Second Chances

by Carol Ashby

  The raeda rocked as the driver jumped down. His head poked into the carriage. “We’re a little more than a mile from the Porta Asinaria at the southeastern edge of Rome. It’s a few hours until the gate opens. We’ll wait here until then. We’re heading across the river and south on the Via Portuensis. Wagon traffic is always heavy…and slow. It could take more than two hours to pass through the city and get to the warehouse, but we have torches if it gets dark before we reach it.”

  Malleolus stuck his own head out when the driver withdrew his. “A long day’s travel, but worth it.”

  There were dozens of wagons and carriages waiting with them, and food venders wandered among them. Malleolus turned toward Anthusa.

  “Come with me. We can get something for our escorts and ourselves to eat while we wait.”

  He and Anthusa wandered among the vendors until they found some rosemary-laced bread, dried dates, and wine. As they started back to their companions, four armed men drew Malleolus’s gaze. They were winding through the parked carriages, tracing Malleolus’s path and getting closer.

  “Faster, Anthusa. Don’t look, but we’re being followed.”

  The men were gaining on them, and Malleolus quickened his steps as much as he could without actually jogging. A swift glance over his shoulder revealed the men less than sixty feet behind them, still gaining. At least they were almost back to Aristarchus’s guards. He was puffing when they reached the raeda.

  The driver stood and waved his arm at the four men. “Myron. Alexander. Over here.”

  Malleolus’s tense shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled at himself. Aristarchus had said he would be providing extra guards for the trip through the city itself.

  Being an accomplice in a kidnapping made a man much jumpier than usual.

  For Cornelia, the hours spent waiting for the city gate to open to wheeled traffic felt like days. She longed to get out of the raeda and stretch her legs. But she weighed the risk of someone recognizing her against the cramps in her legs, and caution won over comfort.

  The sun was low in the sky when they merged into the long line of wagons, carts, and carriages as it crept toward the stone arch that spanned the cobblestone road. Inside the city wall, they headed southwest from the Porta Asinaria to catch the Via Appia. With so much traffic, it was very slow going.

  Cornelia’s eyes drifted shut, but the occasional lurch as the wheels rolled over the cobblestones kept her from sleeping. She stayed away from the window as they got closer to central Rome, where the odds of encountering a senator who might recognize her rose.

  Drusilla leaned her elbow on the window frame, transfixed by the monuments to the greatness of Rome.

  As they drove past a building that stretched for at least a quarter mile, her daughter gasped. “Look at that huge building, Mother. What is it?”

  “The Circus Maximus. That’s where they race the chariots your brother likes to watch so much.”

  “I think it would be exciting to drive one. Maybe someone can teach me in Thracia.”

  Cornelia choked back a chuckle. Her daughter’s daring nature matched her curiosity. “Maybe, but I won’t let you compete in races. Those are too dangerous.”

  Drusilla turned to grin at her. “That’s all right. Driving fast on a road should be fun enough.”

  Drusilla remained pasted to the window as they passed to the west of the area of the Forums. As they began to cross the Tiber on the Pons Aemilius, she turned again. “I’ve never been on such a big bridge. I didn’t know the river was so wide. There’s even an island in the middle of it.” She craned her neck for a final view of the water as the carriage rolled off the bridge and headed for the city gate west of the river.

  Cornelia flexed her shoulders and shifted on the bench. Even the best cushions couldn’t make an all-day ride comfortable. “You’ll love it when we reach the sea. When you stand on the shore, you can look across the water for miles.”

  The sky flamed gold and crimson as the carriage turned south onto the Via Portuensis. A steady stream of heavy wagons snaked into the city. A man driving a team of mules cursed at an ox driver for going so slowly. Start-and-stop traffic headed north, but the traffic heading south moved at a steady, if slow, pace.

  They’d been traveling for almost twelve hours, and Cornelia was bone-weary. She leaned against the raeda wall, only to have her head smack into the wood as the carriage rocked its way along the cobblestone road.

  Malleolus patted her hand. “We’re almost there. It’s only a mile and a quarter from the gate to the warehouse.”

  Dusk was turning into dark when the mules finally pulled the carriage through a large gate and stopped by a grain warehouse. The face of their driver appeared in the door’s window.

  He opened the door and held out his hand to assist Cornelia. “You’ll be spending the rest of the night here. There are some beds waiting for you inside. It’s about another three hours down to the harbor, and we want to get there midmorning. Someone will wake you for breakfast.”

  Cornelia stepped down from the raeda and stretched. The carriage was built to cushion the ride over rough roads and stone paving, but it still rattled and shook. One more day to the ship, four to five weeks to Thracia―soon she would buy an estate and start over. Almost everything would be different, but she would still have Drusilla, Anthusa, and Malleolus with her.

  She tipped her head back and her gaze swept the sky. The stars sparkled against the blackness. She’d always loved looking at them. So much was changing, but the night sky would remain the same.

  A cot in a warehouse should not have encouraged a good night’s sleep, but Cornelia awoke well-rested and eager for what the day might bring. Her mirrors were packed in the wagon, but Anthusa could be trusted to replace her elaborate crown of curls and tidy her hair so it wouldn’t look like she’d slept in it.

  The breakfast of bread, cheese, and raisins satisfied better than her last banquet. The future awaited beyond the hills that lay between them and the wharves at Portus. As she climbed into the raeda for the final stretch of the escape from Rome, she shook off the dust of regret over what lay behind. Fifteen more miles, and Italia would become the stuff of memories, good ones to keep and sad ones to discard. She was ready to embrace the future.

  Portus, port city of Rome

  As they stopped above the wharves, Cornelia’s view of the harbor was blocked by Drusilla hanging out the window of the raeda. Her daughter sprang out first, followed by Malleolus and Anthusa. The driver hopped down and held his hand out to Cornelia to steady her as she climbed out.

  His other hand swept toward a ship tied to the pier below them. “That’s the Claudia.”

  Cornelia had never been to a harbor before, and her eyes widened as her gaze followed his hand.

  The line of slaves carrying cargo up a plank and into a hole in the deck seemed more like children than men compared to the massive ship. The corbita that would carry them to Thracia was ninety feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Toward the rear was a cabin, about ten by twenty feet, with a canopy roughly half that size attached to it.

  Just past the canopy, the bright white of a carved neck and head of a swan caught her eye. Two large, paddle-like rudders hugged the ship’s sides just past the cabin. Poles for controlling them extended over the cabin roof where whoever was steering must stand.

  A little forward of the center of the ship was a huge mast, about half as tall as the length of the ship. A second mast about a third as long as the tall one stuck out at an angle past the bow of the ship. The sails on each were tied up to the long spars that were mounted at right angles to the masts.

  Drusilla’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that our ship? It’s huge. I never thought it would be so big.”

  “It takes a big ship to go safely on the sea.”

  The size of it did calm Cornelia’s nerves. Sea voyages this late in the season could be especially dangerous. The fall weather was often unpredictable, and she’d
heard sad tales of ships being lost in October gales that no one had expected. Still, the uncertain danger of a sea voyage was nothing compared to the certain suffering of her daughter if they stayed.

  She drew a deep breath, raised her head, and stepped toward the ramp. The future belonged to those brave enough to take a risk.

  Chapter 6: The Captain

  Drusilla held Malleolus’s hand as they started down the ramp to the pier. She looked back over her shoulder at Cornelia and grinned.

  “I can hardly wait to see what it’s like to be on a ship.”

  Her daughter’s enthusiasm and endless curiosity drew Cornelia’s smile. “I’ve never been on one, either. We’ll stop in several ports before we get to Perinthus, where your uncle is. I’m sure we’ll see many interesting things.”

  One interesting thing had already captured Cornelia’s attention as they walked along the pier: the man standing on the deck of the ship ahead of her. Something in his bearing and the way the other crewmen acted toward him marked him as the captain.

  The brawny man wore a white tunic that barely reached the knees of his sinewy legs. That seemed odd. The captain of a ship this size wouldn’t be poor, and she’d expected something more befitting a well-to-do merchant. Only the color distinguished his attire from that of his crew. A broad leather belt held his tunic snug around his waist, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and his athletic build.

  His hair was short and curly, and he wore a short beard. That hair had once been totally black, but now it was gray at the temples and a sprinkling of gray could be seen in his beard. He was deeply tanned, as expected for a man who worked outdoors most of the year.

  He stood with his legs spread, fists resting on his hips as he looked up at a crane-load of cargo as it was lowered toward a gaping hole in the deck. He reached up to steady the large crate that swung too much as it approached the opening, and his bulging biceps reminded her of the field slaves who did the heavy labor at her estate.

  Perhaps he was not unusual for a ship’s captain, but she’d expected someone who looked more like the cultured, spoiled men of aristocratic Rome, men like her ex-husband who relied on others to do any real work. Lucius Fidelis hadn’t been that fit even during his mandatory service as a tribune in the army, but her ex-husband had only served near Rome, not in a fighting legion in a frontier province.

  With his intensely masculine physique and his ruggedly handsome face, the captain would be the perfect model for a statue, but no statue could capture the animal magnetism she felt the moment she saw him. The maidenly flutter he provoked was unexpected. She was a grown woman long past any foolish mooning over handsome men.

  As Malleolus and Drusilla paused at the foot of a broad wooden plank, a crewman spoke to the captain, and he turned to view his passengers. He signaled to the man who stood atop the cabin. When that man took his position by the opening, the captain strode to the edge of the deck where the plank rested.

  “Come up, and welcome aboard. I’m Hector, captain of the Claudia.”

  His deep voice speaking accented Latin was accompanied by a welcoming smile. His warm brown eyes made his greeting feel like more than a formality. There was that flutter again.

  Hector watched the old man motion for the girl to step on the gangplank that moved up and down as his ship rode the gently lapping waves. She scampered up and smiled at Hector as she passed. He barely glanced at her. His eyes were fixed on her mother.

  Cornelia Scipia and her maid remained standing on the pier beside Malleolus. Hector gazed down at the rich Roman noblewoman, proud descendent of a long line of consuls and senators, who was abandoning her privileged life in Rome to protect her daughter.

  The first word that sprang into his mind was regal. She had a confidence in her bearing that he’d rarely seen in a woman. She seemed taller than she was as she stood gracefully erect with her head slightly tilted as she gazed up at him. The palla draped across her head and shoulders was as white as a billowy cloud with the sun shining on it. Her tunic and stola were fine linen, and silver cords wrapped all the right places to reveal her womanly curves. The deep blue fabric enhanced the color of her eyes.

  Her nut-brown hair was piled high in the crown of curls that was the current fashion in Rome. Her nose was large and aquiline, more like a man’s than a matron’s. Her mouth was too wide as well, and her jaw too square.

  Not ugly, but definitely plain. Still, she was a woman a man would notice. The confident intensity of her eyes and slight curve of her mouth as she surveyed him in return held his attention more than a pretty face could.

  Those blue eyes shifted to follow her daughter as she hopped off the end of the gangplank and moved to lean against the railing where she could look down on the pier. They shone with the same love that had filled Damara’s eyes when she watched Charissa playing in the garden.

  He shoved that thought to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to let the grief tear into him again. He would hold it off until tonight, when he would be alone.

  The captain strode down the gangplank and joined Cornelia on the pier.

  “Welcome, Claudius Malleolus, Cornelia Scipia, and...?” He turned his gaze on Cornelia’s slave. Anthusa’s eyes widened at the captain’s greeting, and she froze without answering.

  Malleolus broke the awkward silence. “Anthusa.”

  “Anthusa.” Hector turned his attention back on Malleolus. “We need to get your chests from the wagons. My first mate, Clitus, will oversee that.” He focused again on Cornelia. “Most will go into the hold where you can’t get to them, so anything you want to use during the voyage should be moved into the two trunks that can be stowed in your room.”

  Malleolus turned to Cornelia. “I’ll help with this to make sure everything is properly handled.”

  She nodded her approval. The security of the six small chests filled with her gold and jewelry was paramount. That dowry was essential to their future in Thracia. The weight of the chests would make anyone suspect what they might contain. Whoever carried them should be escorted.

  Captain Hector stepped back onto the gangplank and offered his hand to Cornelia. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping in the cabin. Then you can relax under the canopy while you wait. We’ll be sailing on the evening tide.”

  She placed her petite hand in his large one and felt his work-roughened fingers wrap securely around hers. That simple act flexed the muscles in his forearm. Every part of this man exuded a controlled power she found exciting. She flipped the smile triggered by that silly response into a gracious acknowledgement of his help.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  The slight smile that he flashed in return brought another flutter. Foolishness! He was only a ship’s captain.

  “Watch your step at the end.” His deep voice didn’t help her control her reaction to him.

  The captain led her up the plank and stepped off ahead of her. He continued to hold her hand until she had stepped down onto the deck.

  He released it too soon. It had been a long time since a man treated her like someone delicate to be protected. She was a capable woman of thirty-nine, accustomed to taking care of herself for the many years since Lucius Fidelis ceased caring about her. She wasn’t some silly girl who giggled over flattering words and fawning attention, but what seemed to be genuine concern in the way the captain helped her onto his ship―she liked it. It had, in fact, been a very long time since a man treated her that way. She had missed it.

  Hector led them past the opening in the deck to the cabin at the rear. As she walked close behind him, his shoulders appeared even broader. He stepped through the door that opened on the side facing the pier, and they followed him into the room.

  “This is the galley where my cook prepares meals. My ship isn’t meant to carry many passengers, but I think you’ll find the accommodations satisfactory.”

  Cornelia hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but thi
s most certainly was not it. A counter and cabinets lined the wall to the left. Four doors filled the opposite wall.

  Each room couldn’t be more than six feet deep and five feet wide. Satisfactory wasn’t the first word that leaped into her mind. But there wasn’t much space on a ship, and the main purpose of this one was the transport of cargo, not people. Lucius would never suspect she and Drusilla had left Rome on something like this. Besides, it would only be for a few weeks. Directly across from the door was a small window with its shutters wide open, so at least the room wasn’t dark and stuffy.

  The furnishings consisted of a set of bunks on the left side, a small table beside the bunks and beneath the window, and a chair that fit under the table. Above the table was an oil lamp that was shaped to fit securely in a metal rack, probably to prevent it starting a fire in rough seas. While the lower bunk had enough headroom for a tall man to sit comfortably, the upper bunk was close enough to the ceiling that it would only be useful for sleeping. Under the bunk was space for storing chests.

  It was Spartan, but it would have to do.

  Hector hid the smile triggered by the shock in Cornelia’s eyes before she veiled it. No surprise there. She was used to luxurious furnishings and the spaciousness of a large villa. These rooms were probably smaller than what she allowed the least of her house slaves.

  His hand swept toward the two rooms farthest from the door. “Cornelia, I’ve planned for you to have the largest room here on the end. Anthusa will need to sleep either in the bunk above you or here in the room next to yours with your daughter.”

  Hector then stretched out his hand toward the room nearest the door. “Malleolus, this will be your room. Mine is between yours and the child’s.”

  He turned back to Cornelia. “The cabin is small, but my passengers only spend time in these rooms at night and during storms. Behind the cabin, you’ll find a canopy with some comfortable chairs and a couch.” A slight smile accompanied his shrug. “I can’t offer you the luxury you’re accustomed to, but I think you’ll find it pleasant there during the day. I mostly sail close enough to the coast that the view is entertaining.”