His heart raced irrationally. He had an emperor to save from the most powerful criminals in the Empire, a brother-by-marriage to deliver from his own idiocy, and Horus to rescue if he chose to accept that task. Yet this woman, despite her soiled past and that she’d betrayed him to his archenemy, could still make his heart race with mere words of praise? He was a fool. “If you come with me and help me get this Marcellus and emperor business sorted out, then I’ll find Horus.”
He certainly wasn’t going to let her out of his sight until Victor rested safely in chains. Perhaps he’d throw Marcellus in chains for the next four weeks too. Keep the man from getting Gwen or her children killed by betraying the Emperor.
“Horus was bawling as the man dragged him away.” Libya clenched the sheets. “He needs me now.”
“Victor’s not going to harm his own flesh. We can afford a few hours’ delay.” If Horus burned the Ocelli villa down in the meantime, so much the better.
Tugging his coverlet up, Libya wiped at her tears. “What can I do to help you?”
He staked his life on the proposition that a woman of infamia, who had betrayed him before, now told the truth. Was that a good gamble to make? He stared into her amber eyes. “I’m giving you one more chance, Libya. If you aid Victor again, I’ll turn you over to the garrison myself. It’s a crime to assist smugglers, and for a freedwoman such as yourself I imagine the harshest penalties are enforced.”
“I won’t do it again. I pledge. I only want my son.” Her lips trembled.
Wryn moved his gaze across Libya’s face. He’d heard Horus speak that pledge more times than he could count. Usually, those words ended with broken pottery, or an armatura sword stuck between his ribs. The tribunes at his garrison would say taking the pledge of a prostitute showed even worse judgment than taking the word of a six-year-old.
If he chose not to believe Libya and she did speak the truth, Gwen and her children would die for Marcellus’ treason, and Rome might lose the best emperor they’d had in decades.
He motioned to the door. “Come. We’re going to visit Marcellus first.” With a score of legionaries.
Chapter 29
Shoving past the Marcellus porter, Wryn flung the villa door open. Servants’ gazes jerked up at the sea of legionaries’ plumes. “Where’s the master of this house?”
Locking the man in irons until after the Ides of Junio sounded better and better. There was no way Marcellus could betray Emperor Trajan and jeopardize Gwen and her children’s lives then. With Marcellus locked in irons, Consul Julius need never know about the man’s treachery. Though he’d beat some sense into Marcellus before he ever let the fool near his sister again.
Sandals pattered from a room across the atrium. Gwen’s eyes widened. Grabbing Wryn’s arm, she tugged him right and lowered her voice. “Marcellus received a missive from Victor an hour ago. His bodyguard, Bruno, saved it for me. The message said that Victor planned to complete the Ides of Junio plan tonight rather than wait. I just got home from Aulia’s and was about to go after you.” Gwen glanced to the soldiers. “What’s happening?”
Would Marcellus help the Viri assassinate Emperor Trajan tonight? Wryn’s heart stopped. Even he couldn’t save Marcellus’ life now. “Victor plans to assassinate the Emperor. Marcellus didn’t tell me, so I can only assume he’s aiding Victor. Do you know what Victor held over him to make him comply?”
Gwen gasped. “He told me he thought his mother might still live. He caused, well, he thought he caused, her death eight years ago. He’d break any law to save her life.”
“Even kill an emperor?”
Gwen clenched the doorframe. “He has no love for the Emperor.”
“I’ll report back.” Wryn glanced to Libya. He should take her with him to ensure she didn’t contact Victor.
Head held high, Gwen folded her arms. “If it’s sense you want talked into Marcellus, I’m an expert at that task.”
“You don’t understand, Gwen.” Wryn touched her shoulder. “When Marcellus is caught attempting treason, Emperor Trajan’s going to order your entire household arrested and executed. Take the children, flee to Ostia, and board the first ship to Father in Egypt.” If he could single-handedly arrest Marcellus and thwart the assassination plot, perhaps he’d earn enough of Emperor Trajan’s favor to convince him to spare Gwen.
Gwen jerked back. “The Emperor will execute him. Or if Consul Julius reveals his past, Marcellus could be crucified.”
“You and your children’s lives are at stake because of Marcellus. I’d have spared him if I found him here, but it’s too late. The plan’s already in motion.” Wryn glanced to his soldiers.
“I love him, Wryn, and I will not see that man die.” Gwen caught up a cloak and a dagger. “I’ll send the children to Ostia with their nurse. Now, where do we go first?”
Love? She’d risked her reputation and entire way of life these last five years continuing in marriage to a freed slave. Now she bargained her life for a man who put her and her children’s lives in jeopardy? He wouldn’t let Gwen do that. “I, not we, and to Consul Julius.”
Gwen snorted. “Consul Julius? That man’s scum. Bruno.”
A swarthy man approached. A wicked-looking knife hung against his brown tunic. The large tattoo running down the rope-like muscles of his arm marked him as one with a disreputable past.
“You had the rabble track Marcellus, as I requested, I presume?” His sister spoke to the rough man as casually as if he were a domina she’d invited over for embroidery. Personally, he’d never approved of the characters Marcellus chose to guard this villa and his wife and children.
The tattooed man who towered a good head above Gwen nodded, a shocking level of respect in his uncouth eyes. “Yes, domina. He’s heading south at present. I have three bodyguards trailing him.”
Wryn’s eyes widened. “You had your husband followed by his own men?”
“I knew something was wrong.” Gwen shrugged, moving the fine silk of her stola and tinkling her pearl earrings. “Marcellus wouldn’t talk. Do you take me for an idiot?”
Eyes wide, Wryn shook his head. “No. The slurs you have invited upon yourself across Rome have never involved charges against your intelligence.”
“Have Tarbus saddle the horses, Bruno. We’ll need one, two —” She glanced to the soldiers. “Do we have to take them? Marcellus’ rabble are well-trained.”
“Yes!” Wryn raised his arm. “I’m not relying on a traitor’s bodyguards to forestall him.” Or to protect his sister.
Gwen turned to Bruno. “Very well. Have Tarbus saddle all the horses.” She swiveled her gaze to Wryn, a pitying look in her eyes. “I truly don’t know how you planned to run Rome as Prefect without my aid.”
The decurion stood to attention. “We’re legionaries, not auxiliaries, sir. My men aren’t trained to ride.”
Oh, to slam his fist against something. At this very moment, he should be at the imperial palace setting up a barrier to forestall Victor’s assassination attacks with his sister safe at her villa like any other domina. Instead, he chased Gwen’s miserable husband across the countryside trying to save his sister and her children from the man’s own folly.
Striding into the tablinum, Wryn yanked out a parchment. Underneath the mark of his signet ring, he scribbled:
Victor Ocelli plans to assassinate Emperor Trajan tonight. Alert the Praetorian Guard and take men from the garrison to fortify the imperial palace. Tribune Lucius and Vitus are the most competent tribunes on duty tonight. I will meet you at the imperial palace as soon as possible.
Wry turned to the legionary who followed him. “Take this to
Consul Julius.”
Wind howled through the lonely building on the outskirts of Rome. Consul Julius huffed as he glanced up to the crag. His bad leg would never carry him up there, but the Viri hideout would work to secure Marcellus until they needed him.
He’d explained everything to Marcellus, along with the fact that the Viri knew of his
spying. The freed slave now stood in front of Victor and Soranus, a wild look in his eyes.
Marcellus clenched and unclenched his hands, sweat dripping down his brow despite the brisk afternoon wind. “If I’m caught trying to assassinate the Emperor, my wife and children will be blacklisted, killed even. You’re asking me to choose between my mother and my wife and children.”
Ha. Marcellus acted as if he had a legal marriage. If Rome knew Marcellus’ slave roots, they’d strip Gwen of her rank and citizenship and those two children Marcellus claimed would become illegitimate. Consul Julius rolled his eyes. Still, he hadn’t told Victor that because telling would complicate his inheriting the Marcellus estates. Let the secret die with Marcellus tonight.
With another huff, Consul Julius stomped closer. The man should worry more about the task. Breaching the imperial palace’s defenses could easily prove a fatal effort. “They’ll only suffer if you fail. Your mother dies for certain if you refuse. You thought you caused your mother death once. Truly wish to cause it a second time?”
Marcellus’ face contorted. Soon enough his loyalty to the woman who bore him would win. The Emperor and the Paterculis were patricians, after all, the kind Marcellus hated.
Marcellus twisted his gaze to Soranus. “If I succeed, what’s to happen to the Paterculis? They’re your sworn enemies and, when you’re sitting on the throne, I doubt you’ll forget that.”
“Amnesty.” Soranus brought his pointed chin down. “If you kill Emperor Trajan for us, I’ll give you, your children, and all the Paterculis who wish it two months to take your possessions and cross the furthermost Dacian border into unconquered territories.”
Marcellus scraped his thumb against his fingers.
“Of course, if you refuse, I’ll just find another assassin. Emperor Trajan will still die, and then I shall execute the Paterculis. Your wife and children included.” A placid smile crossed Soranus’s visage.
“What proof do I have of your word?” Marcellus dug his thumbs into his belt.
Consul Julius shoved Marcellus. “You don’t need proof. Your mother’s alive, the woman I should have killed eight years ago for your infraction. You refuse, and I assure you that she’ll die within the hour.”
Here, surrounded by Viri men, he didn’t fear the lethality that sprang to Marcellus’ eyes every time he spoke of killing his mother. He’d brought enough legionaries to defend a small city to fortify the southern villa where he currently held Marcellus’ mother and Horus.
A mask slid over Marcellus’ face. “Very well. I’ll kill Emperor Trajan.”
Consul Julius smiled. Of course, Soranus would kill all the Paterculis as soon as he became emperor. They discussed it a mere half-hour ago. Pity about Consul Paterculi, but Gwen had to die so he could regain his estates, and Felix knew far too much.
“Go there, Marcellus.” Consul Julius pointed to the ramshackle structure at the top of the craggy rock that Viri men surrounded. They had instructions to kill Marcellus if he ran. “Soranus will send for you before dusk.”
Chapter 30
Victor walked into the villa Consul Julius had directed him to. It was insolent of the man to kidnap his son.
His son sat in the back gardens. Dirt stained the boy’s tunic. Tears streaked his filthy cheeks, and his chest shook.
“I want Mama.” Horus hugged his skinned knees to his chest.
The child would toughen soon enough. That had been his father’s philosophy. Victor pointed to a guard. “Get him something to eat.”
“Where’s my Mama?” Horus slammed his fist against the ground.
“He won’t close his mouth. Been screaming that for the last hour.” The legionary shoved up his tunic sleeve. “I’ve got his teeth marks on my arm.”
Victor rolled his eyes. How hard could guarding one child prove?
Another legionary bore a bowl of stew. Smoke rose from the piping hot clay bowl. Victor took it. Kneeling by his heir, Victor extended the bowl.
The boy narrowed his eyes, but he took the pottery. His nostrils widened as he sucked in the scent. “Where’s Mama?”
“Everything will be all right, Horus.” Victor touched the boy’s shoulder. “I’m your father.”
“You are not my father.” Horus hurled the bowl at him.
Pain seared through Victor as the stew’s scorching heat penetrated his tunic. With a cry, he fanned at the steaming liquid. “If I were your mother, I’d rejoice to be rid of you.”
Throwing himself forward, Horus hit at Victor’s chest with both fists. “I hate you.”
Victor struck his hand across the boy’s cheek. “Enough. I’m your father, and you will live at my villa.”
The boy pressed his hand to his stinging cheek as he fell back. His black eyes darkened into a glare. “I won’t live with you. Wryn will rescue me and Mama. He’s a soldier, and he’s much braver than you.”
Victor snorted. “Wryn Paterculi will die before this week’s out. Now I have work to do this night. I suggest by morn you muster a much better attitude about family relations, son.”
Turning on his heel, he walked to the guards. He’d send Edna a message telling her to direct some of the bodyguards at his villa to fetch the boy this night. By rights, he should tell his wife to relay that message, but on the tiny chance this assassination attempt failed, he didn’t want to risk Iulia learning anything about his connection to Consul Julius and the Viri.
“I’ll never be your son,” his son screamed after him.
Victor groaned. Trust a harlot to give him a ruffian of an heir rather than a respectful child. It was a small detail. He’d civilize his son easily enough after he took care of Emperor Trajan’s assassination and became second in line to the Emperor. The Emperor.
Ocelli blood would rule this empire for generations to come while the Paterculi line ended in a mass grave.
“Are you satisfied now that you’ve seen your son?” Consul Julius looked to Victor. Afternoon sunlight spotted the courtyard stone.
Victor nodded. “My guards will arrive soon to take him to my villa. I’ll see him in the morning when this night’s deeds are done.”
“Of course.” Consul Julius waited until Victor and the Viri’s footsteps had died into silence. Then the consul turned to his steward. “Take the boy to the hills. If I’m not back here by midday on the morrow, kill him.”
That would serve as an incentive for Victor not to run a knife through him this night.
As they neared the spot where the bodyguards had traced Marcellus, Wryn motioned his men in single file and directed his horse after Bruno’s. Same as training, except a prostitute sat in front of him in the saddle. Instead of legionaries, his men consisted of tattooed freedmen who, if he met after dark, he’d probably take as thieves. And rather than riding to save the Emperor, he rode in the opposite direction to save a traitor’s life. Apart from all that, though, just the same as training.
At least Consul Julius would take care of warning Emperor Trajan.
Libya clenched his saddle pommel. “Are you sure Victor won’t harm Horus?”
“You tell me. You were the one lying with him.” Wryn kicked the horse faster. No harm would come to Horus with Victor. If he had any doubt on that score, he’d have ridden after Horus first. Behind them, the tramp of many horses raised dust as the stone of the Colosseum gave way to trees and hilly terrain.
Libya’s lower lip quivered. “You’re right. Victor wouldn’t kill Horus.”
Another reminder Libya knew Victor all too well. Oh, to retch.
Bruno’s horse descended into a ravine between hills. Wryn’s horse’s hooves flicked up mud. Wryn strained his gaze ahead. The Viri very well could have set up an ambush, and he bore responsibility for twenty lives now.
“What if Horus cries for me?” Libya turned her almond eyes up to him, her slender hand shaking. “What if he’s frightened?”
“You do realize our emperor’s life hangs in the balance.” Wryn urged his horse even with Bruno’s as
he looked ahead. He could get them all killed with this crazed scheme to hunt down Marcellus. On the other hand, if he didn’t stop Marcellus from his treason, Gwen, and her children, would pay the price.
“It’s Horus. You’ve always helped him.” The wind blew Libya’s hair against his breastplate.
“Libya, you lied to me, betrayed me, aided my archenemy. Oh, and not to mention that Horus is Victor’s son. Whatever goodwill we had is gone. I should probably arrest you.” And strangle Marcellus himself. How dare the villain risk Gwen’s life? Wryn glanced back to Gwen as his horse picked its way through a pebbled stream.
Libya dropped her gaze. “I understand.” Her eyelashes slipped over her cheeks. A tear rolled down the edge of her lovely nose. Her bosom shook with silent sobs as she took ragged breaths.
Wryn groaned. “I’m not going to arrest you, and I will rescue Horus. As soon as I fortify Palatine Hill, I’ll send a contingent of legionaries to raid Victor’s house.”
“What if he’s not at Victor’s house?” Tears misted over her eyes.
“I’ll find him, Libya.”
Her body trembled. “What if you don’t?”
He touched her chin. If one could touch a star, it would feel like her skin, so celestial he never wished to remove his hand. “Do you trust me?” Wait, why did he ask this? Of course, she didn’t trust him. She went to Victor.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded like the music of lyres.
Wryn narrowed his eyes. “You went to Victor, not me.”
“I wanted Horus to have his freedom. I never would have otherwise. I know he’s not a good man.” The rush of the wind against the grass on either side of the stream running through the ravine mingled with the melody of her voice.
“You didn’t think I’d free him?”
“Why would I think that?” Libya looked up at him, no hint of irony in her dark eyes.
Without Love: Love and Warfare series book 4 Page 30