A Charioteer's Promise

by Tanya Bird

  With her head down, she made her way to the tavern, avoiding any shortcuts that took her down dark alleyways. The safest route was via the busy streets, now alive with carts.

  She heard the tavern before she saw it. Drunken noise spilled out into the street, as did drunken people. Just as she went to enter, a man stepped out and vomited on the road between them, his palm pressing the wall for balance. She gave him a wide berth and stepped inside the packed space, looking around for a familiar face. No Felix, no Albaus. No Nero.

  ‘Looking for me, love?’ a man called to her.

  She turned to look at the grinning man who was missing more teeth than she cared to count. The man with him was laughing as though it were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

  ‘I am looking for Nero,’ she shouted over the noise.

  Nothing registered on their faces.

  ‘Or Cassia? I believe she is a barmaid here.’ Not ideal, but the woman might know of his whereabouts.

  The men exchanged a knowing look.

  ‘Another disgruntled wife,’ one said with a coy smile.

  It took her a moment to register their meaning. ‘Oh, no. Nothing like that.’

  One of the men looked at her with scepticism before pointing across the room. ‘That’s her.’

  Dulcia followed the extended finger to a pretty brunette perched on a lap, her head thrown back in laughter. She focused on the man, holding her breath. It was not Nero. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

  She looked around the crowded space a final time, then decided to leave. Even if she had found him with Cassia, what was her plan, walk up and ask to borrow him for a quick chat?

  ‘I can be Nero if you want,’ someone said as she turned away.

  She did not even glance in their direction. Stepping outside, she saw the sick man from earlier wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before stepping past her and returning inside.

  Now to get herself home.

  ‘Dulcia?’

  Her head snapped in the other direction, following the sound of Nero’s voice down the street. He stepped into the light that spilled from the tavern window, Felix and Albaus flanking him like guard dogs. One glimpse of him and she knew he had been fighting. His face was puffy, his tunic sprayed with blood.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, looking around as though expecting someone to jump out and mug her.

  ‘Looking for you.’ Her lip trembled, and she looked away, biting back the tears. It was embarrassing how her emotions ruled her.

  Nero stared at her for a moment, no doubt trying to read her. He was good at that. ‘You all right?’

  Instead of a sensible, grown-up conversation explaining herself, she went to him, arms wrapping his middle like a child. For a moment he just stood there. Then warm, familiar hands landed on her back. He smelled of sweat and sand—a familiar smell that brought immediate comfort.

  ‘I think we might head inside for that drink,’ Felix said, glancing back at Albaus, who grunted a reply. ‘Good luck,’ he added, patting Nero’s arm as he passed.

  Dulcia let go of him and watched the others enter the tavern. She could not afford to be seen standing outside a drinking house in the arms of a man—especially a man who was not Manius.

  ‘What happened?’ Nero asked the moment they were alone, his brows fused together.

  She was having difficulty looking at him now. ‘Nothing happened.’

  He pulled her into his arms again, and his scent wrapped her once more. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his breath on her.

  ‘I swear to the gods, if he hurt you…’

  She shook her head. ‘No one hurt me.’

  His arms tightened around her.

  What was she supposed to say? “I was collected in a litter, taken to a beautiful house, served excellent food and fine wine, met Manius’s family, kissed, and then told I was worth the wait”? What exactly was her complaint? So what if his mother did not like her and his father was overfamiliar—she was not marrying them. ‘I just wanted to see you.’ He shifted, and she felt his lips brush her hair. ‘Will you walk me home?’ she whispered into his coarse tunic.

  ‘Yes.’ He exhaled and released her. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  Keeping an arm around her, he led her away from the tavern. And for a few fleeting moments, everything felt better.

  Chapter 9

  Remus and Mila’s import business was in many ways a family endeavour, so it was all hands on deck whenever a shipment arrived at the port. Nero pitched in as often as he was able, fitting it in around his own work. Thankfully Nerva understood that when ships anchored, Nero had to disappear for a few days.

  Calm seas meant the Ponto arrived in Pozzuoli on time. The spices were then loaded onto another boat, taking two more days to reach Ostia Antica, where Remus, Albaus, Felix and Nero were waiting. They boarded the boat to inspect the sealed terracotta pots. Satisfied, they carried them one at a time to a smaller boat that would take them up the Tiber to Rome. The process was done with great care, as the cinnamon, incense, ginger and pepper were worth almost as much as the ship that carried them from Barace.

  ‘This is the last one,’ Remus said, stepping onto the boat.

  ‘Finally,’ Felix complained.

  Everyone turned to look at the dwarf as they wiped sweat from their brows. Felix had spent the morning supervising the placement of the containers while the others did the majority of the work.

  Albaus grunted, and Remus shook his head.

  ‘Oh, do not look at me like that,’ Felix said, settling on a seat. ‘You know I must reserve my energy for the seasickness.’

  Remus took a seat beside him. ‘It’s a river. There are no waves.’

  ‘I do not need waves. I am quite capable of crippling nausea on calm waters. We are not all born with fishtails,’ he added, directing the comment at Nero, who had stopped listening.

  Felix cast a knowing look at Remus. ‘He makes your pining look like a good time.’

  ‘I don’t pine,’ Remus replied.

  ‘Not anymore, but there was once a time when you and Mila did this same dance. Whenever we visited the baths, I used to contemplate drowning you just to put you out of your misery.’ Felix leaned back on his elbows just as Nero looked over at them.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Felix was just talking about your fishtail,’ Remus said.

  ‘Oh.’ Nero’s gaze returned to the water.

  ‘Oh, he says.’ Felix rolled his eyes at Remus. ‘Like he suddenly cares for nothing else, his love of the sea dead alongside all hope. It would make a spectacular play, you know.’

  Nero ignored him.

  ‘Maybe once Dulcia marries the senator,’ Felix continued, ‘he might rediscover his desire to leave the city.’

  Nero looked over at that. ‘He’s not a senator yet. It was you who said he was just another charioteer.’

  ‘Yes,’ Felix agreed. ‘A very successful and insanely rich charioteer.’

  ‘And his father is just a merchant,’ Remus added.

  A nod from Felix. ‘Yes, a very successful and insanely rich merchant.’ He looked at Nero. ‘When your family has more wealth than most of the patricians in the city, you can buy any life you choose.’

  Remus was watching Nero in a way that made him feel transparent. ‘But Dulcia does not care that he is rich. She is not marrying Manius for his wealth.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Felix tapped a finger on the side of the boat. ‘Then she is an anomaly. Any sensible girl would jump at such an offer.’

  ‘Well, she said yes, didn’t she?’ Nero was unable to keep the frustration from his tone.

  ‘Her father said yes,’ Remus reminded him.

  Nero drew a breath. ‘She didn’t exactly put up a fight.’

  Felix snorted. ‘You expect a girl who was raised a slave in her father’s house, largely ignored her entire life, who is now finally getting the attention she has craved since birth, to turn around and tell
him no?’ He looked between them. ‘Anyone else think I spend a concerning amount of time educating you people on the workings of the female mind?’

  ‘Is this about her marrying Manius, or about her marrying at all?’ Remus asked, ignoring Felix’s remark.

  ‘He’s not good enough for her.’

  Felix leaned forwards. ‘Is there a man in Rome who is?’

  ‘You, perhaps,’ Remus said.

  Not even him.

  When he said nothing, Remus continued. ‘You should’ve said something when you had the chance.’

  ‘I have to agree with Remus on this one,’ Felix said. ‘Your silence has not done you any favours.’

  Even Albaus grunted, seemingly in agreement.

  Nero rested his elbows on his knees as the boat pulled away from the wharf. ‘I’m not shy, you know. It’s just that my feelings are irrelevant. I’ve nothing to offer a woman like Dulcia.’ He had to raise his voice to compete with the flapping of the sail as it was raised.

  ‘I disagree,’ Remus said with a shrug.

  ‘I share a room with two men.’ Nero’s gaze went to the water. ‘Besides, she’s never said she doesn’t want to marry Manius. Maybe she does.’

  Felix swung his legs leisurely. ‘The girl can barely maintain eye contact during conversation. You expect too much of her.’

  ‘If she didn’t want to marry him, she’d tell me. She tells me everything.’

  Another snort from Felix. ‘You have so much to learn about women.’

  ‘I’d be very surprised if Dulcia felt anything for Manius outside of obligation,’ Remus said. ‘Especially because she knows you don’t like him.’

  Nero let out a breath. ‘Just because I pray most days he’ll be thrown from his overdecorated chariot and trampled by his own horses doesn’t mean Dulcia shouldn’t marry him.’

  Felix made a face. ‘You would not be the first man to pray for the death of a blue charioteer, but that is oddly specific.’

  Nero continued as though he had not spoken. ‘She deserves that life.’

  Remus frowned across the deck at him, not convinced. ‘You’re assuming she wants it. I’ll bet no one bothered to ask her.’

  Nero had to think about that for a moment. Had he asked her? He must have at some point. Of course she was hesitant, probably even afraid. But she was like that with most things, even if she pretended otherwise. Perhaps he should have asked her outright. All he knew for sure was that she shrank back from Manius every time they were together. But that was because he had not won her trust yet, not earned it the way Nero had. He might eventually.

  He could not ask her what she wanted, because her answer would come from a place of fear, not logic, and there were only two other alternatives: hiding in the shadows in her father’s grand house, or a life of struggle outside of its walls. She deserved more than that.

  No, he would remain silent and give her time to adjust to the life he wanted her to have.

  ‘Anyone else feel nauseous?’ Felix asked, a hand going to his stomach.

  Remus stood and patted his shoulder. ‘Remember, eyes on the horizon.’

  ‘Oh, do shut up,’ Felix replied, edging closer to the side of the boat.

  The others turned their grinning faces to the water.

  Chapter 10

  Race day was always a mess of nerves and excitement. Everyone involved felt the pressure and knew how easily it could all go so very wrong.

  Nero had slept at the stables the night prior to watch over the horses; it was not uncommon for one of the animals to become mysteriously ill or be found dead on race day. He had wandered between the stalls, watching the shadows, listening for noises and bracing for trouble.

  The moment the sun rose over the city, the horses began to pace, picking up on the energy around them. They knew what was coming. The grooms had risen early, brushing the horses’ coats until they were so glossy they reflected the sun. When the men were done, Nero slipped into Amator’s stall and went over him one more time. The stallion shuffled and flicked his head.

  ‘Easy, boy. Don’t let the ladies see you nervous.’

  A rap on the stall door made him look up. It was Dulcia, her hair in an immaculate crown braid and lips painted a cherry red. Her arms were bare and bronzed from the sun, contrasting her bleached tunic. She held onto the door as she looked Amator over.

  ‘He looks absolutely amazing. I have never seen a more muscled creature.’

  Nero’s gaze fell to her light blue stola visible above the door, likely belted in that way that made her hips look round and his mouth go dry. He had not seen her since the evening she had come to the tavern looking for him, the evening he had held her so close she had barely been able to draw breath. The scent of her had lingered on him for days.

  Stepping back from the stallion, he went to her. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Her gaze shifted to him. ‘Looking for you.’ She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be at the green stables, despite the fact that her future husband rode for the blue team.

  He tapped the brush against the wall to free some of the hair, and Dulcia waved a hand in front of her face as dust rose. ‘Sorry.’

  She waved off the apology also. ‘How are you feeling?’

  He leaned on the door. From that angle, he could see the full length of her, right down to her sun-kissed toes.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ she asked, plucking a horse hair off her garment.

  How was he supposed to answer that? He was torn between falling at her feet and walking off to spare himself any embarrassment. ‘That colour suits you.’ It was all he could manage.

  She looked up, searching his eyes for a moment before turning and grabbing a wrapped package from a shelf behind her. When she turned back, he saw light in her eyes, even though she was not smiling.

  He nodded towards the linen bundle wrapped with ribbon. ‘What have you got there?’

  She held it out to him. ‘Fruit tarts.’

  For a moment, he was distracted by the enormous silver ring on her finger. The one he had given her was gone. ‘My favourite.’

  Her lips turned up in a smile. ‘I know. That is why I made them for you.’

  His eyes travelled up to meet hers, then returned to her perfectly painted mouth. ‘You made them for me?’

  ‘As a thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For walking me home.’

  He shifted his feet, putting more weight on his elbows. ‘Which time?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘All of the times, but especially the other day. I could not ask for a better friend.’

  Friend. He straightened. ‘You don’t have to thank me for that.’

  She did not move. ‘I know.’

  He stared at the gift, wondering if her arms were tiring. He was about to take it when he heard footsteps approaching. Dulcia lowered her hands and stepped back from the door just as Nerva came into sight.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, bending to kiss his sister. He wore a green tunic beneath his toga in support of his team.

  ‘Wishing Nero luck.’

  Nerva peered into the stall, taking in Amator. ‘Gods, look at him. What a handsome boy.’

  ‘I’m going to assume you’re talking about Amator,’ Nero said.

  Nerva chuckled. ‘You are looking quite fit also.’ He turned back to Dulcia, eyes narrowing on the package in her hands. ‘What is that?’

  She looked suddenly guilty. ‘Fruit tarts.’

  ‘Ah, trying to impress Manius with your culinary skills?’ Nerva patted her arm like one did a child. ‘Look at you, playing the game so well. Who knew you had it in you?’ He glanced over at Nero. ‘Some comfort food when he loses.’ He returned his attention to his sister. ‘I thought you would be seated by now, enjoying your prime viewing spot.’

  ‘Prime viewing spot?’ Nero asked.

  ‘Did she not tell you? Our little Dulcia will be sitting on a balcony with the Libe
ria family today.’

  ‘Really, Nerva, I have not been little for some years.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’re even attending,’ Nero said, his mood completely ruined. ‘You hate the circus.’

  ‘Many women attend for the social outing, a chance to show off their garments and jewels,’ Nerva said. He took Dulcia’s hand, studying the ring. ‘You will be weighed down by this stuff by the time you are wed.’

  Nero turned back to Amator. ‘You had better go give Manius his tarts.’ He tried to keep the bitterness from his tone—and failed.

  ‘We better leave him,’ Nerva said. ‘He gets race day jitters far worse than me.’

  Nero stole a glance at Dulcia and found her scowling back at him. He resumed working.

  ‘Come,’ Nerva said, draping an arm over her shoulders. ‘I will walk you.’

  She did not say goodbye, simply left. He could hardly blame her. The problem was every mention of Manius, or even his family for that matter, fanned the jealousy inside him. Sure, she would have everything she deserved, but none of it provided by him.

  He drew a breath and shook the thoughts from his head. Taking hold of Amator’s halter, he looked the stallion in the eye. ‘You better beat that arse of a man today.’

  Dulcia felt like a duck amid swans. Every direction she turned, she was blinded by jewellery or suffocated by expensive perfume.

  The balcony was located in a wing reserved for senators, equites, high-ranking military personnel, and anyone rich enough to buy their way in. People lounged on plump cushions, with every comfort on hand. Slaves waited nearby, ready to fill their cups and bring them food. Others fanned their masters with lotus leaves and enormous feathers from exotic birds Dulcia did not recognise.

  ‘It is too hot,’ Livia whined, gesturing for the girl fanning her to speed up.

  Dulcia kept her eyes on the procession, afraid her face would expose her thoughts.

  First came the boys of the nobility on horseback. They were followed by future infantrymen on foot. Behind them were the athletes who would race, box or wrestle.

  ‘Here comes Manius,’ Junia said.