by Carol Ashby
Aulus ran his fingers through his hair. “I’d lost too much betting on the races, and Father ordered me not to gamble too much before he left for Sicilia. I obeyed him. But friendly gambling with close friends and extended family wasn’t the sort of thing Father meant to forbid. Antonia’s cousin by marriage should have waited for me to pay him. He shouldn’t have told his father about it.”
“Quintus Sabinus?”
Aulus nodded, and Brutus sucked air between his teeth. “I’d never want to owe Sabinus anything. It’s often not money he demands to square the debt. Too many sacrifice their honor to pay what he demands.”
Aulus’s mouth turned down. “I know. Father never compromises his honor, and that’s made Sabinus his political enemy for years.”
Brutus stroked his chin. “How much did you lose?”
“Ten thousand denarii.”
A shrug accompanied Brutus’s smiling frown. “That’s nothing, given your father’s wealth. What’s the problem?”
Aulus stared at his feet before raising his eyes to Brutus. “Losing the money wasn’t the stupidest thing I did. I didn’t want Father to be angry with me, and I knew if I asked Gallio for it, he’d tell Father, and Father would be furious.”
Brutus’s eyebrows lowered. “What did you do, Aulus?”
Aulus looked at Marcus, whose nod told him to continue. “We thought we’d fake Julia’s kidnapping to get 10,000 in ransom, then use it to pay the debt before Father ever knew.”
With his head tipped back, Brutus rolled his eyes. “Nothing good ever comes from a lie, and no man should ever lie to his father.”
“We know that now. The man we hired to hold her for a few hours yesterday…well, he and one of the litter slaves kidnapped her for real.”
Brutus’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “Who did you hire? Where did you find him?”
Marcus moved forward. “I found him right here.”
Brutus spun on Marcus. “Here? Impossible.”
Marcus took one step back. “Remember when that old legionary was asking about joining your ludus? The one you told he’d die if he tried to fight in Rome?”
Brutus’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“Well, I followed him and asked him if he’d like to make 300 denarii helping us.”
Brutus pressed his palms against his temples. “By all the gods, why would you think you could trust a stranger like that?”
Marcus raised his chin. “You seemed to think he was a good man. You even told him where to go to find a ludus that might contract him without getting him killed.”
With a deep sigh, Brutus sank into his chair and placed his elbow on the desk. He rested his jaw on his hand.
His lips tightened as his gaze flipped between the boys. “I always treat our retired soldiers with respect. They sacrificed twenty-five years of their lives for the good of Roma. That doesn’t mean I trust any of them.” With a closed fist, he rubbed his forehead, eyes scrunched. “Until I know a man is honest, I withhold my full trust. And even a man I thought was honest…I wouldn’t put a young woman under his power.”
Marcus hung his head, then raised it to fix his gaze on Brutus’s eyes. “I know I made a huge mistake, but we need your help to undo it. We think maybe he sold Julia, but we don’t even know how to start looking for her.”
Aulus leaned forward. “Please, Brutus. Help us find her. You’re the only one we know who knows about the dark side of Rome where they could sell her.”
Brutus stood and rested his palms on the desk. “I’ll help you. I do know enough men who know the dark side that there’s a chance we’ll find her. But the places you’ll go looking are dangerous for boys like you. You’ll need a bodyguard.” He rubbed his mouth. “A man wise enough to know whether to use words or weapons. Africanus.”
He turned a frown on Aulus. “For the moment, what you did is best kept secret. We’re more likely to find her if no one suspects you.” Brutus tapped Aulus’s chest with two fingers. “But the moment your father returns to Roma, you and I are going to tell him everything. Nothing is more important than honesty between a father and son, and I won’t be party to you hiding anything from him.”
Aulus’s shoulders slumped. “I know. We wouldn’t be here now if I’d just told Gallio from the start and paid the debt before Quintus Sabinus heard of it.”
Brutus rested his hand on Aulus’s shoulder and squeezed. “The past can’t be changed. Let’s work on getting Julia back so she can have a future.”
Chapter 26: The Dark Side of Rome
Brutus seated himself and swept his hand toward a chair by the wall. “Bring that over and both of you sit. This will take a while.”
Marcus settled into the chair already by the desk as Aulus dragged the extra one over.
Brutus leaned on one elbow and rubbed his mouth. He picked up a brass stylus and rolled it between his fingers.
“Since it’s been a day and Julia hasn’t found her way home, one of two things has probably happened to her.”
He focused on Aulus, whose expectant gaze made it harder to speak the next words. “She might be dead.” Anguish replaced hope in the boy’s eyes. “There’s no reason to assume that’s happened yet, but we have to face the possibility. If they killed her, then someone will find her body. When…if that happens, the Urban Cohort will be notified. They gather all the dead of Roma each morning and take the bodies to their headquarters in the Castra Praetoria. They hold them for a few days so relatives or friends have a chance to identify them and claim the body.”
Aulus’s throat moved as if he was struggling to keep breakfast down.
“Aulus, you can ask your steward to send someone every morning to see if she’s there.” Brutus leaned across the desk to place his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t think they will find her. Dead, she’s worth nothing. Alive, she could be worth several thousand denarii. I think the only way she’d be dead is if they killed her by accident. It’s hard enough to kill someone deliberately, so I suspect she’s still alive. But just in case, that visit to the castra should be made until we find her.”
Aulus relaxed, and Brutus withdrew his hand.
“It’s more likely that they’re planning to sell her. There is a market for unspoiled young women like her, but it’s not out in the open. The regular slave market has imperial inspectors on site checking papers to make sure only legally enslaved people are offered for sale and certifying the sales that are made.”
He massaged the back of his neck. “I only make legal purchases, so I have no personal experience with the special dealers who are not so particular about whether papers have been forged. But I know some people who can direct us toward those dealers. It might take me several days to learn who they are and how to approach them to find out what special offerings they have at the moment.”
The blood drained from Aulus’s face. “Several days? But what’s going to happen to Julia between now and then?”
Brutus raised his palms. “I suspect not much. If they do anything to her, the price they can get for her drops to normal slave prices. Anyone clever enough to stage her kidnapping is probably not stupid enough to risk that if money is their goal.”
Marcus leaned forward. “When we find her, how do we get her back? Buy her? Take her by force?”
Brutus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “There’s no one answer to that. It depends on who has her and where. Some might claim they thought she was a legal slave and were fooled by the men pretending to own her. They’ll be willing to release her immediately for what they paid. You might be able to threaten to report them to the authorities and get her for nothing, but I wouldn’t risk that. She could vanish before you returned.”
He bounced his closed fist on his lips. “Others are more dangerous. They might try to get rid of you permanently as soon as they realize why you’re there. That’s why I’m going to send Africanus with you and maybe one more of my men. He can tell when a v
iper is about to strike, and he can cut off its head before it does. And he’s wary enough to know which kind of men you’re dealing with before they try something.”
Marcus settled back in his chair. “So, is there anything Aulus and I can do today that might help?”
Until Brutus talked with some people, there was nothing the boys could do. But Aulus’s eyes begged for something, anything. “It’s not likely you’ll find her, but it’s still worth a visit to the slave market, just to be certain she’s not already there. If you see anyone offering cultured young women, you might ask if they have any others that they’ll be bringing to the market later. Or if they have special sales rooms for unique slaves.” He shrugged and offered Aulus an encouraging smile. “Who knows? Fortuna might smile on you, and she’ll be there.”
He stood. “I need to clean up before I visit some people to see what I can learn. I’ll send word as soon as I know where to start the search. Probably tomorrow or the next day.”
He walked around the desk and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “Don’t despair. Roma is big with many places to hide. But it’s money they want, and they have to come out of the shadows to get it. When they do, we’ll find her.”
Aulus’s face brightened. “And we’ll hunt until we do. Thank you, Brutus.”
Brutus nodded, and his lips curved into his typical smiling frown. “We will. Check the market before you go home. Send me word if you find her. Otherwise, you’ll be hearing from me soon.”
As the boys headed for the exit, the frown overcame the smile. They would hunt, but what would they find? Only the gods knew what waited for them on the dark side of Rome.
Chapter 27: The Reason Why
Gaius’s farm, Day 21
Leander drifted upward from the soft, dark place into the brightness. When he opened his eyes, the deep exhaustion of the day before was gone. The pain was still there, but it was more penetrating than piercing―not good, but better.
But he had a new worry. He felt too warm. His wounds might have infected before Marcella had a chance to clean them.
He rested his left forearm across his forehead as he stared at the ceiling. God, please don’t let a fever take me, not now after I made it through losing so much blood. Mistress Julia still needs me to get her home.
He turned his head to see Mistress Julia, elbow on the table, chin in her hand, watching him. She rose and glided to his side. After adjusting the blanket, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her head tilted, and she graced him with the smile he’d seen her give her nieces so many times.
Just like her nieces, he couldn’t resist smiling in return. His first thought―how good it felt to have her look at him that way. His second―he shouldn’t be feeling like that. She was the mistress, not his aunt, not his friend. His smile faded.
“Are you feeling better, Leander?”
“Some, mistress.”
“You’re not supposed to call me that. Remember? I’m Calantha for the rest of the time we’re here.” Her smile teased him. “You need to practice. Say it.”
“Calantha.”
Maybe it had been a bad idea telling her he shouldn’t call her mistress. It was too tempting to think of her otherwise when he didn’t say it. Especially when she sat at his side smiling like that.
“Much better. Now, would you like something to eat or drink?” She gestured toward some bread and dried fruit on the table. It was almost like a dance move.
Lord, why does she have to be so graceful?
“Marcella’s doing whatever she usually does. She said I should feed you, but I’m supposed to get her or Gaius if you need more than that. Do you?”
“No, mis―Calantha, but I could eat a little.”
She rose and disappeared down the hall to where she slept. She returned with a pillow. Before he could say anything, she slid her arm beneath his shoulders and lifted. She placed her own pillow behind his back to prop him up a little for eating.
The bandage kept her arm from touching the skin of his back, but her hand resting on his bare left arm sent tingles to his spine. Her closeness drove his heart rate up.
She’s the mistress, only the mistress.
But that was so not true. She was a woman as well. A kind, beautiful woman smiling at him as if she saw a man, not a slave. Her hair was loose, hanging halfway to her waist. It fell forward and brushed against his cheek as she was lifting him. So soft, still with a hint of roses.
Only the mistress taking care of me because I’m her property and she needs me to get home.
But her eyes gazed into his as if he mattered, as if he wasn’t merely a voiced implement, a talking animal of importance only because he served her.
She walked to the table and returned with a clay bowl that held a large wedge of bread and raisins. Once more, she sat beside him.
He reached across his chest with his left arm and picked up the bread. As he raised it toward his mouth, her small hand wrapped around his, halting its movement.
“That piece is much too big. Let me tear it into bite-sized pieces for you.”
“I can manage it, m―Calantha.”
Her eyes flicked up to catch his. That smile and nod...he’d used the name she wanted, but he’d rather call her mistress when no one else would hear. Much easier then to keep her in the mistress box he’d made in his mind to keep from thinking of her as a pretty woman.
“Perhaps, but Marcella told me I should feed you today, and I intend to.” She tore off a bite-sized piece and placed it against his lips. He opened them, and she slipped it in his mouth, smiling at him as she fed him like a small child.
Her fingers brushed his upper lip, and heat shot through him. Didn’t expect that, Lord. Don’t want her to do that again. The problem was, part of him did. He opened his mouth wider the next time to avoid the touch.
He watched her face as he chewed. Some raisins, some bread―she alternated until he’d eaten it all. Her own lips parted a little each time she offered him a bite.
Soft, womanly lips. No. The lips of a mistress, that’s all.
The smile she wore when she started feeding him faded with the last few morsels. Her eyes changed from almost teasing to serious.
Does she suspect I struggle to see her only as mistress? That she stirs me as a man?
She set the empty bowl aside. “I have to ask you something, Leander. Something I need to understand, so answer me truthfully.”
“I would never lie to you.” Mistress. She wouldn’t let him say it aloud, but he could keep saying it to himself to keep her smiles and kindness from taking his thoughts where he didn’t want them to go.
“Why didn’t you just leave like the escort said? Why did you come find me and fight for me?” She drew a deep breath. “Why did you risk dying to save me?”
An easy question. “I’m a Christian, mistress.” His muscles that had tensed anticipating her rebuke relaxed.
The “mistress” slipped out, but she let it pass. Maybe she didn’t notice because his answer really was important to her.
“What does that have to do with you saving me?”
“Jesus tells me to pray for those who persecute and abuse me. He tells us we have to love our enemies.” His gaze flicked away from her, then back to her eyes. “I try, but it isn’t easy. I should even love the Roman soldiers who killed my parents and took my sisters away to…I’ll never know.”
She was the virgin daughter of a noble family. Maybe she already knew, but he chose not to be the first to tell her what lustful men liked to do to unspoiled girls like her.
Her head snapped back. “Do you think I’m your enemy?”
“No, mistress!” He shook his head vigorously. “No, but I’m supposed to serve willingly and well even a master who is, even if he treats me like nothing more than an animal. I’m only property in your father’s house. I know what that means. I couldn’t let you become someone’s property. Not if I could stop it. Women slaves are usually...w
ell, I wanted to spare you from what happened to my sisters.”
The ugly image of the mistress’s terror and pain when her owner came to her the first time―he shook his head to drive that away.
“I know the life you’ll have if your brother sells you. How could I face my Lord Jesus if I did nothing when I had a chance to save you from that? If your brother kills you, you’ll spend eternity in hell, and I don’t want that for you, either.”
“Is that why you took the arrow meant for me?” She swallowed as if there were something in her throat. “You might have been killed.”
“Death holds no terror for me or the terrible fate it does for you. It will only take me to be with Jesus forever. My life isn’t my own, anyway. I’ll always be the property of another man. Work animals like me don’t earn their master’s favor and freedom.” His mouth curved into a subdued smile. “But my spirit is still free, even if my body isn’t. It was my free choice to save you, even if I die because of it.”
Her blinks came quicker. He hadn’t meant his words about death to frighten her.
With her fingertip, she wiped the corner of her eye. “Anyway, you’re hurt, but you’re not going to die. I want you here with me. I did name you after a lion, but I don’t think you’re an animal. If you’re going to serve me well, you have to get better. Promise me you will.”
Her barely contained teardrops―they must only be from fear of being all by herself. They couldn’t really be for him. As kind as she might be to her noble friends, she couldn’t care that much about a talking animal whose name she only learned two days ago.
“I’m in no hurry to die...but I won’t make a promise I might not keep.”
The fever was burning hotter, and he had no doubt what that meant. He’d survived the blood loss, but the infection...only God knew if he’d make it past that. But if he were a betting man, he’d bet against it.
“But you are going to keep it.” A tremor crept into her voice as the fear grew deeper in her eyes.