And while he’d loved Julia, he’d loved her the way one loves a member of their birth family. The passion he felt for Ademeni had been absent, and he hadn’t known what he’d been missing all these years until she emerged from that cellar in Dacia.
Sunlight swelled into the room, the early morning fog burned from an unforgiving sky. Time slipped away while he sat, considering complicated things that should have clear answers.
Having made his decision, he rose from the bed and readied himself quickly for a day nearly half gone. Ademeni did not know—nor did she need to know—the danger in which he found himself. He would do what he needed to do, and when the game had played out, she would understand no matter the outcome.
Marcus walked to the wash basin and splashed cold water on his face. His calloused hands scrubbed away the last of his indecision.
Throwing a fresh tunic over his head, Marcus turned and looked at Ademeni again, but she had not moved. A thousand words could do no justice to how he felt.
Reaching for her, he paused, hand in midair, and stopped himself. Withdrawing, he hoped that, even should he die, his actions would echo of his love for her to the end of her long years of life.
“You understand that I must go.” Without a backward glance, he left the room, put on his armor and went forth to prove to himself and to anyone who cared to see that something in this world was bigger than Rome.
* * *
Ademeni held her breath, listening to the clank of the sword against Marcus’s side as he tightened his weapon on his hip and walked away from the room. Away from her. His footfalls whispered on the stone, and she lifted her head, straining to hear his exit from the house.
When the heavy door creaked shut, she exhaled and dragged herself to a sitting position. Sounds of the house coming to life rushed in around the tired corners of her mind. Most had come to expect her silent escape from Marcus’s room in the early morning haze. Most respected her enough to pretend they did not see her.
The thought of slinking down the narrow corridor again this morning sparked anger in her belly. The shame she’d felt that first morning had long since vanished. She only carried the burden because it was expected of her.
She straightened her shoulders. It mattered little what any of them thought. Life could not have dealt a crueler fate, yet something unexpected and living and wonderful had come from the darkness, if only for a few precious moments.
Dragging her hands through her tangled hair, she gathered her dignity and reached into the past to recapture a portion of her royal bearing. None of them needed to know that Marcus did not care for her the way she cared for him.
For the day, she would be a loyal princess and damn anyone who could not abide her. With a tilt of her head, she swirled the sheet around her body and swept out of Marcus’s chamber.
The buzz in the kitchen stopped abruptly as Ademeni rounded the corner toward her own room. Rather than ducking behind the curtain, she stopped and widened her eyes as if she’d only just noticed they were there.
She lifted her chin and focused on Flora, who had been spoiling for a fight from the beginning. “Is there something you wish to say?”
Flora’s face reddened, but she held her tongue. Ademeni turned her attention to Callia, who smiled at her from a seat at the table. The sun warmed her shoulders as the child’s favor warmed her soul.
“Would you like to go into town today?” Ademeni offered. No one stepped forward to contradict her, although Lucia’s lips quirked downward.
Callia looked to her grandmother, who smoothed the child’s hair with her fingers, then consented with a nervous nod. As Callia scampered away to dress herself, Lucia warned, “The climate in Rome is tepid. Be on guard while you are out.”
Ademeni took the words under advisement while she dressed and selected a garment that would partially hide her face—and entirely hide a dagger. If faced with a hostile crowd, she would not be caught unprepared again.
If anything ever happened to Callia, she would have no laurels upon which to rest. Once on the road, she advised Callia that they would play a game to find good hiding places on the way to the Forum.
“When we get to the market, we will pick the best hiding place. Then if we get separated, we will know where to meet.”
The little girl’s eyes glittered. She knew nothing of danger, and perhaps no harm was in the air. But if Ademeni’s intuition had not faded, tension pinned the city at all corners just when the patrons of Rome should be enjoying their precious gladiatorial games.
Holding tight to Callia’s small hand, Ademeni navigated the street vendors as if she’d been born to Rome. She bargained for the few things the household needed, lingering to listen for any gossip sweeping up the street.
Her patience was rewarded when, after a company of soldiers rode up the street in a cloud of dust, she heard the declaration, “Those are Tertullian’s men.”
Since when had Tertullian his own men? He was one of Marcus’s men. Pulling Callia against her skirts, she busied herself in a silk vendor’s stall and strained to hear more.
“There’s to be a fight among them for sure…”
“He’s got no chance, man to man.”
“You think Trajan will play things out that way, then?”
“If he wants to entertain us, he will!”
Laugher scratched down her back. She needed more information, but dared not look at either of the two men for fear of being recognized as belonging to Marcus.
“Still, to risk losing a good general like Marcus Cordovis? There must be good evidence he’s turned traitor.”
Ademeni’s heart stopped. Traitor? Who on earth would believe such a thing? A more loyal man Rome never knew.
Callia tugged on her hand. “Why are they talking about Papa?”
Her sweet voice cut through the thick noise of trade like a sword in the heat of battle. A quick glance told Ademeni they had been noticed and clearly heard.
“Go.” She turned Callia away from their shocked faces and back into the street. No sooner had they weaved into foot traffic than she heard, “There’s his whore now!”
Accelerating her pace, she picked up more snippets of conversation.
“Turned on his own family…”
“…one thing to take a slave, another to let her run your house like a wife.”
She’d heard enough. Snatching Callia into her arms, she pushed through the crowd, looking for a safe place to duck into so she could regain her bearings.
“There.” Callia pointed out one of their possible hiding places. The girl had more sense in a crisis than ten men, truly her father’s daughter.
Ademeni ducked into a low, narrow opening behind a row of livestock vendors. She braced herself against the stench of manure as Callia’s scowl reflected her own disgust.
She covered the child’s mouth before she could object in any way, and lowered them to the shadows near the ground.
“Shhhh.” She held a finger to her lips and released her hold on Callia. Leaning her head toward the opening, Ademeni strained to hear anything more over the thundering of her heart.
What she heard confirmed her worst fear. People believed that Marcus had become besotted with her and sat ready and able to turn his back on Trajan at her command.
“…raising a force outside the city to unseat him.”
Bile rose in the back of her throat. How could they believe such things about Marcus? And how could they say such things about him?
As though they’d been inside his house.
Her heart seized in her chest as she peered outside, realization fueling her fear. Where was Marcus now? Had he risen this morning only to ride into a trap?
Desperate to both make her escape and keep Callia safe, she bided her time in their putrid hiding place. Soon, the din settled into dust and she felt safe enough to slip away, Callia in tow.
By the time she reached the gate to the home of Marcus Cordovis, her anger had reached the point of eruption. Someon
e inside this house had betrayed Marcus, and she would find out who would be foolish enough to cross the most powerful general in Rome—and the woman who loved him.
Chapter Sixteen
Ademeni pushed open the heavy door to Marcus’s house, grateful now for the protective high walls the fortress offered. She steered Callia inside. Wide-eyed, the child hovered close to Ademeni’s legs.
“It’s all right.” She laid a hand atop the girl’s head to comfort her. “We’re home. We’re safe.”
“When will Papa come home?”
The innocent question squeezed Ademeni’s heart. Perhaps…never. Her tongue turned to dust.
“Soon,” she lied. “Very soon.”
Callia slipped away, confident in the answer she’d received, while Ademeni stood rooted to the floor. Marcus might never come home. The thought had not crossed her mind until the question had been asked. Would he simply disappear as if he’d never existed? Or would they make a spectacle of his alleged dishonor? In her father’s court… Her heart despaired to finish that thought but could not stop the memories from flooding her mind with rivers of blood.
Her fingers curled into fists. Soldiers would come for the family. She had to warn Lucia. As Trajan’s cousin, there might be some influence she could peddle to keep Marcus, or at least Callia, safe.
She lifted her gaze and found Lucia a few paces away, her brow furrowed and mouth downturned. “What is it?”
Ademeni rushed forward, voice wavering. “Marcus is in great danger. Tertullian has been poisoning the emperor against him, I feel sure of it.”
Her hushed declaration drew a small crowd from the kitchen. Work in the household ceased and everyone directed their attention to her. Lucia took her by the hands and drew her toward the table, but she refused to sit.
“What do you mean?” Lucia demanded in her kindly manner. “What have you heard in the streets? Tertullian is kin—he would never turn on his brother.”
“He would, and he has,” Ademeni responded, heart hammering in her throat. They would never believe her, an outsider, when they had known Tertullian for years. She struggled to order her words to be more convincing. “He has told your emperor that Marcus has become disloyal. There are rumors that Marcus is assembling forces outside the city gates and plans to raid the city in opposition to Trajan, while at the same time inciting an uprising from the Dacians held prisoner inside Rome.”
Color drained from Lucia’s face. “Trajan would never believe such a thing. Marcus is the best general in the army. His loyalty has never been in question.”
Never? Had Marcus lived such a clean life that his motivation had never been at issue? Of course he had. Swallowing became painful as Ademeni admitted, “His loyalty was never in question until I came to his house—until Tertullian saw to such a thing.”
A blanket of understanding settled on the room, and all argument ceased. No one could dispute the fact that she had changed the lens through which Marcus was seen. His affection for his slave—a daughter of the enemy of Rome—now made his loyalty suspect.
But Tertullian also had a daughter of Decebalus in his home. How did anyone know that Ademeni’s relationship with Marcus differed from the natural master-slave relationship?
She sought Flora among the women who surrounded her. Flora alone held a grudge from the first day Ademeni had entered the house, and she had seen the slave in private conversation with Tertullian more than once. Holding the older woman’s gaze, Ademeni asked but one question.
“How would Tertullian know the personal affairs of his commander?”
Lucia followed her trail of logic. “Marcus is a very private man. He does not discuss his personal affairs with anyone, much less a subordinate.”
“Perhaps he talks with his sister.” Flora sneered at their unspoken allegations. “Or perhaps his sister observed on her own Marcus’s unwarranted affection for his slave.”
Ademeni pushed through the circle of women and rushed at Flora, anger boiling in her heart. Unwarranted? A household slave did not decide what was best for Marcus.
“Do you understand that Marcus may be killed?” she shouted. “That this household could very well be destroyed and the parts scattered to the four corners?”
“Including you, Flora,” Lucia added with a lift of her eyebrow.
Flora glanced away, but not before Ademeni glimpsed panic. Grabbing the obstinate woman by the shoulders, Ademeni shook her. “Has he not been good to you all these years? Yet you would turn on him and put everyone in danger. Think of Callia. Would you see her put to the sword?”
A veil of tears fell across Flora’s eyes.
“I think not of myself,” Ademeni continued in a hoarse whisper. “Marcus is a more fair and just man than Tertullian. He should not fall out of favor. He does not deserve what is going to happen to him.”
Flora covered her face with both hands and wailed. “What have I done?”
Lucia stepped between the warring women and turned her pinched expression to Flora. “What exactly have you done?”
As her gaze flittered between her two accusers, Flora took a deep breath and replied, “He preyed upon my loyalty to Julia…and my distrust of Ademeni. I thought it strange for Marcus to be so smitten with her and forget his true love.”
“Who is it that you speak of?” Lucia asked.
“Tertullian,” she admitted. “He first stopped me in the market, but did not ask many questions, then approached me when they dined here. Each time we happened to meet, he would ask more questions. He said I would be helping Marcus maintain his position and eliminating a troubling presence in the house.”
“But he put me in this house!” Ademeni’s temper exploded. How long had Tertullian been plotting against his brother? What could he hope to gain?
“I loved Julia.” Flora defended herself with a small voice. “I had been with her from a child. I did not like to see her memory scrubbed from our lives.”
Ademeni opened her mouth, but Lucia held up a hand. “Flora, your loyalty to my daughter is admirable but foolish. She is gone, and you know that it is not good for a man to be alone. Your loyalty should be to Marcus, who kept you when he had no need of you. Your loyalty should be to Callia. You have brought severe judgment against this house. When Marcus returns—”
“If Marcus returns,” Ademeni corrected.
“You will tell him all that you have done and accept his punishment as binding. There is no other course, should we survive this.”
Nodding, Flora turned and fled the room. Lucia’s next words went to Ademeni. “Thank you for discovering the root of this terrible matter. Now we will say prayers and keep the fires lit. We must be alert, for it will be a long night.”
“Can you not use your influence with Trajan to sway his hand in this matter?” Ademeni asked the matron.
“I will do what I can and make necessary arrangements for this house and its members,” came the answer. “Leave such things to me—for now, all must appear as usual.”
Ademeni swallowed her anger and focused on the menial tasks before her. With trembling hands she prepared dinner as though nothing had changed. Vindication tasted like bitter wine in her throat as she choked back the imaginings of what might happen to the man she shouldn’t love, but did with her whole heart.
She vowed that her eyes would not close until she knew what fate awaited Marcus. Awaited all of them. She focused like never before to keep a clear head as darkness fell across the Capitoline Hill. She would need it, whether or not Marcus made it home this night.
* * *
The hair stood up on the back of Marcus’s neck. A soldier usually provided little distraction to those within the city, unless there was a row. Now, he felt glances of recognition pin him. Whispers chased him through the city from the moment he entered the Aventine.
He spurred his mount and hastened to the barracks, where entry was granted with thinly veiled suspicion. Fickle Rome had turned against him in a day’s time, like an intemperate harl
ot. Had his men been swayed as well?
A short trek through the barren stables told him little. The hands still saluted him with stiff respect, and his horse was treated to the usual fare.
He turned and nearly ran into one of his men, Quintas Pallus, who addressed him with a sharp salute. “General.”
“Quintas.” Marcus returned the greeting. This solider had been with him ten years or so, a hard worker who rose slowly but steadily through the ranks to quartermaster. “How are you?”
“Surprised to see you, sir.” Quintas relaxed, but scowled.
“Surprised?” Marcus had been visible in the barracks every few days. “Why?”
Quintas glanced around. They stood alone. “There is talk, sir. The men don’t know who they should listen to.”
What kind of talk? If rumors sprang from Tertullian, the men might indeed have trouble grasping the truth. He and Tertullian had appeared united at all times for the benefit of the troops.
While he’d thought it rash to air his concerns about Tertullian in front of the men, he saw how this now colored the situation.
A group of men entered the stable. They slowed and quieted their conversation when they saw him. Half the men saluted, the others did not.
“Walk with me.” Marcus steered Quintas away from the crowd onto a path in the adjacent riding field.
Quintas spoke first. “May I speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“There is speculation that you have broken with Trajan now that another has seemingly replaced your wife.”
Struck by how such a simple truth could affect so much, Marcus grappled for words. Did he make Ademeni out to be merely a pleasure slave, or did he argue that women did not make or break the political and military lives of men?
He held his tongue, for neither was true. His marriage to Julia had been largely driven by his career. As the silence swelled between them, Marcus drew a deep breath. “My loyalty is to Rome and no other. But my wife is dead, and it is nobody’s business who sleeps in my bed.”
Surrender to the Roman Page 15