Adiona had failed to give her husband children, dishonoring Crassus, and in turn, her father. When Crassus condemned her as worthless, he’d maimed her, but he’d said no more than what everyone else considered the truth because she’d broken the natural order.
“I’ve wondered why you seem untouched by your slave status? It’s because you don’t think of yourself as inferior, do you?”
“No. I try to see myself, and everyone else, through God’s eyes. People judge a man by his circumstances, but God’s opinion doesn’t alter with the change of my clothes or the amount of coin I have from one day to the next.”
Afraid of how his God viewed her, she lifted her chin in a show of indifference even though her heart raced. “So you freed your people and, what…paid them a wage?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “There was no other option if I intended to stay true to my beliefs.”
She stared at him, incredulous. He was even more out of step with society than she was and her admiration for him knew no bounds. Hypocrites infested Rome at every level. To find someone so true left her stunned.
“I suppose you think my actions were foolish.”
“From a financial standpoint? Most certainly.”
He laughed. “What would you have done?”
Her brows puckered. “I suppose if I wish to court your good opinion—”
“Which, of course, you don’t.”
She grinned. “But if I did, I should pretend to be altruistic and say I agree with you, but to be honest…I don’t know.”
Quintus led her up the steps and tried to open the front door. The massive portal was locked. He groaned. “Barred from my own home.”
Her eyes rounded. “What will we do?”
“Wait and see.” He knocked on the door. A few moments later a voice sounded from inside the house.
“Libo,” Quintus called, relieved. “It’s Quintus Ambustus. Open the door.”
“Take your pranks somewhere else,” a reedy voice wheezed. “You’re not welcome here.”
Color scored Quintus’s lean cheeks. Whether he was angry or embarrassed, Adiona didn’t know which.
He pounded on the door again. “Libo, this is no joke. Where is my brother? I know Lucius passed by here recently.”
A long moment passed. The door opened a crack and a man’s craggy face appeared. “Master Quintus?” Libo’s voice shook. “Is it really you?”
Quintus laughed. “It is, my friend. Let me in and you can see for yourself.”
Shock rippled across the old man’s leathered features. To Adiona’s amazement, tears welled in Libo’s eyes. He yanked open the door. “Praise be to God, our prayers have been answered!” The old man threw his arms around Quintus and Adiona stifled a laugh at his startled reaction. “Forgive me, dominus.” Libo collected himself and scrubbed the moisture from his face. “Your brother told us you were dead. Everyone’s gone, save the wife and me.”
“How is Bernice?”
“She lives, but things have been better.”
Quintus reached for Adiona without taking his attention off Libo, who continued a sorrowful account of the numerous woes that had befallen the villa since Quintus’s arrest. Adiona grimaced as Quintus’s grip tightened with each new complaint. Loath to pull away when he seemed to need her, she distracted herself from the pain in her hand by nudging him into the villa.
Sunlight and the distant crash of waves on the shore streamed into the space through large westward-facing windows. The splash of a fountain drew her eyes to an interior garden that was lush to the point of being overgrown.
Quintus introduced her to Libo as his guest once they were inside the spacious, circular reception hall. Even though he was polite, the servant paid her little attention. As the men continued their discussion, she admired the multicolored tiled floor and the intricate gardenscape painted on the walls. She also noted the empty niches and lack of furniture that spoke of the family’s shifting fortune.
“Let me understand this,” Quintus said, sounding incredulous once Libo finished his rambling. “Lucius has been staying here for months, but he’s failed to pay you and the others?”
Libo noticed the satchels Quintus carried and took them from him. “That’s so, dominus. Bernice and me had funds saved from the healthy wages you always paid us, but Dacien’s wife delivered their fourth child and Maro wished to get married. Tullia’s father died…she had to get work at the bakery in town to help her mother. Pul—”
“I understand.” Quintus interrupted with a wave of his hand. “They were right to seek out other work. I’m sorry I let them down.”
Adiona bit her lower lip. She doubted the servant heard the pain of failure in Quintus’s voice, but she did. She slipped her hand into his callused palm, hoping to lend him support. He didn’t reject her and she basked in the knowledge that he needed her for a few moments longer at least. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her fingertips, sending a delightful shiver up her arm.
A short time later, Libo returned to his work. Quintus led Adiona to a room on the second floor overlooking the cove. Awash with light, the chamber’s unfashionable white walls gave the space an airy feel that Adiona instantly favored. Rare purple textiles draped the bed and windows. Gleaming white tiles covered the entire floor. “This is a beautiful room, Quintus.”
He nodded. “It was my mother’s. She had simple tastes, but everything she touched became a thing of beauty.”
Looking at Quintus, she found it easy to believe his mother had been a remarkable woman. Her son was exceptional—honest, responsible, loyal, proud in the best possible sense.
She moved deeper into the chamber. A carved wood desk sat in front of the window, covered by alabaster jars and jeweled boxes. “Thank you for letting me stay here. It’s an honor.”
“I meant it as such.” He tugged at his hair. A smile curved his lips as he hooked the strap of her satchel on the back of the desk’s chair. “That and the fact I knew it would be the last room my brother ransacked for heirlooms to pilfer.”
She moved to the window, uncertain of his mood since he seemed equal parts amused and aggravated. “Is your brother like Drusus? Always interested in gaining coin for himself?”
Quintus released a deep breath. “No, Lucius has little in common with your heir. He’s light of heart and a friend to all.”
“Is that the problem?” she asked. “Too many friends, too little purse?”
“Something like that.”
“What are you going to do, Quintus?”
“I’m going to pray and put the situation in God’s hands.” He walked to the door. “Then I’m going to find Lucius and try not to put my new gladiatorial skills to good use.”
Four days later, Caros Viriathos and ten of his best gladiators arrived in Neopolis. Vexed for having to leave Pelonia in Rome while he dealt with Adiona’s weak-minded heir, Caros led his men through the winding streets to Drusus’s villa. In the week since Adiona’s attack, none of the spies he or Adiona’s steward kept on retainer had failed to find the first clue to her assassin’s identity. Frustrated, he prayed that if Drusus was responsible he’d discover the necessary evidence to prove the man’s guilt and see the matter put to rest.
As he and his men dismounted in the villa’s front yard, the afternoon was rife with the odor of horses and sweat caused by the driving pace the group had set from Rome.
Otho met them on the front steps. “Lanista, good to see you, sir. The lady’s heir has been screeching for justice these last four days. Me and Rufus are nearly deaf from all the racket.”
Caros chuckled. “David and Seth returned to Ostia on the journey back here. They told me of the adder in the widow’s bed and Quintus’s wisdom in removing the lady to safety. Is there anything else to report?”
“Neh. Except for the whining, it’s been as uneventful as a grave.”
Inside the villa’s reception hall, Caros curled his lip at the repugnant display of snakes painted on the walls and tiled onto
the floor. “Where is the viper?”
“Drusus was locked in his room on Quintus’s order. He’s had no visitors save one of his neighbors. An older woman who brought food and water.”
“Tell me, does Drusus seem repentant?”
“He says he was framed.”
“You’ve observed him these last few days,” Caros said. “What do you think of his claim?”
Otho drummed his fingers on the table beside him. “I think he’s half-crazed.”
“And the other half?”
“I don’t know.” The young gladiator shrugged. “The old dog doesn’t seem savvy enough to plot murder. If he was upset the widow escaped unharmed, he didn’t show it. In fact, he’s barely mentioned her, but he’s still grieving the death of his ‘pet.’”
Deep in contemplation, Caros turned to leave.
“He’s adamant to talk to you, sir. Shall I bring him down?” Otho asked.
Caros paused and rubbed his chin. “Since he’s adamant, by all means, bring him down. He can wait in his office.”
An hour later, Caros made his way to meet Drusus. Having washed off the travel dust and eaten a meal, he now felt confident he could speak to the man without harming him.
Long before he reached the office, he heard Drusus’s high-pitched complaints. “Who does he think he is to make me wait? He’s nothing but a worthless lanista! How dare he—”
“How dare I what?” Caros asked from the doorway, his tone flinty calm.
Drusus ceased his ranting and stopped cold in the center of the room. He colored as though he’d swallowed his tongue. “I—”
Ignoring Otho’s struggle not to laugh, Caros took the master’s chair behind the desk. “Have a seat, Drusus.”
Drusus did as he was told, although he was clearly irate to be displaced in his own office. “This is an outrage! What have I done that Adiona sends her lapdog to chastise me?”
Caros arched his brow and almost laughed when Drusus shrank back in his chair. “You’re suspected of attempted murder, Drusus. Adiona’s murder. Understandably, she’s none too pleased with you. And neither am I.”
Drusus swallowed hard. “I told Adiona and her minions, I’m innocent!”
“Yes, well, no one expects you to shout your guilt in the Forum, do they?”
“You suggest I’m lying?”
Caros shrugged eloquently. “I suggest you prove to me you’re telling the truth. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to call in the magistrate and let him decide the case.”
Drusus paled. Torture was legal and its brutality was expected in judicial matters. He slid down in his chair, a petulant expression creasing his fleshy face. “You’re already set against me. How can I prove something when you refuse to listen?”
“For a start, why don’t you tell me your side of the matter,” Caros said. “Go ahead and even up the balance. At the moment, the adder found in Adiona’s bed has the scale heavily weighed against you.”
The mention of his snake brought Drusus flying from his chair. “I didn’t put my pet in her room! And I want to know who’s going to compensate me for my loss? It was your man who murdered her. You should—”
“Cease, Drusus! Let the matter go. It’s over.”
Round-eyed and sputtering, Drusus dropped back into his seat. Caros studied him. “Let’s say I believe you didn’t intend to harm your benefactress. Who do you think put the snake in her room?”
“It could have been anyone.” Drusus frowned. “One of my servants or a funeral guest. How should I know? It’s not as though Adiona is loved. Some even consider her more poisonous than my adder.”
“You ungrateful weasel.” Caros ached to strike the wretch, but as a Christian, he’d been working to control the violent tendencies he’d learned in the arena. “Adiona has been kind and generous to you and yours. How can you speak ill of her?”
Drusus glanced away, shamefaced but unrepentant. “I suppose,” he said grudgingly. “My beauty might have even escaped her cage and accidentally found her way to Adiona’s room.”
“Accidentally, eh? From what I understand the balcony was locked and the chamber door closed when Adiona arrived back from the funeral.”
“I told you, I don’t know. Whatever the case, I didn’t do it.”
To his amazement, Caros found himself believing the other man. It galled him to do so, but his instincts rarely led him wrong. Until he held solid proof against Drusus, he had to follow his gut. He rose from the chair and rounded the desk. “Here’s what is going to happen. I’m going back to Rome—”
“Gods be praised,” Drusus muttered under his breath.
“My men will stay here and keep an eye on you.”
Drusus’s thin lips twisted. “You mean imprison me in my own villa.”
“Take it as you like,” Caros said, unconcerned. “If you’re as innocent as you say, you’ll send word to me if you learn the smallest detail of who is trying to harm Adiona.”
“I’ll consider it.” Drusus raised his hand and studied his fingernails.
Caros’s eyes narrowed. His fingers itched to close around the weasel’s throat and twist. “Good. Because if you don’t and I learn you’ve lied to me, you’ll be begging for the magistrate’s mercy before I’m finished with you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Always an early riser, Adiona woke to the sound of the sea and birdsong. She wrapped a palla around her shoulders and slipped her feet into the sandals she’d left by the bed.
Leaning out of the open window, she breathed in the fresh sea air. She turned to prepare for the day when the sight of Quintus walking alone on the beach caught her eye. Her heart picked up speed. With the distance between them, she was too far away to guess his mood or see his handsome features, but he’d rid himself of the slave’s garb in favor of a light-colored tunic just as he’d said he would.
Smiling because he never failed to keep his word even on the most trivial matters, she dragged herself from the window and dressed with haste. Washed and wearing her yellow tunic, she dabbed cinnamon perfume behind her ears before making her way into the corridor, down the stairs and out the front door.
Her quick pace continued all the way to the beach. At the last step before reaching the sand, she slowed and raised her chin to a regal angle. Quintus had his back to her, giving her a chance to catch her breath. She admired the cut of his short black hair and the small birthmark at the nape of his neck. Muscles rippled across his broad shoulders as he skimmed stones across the surface of the sea.
Brushing the sand off his hands, he faced her. Caught staring, she felt her cheeks flame.
“Good morning, my lady.” His eyes were the same intense green as the limes growing in the villa’s central garden. “You look like a ray of sunshine in that tunic.”
“Thank you.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. The blood rushing in her ears was louder than the surf breaking on shore. Slightly dizzy from his warm regard, she felt as though a tide had rode in and she was drowning. “Your new garb suits you, as well.”
He smiled. “My clothes are more snug than when I was here to wear them last, but anything is better than the prickly wool of a slave’s tunic.”
She laughed. The white cotton he wore was a sharp contrast to his bronzed skin. His gladiatorial training had built his physique and long hours in the sun had only added to his appearance of health and vitality. “Of all the indignities of slavery, I do believe that wool is the one you complain of the most.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re probably right. Likely because its chafing is a constant reminder of my losses.”
A wave crashed loudly, drawing her attention to the shore a short distance away. Quintus rarely spoke of his past and then only when she inquired about it. “What is the first thing you’ll do once you’re a free man again?” She held her breath, hoping he planned to include her in his future.
“I’m returning to Amiternum,” he said without pause. “My son. I have to see that he was prope
rly buried. I was arrested and taken to prison before I was able to make certain.”
His worry for his son all these months must have tormented him. Her concern for Octavia had been overwhelming, yet Octavia was only a friend, not her child. “I’m sorry, Quintus. I can’t imagine how awful these past months have been for you.”
His jaw flexed. He turned away and looked out to sea. “My God has sustained me. I have faith He’ll continue to do so.”
She longed to go to him. She admired Quintus’s certainty in his God, but he didn’t fool her. His pain was too strong to hide. She wished she knew what to say to offer him comfort, but mere words seemed trite after all he’d suffered.
She went to stand beside him. He continued to look out over the sparkling sea. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss his past or his son any longer.
“You’re up early,” she said, striving for a change of subject. “Were you going somewhere?”
“No, I was praying.”
“Praying?” She glanced around. “Where is your shrine?”
Some of the tension left his body. He motioned with his hand to the sea and sky. “I don’t need a shrine when all of creation testifies to God’s glory.”
She remembered his prayer for Octavia on the way to Neopolis. The way he’d spoken to his God as though He were a trusted friend.
“What did you speak to Him about?”
“You’re nosy.”
“I’m sorry.” She flushed. “I’m intrigued.”
“I’m teasing you.” He grinned. “I don’t mind you asking. I sent Libo off to town for supplies and a few messages, one of which I hope will find Lucius. I asked the Lord for Libo’s protection and to bring Lucius back here quickly.”
“Ah. When will Libo return?”
“Tonight, I imagine.”