by Carol Ashby
“He won’t do that.”
“Because you tell him not to? What makes you so certain you have that much influence over him? She’s beautiful enough to make any man want her.”
“That’s true, but Otto’s father has made it very clear what he thinks of slavery and treating people like animals. Otto will do the right thing. It never takes more than a reminder of what’s right from me.”
Tiberius’s laugh was more of a snort. “So, you are your friend’s conscience? The best of men sometimes ignore their consciences, even when that conscience takes the form of a faithful friend.”
His mouth pulled sideways as he shook his head. Crassus was either very naïve in the ways of the world, or the people he lived with didn’t act like those in his own circle of acquaintances.
But his own son had believed the unbelievable and done the unimaginable when he decided to follow the Christian god. Young Crassus had made the same foolish decision. It was unreasonable to expect wisdom from such men.
Chapter 36: Changing Owners
A short walk took Galen, Tiberius, and his two slaves to the edge of the wealthy Fagutal district, where a view of the city stretched out before them. Looming just in front of Galen was the amphitheater.
Tiberius’s hand swept the length of it. “The Flavian Amphitheater. Started by Vespasian and finished by Titus with the spoils from the Jewish war. The roar of the crowd can be heard from here.”
Galen massaged his neck. “Dec has spoken of it. That’s where Publius died.”
Tiberius’s hand dropped to his side. “Yes.” His voice was almost a whisper, and Galen’s head snapped sideways toward him.
Almost instantly, Tiberius masked the sadness in his eyes. His mouth curved up. “Your friend will never get a chance to test his courage and training there.”
“For which I’m very grateful.”
“It’s time to set him free.” Tiberius strode toward the staircase that descended to the valley below.
Galen started to lower his left arm, and the toga dragged on the ground. He jerked it back into place against his stomach. He’d broken his arm when one of Baldric’s horses threw him when he was ten. He’d never forget having it trapped in a sling for weeks, pressed against his stomach. Wearing a toga made him a one-armed man again. It would be good to get back to Germania, where a man could wear whatever he wanted and no one would tell him otherwise.
As they turned off the Vicus Patricias and walked up the Vicus Sandaliarius, Galen’s gaze locked onto the carvings of fighting men above the door of the Ludus Bruti. But this time, the anticipation surging through him wasn’t tempered by fear that he would not find Otto or would find him dead. Tiberius Lentulus walked beside him, and the slave behind them both carried the 5400 denarii that would set Otto free.
The same doorkeeper greeted them. “Welcome to the Ludus Bruti.”
Before Galen could speak, Tiberius took charge. “I’m looking for Marcus Brutus.”
“Master Brutus isn’t here at the moment, but he is expected to return soon.” He swept his hand toward the stairs to the balcony. “The viewing balcony is up there. You can watch our gladiators practice while you wait.”
Tiberius crossed his arms. “Do you know where Brutus has gone?”
“Yes, and he should return shortly.”
A slight tip of Tiberius’s head let his eyelids partly close as he looked down his nose at the slave. “Shortly is not soon enough. Send someone to fetch him. I don’t have time to waste waiting.”
The door slave’s eyes saucered, and he took a step back. “Yes, senator.”
“Send him to the balcony as soon as he arrives.” Tiberius swept through the door and disappeared into the stairwell.
Galen shrugged and offered the slave an apologetic smile before following the man in control up the stairs.
When he reached the balcony, he strode to the railing and scanned the array of posts. No Otto. His hands fisted. It had only been two days since the swordfight. Brutus had agreed to three days for him to return with the money…but had he waited? If someone came and offered more…
“Otto isn’t here.”
Tiberius stepped up beside him, and a hand settled on his shoulder. “That’s not a matter for concern. There are only twenty posts, and this school would own many more fighters than that. They switch between this arena and other training stations.”
A quick squeeze, and then Tiberius’s hand was gone. The worry drained away, but not the intense anticipation. Galen paced the depth of the balcony, returning to the edge after each lap to see if Otto had come into the arena.
The corner of his mouth pulled up into a crooked smile. Otto would do a double take when he caught sight of his best friend in a toga, looking for the first time like the Romans Otto despised.
A mixture of curiosity and irritation swirled within Brutus as he strode down the street. A pleasant conversation with his friend had been interrupted by the arrival of one of his kitchen slaves. What man would come to his ludus who thought his time was so important he could summon Brutus from anywhere?
He stopped at the door, and his doorman dropped his eyes. “I beg pardon, master. The senator insisted I send for you.”
“Where is he?”
“On the balcony, master.”
“Lepus didn’t know his name. Do you?”
“Cocinus took some cheese and bread up, and his manservant called him Master Lentulus.”
“Lentulus? As in Cornelius Lentulus?”
“I don’t know, master.”
“Tall, silver hair, still looks fit enough for combat?”
His doorman nodded. “Yes, master, and he said he didn’t have time to wait. I was afraid not to send for you.”
Irritation faded, and curiosity grew. Tiberius Lentulus on his balcony, waiting impatiently. Lentulus was well known for breeding champion horses, but he seldom attended the games.
Brutus adjusted the folds of his toga where it draped his left arm and headed up the stairs.
His head bounced back when he saw Gaius Crassus, dressed in a toga and tunic of whitest wool, standing beside Lentulus at the balcony railing.
How was a young horse trader from the provinces able to get a man of Lentulus’s stature to cover what he didn’t have? Brutus would have bet the 3800 was all Gaius Crassus had when he didn’t make the purchase right after the fight. He’d half expected Crassus to return in three days to report he couldn’t raise the rest of the 5400. And if he had, a special discount would have lowered the price to match whatever Crassus did have.
“Crassus. I presume you’ve returned to complete the purchase.”
The young man spun at his voice, and the smile that lit his face was almost as broad the grin that accompanied his victory.
Brutus let a smile curve his own lips. “Who is your friend?”
Crassus started to sweep his left hand toward the stately figure standing beside him, but he stopped before the toga shifted too much. “This is Tiberius Cornelius Lentulus.”
He turned toward Lentulus, and his right hand swept toward Brutus as the senator turned from the railing. “And this is Marcus Antonius Brutus.”
Brutus tipped his head before locking his gaze on Lentulus. “I haven’t had the pleasure before, but your reputation precedes you, Lentulus.” He raised an eyebrow. “How is it you’ve come to help one of the finest young swordsmen of my acquaintance?”
Lentulus donned a formal smile, but his eyes were cool. “I governed Germania Superior for the better part of three years. A wise governor knows more of his province than the governor’s residence and administrative offices. Some men are worthy of my help.”
Brutus glanced at Crassus, and his smile broadened. “On that point, we agree. I have the bill of sale already prepared. It only lacks the sale price and final signatures.”
His hand swept toward the stairwell. “After you.”
The senator took a step, then paused. “You
will need to make some changes in the documents. My name should be on the bill of sale. I will be paying, not Crassus, and I will take possession.”
Brutus’s eyebrow rose at that. “Are you going to set Bjorn free, like Crassus was?”
Tiberius’s mouth curved down. “Why is that any of your business?”
Brutus crossed his arms. “Because the 5400-denarii price is for a man who risked dying to set his friend free. For anyone who plans to keep Bjorn a slave, the price is 9000.”
Crassus stepped forward. “He’s paying the 5400 for me. He’s going to free Otto.”
Brutus tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as his gaze locked on the senator. “Are you?”
Tiberius’s frown deepened. An equestrian gladiator owner had no right to question his intentions. Then his mouth relaxed. Brutus was willing to sell to Crassus at a cost far below what he thought Otto was worth. A man who valued courage and faithfulness that much deserved an answer.
“I am.” He rested his hand on Crassus’s shoulder. “Some men are worth helping.”
Brutus’s smile grew as he uncrossed his arms. “Then follow me to my office, and we’ll put it in writing.”
A sack of sand hung from each end of the yoke resting on Otto’s shoulders. For what seemed like the five-hundredth time, he squatted to let the bags that weighed almost as much as Galen rest on the ground, then stood. He’d thought about telling Lanista Felix he shouldn’t have to do this because his friend was buying him. But that would only have drawn a lash from Felix’s three-cord whip, and then he’d be lifting the sand with a sore back as well as tired legs.
And what if Galen’s relative refused to help?
As he squatted and lifted the bags once more, his jaw clenched, but it wasn’t from exertion.
The boy who usually served the food scurried into the room and spoke to Felix. His voice was too soft to catch the words, but he cast several furtive glances in Otto’s direction. Was that a good sign or bad?
Felix’s scowl was blacker than normal when he glared at Otto. He tipped his head toward the door. “Your master wants you in his office. Now.”
Otto followed the boy down a hallway and across a courtyard where men with nets were trying to trip each other.
When he stepped through the doorway into a waiting room lined with chairs, Galen stood before him, wrapped in a toga and grinning.
Brutus stood beside him, arms crossed, with a grin that matched. “Well, Otto of the Vangiones, it’s time for us to part company. You’re going with Tiberius Cornelius Lentulus, senator of Roma.” His hand swept toward the tall, silver-haired man with broad purple stripes on his toga and tunic.
Otto’s breath caught, and his gaze bounced between Galen and the governor of Germania Superior who’d declared all Christians should die.
Brutus snapped his fingers. A man with heavy clippers gripped the brass collar around Otto’s neck and wriggled the tips between the two ends of the collar. The shearing of the copper pin was announced by a snap, and he lifted the collar away.
“It’s been a pleasure owning you, Otto, and an even greater pleasure meeting your friend Crassus.” The familiar smiling frown curved his lips. “Feel free to come visit any time.”
Brutus slapped Otto’s shoulder and tipped his head first to Galen, then to Tiberius. “Now, since we’re through here, I’ll return to the business from which I was summoned.”
Galen offered his arm. “I won’t forget you, Marcus Brutus.”
The frowning smile relaxed into a grin, and Brutus’s eyes crinkled as he gripped Galen’s arm. “I can say the same, Gaius Crassus. Vale.”
After a final nod toward Tiberius, he strode into the courtyard and disappeared through the door on the other side.
Tiberius handed the bill of sale to the man carrying a leather pouch. “You’re the first gladiator I’ve owned, but I’m always open to something new. This should prove interesting.”
“You own me?” Otto’s stomach clenched. “But I thought Galen was only getting enough extra to free me.”
Tiberius chuckled. “Calm down. You are now the property of a Roman citizen who will have no one question his citizenship, his age, or his right to do whatever he wants with you…with no complicating personal history.” The corner of his mouth pulled up as he glanced at Galen.
“Crassus tells me you’re only twenty-one, so you would normally become a Junian Latin rather than a full citizen. But I have a ready solution to that since your family breeds and sells horses.”
Otto squared his shoulders. “The best in Germania.”
“I’ve seen your stallion. Not the best in the entire province, but he is a quality animal.”
Tiberius tapped his chin with his fist. “That presents a business opportunity I consider worth pursuing. I breed some of the finest chariot horses in Italia. All four factions race my animals in the Circus Maximus, mares on the shafts, stallions in the outer traces. They have many wins to their credit.
“I’m ready to expand beyond Italia. If I make you my business agent for a new racing stable in Germania Superior, I can request special approval for you to become a Roman citizen immediately. Does that interest you?”
Otto rubbed his mouth. “A Roman citizen and raising good horses? I’d be a fool to say no.”
The corner of Tiberius’s mouth curved up. “Yes, you would, and that would disqualify you for becoming my agent. You only need to choose what you want for your third name after the Tiberius Cornelius part.”
Tiberius summoned the man carrying the pouch with a flick of his finger and pantomimed writing on his hand. The man withdrew a hinged wax tablet and stylus and stood ready to write what Tiberius spoke.
“Address it to Quintus Flavius Albus as praetor. Request time in his court as soon as possible this week for obtaining full citizenship for an underage man being freed to operate as my business agent in Germania Superior. Then deliver it and wait for a response. Return to the villa as soon as you have the date and time.”
“Yes, master.”
As the scribe drew letters in the wax with the stylus, Tiberius turned back to Otto. “If the court date is not tomorrow, we’ll go to the races so you can watch some of my horses compete.”
Tiberius’s gaze shifted to Galen, then back to Otto. “Perhaps you should hope for a delay. As soon as you’re freed, you’ll have to wear a toga like Crassus. He’s already informed me of the advantage of living in Germania that spares him from dressing like the citizen he is.”
Otto rested his hand on Galen’s arm and gave a light shove. “Wearing a toga is a price I’m more than willing to pay, even if Galen does complain about it.” He got a grin in return.
Otto fixed his gaze on Tiberius…governor of Germania Superior who’d wanted to kill his friends for their faith, senator of Rome who could command instant responses from men in power. Reeking of the Roman arrogance that he’d always hated, but also the man willing to spend his own money to buy Otto’s freedom and to make him a business partner so he could be a Roman citizen.
“I want to thank you, Tiberius…can I call you that?”
Tiberius tipped his head, giving permission. A slight smile curved his lips as he turned his face toward Galen. “You may also use that name. You can tell me later why I’m calling Gaius Licinius Crassus ‘Galen.’”
“I want to thank you first for helping Galen rescue me and also for giving me Roman citizenship. I’ve seen the value of that many times.”
A flick of Tiberius’s hand swept his words away. “I need no thanks. My own son would have asked me to do it if he were still alive, and what father would refuse what he knew would be the request of his son to rescue one of his friends?”
Otto’s brow furrowed. “But Decimus isn’t―”
“My son died eight years ago, murdered by robbers just outside Rome and his body never found.”
“But I―”
Galen rammed an elbow into his side. “I want to offe
r my deepest condolences on having your only son disappear eight years ago, never to return. I remember my own grief when my father was murdered.”
Otto opened his mouth, then shut it. He’d find out what was going on later when he could talk with Galen in private. “Please let me join in offering my condolences as well.”
Tiberius nodded his acceptance. “We’ll head back to my estate now. There should be time to look at the horses I have there before dinner. I may want to use one of the stallions for founding the new herd.”
When Tiberius led the party into the courtyard, Otto tipped his head back to gaze at the sky. It seemed a much brighter blue now he was a free man again.
Chapter 37: Still More to Learn
Lentulus estate outside Rome, Day 33
Adela chewed her lip as she sat at the table under the portico off the stable yard. She tried to keep her attention focused on the young stallion as the stable man brushed him, but her gaze kept returning to the gate.
Galen and Tiberius should be back soon, and Galen’s friend should be with them. Traveling with Galen had turned into pure delight. How would his friend change that? Would Galen’s jokes and laughter and general conversation all be directed at his friend and no longer at her? Would his friend insist she was his slave and take advantage of that? If he tried, would Galen protect her or let his friend do as he pleased?
The friend of a lifetime must be more important to Galen than she was. That thought drew a deep sigh.
The thuds of nearby hooves snapped her gaze back on the gate. Tiberius came through first, riding alone on his gray stallion. Then Galen appeared, riding beside his friend and talking. But his eyes sought her out the moment they came inside the wall. His hand shot straight out to point at her, then lifted into a wave.
Relief flooded through her as she raised her hand in response.
Seeing Galen beside his giant friend made him look small. Funny how she’d stopped noticing that. With his beard shaved and hair cut short like a Roman, Otto was even more handsome than she’d remembered. Funny how she’d come to like Roman hair and a clean-shaven face better than the long hair and trimmed beards of the Hermunduri.