“Macedonia.” She grimaced. “It’s full of barbarians.”
He resisted sighing. “It’s a Roman colony. They don’t even station a legion there because it’s so civilized. Romans there are citizens, and there are more Romans than Greeks. At least in the city.” He rose and then closed the distance between them.
She brightened. “Really?”
He grinned. “It’s the most Roman place on earth outside Italia.”
“Well, that makes me feel a little better.”
“I know you don’t want me to leave.” His voice was soft.
“You just got home. I’ve seen you for two weeks in fourteen years. Germania, then Britannia, now . . .” She laid her head against his chest. “Tomorrow? Not one more day?”
“The ship to Macedonia leaves tomorrow, or not for another month.” Why did he feel so awful? It wasn’t as if he had a choice.
She sucked in a long breath, stepped back, and straightened her shoulders. “Then I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled as she patted his chest and turned and left his room.
There was the woman Julius Valerius had molded, as he had formed his children. Accept without question. No emotion. Spine of iron.
After he finished packing, he sought out Attalos once more. As he knocked on the servant’s door, he smiled at the thought that his dearest friend in the world was a slave.
A young boy opened the door, and Quin stepped inside.
Attalos stood before his parchment-covered table, wax tablet in hand, his hand rapidly moving a stylus. He looked up as Quin entered, the face Quin had come to associate with love and caring brightening the room.
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
His face, always passive after years of practice, darkened for the briefest of moments. “I’m not surprised. I’m saddened, but not surprised. I know there is no future for you here.”
Quin shrugged. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Mater. I don’t want to leave you.”
He set the tablet and stylus down. “My boy, I am so very grateful I was able to see you this summer. I was sure I would never see you again once you left for Britannia.”
“You know if I could, I would free you.”
“I am not yours. I belong to your pater.”
A mirthless chuckle escaped. “And he would never in a million years free you.”
“But I am free. In a way that I pray every day you will soon understand.”
“How can you be free? Because you are not in chains? Because you command others?”
Attalos searched his face. “Someone may control where I live, what I do, what I eat, but no one will ever control what I think or, more importantly, what I believe.”
“And what is that?”
“You are not ready to hear that now.” Wrinkles appeared around his eyes, and his mouth turned down for the briefest moment. “Besides, you have much to do. You need to get a good night’s sleep, for I fear you will not sleep well for a long time.”
He would miss this man’s wisdom. “I wish you could come with me. Pater would allow it if I asked.”
“And what good would I be to you? I am old, and slow. Take someone else. Or buy another to serve you.”
“I don’t want someone to serve me!” He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout, especially at you. I don’t want you as a slave. I want you as my friend, my mentor. You were a better pater to me than he ever was.”
“Domine.” Attalos placed his hands on Quin’s cheeks. “Quin. You don’t need his approval to be the great man I know you are. That you have already shown you are. Go to Macedonia. I believe great things are waiting for you there. Not that they will be easy, but they will shape you into the man you were meant to be, that all other things in your life have been leading up to.”
What was that supposed to mean? Attalos had never talked in riddles. Perhaps it was his age. Maybe he was too old to go to Macedonia with him. Quin drew the old man into his embrace. “I’ll miss you.” He fought to control his voice.
After a long moment, the Greek pulled away. “Send letters when you can. And don’t worry about your pater.”
Quin pulled the door shut after he left.
If only he could find some way to take Attalos with him, or at least take the confidence Attalos inspired in him. Attalos was the only person in his life who had ever told him he could do anything right. Except for his mater, and she was . . . his mater. And now Attalos was saying Quin could be a great man? Was already a great man?
He was a good soldier, maybe. Perhaps even a great one. But that was over.
He was far from a great man. And until and unless the truth came out, no one would even think he was a good one.
Tia recoiled before her furious owner.
Max grasped her arm, squeezing hard and pulling her close. “That was very foolish of you!” His hot breath smelled of garlic and leeks.
Dorkas neared them. “Let her go! Marks on her arm will not help.”
Max shoved Elantia against the wall, his nostrils flaring. “You cost us profit! I will not tolerate that!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please explain it to me.” She held back the tears. She would not appear weak before this man.
He stepped closer. No taller than she was, his protruding belly and wide shoulders nevertheless made her feel small. “You cannot give such dire predictions. No one will come if you do that.”
The future was the future. How could he expect her to control that? “What am I supposed to do then? I don’t know what you expect of me!”
He grabbed her forearm and twisted, hard.
She dropped to her knees to alleviate the pain.
He twisted harder.
She finally cried out.
“Get up!” Max barked at her.
She stood, gingerly touching her arm.
“That should teach you not to argue with me!” He jabbed his finger into her shoulder.
She stared at the floor and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry, Domine.” It took a huge effort to keep her voice from breaking. “I wasn’t trying to argue. I was only trying to figure out what I did wrong, what you wanted.”
Max groaned. “This one is too stupid. I never should have purchased her.”
Dorkas’s sandals entered her field of vision. “Let me try.”
Heavy footsteps faded as Max stomped away. A door opened and slammed shut.
“Elantia.” Dorkas’s voice was softer, but far from gentle. No matter how kind she may appear, Tia knew she was only interested in keeping her customers happy.
She kept her head down.
“Elantia, look at me when I speak.”
She calmed her face before she raised her head. “Yes, Domina.”
“I am not your domina.”
“Yes, Dorkas.”
“I believe Maximus is trying to say you must give only happy prophesies. You told that man he would die soon, and then he refused to pay.”
“But that is what I saw.”
She tilted her head. “Can’t you keep . . . listening until you find something good to say?”
“It doesn’t always work that way. The goddess tells me what she tells me.”
“All right, then perhaps in his case, you could say the next month looks like a good time to plant. Or harvest. Or whatever it is farmers are doing. That would be true for anyone, no? And keep the bad part to yourself.”
“All right. I can try that.”
“Good.” Her lips turned up, but the smile was not in her eyes. “Now, wait here. I’ll talk to Max.”
Tia let out a long breath and collapsed against the wall. Squeezing her eyes shut, her chest tightened, and her throat burned.
Brigid, how could you let this happen to me? This is the fate you have prepared for me? I served you well. Committed to memory everything the teachers recited for me. Practiced my gift. And this is my reward?
Dorkas reappeared, Max behind her. “Get bac
k to your couch. But remember what we talked about.”
She pushed herself up, straightened her tunic, and flicked her hair behind her shoulders. Rubbing her arm where a bruise was surely to appear by nightfall, she took her seat.
Dorkas opened her doors once again. The next person in line was an older man, wrinkled and stooped. The mud on his sandals and the dirt on his hands and the bottom of his tunic told her he, too, was a farmer.
Tia shut out the noise of those waiting and held his weathered hand in hers. Closing her eyes, she gently stroked his hand with her fingertips and waited for the images to invade her mind. Brigid, show me his life, show me what is planned for him. Pictures began to form, slowly coming together from the cloudy mess in her mind.
“Your wife is expecting a baby?”
The old man laughed. “Do I look like I am the age to have a baby?”
She studied him for a moment, then raised a brow. “A daughter? Sister? Someone you love very much, I think.”
He grinned and bobbed his head. “Yes. My daughter.”
“She will deliver a healthy boy. He will be born small, but he will grow to be a leader of men.”
“Thank you.” His cackle revealed several missing teeth. “Thank you, sweet girl.” He stood and offered her a bronze coin.
She tilted her head in the direction of her owner, who scurried forward to accept the payment.
A girl about her own age took the seat next, and the process started again.
At the end of the day, her mind and soul drained, Elantia fell onto the mat in her tiny room. The people she’d seen paraded through her mind.
The old man, her first customer after her incident with Max . . . His daughter would have a boy, and he would be a leader of men. She just didn’t tell him he would be a leader of thieves and bandits.
She didn’t tell the young woman her husband wasn’t cheating in his business, but on her.
She didn’t tell another woman that no, she wouldn’t die from the disease that took her mother, as she feared, but that she would die in a terrible accident.
Three times she had deceived today. But she had kept the prophecies happy.
Where was Tancorix? She needed his optimism, his encouragement. She’d heard his door open late last night but he was gone again before she awoke.
She turned on her mat and faced the wall. Would every day be like this?
5
“Fools give full vent to their rage,
but the wise bring calm in the end.”
Proverbs 29:11
Quintus leaned against a building on Ostia’s dock, trying to stay out the way as sailors busily carried off cargo and restocked supplies.
The captain approached, and Quin straightened.
He grinned. “You don’t look like a sailor. Or like one of the dock workers.”
“I’m not. Actually, I’d like to arrange passage to Macedonia.”
“Of course. I still have almost all my cabins left. Do you have a preference?”
“Not really.”
The captain quoted the fare and held out his hand. Quin dropped several silver coins into it. “Pick any one that is empty.” He snapped his fingers at a passing sailor. “Take his belongings on deck for him.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Quin followed the young man up the wide plank and to the rear of the deck.
The young man halted before the doors of the cabins attached to the stern of the ship. “Which one?”
He surveyed the four rooms. All seemed to be exactly alike. “This one, on the end, I suppose.” Perhaps it would be a little quieter with only one shared wall.
“Very well.” He took Quin’s bag and placed it just inside the door before hurrying back to the dock.
The cabin was small, just big enough for a stuffed mattress on a low platform, and a small table. An oil lamp was affixed to the wall and a small window on the back wall let in fresh sea air.
Quin opened one of his bags and withdrew one of the ripe, green pears Mater had insisted he take along. They wouldn’t last the whole trip, but they would supplement the one meal a day from the crew’s supplies his fare included. That food would be filling and give him energy, but wasn’t likely to be tasty. Still, better than the hardtack he ate while on march.
His pear finished, he stepped out a few strides away from the cabins and tossed the core into the water. He leaned over the railing and watched as the seagulls immediately descended, fighting over it as if it were the last bite on earth.
Chuckling, he turned around and was faced with a portly man scowling at him.
“I need this cabin.” He gestured toward the room Quin had claimed.
“I’m sorry?” What would it matter? They were all exactly the same.
“This one on the end. I need it. The captain said I could have it.”
That was almost certainly a lie. “Let’s go ask him.” Quin started to step past him.
The man held up his hands. “All right. He didn’t, but I do need it. I’ll pay you for it.”
“Why do you need it so badly? What’s wrong with one of the others?”
“I need to be on the end. I need to keep an eye on my new slaves.”
Quin looked over the man’s shoulder. A few strides away waited a young woman with hair the color of the sun and eyes the color of sapphires. He’d only seen that in Britannia. Could it be they were Britanni war captives?
Her beauty was marred by an ugly purple bruise on her forearm. A youth who appeared to be slightly younger stood beside her. It was obvious they were newly purchased. The girl especially had the look of someone who had lost everything. When she frowned, he realized he had been staring.
She looked away and fixed her eyes on some point in the distance.
The cabin certainly wasn’t worth arguing about. He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll take the next one.”
“Thank you. My name is Maximus.”
“I am Quintus.”
“Slave!” Max pointed at her. “Move his things from my cabin to one of the others.”
She glared at her dominus and then at him.
Why choose the girl and not her much stronger companion? Was he just trying to break her? “Don’t worry. I’ll do it.” Quin stepped inside to retrieve his bags.
“Why?” Max said when he reappeared. “She’s a slave. That’s what she’s for. Why would you do it yourself when I have offered you a perfectly good servant?”
“She’s to serve you, not me.”
“She will do as I tell her.” He sneered. “I paid enough for her.”
Quin put his things in the cabin next to Max’s. Too bad he couldn’t put more distance between them. Max seemed the type to carry trouble with him wherever he went.
Tia sucked in a chest full of the salt air. The full moon’s glow reflected in the sea’s gentle waves, reminding her of pleasant nights with her family in her seacoast village. How could she be happy and sad at the same time?
Maximus had finally gone to sleep and she and Tancorix would have a few hours without his constant commands and reprisals. She stretched out on the floor beside Max’s room and tucked her arm under her head. Tancorix lay down beside her, between her and the sea. It wasn’t likely she’d fall off, but it was like him to do what little he could to protect her.
“Where did you go every day? You left before the day began and returned after dark. I never saw you.”
“Max sent me to work in the warehouses nearby. I spent all day moving cargo from the dock to different buildings. I think they paid him for my labor.” He laughed. “Maybe he was trying to earn back some of what he spent on me.”
“Those coins should have been yours.”
He ignored the bitterness in her voice. “What did you do?”
“He had the innkeeper bring people to me. I asked Brigid to tell me what their future would be like.”
He raised up on one elbow. “See? I knew they would appreciate your gift.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds.
Goddesses don’t speak on command. And it can’t be a bad prediction, or customers become angry and won’t pay. It can’t sound too good, either, or they think I’m making it up.” She rubbed her arm where Max had twisted it.
“Is that why there’s a mark on your arm?”
She sighed but said nothing.
“If he touches you again, I’ll kill him.”
“I can take care of him.”
“I know.” His voice was soft.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the stars. Were they the same stars she saw at home? She searched for the hunter and his hound. The bears. All still proudly patrolled the bright sky.
“At least this time, we’re not below deck, thank the gods.”
She grinned, glad Tancorix couldn’t see her. He would see it that way. Unfortunately, she didn’t share his happy outlook.
Though there were a few other good things about this trip. It would be a little shorter than the first. So far the food had been better, or maybe there was just more of it. They no longer wore ankle chains.
But then there was Max. If they had to be owned by someone, couldn’t it be someone who was a little kinder? Max hadn’t even bothered to ask their names.
The other Roumanos, the one Max had made move, had seemed like a decent man. Had even carried his own belongings. Max didn’t like him and from what she’d learned so far, that was a compliment. Why couldn’t they have ended up with him?
Then again, was any Roumani better than any other?
The sun’s bright fingers poked their way into Quin’s room through the single, small window. He rubbed his thigh as he sat up. Would the pain ever go away?
Eighteen days at sea. If he had figured correctly, they should be almost to Neapolis, the port of Macedonia. He’d be happy if he never boarded another ship. He much preferred land. He stepped outside and started his first walk of the day around the deck.
Quin felt the captain’s eyes on him as he made his way around the deck. He’d tried to walk around it as often as he could each day. Davos had told him it would help strengthen his leg. All he felt it do was exhaust him.
The officer fell in step beside him. “We’ll make port by nightfall.”
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