Second Chances

by Carol Ashby

  “That sounds promising.”

  Mistress grinned. “I know. Even better, Drusilla asked him to come visit her every day. At first, he said he didn’t think I’d want him to come that often. After I said I’d love to have him come as often as he could, he seemed so happy. He said he’d come very often.”

  “Will he come tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Midmorning to play Mercenaries with Drusilla.”

  “And to see more of you. I’m sure that’s part of why he’s coming.”

  Mistress turned back to face the mirror. “When we left the pier, I wasn’t sure if he cared much about whether he saw me again. After tonight, I’m sure he does.”

  Anthusa finished the last stroke of the brush. “Time to rest so you’ll look your best when the captain comes.”

  Mistress lay down, and Anthusa pulled her covers up. “I expect the sweetest dreams tonight. Good night, Anthusa.”

  “Good night, mistress.”

  Anthusa’s smile broadened as she blew out the lamp. The captain was eager to spend time with Mistress Cornelia. Surely it couldn’t be long before he realized she loved him and he chose to love her back.

  Chapter 31: Games with the Captain

  Even though the day was cool, Cornelia had donned a cloak and sat with Anthusa under the spreading tree where she could see the captain’s approach. Drusilla was pacing in front of the stable, watching the gate for the first sign of him. Outwardly, Cornelia was serene, but inwardly she was pacing as well.

  When Hector finally guided his horse through the gate, Drusilla trotted toward him. Cornelia rose and strolled behind her daughter.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Captain.” Drusilla hugged herself and rubbed her arms.

  He swung his leg across his mare’s neck and slid off. “It’s cold enough today you should have waited inside.”

  Drusilla slid her hand into his and swung their arms as they walked toward Cornelia. “It didn’t feel too cold.”

  A smile played on his lips as Cornelia approached, and his eyes crinkled as she reached him.

  “Welcome, Captain. We’re glad you’ve come. It should be a lovely morning for some games.”

  Palm up, she waved toward the kitchen door. “I’ve set up a table for you in the sitting room and had a brazier lit to make it warm and comfortable there.”

  Drusilla kept her grip on his hand as they walked along the side of the house. A stable boy appeared, and Hector tossed him the reins.

  Hector’s gaze focused on Cornelia. “Is it warmer in Rome this time of year?”

  “A little, but I’d rather be cool in Thracia with you than warm in Rome alone.”

  Her words had the effect she wanted. His eyes crinkled even more and his smile broadened. She expected him to say something, but he didn’t.

  “What’s the weather like where you come from?”

  “About the same as Perinthus in the winter, hotter like Rome in the summer.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Near Thessalonica.”

  “Like Philip and Aristarchus. Do you still have family there?”

  “None I know of. Perinthus has been my home for many years.”

  They entered the kitchen, and the warmth from the oven wrapped around them. Miriam was speaking with her chef, but she stepped over to greet him.

  “Welcome, Hector. It’s good to see you again so soon.” The question in her eyes flipped to amused knowing. “I hope you’ll come often. I’ll send some fruit and cheese over in case you get hungry playing games.” The corners of her smile twitched.

  Cornelia glanced at Hector’s face. No sign of embarrassment―he clearly didn’t realize why Miriam was amused. “Thank you, Miriam. That will be very welcome.”

  She led Hector across the courtyard, away from the smiling Miriam. Once inside the sitting room, she removed her cloak and handed it to Anthusa. She’d dressed for Hector in the blue tunic that intensified the color of her eyes.

  Drusilla still held his hand as she led him over to the table. “Aunt Miriam didn’t have the kings for Mercenaries, but Mother said we could just use dice for them.”

  Hector’s eyes returned to Cornelia, and her heart skipped at the warmth in them. “Your mother is right. A good game depends only on the people playing, not on what you use for game pieces.”

  Cornelia picked up the dice and contemplated them. “So true, Ca...Hector. Even the game doesn’t matter much when it’s the right two people.” She flipped her gaze from the dice to his eyes. The corner of her lips lifted slowly into a teasing smile. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter at all.”

  Hector breathed in the scent of her perfume. Roses. Was she wearing that one deliberately because she knew he liked it best? His lips twitched as he silently laughed at that thought. He’d never told her it was his favorite. There was no reason she should know. Even if she suspected, would that make a difference in what she wore?

  Her eyes seemed bluer than normal. They shone with the delighted look he knew so well from when she flipped his words to tease him. And she had remembered to call him Hector.

  “I agree. The person you play with matters most.”

  Their eyes remained locked. Her perfume filled his senses. Was she trying to tell him something about more than the games he’d come to play with Drusilla?

  Drusilla sat down and began placing the blue and beige disks on the board. She held her hand out to her mother for the dice that were to be the Mercenaries kings. Cornelia dropped them into her palm.

  “I’ve got it all set up, Captain. Ready to play?”

  He broke the connection that was simmering between him and Cornelia and lowered himself into the chair. “Ready.”

  As Drusilla made her first move, Cornelia moved toward the nearby chair. She settled into it like a queen seating herself on a throne. Hector shook himself internally. Regal, wealthy―beyond his reach. So why did he keep thinking about her becoming more than a friend? She’d laugh if she knew his thoughts. He glanced over at her. Her eyes were fixed on his face, and a sudden smile made them sparkle. She was only talking about board games. Or was she?

  Cornelia watched the ebb and flow of the board-game battle. Equally matched, her daughter and Hector. He was definitely intelligent even if he wasn’t highly educated. And most definitely kind. How could any thinking woman not fall in love with this man?

  He was attracted to her; no doubt about that. It should only be a matter of spending enough time together to get him to ask for her hand in marriage. Her lips curved in a satisfied smile.

  The game ended with a close victory for Hector. Drusilla started to set up the pieces for the next one.

  “That was the last for today. I need to return to the farm.” He stood.

  Cornelia rose and stepped close again. “Some special task awaits you?”

  “I’m breaking a pair of young mules to harness. I’m taking them out to get them used to pulling different kinds of wagons.”

  Drusilla slid her hand into his, which pulled his gaze to her eager eyes. “My brother taught me how to ride, but I don’t know how to drive. Would you teach me?”

  Hector turned his eyes from Drusilla to Cornelia. “That depends on whether your mother wants me to.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea. I would trust you to teach Drusilla anything you think she might need to learn.”

  Drusilla tugged on his hand, and a mischievous smile twitched on her lips. “Mother doesn’t know how to drive. She needs to learn, too.”

  Hector glanced at Drusilla before his gaze locked back on Cornelia. “Your mother has done very well without knowing.”

  Cornelia tipped her head and looked at him sideways. “But that was in Rome. This is Thracia. I believe Claudia and Miriam both know how to drive, so surely I should as well. Drusilla is right that you should teach me.”

  Yes, teach me to drive. Touch my hand as you help me hold the reins. Brush against my shoulder as we sit clos
e on the driver’s bench. The more time I spend close to you, the sooner you’ll realize we belong together as husband and wife.

  Hector’s arm jiggled up and down as Drusilla bounced with anticipation. “We went by the Circus Maximus in Rome. That’s where the chariots race. Can you teach me to drive one?”

  A laugh rumbled in Hector’s chest. “I don’t have a chariot, but I have a two-wheel cisium where you sit above the wheels. You’ll have to settle for that.”

  “That sounds good, too, as long as you teach me to drive fast.”

  Hector’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll teach you both to drive, but not too fast.”

  He glanced at Cornelia. Her smiling lips were pressed tight to contain the laughter trying to break free. She was almost pretty when such delight lit her face.

  Hector felt his own smile broaden. Why hadn’t he thought to suggest driving lessons? They guaranteed more time close to her.

  He tightened his lips, but most of the smile remained. Whatever the future held, there was still pleasure in her company.

  Chapter 32: Dispatching the Hunters

  Rome

  Lucius had almost finished his breakfast when Tertius joined him in the dining room.

  “You came in late, son. Where were you?”

  Tertius lowered himself onto the couch. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his hair. “Gaius and I were celebrating Sextus Flaccus’s betrothal. There was too much food and wine. I should have left earlier.”

  Lucius scowled. “We should have been celebrating Drusilla’s betrothal to Gnaeus Corvinus by now. Your mother has hidden her away too well. Still no trace of them. It’s as if they vanished into thin air.”

  Tertius nodded. “Mother has a lot of friends. I don’t know how you’ll ever find her.”

  “And I have a few enemies who’d help her to spite me.”

  Lucius swung his legs off the couch and shot to his feet. “By the gods, I know what she’s done!”

  Tertius tipped his head as his eyebrows scrunched. “What, Father?”

  “When Claudia ran away from her betrothal to Flavius Sabinus, she went to Titus in Thracia. I’d bet my best stallion Cornelia has done the same.”

  He balled his napkin and flung it to the floor. “She thinks she’s bested me, but there’s no way I’ll let her win on this. Marcus hasn’t found a wife for Gnaeus yet, but even if he had, I’d still take Drusilla away from Cornelia.”

  He turned to the slave waiting by the door. “Fetch Paullus.”

  Tertius placed a selection of fruit and cheese on his plate. He took a bite, then picked at the food.

  Paullus, Lucius’s new steward since Malleolus left, scurried into the room.

  “You summoned me, master?”

  “I need some reliable men willing to do whatever it takes to get my daughter back. Cornelia has almost certainly taken her to hide out with Titus or Claudia in Perinthus. I want Drusilla back here before the New Year.”

  Paullus’s mouth twitched. “So soon? The sea is closing for the winter. An overland trip will take more than five weeks one way by horseback and more than eight by carriage.”

  “Nonsense. Malleolus sent horse-courier messages four times that fast.”

  “Yes, master, but the courier service changes horses and riders often, and they ride all night. Even if they change horses two or three times a day, your agents could travel half, maybe two thirds that fast since they will have to rest at night.”

  “So, they can get there in, what, three weeks or so?”

  “Maybe a little less, master. But can your daughter ride?”

  “If she can’t, she’ll learn.” Lucius rubbed his chin. “Once they have her, they can bring her back at a slower pace.”

  Paullus bit his lip. “If she were nearby, I would go to one of the gladiatorial schools to hire some muscle and lead them myself. But to be gone so long…I think we need someone other than me to lead the search. To find someone we can trust to find and bring her here…that might take some time, master.”

  “Antonius Brutus can provide them. I’ve known Brutus since my boys started training for battle at his ludus after Marcus cut Lucius’s face when they were sparring. Brutus can provide a pair of gladiators and find the right person to lead them to Thracia. His is the first name that’s mentioned whenever my friends have a problem that requires a threat of violence for speedy resolution.”

  The corner of Lucius’s mouth rose. “Who better to pick the men to bring her back than an equestrian of unquestioned integrity who can still spot a scoundrel before he’s uttered a hundred words?”

  Lucius rubbed his palms together. “He’ll provide trustworthy men who’ll do what they’re supposed to and return with Drusilla. If the ones he owns aren’t smart enough to go by themselves, he’ll know someone honest to hire to lead the party.”

  “I will start on this today, master.”

  “I want them on their way within three days.” Lucius’s brow furrowed. Paullus was no Malleolus when it came to making special arrangements. “I’ll talk with Brutus myself.” He dismissed his steward with a flick of his hand.

  Paullus bowed. “Yes, master.”

  Lucius turned back to Tertius to find him flat on his back on the couch with his arm draped across his eyes.

  “What’s wrong, son?”

  “My head feels like a blacksmith’s trying to hammer his way out, and my stomach...well it’s not very steady. I should never have eaten that fourth serving of gazelle. Or maybe it was that eighth, maybe ninth cup of wine. I lost count.”

  Tertius sat up. “Gaius told me of an apothecary at the Baths of Trajan with just the thing to fix this. I’m going there, then I’m going to soak a while. If I run into Gaius or Sextus, I may not be home for dinner.” He scrunched his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up. “That’s the last time I do that at a party...at least until the next time.”

  Lucius chuckled. “I made the same mistake when I was your age. You’ll learn to pace yourself at banquets. Then you won’t need that apothecary.”

  Tertius headed for the atrium, but he paused in the doorway. “If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow, Father.” Then he stepped out of view.

  The corners of Lucius’s mouth turned up. Tertius was a good son. His oldest son was too concerned about doing the right thing all the time, and Lucius felt his disapproval even though his son would never speak it aloud. His second son acted the part of the dutiful son, but there was something about Marcus that stirred up doubts of whether he could be trusted. Tertius was, indeed, the best of the lot.

  Lucius paused at the head of the stairs that led down from the wealthy Fagutal district on the Oppian Hill to the Flavian Amphitheater. He’d walked that route many times to watch the games or on the way to the Forum, but it had been many months since he diverted up the Via Patricias to the Vicus Sandaliarius, where Brutus’s training school occupied a full block.

  Marcus Brutus was a wealthy equestrian with his finger in many financial ventures, but he seemed to particularly enjoy his reputation as the owner of a prominent ludus who was as skilled in combat as his junior gladiators.

  While not a close friend, Lucius counted him among his friendly acquaintances, and Malleolus had often hired Brutus’s gladiators as guards when he needed to transport a large sum of money.

  Lucius’s gaze locked on the ludus below. Had Malleolus contracted with Brutus for services during Cornelia’s escape? His lips tightened. He should have thought to check earlier. Brutus might have provided men as escorts. Her whereabouts might be one question away. But would she be foolish enough to stay where they’d left her?

  He rubbed his lower lip. Cornelia was too shrewd to make it that easy for him, but it would provide a starting point. There was a time when her intelligence had attracted him, even though she was plain, but that was long ago. A man was much better off with a stupid, pretty wife.

  The savage roar of
men enjoying the morning animal fights reverberated in the Amphitheater, and Lucius started down the steps.

  If Brutus had men fighting in the one-on-one events that afternoon, he’d be difficult to find among the mass of equestrians who watched from the second-tier seats. He might even be in the service area that was closed to any except the combatants and their owners during the contests. And even if Lucius did find him, there would be too many ears to keep his problems with Cornelia from becoming gossip fodder.

  He picked up the pace as he went down the stairs. The sooner he got Brutus’s men on the hunt, the sooner Cornelia would pay for what she’d done.

  Lucius barely glanced at the intricate stone carvings of men in combat that flanked the door of the Ludus Bruti. The door slave straightened as Lucius strode toward him.

  “Where can I find Brutus?”

  “In the practice arena, Master Drusus.”

  Lucius climbed the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the arena. Young women often watched the gladiators training below, but today none stood giggling and pointing at their current favorite. Lucius smiled at their absence. His request might spawn gossip if any overheard.

  He gripped the railing as he scanned the sand below. Brutus was sparring with one of his men. Lucius headed down the second stairway that led to the arena to join him.

  “Salve, Brutus.”

  Brutus parried another strike by his gladiator and stepped back.

  “Salve, Drusus. I hope all has been well with you. It’s been, what, eight months since you last came to check Tertius’s progress? He told me Marcus volunteered to join Lucius serving in Judaea. Not an easy posting.”

  Brutus’s smiling frown shifted toward a smile. “I’m proud to have trained two loyal sons of Roma.”

  Lucius masked his surprise. All well with him? Brutus usually had his ear tuned to the latest gossip.

  “I think not as well as with you. I hear you’re expecting a child. My warmest congratulations.”