Rubies of the Viper

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Rubies of the Viper Page 19

by Martha Marks


  “I’m sorry to be— such a nuisance. You must be tired.”

  “My time is yours.” He laughed a bit at the unintentional irony. “Literally! Now... you should go back to bed, miss.” He stood and lifted the sputtering lamp. “I’ll see you to the stairs.”

  “No. I made it— here by myself. I can make it back— by myself.”

  Theodosia rose and opened the door; then she turned and kissed him on the cheek.

  “See you in the— morning.”

  <><><>

  Theodosia lay awake for several hours, wrestling with her dilemma.

  Alexander’s right. I’ll go to Greece, have the baby, and marry Titus when I come home.

  Too restless to lie still any longer, she got up in the dark, fished blindly in a bedroom chest, and pulled out a cotton tunic too light for November. But that didn’t matter; the library would be as warm as her suite. She slipped the tunic on.

  Not wanting to awaken Lucilla from her sleep in the small second bedroom, Theodosia held her sandals in one hand and tiptoed into the hall and down the stairs. Padding barefoot across the atrium, she reached the library curtain and stepped inside. Then she stopped and gasped in shock.

  Alexander was standing beside the great chest, holding two boxes in his hands, with virtually the entire contents stacked around his feet.

  “What on earth are you doing?” She pulled her sandals on.

  “I’m not stealing anything.”

  “That sure is what it looks like!”

  Alexander drew in his breath and held it a suspiciously long time.

  “Last spring, I told you there were some old documents stored here. I’ve been looking for one of them.”

  “Why?”

  Alexander made no reply.

  “I asked you why. Please answer me.”

  “To destroy it.” His words were almost inaudible.

  “Destroy it?”

  “Do you trust me enough to let me destroy something that could harm you?”

  “Without seeing it myself?”

  “A few hours ago you said you trusted me.”

  “Those documents are mine. You’ve no right to destroy any of them. Find the one you were looking for and give it to me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  She sighed.

  “It’s an order, Alexander.”

  He sighed, too.

  “May take a while.”

  Theodosia stepped around the boxes and sat down close by.

  Alexander sighed again. Then he reached to the bottom of the chest and searched through a collection of wax-stamped parchment rolls, looking at each of them. Finally, he turned to her, holding one in his hand.

  “I should have destroyed this before you came home last spring,” he said as—with obvious reluctance—he handed it to her. “That would have been the right time, and I did give it some thought. I’m truly sorry that I didn’t burn it then, before you or anyone else had a chance to see it.”

  Theodosia unrolled the scroll. It was written in Greek and dated March of the year of the consuls Servius Galba and Cornelius Sulla. She made a quick calculation.

  Almost twenty-one years ago.

  There were two wax seals at the top of the page.

  The first imprint bore the design of a ship... the seal of a merchant.

  The second had been made by the ring now lying on Theodosia’s bedside table. She ran a finger around that familiar design pressed into the hard wax before forcing her eyes to the faded writing below it.

  It was the bill of sale of a Greek slave girl named Theodosia, age eighteen, to Aulus Terentius Varro.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alexander’s eyes never left Theodosia’s face.

  She dropped the parchment into her lap and stared at it for so long that her steward wondered if she was having trouble reading the Greek.

  After a terrible silence, she turned those gold-flecked pupils to him.

  “My mother was a slave. Otho knows it, and Nizzo, too.”

  “No, miss. No one knows it except you and me.”

  “But Otho said—”

  “He said your mother was...” The word wouldn’t come.

  “A whore. He said my mother was a filthy Greek whore.”

  “He didn’t say she was a slave.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No! There are plenty of slaves who aren’t whores, and not all whores are slaves, as you well know.”

  “Seems a pretty petty distinction. So… my father bought my mother and brought her here against her will. And that sweet story he told me— Oh, Alexander, my whole life has been built on that lovely lie. It’s all a sham!”

  “Stop it, miss. You are still your father’s daughter, and maybe your mother didn’t come here against her will. Maybe she was happy to be with him. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me that friendship—and even love—are possible between a Roman and a slave?”

  “But if she was a slave... A child follows its mother’s condition.”

  She’s right, of course. And Varro left no certificate of manumission—for either Theodosia—in his strongbox.

  “I always knew I was half Greek,” she went on, “but I preferred to think of myself as a Roman. To be a Roman is to have some prestige, some rights, some control over your life. To be a Greek is...”

  “To be a Greek is to be a slave.”

  “Nowadays, yes. In Rome, at least.”

  “Well, your father didn’t raise you as a slave. Ask anyone who was around here when he was alive. Aulus Terentius Varro loved you, educated you, relished the time he spent with you, and presented you to the world as his daughter. You know as well as I do that slaves aren’t given family names. Even your brother wasn’t aware of your mother’s status. Much as he resented you, he’d have exposed you years ago if he had known.”

  Theodosia’s head sagged forward, and she laughed.

  “Blessed gods, this explains so much! Why I’m not named Terentia. Why Vespasian never met my mother. Why Father never arranged a marriage for me, never even gave me a dowry. Why he never made me behave like a proper Roman girl. He let me read anything I wanted, run a little wild, play with the slaves, eat with them... Do you really think he’d have taught a free-born daughter to ride a horse?”

  “Maybe. Maybe he just liked a spirited daughter.”

  “You’re certain Gaius never saw this document?”

  “Certain.”

  “When did you first see it?”

  “Soon after I came here, when I began cataloguing your brother’s inheritance. I found that parchment buried at the very bottom of the chest. Deliberately buried, it seemed to me, so that’s where I left it.”

  “And you said nothing about it to anyone?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Theodosia picked a loose thread off her saffron-colored tunic and balled it with her fingers. “A conscientious steward would have shown this document to his master. Or to the Praetorians after the master was murdered. Or to the lawyers when it became clear that a bastard slave was about to inherit the family fortune.”

  “Not after hearing Stefan talk for eight years about that beautiful little bastard.”

  “You protected me all those years?” Disbelief rippled through her voice. “A girl you’d never even seen?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I have to believe you… and thank you.” She stood and moved to the window, re-rolling the parchment. Dawn was beginning to creep up on the horizon. “But... how do we handle a secret that you can use to destroy me whenever it suits you?”

  Alexander took the scroll from her hands, walked to the lamp, and held the parchment above the flame until it flared. Then he held it upright and let it burn toward his fingers before throwing the fiery remnant into the bronze brazier. Soon nothing remained of the bill of sale but a puddle of waxy ashes and the acrid smell of burning animal skin.

  “Now it’ll be y
our word against mine, and you know who always wins in a dispute between a Roman and a Greek.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you! If you wanted to use that against me, you’d have done so last spring when I was treating you so badly. Please forgive me... for everything!”

  “You’re entirely forgiven... for everything. I only wish I’d managed to find that thing and burn it before you came down.”

  “So do I. But destroying the document now doesn’t change the fact. I’ll always know about it, and so will you.”

  Alexander let his face contort in mock bewilderment.

  “Know about what?”

  Theodosia threw him a grateful smile and headed for the door.

  “I’ve got to get out of here and just be alone.”

  <><><>

  Before Alexander could reply, she dashed through the atrium and the peristyle, out the back door, and into the early-morning fog. He pursued her, caught up with her near the barn, and took her arm.

  “What’re you doing?” he whispered, not wanting to create a stir. His breath froze in the air as he spoke.

  “Taking my horse out.”

  “It’s too cold.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “You’re not dressed for it.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s still dark.”

  “Let me go!”

  Alexander was about to protest again when the barn door creaked and opened. Everything else faded as he saw Lucilla slip out wearing a sleeping tunic. Her loose hair billowed as she pushed the door to and swung around toward the house.

  The instant she saw Theodosia, Lucilla stiffened like a cornered rabbit. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  Theodosia stared at Lucilla without speaking.

  Alexander’s pounding heart threatening to pulverize his ribs.

  Damn you, Stefan. Nothing worse could have happened right now.

  Theodosia pounced on her maid.

  “Slut!” In the quiet air, the word ricocheted off the walls of the barn and the nearby barracks. “You’re supposed to be upstairs in my suite!”

  Gods... there’s no need for everyone to know about this.

  “How long have you been sleeping with Stefan?”

  Lucilla’s eyes bulged. She gaped wordlessly at her mistress.

  Theodosia grabbed her wrist and shook it hard.

  “By Juno, Lucilla, you will answer me!”

  “Well, you made love to him!” Lucilla cried after a long moment. “Why is it all right for you and not for me?”

  “Because Stefan belongs to me. I can do whatever I damn well please with him. With you, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “But you said I could have him!”

  “Alexander, open the barn door.”

  Alexander obeyed, glad to hear authority return to her voice, even though it meant trouble for his friend.

  Oh, Stefan, I warned you so many times!

  “Call Stefan out here.”

  Again Alexander did as she commanded. Soon a sleepy, disheveled Stefan climbed down from the loft and crossed to the door, where he, too, froze. Theodosia’s eyes hardened as they made their slow way around the three slaves standing before her. Alexander thought they lingered even longer on him than on Stefan and Lucilla.

  She thinks I tried to stop her from finding out about them.

  “I’ll deal with you all later.”

  Theodosia shouldered past Lucilla and marched into the barn.

  Lucilla bolted toward the house.

  The commotion had brought a score of men out of the barracks. Alexander saw their shapes approaching in the mist. He exchanged glances with Stefan as they followed Theodosia to Lamia’s stall.

  “What’re you doing?” Stefan’s voice sounded groggy.

  Ignoring him, Theodosia lifted the filly’s reins off a hook and opened the stall door.

  “Let me help you, Theodosia.”

  Stefan grasped the reins she held. She yanked them out of his hand.

  “Don’t you ever call me that again!”

  He stopped short and exhaled sharply. Theodosia began slipping the harness over Lamia’s head, but it snagged on the ears. When Stefan tried again to help, she struck his arm with the leather straps.

  “This is my horse. I’ll handle her.”

  With a tug, she slipped the harness into place and pulled the filly forward. A bucket, a length of rope, and a pair of riding whips hung on a nearby post. Theodosia reached for the bucket, turned it over, and boosted herself up. Never had Alexander seen her mount without assistance.

  “I’ll ride with you, miss,” Stefan said.

  “You will not!”

  Alexander stood apart from them, unable to believe what he was seeing. Stefan took the reins from Theodosia’s hands again, held the filly securely, and shook his head. “Too dangerous” was all Alexander caught of his words.

  Theodosia leaned to the post, snatched one of the whips from its hook, and brought it down hard, almost a dozen times, on Stefan’s neck and shoulders.

  Stefan grimaced in pain and surprise, dropped the reins, and stepped back, a stunned look on his face. Theodosia gathered the reins once more and prodded the filly to the door, where a cluster of men stood awestruck.

  “I’m telling you— No, I’m ordering you—” She slashed the whip against the door frame. “Don’t follow me, any of you!”

  Kicking the filly, she sped off toward the north.

  Alexander and Stefan stood in the doorway with the other men, watching as Lamia and her rider disappeared into the fog-shrouded coastal woods.

  <><><>

  Alexander had not slept at all the night before, so after he replaced the contents of the strongbox and locked it up again, he returned to his room and stretched out on the bed. But now he couldn’t sleep. A couple of hours later, he got up and went to the kitchen. Stefan and Lucilla sat in a corner, whispering. Alexander left them alone.

  It was a long morning.

  Flavia and Titus arrived around noon, as usual. Alexander met them in the driveway.

  “My mistress has gone for a ride. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

  “Is Senator Otho with her?” Titus sounded annoyed.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then she’s with that stable hand?” Equal annoyance.

  “No, sir.” Alexander hesitated. “She went alone.”

  Titus helped his sister out of the carriage, then confronted Alexander.

  “Alone? You let her go riding all by herself?”

  “I couldn’t stop her, sir. She was very angry. She beat Stefan when he tried to restrain her.”

  “Why was she so angry?”

  I can’t tell him the truth.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Flavia came around and took Titus’ arm.

  “When did this happen, Alexander?”

  “Just before dawn.”

  “Then she’s been gone for hours.”

  “Damn you, man!” Titus shouted. “Why didn’t you follow her?”

  “She specifically ordered us not to, sir.”

  “Of course, you wouldn’t follow her if she ordered you not to.” Flavia’s voice was gentler than her brother’s. “But when she didn’t come home... Do you have any idea where she was headed?”

  “No, my lady. She rode north along the coast, but she could have turned inland at any point.”

  “Terrain’s pretty rough up there, isn’t it?” Flavia tugged on Titus’ sleeve. “I think you should go look for her.”

  “If this fool hadn’t let her ride out alone...”

  “Perhaps she’ll be back soon, sir.”

  I pray to every blessed god of Greece!

  “She has to know you’ll visit her today.” Alexander gestured toward the house. “Come, sir. Will you let us serve you lunch and see if she’s here by the time you’re done?”

  Titus looked down at his sister, and she nodded.

  “Fine,�
� he said, “but if she’s not back in an hour, we’re going after her.”

  <><><>

  Theodosia was not back in an hour, so Alexander assembled a crew of men. Stefan appeared as they were about to leave for the search. The welts on his neck and shoulders were red and blistered now.

  “I’d like to go, too, sir.”

  Titus gave him a lingering look, obviously noting the whip marks.

  “Another pair of eyes can’t hurt.”

  Titus led the way on horseback; the slaves were all on foot. The group moved into the woods and split up randomly at the first stream.

  The afternoon passed too quickly. Shadows lengthened. Nighthawks appeared in the pink-orange dusk. The wind was picking up as Alexander met Titus and the others at the spot where they had separated.

  Nobody had found Theodosia.

  “Maybe she’s home by now,” Titus said to Alexander. “We can’t do any more tonight, anyway. Get her men to the villa. Send word if she shows up. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll bring help tomorrow morning.”

  <><><>

  Theodosia’s slaves kept a vigil in the kitchen throughout the night. The disastrous ramifications of her disappearance were lost on no one.

  Lucilla had been crying in the corner since morning. Stefan had tried to get her to go to her room in Theodosia’s suite, but she refused. Finally, after dinner, Etrusca took her to the women’s side of the barracks, found her a mattress, and returned to sit silently beside Nicanor, her hand in his.

  Around midnight, Alexander went to his cubicle and managed to get a few hours of sleep. Shortly before dawn, he rose and walked to the edge of the forest, where Theodosia and Lamia had disappeared about this hour yesterday morning. Leaning against a tree, he stared at the stars... ears primed for the cries of the forest hunters and the pitiful squawks of their prey. There were bears and wolves and wildcats out there, and runaway slaves, and temperatures far too low for a cotton tunic.

  What a turn of events.

 

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