambered out of the wagon, reloaded several empty chicken crates, and replaced the back gate. He climbed up onto the driver’s seat and slapped the reins. With a jolt, the trip to their safe haven for the next month began.
As Julia cradled Dacius’s head in her lap, she touched his cheek with her fingertip. He didn’t stir. After the first light touch, she stroked it. It was prickl
y with stubble. There was something fascinating about the feel of him. She’d never been this close to a man who wasn’t her father or brother before. And he was a man, even if he was a slave. He wasn’t just a piece of furniture or an animal.
She’d treated him as nothing more than that since Gallio bought him. What could make a slave take the risk he had when she hadn’t even let him speak to her? When she’d been repelled as if he were something disgusting? When she’d let the overseer lash him when he’d done nothing wrong? What inspired that kind of loyalty to someone who’d never even looked in your eyes and called you by name?
She pulled the blanket up a little to tuck it closer to his neck. Loyalty like his deserved a great reward, and she’d start by doing whatever she could to ease his pain on the way to the farm.
Chapter 22: Almost to Safety
With so many carts and wagons clogging the narrow streets, a snail might have beaten them in a race. Julia’s nerves were stretched tighter than a lyre string before Gaius merged with the traffic on a broad street heading northeast.
He looked back over his shoulder. “We’re on the Vicus Patricius now. This will take us straight to the Porta Viminalis. It will be slow until after we get through the city wall there. Then we’ll make better time.” Gaius faced forward when a string of curses erupted from the ox driver ahead of them.
Julia twisted to see what was going on. A wagon crossing the road at the side street ahead of them had lost part of its load of hay, and several men were helping the driver toss it back into his wagon bed.
Gaius turned back to her. “How is he?”
She pulled the blanket closer to his chin. “He hasn’t awakened.” Her gaze flipped from Dacius’s shuttered eyes to Gaius. “Should he have?”
Gaius’s mouth turned down, but he shook his head. “Not necessarily. Servilia said he lost a lot of blood. That makes a man sleep. As long as he doesn’t start bleeding again, he could be fine.”