Sold Into Freedom

by Carole Towriss

As he left, Quin reviewed this new information. What did Max and Cassia have in mind? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for Tia.

  And they had Gallus’s ear, so they had all the power they needed to do whatever they wanted. To whomever they wanted. To Tia. To Paulos.

  To him.

  Tia may not be able to tell the future anymore, but no one needed a seer to know something bad was going to happen, and very soon.

  Tia reclined on one of Lydia’s many couches in the peristyle, her head on a few wool-stuffed silk pillows. The medicine’s fog had evaporated, and her thoughts were once again clear.

  This was a far cry from hiking through the marshes on her way to Neapolis to board a ship. How would she ever get out of Philippi now? Would she have to try to escape in the dead of night again? She couldn’t ask Lydia and Paulos and the others to help her. She’d already put Euodia in danger—she would do that to no one else.

  She’d already abandoned her plan to avenge Tancorix’s murder. Should she now give up her plan to regain her freedom as well? That is not what her tatos would expect of her, not what a warrior would do.

  She needed to keep thinking, keep looking for a way out.

  She sat up as an older man entered the peristyle, his face brightened by his wide smile. Taller and thinner than Paulos, he seemed somehow familiar.

  He stopped in front of her lectus, a leather satchel in hand. “Do you remember me?”

  She searched her memory. He was one of the men who always accompanied Paulos. “Yes, I think so.”

  “And how is my patient today?”

  “Your patient?”

  “I’m a physician. I tended to your wounds when Quintus delivered you to us.”

  She smiled at the thought of being held close against the Roumanos’s chest. “I remember.”

  He smirked. “You remember me, or Quin?”

  Her cheeks flamed. Perhaps she should change the subject. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “How are your wounds today? And your head? Does it still ache?”

  “Some. But much better, thanks to you.”

  “Yahweh has been good to us.” He lowered his lanky frame to the couch, his long legs stretching toward the door. “May I check your ankle?”

  “Of course.” She twisted toward him.

  He placed her foot in his lap and unwrapped the linen bandage. “How does it feel today?”

  “Stronger. I took a step or two on it this morning.”

  “And?”

  “I could bear my weight but it’s still painful.” She winced as he pressed on the ankle in various places.

  “It will be for quite some time. Do you need anything for the pain?”

  She shook head. “It’s bearable without anything. Besides, the medicine makes me sleepy.”

  “Very good.”

  “How is she doing?” Quin strode into the room, his red cloak fluttering behind him.

  “Ahh, your rescuer has come to visit.” Loukas rose and grasped Quin’s arm. “Did you meet with Gallus?”

  “I did. Yesterday.”

  “And is he satisfied?”

  Satisfied with what?

  “For now.” Quin answered the medicus but his attention was firmly fixed on her.

  Loukas smiled. “I’ll be in the peristyle if you need me.” He gathered his instruments and left.

  Quin grabbed a low stool from its place near the wall and set it before her. “I came by yesterday, but Lydia said you were resting.” He lowered himself to the wooden seat, his crimson cloak puddling on the floor around him. Even seated, his frame was imposing, especially in his tribune’s uniform.

  “I think I slept all day and all night.”

  “I’m sure you were exhausted.” He removed his cloak and draped it over the end of her lectus. Leaning forward, he rested muscled arms on his knees.

  “Thank you, for what you did. You must have put yourself in great danger.”

  “Not really.”

  She picked at her nails, unable to meet his gaze. “Lydia said you told the magistrate you couldn’t find me.”

  “I did.”

  “Is that what Loukas meant by ‘satisfied’?”

  “For now he believes we couldn’t find you.”

  “What if he finds out? That you lied?”

  He laughed dryly. “He’s already stolen my land. I’ve lost my military career. I can’t go back to Rome. What’s left to be done? Put me in prison?”

  “I’m afraid they’ll find me here.” Her admission shocked her. Fear was not an emotion she was familiar with. And why would she tell him that?

  “They won’t.” He reached for her hand.

  She raised her face to find his light eyes fixed on hers. “I’m even more afraid of what they’ll do to all of you when they do. I know what the penalties are for runaway slaves.” Apprehension washed over her like an icy north wind. “And for those who harbor them.”

  “Tia, I will do whatever I can to protect you. I would give my life to keep you safe.”

  She barely knew him. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you do that?” She’d been nothing but miserable to him ever since she’d learned he was a tribune. A leader of those who had invaded her land. And she wasn’t all that nice to him to begin with. He was, after all, Roumani.

  He moved to sit beside her. “I don’t like what they did to you. I care about you, about what happens to you. And for some reason, I feel responsible for you.”

  “Because you fought in Britannia?” She studied him. A scar that began below his knee ended somewhere under his tunic. More were scattered over his arms, a couple on his face. The Britanni warriors fought when necessary, to protect their homeland, or to hunt. Bodies were damaged. But this man had been fighting almost continually for six years at least, and his body bore the evidence.

  He winced. “Partly. I don’t know why. I just do. Maybe I want to do something good for once.”

  “You already have,” she whispered. “You brought me here.”

  He tilted his head, hovered his hand over her purple cheek. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

  “I must look terrible.” She turned her face away.

  “No.” He placed a fingertip on one of the few places without a bruise, and pulled her face back. “You’re beautiful.”

  She knew better. She could feel the cut on her swollen lips. Knew her jaw must still be black and blue because of the pain she felt every time she opened it to speak. Felt the puffiness around her eyes. But she believed he meant what he said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’re frowning.”

  “Just thinking.” Less than a year ago he was her mortal enemy. Was he now her truest ally?

  She had no doubt he could protect her body. But what about her heart?

  17

  “I will save you from the hands of the wicked and deliver you from the grasp of the cruel.”

  Jeremiah 15:21

  Quin wandered the dark streets of Philippi. The fact that he hadn’t the slightest idea where to look only added to his apprehension. His men covered the city. There was little chance he’d find her first if she had hidden anywhere within Philippi.

  That left only outside the city walls.

  Would she venture that far? He would have. Any warrior would have. A good soldier would have tried to get as far away as quickly as possible. But in which direction?

  Wounded, she would avoid the mountains. She couldn’t travel on the roads. That left only one option.

  He winced at the thought of her alone, and cold, hiding somewhere so far from home. She had no allies here that he knew of. No one would help a runaway slave; the penalties were too severe. He was risking his own life as it was.

  He wasn’t even sure why. She’d told him, quite clearly, to stay away from her.

  Still, he couldn’t abandon her. She had no one. He knew what that felt like.

  She may be a woma
n, but she was Britanni. Gallus may not know what the Britanni were like, but he did. He’d seen them, battled them, and his body was marked with the evidence of their bravery and strength. Their women stood beside the men, spears in hand. And much like the Roman soldiers, they would rather face death than run from a battle. They didn’t fear death.

  He’d never seen her personally on the battlefield, but she was a warrior. Her fiery blue eyes came to mind. Her resolute face. If Tia had made up her mind to leave, she would find a way, or die trying. But even warriors needed help when wounded. He had to find her and get her tended to.

  Wasn’t the man traveling with Paulos a physician? Paulos was a Jew, and Jews didn’t own slaves, as far as he knew. The Macedonians didn’t own slaves. Macedonians were turned into slaves by Romans.

  He sprinted down one street all the way to the end, around the corner, and worked his way back to Lydia’s. He knocked softly on the door.

  No one answered. A soft light came from under the door—someone had to be awake. He knocked harder, shifting his weight and glancing around. Footfalls from inside grew stronger.

  The door opened slightly and a wide-eyed servant slammed it.

  Quin’s heart nearly stopped. He’d forgotten about his Roman uniform.

  A moment later Lydia came to the door. She opened it wide, smiling. “Quin, I thought it might be you. You nearly scared Demas to death. He belonged to a tribune before I bought him and set him free. A tribune, I should say, who was quite cruel to him.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t. Now why are you here at this hour? Are you well?” Her gaze skimmed over him.

  His heart pounded. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

  “Quin?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do for you, I will. What’s wrong?” She led him into the atrium.

  “It’s Tia, the seer.”

  She laughed softly. “What about her? Are thoughts of her keeping you awake at night?”

  “She’s run away. They beat her, apparently quite badly, and she’s escaped.”

  Her face lost its color. “Oh, Quin, you cannot get involved in this. Whatever they do to her, they will do to you as well.”

  “I’m already involved.” He groaned. “Gallus has sent me to find her.”

  She let out a slow breath.

  “Lydia, I have to help her.”

  He dropped onto the couch.

  “Is this about your time in Britannia?”

  He shrugged.

  She took his hand. “Quin, it was your duty. And I thought once you knew where she was from, you’d figured out you hadn’t destroy her village.”

  “Just tell me, if I find her, can I bring her back here for Loukas to treat her wounds?”

  “Of course you can.” The physician’s voice startled both of them.

  “Loukas!” Lydia stood. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m a medicus. It’s my duty to help anyone who needs me. If you don’t want him to bring her here, I’ll meet him somewhere else.”

  Lydia thought for several moments. “All right. If you find her, you may bring her here. But I beg you, try not to be seen.”

  “What if we have Timos keep watch for them? Do you have any idea where you will look?”

  “I’ve sent my men to look all over the city, but my best guess is she didn’t stay here. She went either to the marshes or the mountains.”

  “Timos can wait by the gate and let you know if it’s safe to come in.” Loukas glanced at the stairway. “I’ll ask him if you want.”

  She nodded, and Loukas bounded upstairs.

  Lydia paced, rubbing her hands together, chewing on her bottom lip.

  Loukas returned with the young man, still half asleep.

  “I’ll be happy to help you. I’ll wait at the Marsh Gate. If I’m not there, I had to walk away for a few moments to avoid suspicion. Just wait and I’ll come right back.” He yawned. “Does that sound all right to you?”

  “Thank you. All of you. I hope I can find her.”

  Loukas glanced up at the sky. “You better leave now. You don’t have many hours until dawn.”

  “We’ll be praying for you both.” Lydia kissed him on the cheek.

  The ache in his leg reminding him how long it had been since he slept, or even rested, and he shivered as he stepped onto the street. Was it from fear or cold? He’d faced the Britanni with less trepidation than he felt right now. He’d faced death countless times, explored new lands, spent weeks on a ship wondering if his pater would let him in the door of their home.

  But he’d never been as afraid as he was right now.

  Tia touched her lips. Her stomach rumbled. She shivered in the bleak, pre-dawn air. When did it get so cold? Raising her head, she peeked over the grass just enough to see the barest bit of gray in the east.

  God of Paulos, thank You for protecting me while I slept.

  She turned onto her stomach and tucked her arms in. Even on the cold ground, the move held in some warmth.

  Rustling caught her attention. Her stomach clenched. Was someone looking for her? No, it must be her imagination.

  Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. She needed to relax. If she intended to travel to Neapolis, or anywhere, she really should get a little more rest.

  That noise again, the rustling. She drew her legs up, curled in a ball. Pulled the grasses down around her. No, that might leave a hole someone could notice. She let them go, watched them spring back up. Heard them rustle, and grimaced. Did anyone hear that?

  The rustling grew nearer. And footfalls. Someone was coming. She clenched her fists, remained as motionless as possible. Her throat burned.

  “Elantia?”

  She held her breath. Who was calling her name?

  “Tia?”

  Was that . . . ?

  The reeds above her were pulled away. Above her knelt Quin. Was he here to take her back to her owners? That was his job. If she knew anything about him, it was that he was a good soldier. And she had done nothing to make him feel anything but anger toward her.

  She closed her eyes and turned away, burying her head in the mud. Warriors don’t cry.

  “Elantia.” Rough fingertips softly moved her hair from her face. “I know a safe place I can take you, if you’ll let me.”

  “Please don’t take me back to them,” she whispered.

  “No, I won’t. Of course not.”

  She looked up at him. “Didn’t they send you to find me?”

  “Yes, but I have the guards searching inside the walls. I came to look out here. This is the direction I would have gone.” He smiled. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  “You’re really not going to return me to Cassia and Max?”

  “I promise.”

  Could she believe him? “But you’re a soldier. You obey orders.”

  “Not this time. I’m going to take you to a doctor. But we need to hurry, before it gets too light.”

  The tears she’d held at bay all night threatened to fall. She nodded.

  “I’m going to pick you up. I know you’re bruised and sore, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. Can you roll onto your back?” As she complied, he unfastened the fibula at his shoulder, took off his cloak, and draped it over her. Slipping one arm under her knees and one under her back, he slowly stood. She wrapped an arm around his neck, and he cradled her battered body close to his. His warmth soaked into her, erasing the icy cold of the wet ground and chilled air.

  She could stay here forever.

  Marching quickly but smoothly, he carried her to the Marsh Gate, slowing as he neared the city walls. He bent his face next to her ear. “I’ve arranged for a friend to meet us here. He’ll make sure no one is watching.” His warm breath flowed over her skin, causing her to bury her face in his neck.

  He hugged the wall, crept forward. He stopped, the gate just around the corner.

  “Quin?” A voice drifted t
oward them.

  She stiffened and pulled her arm around his neck tighter.

  “It’s all right. It’s my friend, Timotheos.”

  She let out a breath, relaxing slightly.

  He crept around the corner. “Are we safe?”

  She peeked out over her arms. The young man who had been with Paulos waited for them. A mop of dark curly hair framed an open face as he beckoned them near. “Yes, for now. I’m Timos. Follow me. Stay back just far enough that I can signal you if someone comes out.”

  Quin nodded. “Go quickly.”

  The trio made their way through the city, quickly reaching the more lavish homes southeast of the forum. Timos opened Lydia’s door and stepped aside.

  Quin let out a long breath when the door latched behind them. Following the youth into the house, he carried her into the atrium, somehow managing not to jostle her.

  The young man turned to him and gestured to a room off the atrium. “I’ll wake Loukas.”

  Quin gently laid her on a couch and slipped his arms from under her.

  She missed the warmth of his body next to hers, but she craved even more the way he’d made her feel safe, like nothing on earth could harm her.

  Even if it wasn’t true.

  Quin removed his cloak from Tia and set it aside. She seemed so fragile. Her tunic was ripped and dirty, her bare feet cut and bloody. He stepped back into the atrium and located a bowl of water and fresh towels used to wash the feet of visitors. In the short time he was gone she’d fallen asleep. He sat at the end of the couch and lifted one bloody foot. Setting the bowl beside him, he soaked the cloth and drew it over her skin. Even asleep she flinched. So many cuts.

  “I can do that for you.” A young servant girl—Syntyche?—appeared in front of him.

  “No, thank you. I’ll do it.”

  “Something to eat for you then?”

  “Sure. Thank you.” He smiled at the girl and she scampered off. He dried Elantia’s foot and reached for the other one.

  “Quin.” Loukas’s voice boomed from across the room.

  “Loukas. Please tell me you can help her.”

  “Let me see.”

  Quin started to rise, but the doctor put his hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead and finish. It will help me assess her wounds and I can start elsewhere.”