by Carol Ashby
“That’s why we need to go back to Rome and get Titianus looking for the slave and where he might be holding her.” Marcus crossed his arms as his gaze raked Africanus. “You seem too eager to find a different culprit. Are you just one slave lying about an innocent man to protect another guilty slave from the full force of Roman law?”
Africanus’s arms shot out and his palms hit the wall on either side of Marcus. With the big man towering over him, Marcus pressed back against the wall and swallowed hard.
“No man calls me a liar. Not to my face, not where I’ll hear of it.” The near-whisper of the gladiator’s icy words only sharpened the threat. “You’re still a boy, too young to know the full danger of attacking a man’s honor.” He dropped one arm, and Marcus slipped past him.
The gladiator’s eyes smoldered. “There are those who would kill you for less than what you said.”
He crossed his arms, and his fingers tightened around his biceps. “There was a lion handler at the amphitheater in Cyrene who used to torment the lions that were used to kill criminals. One day, the latch on a cage broke, and the lion had a good meal before they came to take it to dine on some Christians.” His grip relaxed, and his arms dropped to his sides. “A wise man can learn many useful lessons from the animals.”
He took a step toward Marcus. “When you question my honesty, you question my master’s wisdom in trusting me. You question his integrity as well as mine, and I won’t tolerate that.”
Aulus stepped between them. “I mostly believe him. Marcus is right that we should sail for Rome tomorrow and tell Titianus what we learned.”
Africanus’s glare vanished when his gaze shifted to Aulus. “We know where Callidus will be for the next four years. He can be made to tell the truth later.”
Africanus’s eyes relaxed into that irritating expression that felt like he was laughing when he looked at Marcus. “Back to Rome for us. You should get a good meal and a good night’s rest. Tomorrow won’t be an easy day.”
Marcus cringed. Another three and a half days of a rocking ship and a churning stomach. “Can you find a ship that will get us home faster than we came?”
The corner of Africanus’s mouth lifted. “Maybe I’ll find a way that takes longer.” He shrugged. “Master Brutus entrusted your safe return to me. Whatever I find, you’ll survive the trip. The bath near the inn―I’ll meet you there after I arrange our way home.”
He turned and walked away.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he watched the gladiator. “He shouldn’t act so free. He does whatever he wants without asking permission.”
“But he knows more than the two of us put together, and Brutus told him to take care of everything. I’m glad he does.”
Aulus slapped Marcus’s back. “I, for one, can hardly wait to get four days of travel grime off me and relax in some hot water for a while. The baths await.”
Marcus glanced down the street. He could see the back of the big Nubian’s head above the rest of the throng. Brutus’s man might be doing exactly what his master told him, but that didn’t mean Marcus had to like how he did it.
Chapter 53: Only a Sister
Gaius’s Farm, Solis, Day 38
The last songs of praise had been sung, and Calantha joined the other women preparing to serve the fellowship meal.
Petronia stood beside her and wrapped one arm around Calantha. After a big squeeze, she patted her bulging stomach. “Another three weeks or so and I should be able to give you a good two-armed hug. My mother will be coming so she’ll be here when our little one is born. She’ll help me with Sertoria and little Quintus for a while.”
Lucillia hugged her with both arms. “When Gaius announced that you’ve joined us following Jesus, I couldn’t think of anything that could bring us more joy.”
Calantha beamed at them both when Lucillia let her go. “I owe it to Leander for telling me about why he believes and to Publius for bringing the papyrus so I’d hear everything while I wrote what Leander recited.”
A playful smile curved Petronia’s lips. “And now that you follow Jesus, that could open another door.”
“What do you mean?” Calantha placed the loaves of bread on the table.
“Christian men only marry Christian women.” Her smile grew into a grin. “Leander’s such a nice man. You two would do well together.”
Calantha felt the heat to the tip of her ears. “He is a nice man, but he doesn’t think of me that way.”
Petronia raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve seen him watch you when you’re not looking, and I’m sure there’s more than brotherly affection in his eyes. The moment he thinks you’re looking back at him, have you noticed how he looks down or away. He’s noticing you. Quintus looked at me that same way before he ever said anything.” A light laugh escaped. “Or rather I should say he tried not to look at me that way.”
“I don’t think so. He’s the lion who protects me, but he treats me no differently than Marcella.”
Lucillia and Petronia exchanged knowing smiles.
“Tell me this.” Lucillia pressed her lips together to stop a grin. “When you move close to him, does he tense up? Maybe move back a little? Find something he needs to go do right away?”
“Well, sometimes.” Calantha lowered her eyes and pushed the bread plate a little to center it between the stew and salad. She knew how to control her smile, but her eyes could reveal too much.
They had described Leander perfectly. She’d always thought he was uncomfortable being close because she was mistress. He’d often said something wasn’t right for a mistress to do for her slave. And everything he said that about involved her touch.
When Marcella walked through the door, Lucillia waved her over.
“Don’t you think Leander and Calantha would make a wonderful husband and wife?”
Marcella’s eyes focused on Calantha. Her smile started small and grew. “I can’t think of a better pair. But it’s God who brings people together to make them one flesh, and He might have other plans.”
Calantha could have hugged Marcella for her words. Then that teasing smile Marcella used with Gaius was directed toward her, and her ears heated again.
The men’s voices approached the door, and Calantha picked out Leander’s above all others, even though it was the quietest of them all.
And every time she heard his voice, something inside her felt warm and safe.
He limped through the door with Gaius’s hand resting on his shoulder. When his eyes met hers, his usual slight smile broadened.
She looked away. The women were watching her too closely, and Petronia was likely to say something if she saw how a smile meant just for her could draw one in return.
Sertoria tugged on her tunic, and she hoisted the little girl onto her hip. She kept her eyes off Leander by keeping them on the sweet child in her arms.
As he limped back out the door with his food, she let her gaze follow him. Little Quintus ran over and smiled up at him, and Leander balanced his cup on his plate so he could tousle the small boy’s hair as he smiled back.
And a thought she’d never entertained thrust itself upon her. Before her stood the finest man she had ever known: brave, smart, selfless, kind.
Her friends would laugh and say it was ridiculous. Her father would scowl and declare her out of her mind.
She was the noble daughter of a consul of Rome, and Leander was a Dacian slave. Roman law and custom decreed they could never be bound in marriage. Yet her heart cried out that he was the husband of her dreams.
Since the day he rescued her, he’d treated her first as mistress, then as friend, and now as sister. Could he also want them to be so much more?
Too many years as a slave had trained him to hide his feelings. And every time she thought she caught a glimpse of him responding to her as a man does to a women, he’d look away or pull back or excuse himself to go do something. Was that because he felt nothing but fri
endship for her? Did he love her as a sister in Christ and nothing more?
Or was Petronia right? When his guard was down, when he thought she didn’t see, did a glimmer of his real feelings show?
She kissed the top of Sertoria’s head and sighed. Father would be angry when she told him she’d rejected the gods of Rome and given her heart to Jesus. What would he do if she rejected a senator’s son because she’d given her heart to a slave?
Leander offered the chair beside Gaius to Publius and sat on the bench with Sextus. He hadn’t even taken his first bite when Calantha sat beside him.
“It’s so wonderful to be here, worshiping God with everyone, knowing Jesus saved me. I remember when you said I’d spend eternity in hell if I died. You took the arrow to spare me from that fate. That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Jesus allowed Himself to be crucified to spare me that fate, too.” Leander shifted a little to face her. “An arrow in my leg is nothing by comparison.”
“Don’t make light of what you did. You didn’t only rescue me from slavery. Your words led me toward Jesus. And having me write down all you’d memorized…those words have truly set me free.” She took his hand and squeezed. “Having you in my life has been pure blessing.”
His eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no words came. She had blessed his life, too, but he could never tell a mistress that.
Her light laugh wrapped around him. “I’ve made you speechless.” She ran her fingers through his hair. "I rather like doing that.”
When she moved away to sit with Petronia, Sextus grinned at him. “Having a Christian wife to share your love of the Lord…that’s a blessing beyond measure.” He nudged Leander with his elbow. “A wise man wouldn’t miss what God has placed before him.”
Leander nodded. But Sextus didn’t know that soon he must return Calantha to her father to once more be Mistress Julia. That Leander the man must turn back into Dacius the slave. Calantha could never be more than his Christian sister, and her future happiness would come in the arms of another man.
And even as he smiled, that thought punched a hole in Leander’s heart.
It was late afternoon, and Leander was ready for a rest, a good meal, and some conversation with dear friends. But first he wanted to clean up.
He pulled the tunic over his head and laid it on the table under the carob tree. His wounds had sealed, and Gaius had said they would all go in a few days to the small private bath that Publius operated next to his taberna. A good soak in hot water was the greatest luxury he’d known. But for now, the oil and scraper would do well enough.
“Leander.” Her musical voice so close behind him made him jump. “Marcella said to tell you dinner is almost ready.”
He glanced at the scars on either side of his thigh. Too often she told him they were her fault, and that brought a sadness to her eyes. But they were nothing compared to the one on his shoulder.
“I’ll be there shortly.” He answered without turning. What she didn’t see wouldn’t cause her grief.
Then her fingertip slowly traced one of the long scars that remained from the lashes the day he tried to warn her. He arched his back away from her touch.
Her breath caught. “Oh! I didn’t think that would hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Leander shook his head but didn’t turn to face her. “They don’t hurt. You only startled me.”
“These are all my fault. I should have stopped Vilicus.” Her finger traced another lash line. “Six of these when there shouldn’t even be one.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t tell him to use the lash.”
“I know you’ve forgiven me, but it’s still my fault. I didn’t stop him, and I should have. You only wanted to protect me from Aulus.”
“You didn’t know that, and I frightened you.”
“But he didn’t need to whip you, and I should never have let him. I didn’t even think about how much it hurt you. I only thought about myself and not wanting to see your blood. I never thought about you at all.”
She started to trace another scar, and that slow caress was too much to handle. He spun to face her.
Mistake. His bare shoulder with the knife scar drew her gaze.
Then it drew her fingertips. “This is my fault, too.”
She touched it as if he were made of gossamer glass―pressure so light it wouldn’t even hurt a butterfly’s wing. How could so light a touch make his heart pound like it would leap out of his chest? Why did she have to touch him at all? Even though it meant nothing but friendship to her, it tore him apart, with half of him wanting her to continue the caresses and half knowing those touches tempted him almost beyond endurance.
God, why do you let her do this to me?
He stepped back and snatched up his tunic. He dropped it over his head, and when it cleared his eyes, she was still too close for comfort.
The glistening tears of regret that moistened her eyes almost made him step forward to embrace her and tell her she should stop feeling so bad about things that lay in the past. The past couldn’t be changed, and she’d apologized too many times when once was more than enough.
But that was a temptation, too. An even greater one than the prickling of his skin under her cool fingertips or the scalding of his heart by her warm tears.
After fastening his belt, he tipped his head toward the house. “We should go to the house if Marcella has everything ready. I don’t like to make her wait. After you.”
Mistress. You can never be anything but the mistress.
She took a step, then waited for him to start walking. After his first stride, she stepped close to walk beside him. Her hand brushed against his, and he jerked it back. For one unsettling moment, he thought she was going to hold his hand for the short walk to the house.
Both relief and regret surged through him when she didn’t.
After dinner, Calantha leaned against the doorframe, gazing at the oranges and reds that flamed in the western sky.
The scrape of a chair was followed by Leander’s limping footsteps. Then his voice right behind her. “Excuse me, Calantha. I need to check the mules for the night.”
She turned and pushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll only let you pass on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll sit on the bench with me until the sunset ends.”
His back straightened. “I will, but why?”
“I love watching sunsets and sunrises. The way everything takes on the color of the sky, as if the whole world was in special harmony. The way each one holds the promise of a whole new day.”
She took his hand, and his eyes widened. “Come on. We don’t want to miss any of it. You can do what you need to do, and then we can sit and watch until the sky fire dies.”
With his hand still wrapped in hers, she led him out to the bench by the table. “Hurry up with the mules. I’ll be waiting.”
She watched him as he checked the water and shook the gate to be sure it was securely latched. One of the mules sauntered over, and he paused to pet its nose and cheek and pull his fingers through its forelock. When the other walked over and demanded the same, he looked over his shoulder at her. His smile and shrug apologized for the delay, but he still gave the second mule what it wanted before leaving the rail.
The mules were lucky. What would the touch of his hand on her cheek feel like? His fingers pulling through her hair?
When he limped over to join her, he started to sit on the second bench. Then she patted the bench beside her. “Sit here, like when you were practicing letters.”
When he lowered himself onto the edge of the bench, she twisted to face him. “Are you ready for a whole new day?”
His smoke-gray eyes gazed into her own. “I’m ready for whatever you want.”
She turned her eyes back to the sky. Soon Father would come home from Sicilia, and they’d have to go back to Rome. But her home was no longe
r her father’s villa. It was here with Marcella and Gaius and Leander. Somehow, she had to find a way to escape the future she’d been raised for, the one she’d always expected.
She felt as much as heard his sigh, and her own followed. The future she wanted sat beside her, but it would never be hers. Not in the ordinary way of things.
Her eyebrows rose. She worshipped a God not limited by the ordinary ways. He’d brought Leander back from the brink of death when Marcella and Gaius prayed. And even though she didn’t follow Him then, He’d heard her prayer, too.
God, please don’t let me be trapped by my past. Please give me a whole new day.
Chapter 54: Hunters or Hunted?
Luna, Day 38
The sunshine streaming through the window woke Marcus from a fitful slumber. His face scrunched as he rubbed his forehead and swung his feet off the bed. They’d found Callidus and now had information to guide their next step in finding Julia, but at least three days of queasy stomach lay ahead before they could use it.
Aulus stuck his head in the door. “Coming down for breakfast?”
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s the point? I’m just going to lose it when we get out of the harbor.”
“I don’t think so. Africanus bought something that will solve your seasickness problem.”
Marcus rose and ran his fingers through his hair. “His trick with the ginger helped, but it didn’t stop it completely. He has something better?”
“Oh, yes.” Aulus grinned. “He said he could promise you wouldn’t be seasick on the way home.”
Marcus followed Aulus down the stairs, but Aulus turned toward the exit instead of the dining room when they reached the lower hallway.
Aulus pushed open the door. “Follow me.” He disappeared outside.