by Martha Marks
Antibe is dead.
As in a dream, she followed Stefan up the narrow stairway leading to the old, rutted street; then she hopped out of the way as he unexpectedly jumped backwards.
Otho was advancing through the door, jabbing the tip of his sword into Stefan’s chest.
<><><>
“Thought you’d lost me, didn’t you, bitch?” Otho growled in Theodosia’s direction as he forced Stefan at sword point against the wall opposite the door. “Give me that document you had at the banquet, or come morning they’ll find this fucking runaway with his throat cut and his balls stuffed in his mouth.”
I can’t tell him I left it with Rubol.
“I don’t have it. I threw it away in the forest.”
“Liar.”
With his left hand, Otho pulled a large knife out of his belt and pressed its edge up against Stefan’s gullet. It was the same two-weapon assault he had once made on Alexander. Stefan was wearing a knife in his belt, too, but he couldn’t get to it.
“One more lie and this slave takes a bath in his own blood.”
“Can’t you just let us go? We’re trying to leave. We’re no threat to you.”
“That document you were planning to show Nero has my name on it, doesn’t it? My seal?”
“It does.” Despite the danger, it gave Theodosia a thrill to twit him with her discovery.
“Then that document is a threat to me. Hand it over if you want this miserable lover of yours to survive the night.”
Remembering the feel of her own knife at Nizzo’s gullet, Theodosia knew how easy it would be for Otho to slit Stefan’s throat.
He’s not my lover anymore, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you kill him.
“If I do give you the document,” she took a step closer, praying that Stefan wouldn’t move, “will you let us go?”
“Of course! That’s all I want.”
“He’s lying,” Stefan said, barely moving his lips.
“Shut up, slave.”
“Very well, here it is,” Theodosia said with resignation, reaching under the hem of her tunic.
As her fingertips touched the handle of Phoebe’s knife, she glanced up. Otho shifted his eyes from Stefan to watch her.
Stefan reacted instantly to the opportunity. He knocked the dagger away from his throat as the sword flew out of Otho’s hand, crashing against the opposite wall.
Otho jumped as Stefan whipped his own weapon out of his belt. The men circled around the chamber, daggers in hand. Theodosia was moving backwards in the direction of the sword when Otho retreated a few steps and seized her arm. He pulled her in front of him and aimed the point of his dagger straight into her heart.
“Drop that knife and kick it over here,” he said to Stefan as he crushed Theodosia against him with his left arm.
She closed her eyes and waited. A moment later, she heard the clatter of Stefan’s dagger hitting the floor, then the swoosh before it also crashed against the wall.
“Get in there. Pull the door shut behind you.”
Theodosia opened her eyes and saw Otho gesturing to the burial chamber. He would throw the bolt, entombing Stefan.
“No,” said Stefan.
Otho twisted his fingers into Theodosia’s hair—just as he had on that horrible day in the garden years before—pulled her head back, and slid the long blade of the dagger along her throat.
“I’ll kill her if you don’t obey me.”
“You’ll kill her anyway.”
“No. I have plans for this gimpy little whore.” Otho laughed. “Don’t worry, slave, you won’t die in there. I have plans for you, too.”
Paralyzed by the pressure of his blade, Theodosia could barely breathe, much less talk.
Stefan stepped to the threshold leading to the inner chamber.
“If you harm her, then you better leave me locked in here. If I get out and learn you’ve hurt her worse than you already have, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
He walked into the chamber and pulled the door shut.
Otho dragged Theodosia to the door and shoved the bolt.
“Now, give me that document.”
“I don’t have it!”
He groped around her breasts, producing a crackling sound.
“What’s that?”
“My certificate of manumission.”
“Toss it over there.”
Theodosia did as she was told.
“Now,” he said as the parchment landed on the floor, “what really happened to that drawing you wanted to show Nero?”
“I told you. I threw it away in the woods.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying! It’s true. Nobody will ever find it. And with all the rain, the ink has probably washed away already.”
“You’ll find it or you’ll die.”
Otho dragged her to his sword and shoved it into his scabbard; then he pushed her in front of him up the stairwell. The stone that Stefan had once brought to prop the door open was still there, still propping the door open. Otho pushed it with his foot, letting the door shut. To make sure, he leaned on the edge and listened for the click.
Despite her distress, Theodosia smiled to herself.
Bless Father for showing me the mechanism.
Without a word, Otho untied the reins of Theodosia’s mount and the one that Flavia had provided for Stefan, slapped both animals on the rump, and sent them galloping away. Then he boosted Theodosia onto his own horse, leaped behind her, and headed out of the necropolis.
Theodosia rode silently until they were deep in the forest. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, but lightning still flashed in the distance.
At last, she turned and looked at Otho over her left shoulder.
“Did you really murder Gaius as part of a scheme to marry me? I might almost feel complimented!”
“You vain bitch. I never gave a damn about you.”
“Just my money.”
“Just your money.”
“You murdered Gaius to get your hands on our family fortune.”
“Good enough reason, wouldn’t you say?”
“And to stop ‘the viper’ and others from blackmailing you.”
“An equally good reason.” He laughed in her ear. “Zeus, haven’t you been busy digging up the dirty past!”
“And Nero went along for sport, didn’t he? For that variety of entertainment he craves so much... just like the night before last, in the street of the potters.”
“Clever little Theo! You’ve got it all figured out.”
“You made sure Gaius’ slaves in Rome weren’t put to death, because you hoped to get them—along with his mansion on the Caelian Hill—for yourself. By marrying me. You lured Alexander to Rome the day you intended to murder Gaius. You were confident the Praetorians would blame him for it and leave me without anyone to rely on when I inherited the estate.”
“Why didn’t you ever show such analytical talent before?”
“And then,” Theodosia said, still speaking over her left shoulder as her right hand began sliding down her right thigh, “when that didn’t work, you tried to make me so afraid of Alexander that I wouldn’t want to live in my home alone. You even got Lucilla to plant that idiotic couplet to make it look like Alexander was threatening me.”
She felt a hard object under her tunic, just above her right knee.
“How did you find out he wrote poetry? Stefan and I were the only ones who knew that. Did Lucilla worm it out of Stefan and tell you?”
“Among other things.”
“I thought so.”
Her fingers had reached the hem of her tunic.
“You did everything you could think of to get your hands on my money, didn’t you?”
Her fingers crept up under her tunic, to that snugly wrapped band of cotton.
“You promised Nizzo the funds he needed to buy my farm... on the condition that he lie about my mother. And then—assuming you intended to honor that promise at all, which I
doubt—you would have used my own money to pay him off when your efforts to marry me succeeded.”
Her fingers touched the smooth bone handle under the cotton.
“But in the end, when you saw that your schemes weren’t working, you couldn’t stand to see the Flavians get their hands on everything you’d hoped would be yours. So... once you realized that nothing you’d done—not bribery, not blackmail, not murder—none of it was going to get you what you wanted, you set out to destroy me any way you could.”
“And that was the simplest part of all. Gods, Theodosia, you made it so easy! Riding horses. Playing music. Wearing courtesan colors. Throwing yourself at a stable hand. Fraternizing day and night with your slaves, even in Rome.” Otho laughed again. “Poor little Theo! After so much low-class behavior—such a shameless display—it was simple to make the case that you were slave-born, a murderer, and a usurper.”
“There’s one thing you forgot.”
“I forgot nothing.”
“You forgot, that my father raised me to have enough spirit to—”
In that instant, she turned her head to the right to see her target.
Her hand flashed up and down, plunging the knife to its hilt into Otho’s thigh. He screamed as she yanked the long, bloody blade out and sank it again, with equal force, through his exposed calf.
“You bitch!” Otho released her and reached for the weapon.
Seeing him distracted and leaning far out over his right leg, Theodosia seized the reins and swung the horse sharply to the left.
Senator Marcus Salvius Otho—descendant of Etruscan kings and best friend of the emperor of Rome—tumbled sidelong to the ground, cursing in pain and frustration and fury.
Theodosia spun the horse around, kicked his flank with her good leg, and took off for the necropolis.
<><><>
Theodosia and Stefan rode Otho’s horse through the woods until they came to the clearing by the sea, where on one beautiful September evening—a hundred years ago, it seemed—they had made love.
It was now no more than an hour before dawn. The drizzle had stopped, and there was a hint of moonlight through the film of clouds. Across the curve of the shore, Theodosia’s beloved villa lay dark and lovely in its sleep.
Antibe is dead.
The thought kept running through her head.
And maybe Alexander did come back for me.
“Pull up a moment, Stefan. There’s something I have to tell you before we go on. All those years in the Carcer Tullianus, I had time to think and— Oh, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do! I care so much for you. I always have, you know, since we were children. And then that spring, when I first came home... you were so magnificent. I think I was in love with the idea of loving you.”
Stefan’s arms encircled her as he kissed her hair.
“I’ve loved you every moment of my life,” he whispered. “There’s been other women—you know that—but none I ever truly cared for. Not like I cared for you. Gods, when I saw you out there tonight, skinny and wet and all tore up—” His voice broke. “Theodosia, I want to make up for everything that went wrong between us.”
There was silence as Theodosia struggled to find the words she needed. But Stefan went on before she found them.
“I hear there’s land up north, where the Romans don’t go. Land for crops and animals, with good water and trees for building a home of our own. We can find a safe place there, raise a family...”
Desperate to make him stop, Theodosia shook her head.
But Stefan didn’t stop.
“Well... Greece then. Won’t be quite as safe, but we’ll do all right.”
“Stefan, please! I’ve got to tell you something.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but… I love someone else. Gods, this is awful! You risked everything coming back for me, but so did he, and honestly, I think I loved him years ago. Just couldn’t bring myself to admit it then.”
“Alexander,” he said, after the briefest of pauses.
Theodosia’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.
“I never thought I’d ever have to face this decision. Never thought I’d see either one of you again. Never dreamed he’d—”
She bit off the words come back for me.
“It made me happy to think of him happy with Antibe. He loved her so.”
“Yes, he loved her,” Stefan’s tone was odd, “for what they shared and the baby they had. All those years when he was a slave here, he honored his commitment to her. He grieved hard for her when he found she was gone.”
Stefan’s voice fell to a whisper again. Theodosia had to lean against him to catch what he was saying.
“But he loved you, too, just as surely… all the way back to that night when—”
“But he—”
“No, wait!” Stefan pressed a finger to her lips. “All the while you was letting us pretend to be the friends we knew we couldn’t never be with you... All the while you was playing Titus and Otho off against each other... All that time—and ever since—Alexander has thought of almost nothing but you.”
Too tearful to speak, Theodosia waved her hands to stop him, but Stefan took them again and wrapped her in another gentle hug.
“He fell in love with you that night of the storm, but he resisted every temptation to tell you how he felt... out of respect for you and loyalty to a wife who was already dead before you and he ever met.”
“But it was Alexander who urged me to go out to you in the garden, after I’d been shunning you. And it was Alexander who convinced me to marry Titus.”
“And it was Alexander,” Stefan added his own emphasis, “who risked everything by writing to Flavia Domitilla, when a word from her would have brought Roman soldiers to his hiding place in Antioch. And it was Alexander who made the decision to return to Rome. And it was Alexander who went into the emperor’s palace tonight. Don’t you see, Theodosia? He did all that for love of you.”
Theodosia freed her hands from his and dabbed at her wet cheeks.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I guess it’s because... if there’s another person in the world I love as much as you, it’s Alexander. He’s always looked out for me, too, you know. Just as he has for you.”
“I know.”
“And here’s the best proof. Was there a line in one of his poems that guided you to the tombs tonight?”
“Sure. ‘And she met her lover where the dead heroes lay.’ Didn’t he mean you?”
“He did mean me. That’s just my point. He assumed all this time that I was the one you loved.”
“You mean... he loves me so much that he would risk his life and his freedom so you and I could be together?” Theodosia shook her head. “Nobody’s that unselfish.”
“Alexander loves you too much to be selfish. And never, ever, has it occurred to him that he might be the one you actually love.”
<><><>
The last of the clouds had blown out to sea by the time they reached the villa. Juno the moon was riding high over the water. Stefan dismounted and lifted Theodosia off the horse at the foot of the stairs, as he had done so many times before.
She pulled him down to her height and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, dear old friend. You’re very special to me, you know.”
“I know.”
As she released Stefan, she spotted a short, stocky figure with a torch running around the corner of the house. Nicanor came to Theodosia, stuck his hand into the breast of his tunic, and drew out a leather pouch. Then—bowing with embarrassing reverence—he handed the bag to her. Its weight surprised her.
“What’s this, Nicanor?”
“You saved me and my family, lady. Maybe I can help save you.”
Theodosia opened the pouch and scooped up some of its contents with her fingers. It was a collection of gold coins... far more than a slave like Nicanor could hope to accumulate in a lifetime.
“Did you steal this?”
<
br /> “No, miss.” It was Stefan who answered. “That’s the reward he got from Vespasian for finding you in the riverbed.”
“I never knew about that.” Theodosia poured the coins back into the bag and raised her eyes. “This money would buy your freedom, Nicanor. I can’t take it.”
Nicanor nodded firmly.
“Take it, lady. I got no need for money or freedom.”
Theodosia would have argued with him, but at that moment Flavia appeared at the top of the stairs.
“You were supposed to call me, Nicanor, as soon as they arrived.”
“Don’t scold him, Flavia. Please.”
With the bag in her hand, Theodosia looked again at Nicanor. His eyes were fixed on her face.
It’s a matter of pride for him. Maybe the best chance he’ll ever have to show he’s a man.
She nodded and whispered “Thank you!”
Then she forced her legs up the stairs and—after a hesitation—threw her arms around Flavia.
“My truest, most loyal friend… can you ever forgive me? I had no idea what you were doing. I was so rude!”
“I didn’t blame you. Who would, under the circumstances?” Flavia pulled back and stared at Theodosia’s scratched face and arms and the coarse, soaked, torn tunic she was wearing. “What in blazes happened to you tonight?”
“A hard ride. It doesn’t matter now.”
“But Titus was supposed to—”
“He tried. Just please thank him for me, will you?”
Flavia nodded.
“You’re welcome to stay here, you know. Forever, if you wish. You’re free now, and this will always be your home.”
“Thank you, Flavia, but... much as I love this place, I’ve found something more important.” She hesitated again and smiled shyly. “Where’s Alexander?”
Flavia’s lips also curled into a soft smile.
“In the library.”
<><><>
Theodosia breathed deeply as she pushed aside the sapphire-blue curtain and stepped into the blackness of the room that had meant home all her life. A single lamp burned on the table by the couch, perfuming the air with its well-remembered sweetness. Instinctively, she looked toward the dark corner where the desk had always stood.