Faithful

by Carol Ashby

He made two more sweeps with the brush. “I plan to take Adela with me and leave her holding the horses and all the money while I talk with Lentulus. I’ll tell her to come back to you if I get taken. I’ve been training her to be able to find her way home alone for the last three weeks.”

  His lips tightened. “We’ve become good friends, and if something happens to me, it might tear her up. She’s strong and smart, but I’m not sure she’ll know how to start back without me. Please help her with that. And if she’ll listen, please tell her I didn’t really die. I’ve tried to tell her about Jesus several times, and she cuts me off. But if I’m killed for refusing to deny him…maybe she’ll listen.”

  Quintus reached across the mare to rest his hand on Galen’s shoulder. “If she comes back here alone, I’ll take what you have and ask Brutus to free Otto for less so he can take her home. The worst he could do is say no.”

  “That’s worth trying.” Galen rubbed the back of his neck. Brutus made money feeding the Roman lust for blood and death, but at his core, he might be a good man. “Maybe he’ll be willing to let Otto go if he learns I died before I could get the rest of the money. He tried hard to win, but he almost seemed glad when I did.”

  Quintus swept the brush down the mare’s back once more. “I’ll be praying for you. God will be with you, and His will shall be done.”

  As Adela followed Galen through the shadow cast by the great stone arch of the Porta Fontinalis into the heart of Rome, her eyes were drawn to the gleaming white buildings that towered just ahead.

  Galen slipped off Astrelo and handed her the reins. “Stay here. I need directions to Tiberius Lentulus’s villa.” He pointed at a huge three-story building with rows of columns on the first two stories. “Basilica Julia. The courts are in there, and the clerks should know where he lives.”

  Adela watched him weave his way into the crowd of men in togas. His dark blue shirt stood out in the sea of white, but with his dark tan, aquiline nose, and wavy, dark brown hair, he looked just like them. A Roman among Romans…and yet there was something very different about him. Something special.

  Her mouth curved at that thought. Then the word pulchra caught her ear, and she glanced down at the two Roman men leering at her as they stood nearby. A hand on her dagger and a glare were enough to make them move on.

  When she turned her gaze back toward the basilica, Galen had vanished. But there was one thing she could count on. Galen would always return.

  Long moments stretched into at least a half hour, and still Galen didn’t reappear. In Hermunduri country, she would have gone to look for him, but no one would dare to take her horse there. The Romans who looked at the horses with a desire to have them were even greater in number than the ones who looked at her. Twice she’d started to unsheathe the dagger as she glared at one before he turned away and walked on.

  The tension drained from her shoulders when she finally glimpsed Galen’s dark, wavy hair and blue tunic weaving through the dense crowd.

  The smile on his lips as he took his reins revealed his success.

  “Tiberius Lentulus has several villas spread around Italia, but he was seen in Rome yesterday. They thought we’d find him at his villa that’s a short way up the Via Tibertina. We need to skirt the Forums and ride northeast up the Clivus Suburanus. That takes us out the Porta Esquilina to the Via Tibertina.”

  Adela nodded. As long as Galen knew the way, that was enough.

  “Now repeat what I just told you, only backward.”

  Her mouth fell open as she turned her head to stare at him.

  “Trust me on this. Via Tiburtina through the Porta Esquilina. Then down the Clivus Suburanus to the Forum area before you go through the Porta Fontinalis in the city wall. Then the Via Flaminia, on past the Mausoleum of Augustus until you get to Quintus’s inn.”

  As Adela recited the backward route until Galen pronounced it perfect, she fought a smile. It was odd what he wanted her to know sometimes, but she didn’t mind learning. He waved his hand a little as she recited, almost like he was listening to music. He’d told her more than once that her voice was musical.

  She glanced at his profile, with its trace of a smile. His deep voice was certainly music to her ears.

  Vineyards and orchards lined the road that turned off the Via Tiburtina and led to the Lentulus villa. Adela preferred wilder country to the well-groomed farms around Rome. In Germania, a stag might leap from the brush in front of you, or the soft gurgle of a stream would accompany birdsong. In Italia, all seemed safe and peaceful, but tendrils of unease wrapped around her.

  Galen had grown strangely silent. The trace of a smile was missing.

  They came to a paddock where several gorgeous horses were chasing each other, and he reined in to watch. The corner of his mouth turned up a little, but there was something sad about his smile.

  “That’s a beautiful stallion. He reminds me of Dec’s stallion at home.” He patted Astrelo’s neck. “Astro sired Astrelo. I wonder if these share the same bloodline.” His smile broadened as he focused on her, but his eyes lacked the warmth she expected. “Val raises some of the most beautiful horses. I enjoy selling them to people who appreciate a fine mount. It’s been a good life.”

  Been a good life? Those words sent a shiver through her. Those had been her mother’s last words to her father. Father was not a man who let his feelings show, but he’d taken Mother’s hand in both of his. When he raised it to his cheek and nodded, Mother’s eyes had filled with love, and the smile she reserved for him alone broke free. Then her eyelids closed …and she was gone.

  Father had laid her hand on her chest and moved the other to lie on top of it. His jaw had clenched before he strode from the house without a word. He’d hurled himself onto his horse and galloped out of the village. Adela had watched him until he vanished into the woods, and then she’d returned to prepare the body that was no longer Mother for its funeral the next day.

  But Galen was young and healthy. They had only come to the Lentulus villa to ask for some money to save the good friend of the rich Roman’s son. Why those words?

  He undid the belt that held his purse and dagger and draped it across the saddle in front of him. “Before we get to the villa, I want you to take all the horse money.” He lifted his tunic to get to the two money belts containing his and Otto’s horse money that he concealed underneath it.

  “Here. Put these on.” He faced away from her as she put both under her tunic and fastened her belt over them, just as he had always done.

  “I’m through.”

  When he turned back toward her, his usual smile had returned…almost. There was something a little stiff about it, and something guarded in his eyes.

  Her pulse ramped up. “Why did you give these to me? Is something wrong?”

  “Probably not.” He turned Astrelo’s head toward the large white building surrounded by a matching wall that loomed ahead of them. “Let me do all the talking.”

  “I won’t use my Latin and embarrass my teacher when I say something wrong.”

  His warmest smile accompanied the shake of his head. “Nothing you could ever do would embarrass me, Adela. Any man would be proud to have you at his side.”

  She felt the heat in her ears, but he didn’t see her blush. His eyes were fixed on the villa ahead of them. What did he think awaited them there?

  Galen had only been six when his father had abandoned the ancestral villa and carried his family to Germania Superior to avoid execution in the arena. That was fifteen years ago, but images of the beautiful white columns and colorful mosaics of his former home drifted through his mind as he led Adela through the gate into the stable yard of the Lentulus villa.

  A burly slave immediately approached them. “You shouldn’t be in here.” He flicked his hand toward the gate. “Go around back and find the overseer.”

  It was the greeting Galen expected. He’d shaved that morning, but it had been almost two months since his last
haircut, and his clothes were those of a rustic German, not the cultured attire of a Roman aristocrat. Adela bristled beside him, and he placed his hand on her arm to calm her.

  “I’m Gaius Licinius Crassus. I’ve just arrived from Germania Superior, and I have an urgent personal message for Tiberius Cornelius Lentulus.”

  The stable slave’s eyebrows popped up at his three-part Roman name. “Wait here. I’ll see if the master is available to receive you.”

  When Galen turned to Adela, he almost laughed. Her eyebrows were as high as he’d seen them. “You’re Gaius Licinius Crassus? I never heard that before.”

  Galen calmed his grin. “I told you outside Brigantium my full name had twenty letters. When seeking audience with a leading Roman citizen, I have to declare I’m a citizen to be worth his time. Only citizens can use the three-part name.” He undid the purse from his belt and held it out to her. That shot her eyebrows up again. He shook it before she took it from his hand.

  “Listen very carefully. When he comes back to take me into the house, you are not to get off your horse, no matter what anyone says or does to get you off.” He slid off Astrelo and handed her the reins. “Do not let anyone take Astrelo for any reason. If I don’t come back out, I want you to have him.

  “If someone other than me comes out of the house and tells you to get off and come in, ride out immediately. If anyone tries to stop you, do whatever it takes to get away. Go back to Quintus. He’ll explain what’s happened and help you get home. I had you memorize the way…just in case.”

  Adela’s heart raced. “Why are you saying you might not come out? I’m not going to ride away and leave you. I need you…to get home.”

  His lips tightened. “No, you don’t need me. I’ve been teaching you Latin this whole trip in case something happened to me when I tried to rescue Otto and you had to find your way home alone. You can do it. I’ve taught you how to ask how far to the next town and what road to take, where’s a respectable place to stay that’s safe for a woman alone. Don’t forget that it’s safest to ask directions from the Roman garrisons, and you know enough Latin now to do that. Take the roads we took and stay at the same places we stayed. When you get to Argentorate, ask for Centurion Silanus. Repeat his name.”

  Adela swallowed the lump in her throat. “Centurion Silanus.”

  “Good. Tell Silanus I died in Rome and ask him to help you figure out where to go when you cross the frontier to get home. He might be able to tell you what road to take and some of the larger villages that are on the way to your home village.

  “If I don’t come out, first go to Quintus, and he’ll try to buy Otto with the horse money I gave you. Otto will take you home if Brutus agrees to sell him for less. If not, I know you can get home by yourself.”

  Adela fought the quaver in her voice. “But I don’t want to leave you. Why do you think Lentulus might not let you come out?”

  “You must leave. If I can’t come out myself, it means Lentulus has taken me captive, and I’ll be dying in the arena.”

  Her heart raced, but she shoved the surging emotions down. “But why would Lentulus do that? You’ve never done anything wrong.”

  Before he could answer, the slave emerged from the house and hurried over to join them. She understood enough of his Latin to know Lentulus had summoned Galen and wanted to know what a Roman from Germania could possibly have to tell him.

  Galen rested his hand on her foot and squeezed. “Promise me you’ll go to Quintus right away if I don’t come for you and someone tries to get you off your horse.”

  “I promise.”

  As Galen followed the slave into the house, a single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. It didn’t remain alone for long. Her chest jumped, and she swallowed hard.

  Oh, Galen. You have to come out. She flicked aside the tears and squared her shoulders. Te amo, Galen Crassus. You can’t die here.

  A Hermunduri woman was strong, able to face anything without showing emotion. But try as she might, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

  Chapter 31: The Only Rich Man

  The stable slave led Galen past the Corinthian columns of the portico that ran the width of the stable yard. At the corner, he passed Galen off to a house slave who looked about ten. The boy led him half-way down the portico along the second side of the house. There, he was met by an older man with a gray fringe of curly hair encircling his head.

  “I am Graecus, steward of the estates of Cornelius Lentulus. I understand you have an urgent message for Master Tiberius.”

  The smile he offered was reserved, and his crossed arms didn’t encourage familiarity.

  Galen tilted his head, as Brutus had done. “Yes, and I can give it only to Tiberius Lentulus himself. It is of a personal nature. I assure you he will be glad to receive it.”

  The steward’s gaze swept Galen from head to foot and back again. “Gaius Licinius Crassus, you say? I thought I knew all the younger men of that family.”

  “I’ve been living in Germania since childhood. You would not have met me in Rome. But I’m not here to discuss my relatives. The message and associated request I bear are matters of some urgency.”

  The old steward’s gaze settled on Galen’s dagger.

  Gallen slipped it from its scabbard and offered it handle-first to Graecus. “You may have this until I leave, if you wish.”

  Graecus took the handle, and his stiff smile relaxed into a subdued but genuine one. “I will take it, but I doubt that’s necessary when it’s so freely offered.”

  He looked over his shoulder as he turned to enter the house. “Follow me, Crassus.”

  As the steward led Galen through the peristyle’s lush garden, brilliant with flowers, a sweet fragrance that Galen didn’t recognize floated in the air. They passed into the atrium, and Graecus veered left to lead him into a room with a throne-like chair on a raised platform directly across from the arched doorway. A desk flanked by cupboards carved with hunting scenes stood against the left wall. A row of chairs lined the wall opposite the platform.

  It seemed a lifetime since Galen had been in his father’s tablinum, watching the many clients come to pay their respects during the morning salutation. White togas and tunics with purple stipes―all part of a life long gone. It was funny how memories that hadn’t surfaced for years came back in this villa that was so much like their own.

  But his life was in Germania, and that was the only place he wanted to be. Father and Mother had loved the freedom of simply being who they were, unshackled from their famous family name and all the social expectations. Father had said many times how much he thanked God for giving them Val as a new daughter and Germania as a new home where they could follow the Way without fear. But they had died before Tiberius Lentulus made following Jesus a capital crime.

  Graecus dipped his head toward Galen and swept his hand toward the chairs. “Please be seated. Master Tiberius will be with you shortly.”

  The boy had followed them, and Graecus snapped his fingers to direct him to a corner of the room, where he became a statue with his eyes locked on Galen.

  Galen settled into a chair and crossed his arms. If a room could be a window into its owner’s soul, this one certainly was. The paintings on the walls portrayed great events in Roman history. The floor was an array of multicolored geometric tiles that formed an intricate pattern of interwoven lines. The masks of Tiberius’s ancestors hung on the wall opposite the desk.

  Everything about the room declared its owner’s pride as a Roman and a Cornelius Lentulus and his passion for order and tradition. Tiberius had considered Dec’s new faith a betrayal of his ancestors and of Rome. Would he still care enough about the disowned son who prayed for him every day to spend money he wouldn’t even miss to redeem his son’s friend?

  He focused his eyes past the geometric patterns painted on the ceiling. God, you gave me victory over Brutus. Please move Tiberius to give me the money so that victory means Otto’s freedo
m.

  Galen’s shoulders squared at the sound of sandals outside the door. With Dec and Val, he’d prayed for Tiberius’s soul for eight years, but to what effect? Enemy or friend…he was about to find out.

  The tall, gray-haired man who entered the room radiated authority and physical strength. Dec would look just like him in twenty years. Galen rose and straightened to his full height.

  “Thank you for meeting with me. I have some information from Germania Superior that I believe you will be glad to receive and a request for assistance that only you can give.”

  “So Graecus has informed me. What is this personal information that you think might interest me?”

  A movement in the corner drew Galen’s glance. The boy who’d been left to watch him had turned his head to hear better. “It’s for your ears only, and there are extra ears in this room.”

  Without even looking behind him, Lentulus snapped his fingers. His hand fisted, and he pointed to the door with his thumb. The boy bowed and left.

  “Otto, son of Baldric of the Vangiones, and I were selling horses in Argentorate when he was kidnapped and sold as a gladiator. I’ve tracked him to Rome, but the man who owns him set his price higher than I can pay.”

  Tiberius’s eyebrows dipped. “And why should this be important to me?”

  “Otto is still alive because he trained for years in the use of a gladius with his good friend, a man to whom you were close when you were governor in Germania Superior. He was senatorial tribune of the XXII Primigenia while you were there.”

  Tiberius’s head bounced back. “Decimus is in Germania?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you see him last? Is he well?”

  “Four and a half weeks ago. He’s very well. Happily married with two sons and a daughter. His horses were among those we were selling.”

  Tiberius said nothing, but the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes started to crinkle.

  “I have the money from selling the horses, but it’s short by 1600 denarii. You’re the only man in Rome with whom I have a connection who might have the resources to help me buy Otto out of the arena. I’ve come to ask you to help me redeem Otto by providing the funds I lack.”