by Ryan Lew
“One who looks to make an enemy of Pompey. Does that seem wise?” Alba asked as she took another drink. “If I recall correctly, you were once married to someone who sided against Pompey. That didn’t turn out well. It would be a shame for you to side against Pompey a second time and see worse come your way.”
Servilia’s eyes narrowed. She considered standing, taking Alba by the hair and slamming her glass into her face but resisted. She had played these games before and was much better at them than this would-be pretender. “Are you here to issue empty threats and drink my wine? Or did you come to get a glimpse at the woman who first had Livius’ heart? Truth be told, if I had not been blessed with seed of Brutus’ father, I may have ended up with Livius myself.”
“You actually believe that?” Alba asked.
“I do,” Servilia said. “If you had not become pregnant with Livius’ second child, it is almost certain this would have become our paths. The Gods blessed you during those times, not me.”
“They not only blessed me back then, but for many years to come.”
Servilia kept her gaze.
“Gratitude for your wine,” Alba said, uncrossing her legs. “Now that I see you first hand, I should have believed my husband when he assured me I had nothing to worry about.”
Alba stood and placed the glass on the small table next to the chair.
“I know your life has not been easy,” Alba continued, “If your husband had not been for the afterlife, you may have seen your family celebrated over all these years. Possibly more than two slaves at your side and only one child.”
“I often wondered what type of woman stole Livius’ heart,” Servilia said quickly. “Now that I have met you, I can only imagine how quick you were to spread legs and get seed to trap such a great man. He may be in his forties, but he has many great years ahead. Be sure to keep leash tight.” She took another drink.
Alba glared at Servilia, but Servilia did not return her look.
“Know this,” Alba said. “I was privy to information that affected your life. I am sworn to secrecy, of course. That is, unless I am forced to spread lips, much like I spread legs so many years ago. I pray that I never have reason to share such information.”
Servilia looked up from her glass. Alba caught her gaze, forming a slight smile. The two women remained locked in a glare, then Alba turned and left.
Servilia remained seated, staring forward. She took another drink.
Chapter 29
Justina could hear them in the next room, laughing. She imagined Lucilius recreating the day’s events, shoving his sword into the male slave over and over again. Describing to Atilius just how glorious it felt to kill innocent slaves, defenseless human beings. It sickened her, just as it had sickened her to watch the spectacle earlier.
She remembered little about the walk home. Most of it in silence, except for Atilius, who could not stop talking about how the slaves got “what was their due.” That is, until their father admonished him. After that, no one spoke.
Justina was sitting on the floor against her bed when her door opened slowly. Antonia was on the other side, and Justina could see she had been crying.
“Why?” Antonia said, almost in a whisper. “Why would you invite me to such an event?”
Justina motioned for Antonia to enter, then patted the floor next to her. Antonia entered and sat down.
“It was offered as a gracious gesture,” Justina said. “One well received at the time. If I had known intent, I would not have made offer, nor would I have accepted for myself.”
“I have lived in this household my entire life and, until recently, never feared harsh treatment. But now, this house seems filled with people to fear.”
Justina turned and took Antonia’s hands. “Your concerns should be with Atilius and Lucilius and no one else.”
“How can you say that? I hear, and now witness, Fabricius’ killing of slaves. Once admired, I now fear that he has grown to enjoy his position and the benefits that come with it.”
“Fabricius was only doing as commanded,” Justina assured her. “Caesar made request, thinking it a favor to my father.”
Antonia’s eyes widened. “Is it such a great honor to your people to watch slaves killed because we pursue freedom from chains, beatings, and death?” Her tears were welling.
Justina moved her hands to Antonia’s arms. “Do not be upset. Lucilius will not be in this house for long. Atilius joins the Roman Army in a week and his time here will be shortened.”
Antonia began to sob. Justina pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her. “This all will pass,” she said, but it did little to calm her friend. “Is it Fabricius that caused you concern?”
Antonia nodded.
“Fabricius would never harm a slave unless commanded to do so. You saw how he hesitated in the arena and would not remove his helmet.”
“He chose to not remove his helmet to hide his true intentions. His true feelings.”
“You are wrong,” Justina said quickly. “I know my brother. He does as commanded. As a good Roman soldier should. You saw how the Legatus and Lucilius celebrated the killings. Fabricius killed only one, and he did so because he was commanded. You need not fear him.” Justina said the words, but she was not sure she believed them herself.
Antonia’s cries deepened. “Are my days numbered?” she asked through sobs. “Am I for the afterlife to join my parents in the months, weeks, or days to come?”
Tears rolled down Justina’s cheeks. It was hard to see her friend in such pain. “I am here for you. I will never let anyone hurt you.”
Antonia cut her off. “You cannot protect me, Justina.” She pulled away and was suddenly calm. “Atilius and Lucilius dominate you physically in this house. They also stifle your voice. Your mother closes ears to your desires as well.”
Justina squeezed Antonia’s hands and smiled. “I have news that will wipe your tears away for good. My father is the only voice that matters in this house and he and I have brokered a deal.”
“A deal? What type of deal?”
“When I marry, you are to be gifted to me and waiting husband.”
Antonia’s face lit up.
“I will make sure future husband knows we are as one,” Justina continued.
“And if he refuses?” Antonia asked.
“Then he will have cold nights in his bedchamber.”
The two shared a laugh.
“Is this true?” Antonia asked.
“Yes. You and I will be together. You will be treated as sister in my new household.”
Antonia hugged Justina.
“You need not worry about your future,” Justina said. “I will ensure it is a pleasant one.”
The mood in Justina’s room lightened briefly, then Antonia pulled back. “Marriage? How are you talking marriage? You have yet to date, let alone show any affection for any male. Do I have time for you to discover what a woman should desire? This sounds like a great dream, but a dream none the less.”
“I will make changes. I know I do not present myself well, but that will change. My mother and father want to see me find love, and I shall begin that search. It is important to me to rid myself of living under a roof where slave killings are celebrated. I do not like the abuse of slaves. I know it is celebrated in our culture, and I should share same mind and feeling, but I do not. I would imagine my real father, the Legatus, would be disappointed in me.”
“Well, I am grateful for you and your true heart. I hope the day arises soon where someone of your mind comes into your life and the two of you find love.”
Antonia and Justina hugged once more. Just then, a knock came on the door. Fabricius stuck his head inside. “Apologies for the late appearance,” he said. “I have just now arrived from my day’s duties.”
Antonia moved closer to Justina and took hold of her hand.
“Is there something you need at this late hour, brother?”
“I need to share a word with you befor
e I find slumber,” he said and half-stepped into the room. “Antonia, would you please excuse us.”
Justina squeezed Antonia’s hand and nodded her approval. Antonia stood and walked toward the door, her head lowered. Fabricius stepped aside. His attention was on Justina. Once Antonia left, he entered the room, closing the door behind him.
Justina got up from the floor and sat down on the bed, arms folded.
“You need to know I was not made aware of my assigned duties for the day ‘til just moments before.” He sat down next to Justina. “When Braccius told me I had been selected, I asked if the assignment could be given to another. He told me Caesar himself had made request and that it would be unwise for me, or my family, to deny such a request. I had hoped to keep my helmet firmly on so none of you would see who delivered the last blow on the slave.”
Justina was flooded with emotions she did not expect. She wanted to hug her brother and comfort him, but at the same time, she was doing all she could not to slap him hard in the face. She understood he had been put in a situation with no possible beneficial outcome. Still, he had killed a defenseless human being.
“Had you been told their crime?” Justina asked. “Their real crime?”
Fabricius stiffened. “We have laws in this land, Justina. Laws that hold for Romans as well as slaves. Breaking those laws brings punishment. I do as commanded, not as choosing.”
Justina was quiet. Fabricius moved closer. “I need you to know that isn’t who I am. It is your opinion and none other that vexes me at night.”
Justina looked up at her brother. “Why is that?”
“I love all in this house. Most of all, I love you and your way with Antonia. I respect our slaves, but that is a relationship that would be forbidden outside these walls. Slaves and Romans are not to become best friends, yet you do not care. She has become sister to you, and I admire that.” He paused and took hold of Justina’s hand. “I admire a great deal about you.”
Justina smiled shyly. She loved her brother. He was an accomplished soldier, yet there was gentleness about him—much like their father. She squeezed his hand. It was hard for her to stay mad at him for any amount of time.
“You are a good man, brother. Your heart is kind. The woman who steals that heart will be very lucky indeed.”
Fabricius smiled shyly.
“You are into your twenties now,” Justina continued, “with a highly-respected position in the Roman Army. You constantly bother me about finding a man, yet, I have not seen you with, nor mention affections toward any females. Why is that?”
Fabricius took a deep breath. He was unable to look his sister in the eye. “Honestly,” he began, “I have met a few and had chance to entertain the opposite sex.” He paused.
“What is it?” Justina asked.
“I compare them to you,” he finally said and looked up at Justina. “Your beauty, your intelligence at such a young age. Your unchained attitude.”
Justina laughed, and Fabricius joined her.
“I am flattered, dear brother, to hear these words from your mouth. Your love for me has always been strong and appreciated.”
Fabricius smiled. “It is stronger than you know.” He leaned in. Justina leaned in as well, expecting a hug. What she got was a kiss—on the lips. She pulled back, her eyes wide.
Fabricius pulled back as well. “Apologies.”
Justina was suddenly filled with an unexpected wave of emotions. Fabricius had overstepped his boundaries. He was her brother. Yet, the feeling of his lips was not unpleasant, and she had to admit, what she felt for him had always been different from what she felt for their father, or even Herminius. She was always happy in his presence, always safe.
But he was her brother.
The confusion must have shown on her face. Fabricius was standing, looking both embarrassed and distraught. As he moved toward the door, Justina spoke, softly at first, “Is this not forbidden?” she asked. “Could brother and sister find a different kind of love?”
Fabricius sat back down. “There are many things in this world we must adhere to. None of those matter in the case of the heart.” His eyes dropped to her lips. He leaned in, took her in his arms, and kissed her. This time, Justina kissed him back. His lips were firm but soft. It was her first real, passionate kiss and it felt amazing! Time vanished and all she could feel was Fabricius’ strength and passion. She allowed him to engulf her.
When it was over, she let the feeling linger, then she slapped Fabricius on the chest. “You should apologize!” she barked. “You take actions without even asking me on proper date.”
The comment brought them to laughter.
“Well,” Fabricius said with a smile, “we will have to rectify that. I have an offer that may satisfy your request. Atilius celebrates his eighteenth the day after tomorrow. I am sure anything but being present with him and his friends would be ideal. What if I tell father I am going to take you to the market and for a horseback ride so you do not have to attend the festivities?”
“This is quite the romantic offer,” Justina said. She was smiling brighter than ever before. “Getting me away and using your youngest brother as the excuse. You are so clever.”
“It is a date then?”
“Yes, I would love to go on a date with my brother,” she said and laughed. Fabricius joined her.
“Maybe we should lose the brother and sister and use our names,” he suggested.
“Oh yes, mighty Fabricius. I would be honored to go on a date with you.” This time, it was Justina who initiated the kiss, cupping Fabricius’ face. When they were done, Fabricius ran his hand through her hair, softly brushing her cheek. Justina closed her eyes and smiled.
Fabricius stood, smiled, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Justina let herself fall onto the bed. Maybe marriage wasn’t going to be such a bad option after all.
Chapter 30
March 12, 55 BC
Caesar hated being here. He hated the building, the Senate Building, and he hated the people who occupied it. These pompous, overstuffed, cretins, all vying for position. Rome’s elite, the senators. Nothing more than an assembly of old men, gathering in an old building. It was all he could do to sit there among them with a face not twisted from distaste.
The building itself was fairly small, built by a dictator who died more than a quarter century ago. It was so small that half the senators were forced to stand. Had more been in attendance, which was typically not the case, they would have met in the nearby temple. The senate was loud. The white marble building echoed with the voices of its occupants. Everyone was talking—most of them at the same time—and if that wasn’t bad enough, the doors to the outside were open, allowing all of Rome to enter if they so chose, as was tradition. He made a mental note to replace this building one day.
On this occasion, all the seats on the benches were taken except the two next to him. One of those was meant for the blowhard Pompey, but he was already sitting among the senators on the other side, in full view of Caesar. He did that mostly to spite Caesar, but also, Caesar guessed, to hedge his bets, just in case.
Crassus made his way into the room, catching the attention of almost every head. He walked purposely over to Caesar and sat next to him. As the voices quieted, Caesar stood.
“Thank you all for being here today,” he began. “I hope you enjoyed the fights at the Arena yesterday. It was quite a celebration for Rome. Gratitude to Crassus for making yesterday happen and all of your attendance possible.”
Many of the senate clapped. Pompey did not. Caesar took note.
“I hope you were all satisfied with your seats,” Caesar paused, waiting for the applause to subside. “That is all the business I have to share today. I open the floor to any other senators.”
Caesar sat down as another senator stood and began speaking.
Crassus leaned into Caesar. “Gratitude for recognizing me in front of such esteemed men.”
Caesar smiled. “Y
our purse continues to make me look good. Why would I not return the favor?”
Crassus and Caesar listened to a senator go on about some worthless item of business meant to eventually line his own pockets. Caesar was bored. Unlike Crassus, he did not have the patience to sit for hours listening to men who mostly said nothing, waiting for just the right moment to hear just the right thing, to gather just the right information. He was a military man, and as such, craved action above all else. There was little action in the senate.
When it appeared as if Caesar was about to stand, Crassus again leaned into him. “The family you introduced me to yesterday, who were they? And why would a butcher’s family be of interest to you?”
“Interesting,” Caesar said. “I do not recall introducing him as a butcher.”
Crassus smiled coyly. “You do not think I have people with information as well? You may have access to my purse, but I do spend my own money when it suits me.”
Caesar returned a knowing grin. Crassus had made an unintentional slip, but he let it pass. Instead, he logged it in his memory along with the interesting handshake Crassus exchanged with Livius the day prior. “Let us just say the man is a friend of a friend, and his son is now working for Pompey.”
Crassus looked across the room to the third member of the Triumvirate. “So, you offer favor to his family for much needed information?” He turned to Caesar. “Must I remind you that you and Pompey are on the same side?”
“Are you aware how many men detest the way you made it to the senate?” Caesar asked. “Do you know how many men in this room feel you purchased your seat? Only a few of us know better. I know of your battle with the Slave King Spartacus. I know you drew sword and spent many months away from comfort of home. And yet, who is celebrated for such victory? The man you say is on our side.” Caesar looked across the room at Pompey. “He is a snake and will strike the moment it suits him. I prefer to be informed before his attack.”
Crassus turned away. After a few moments, he spoke, “You play dangerous games, Caesar. All of Rome is at your feet, but betrayal of Pompey may change those feelings.” He paused a moment, then continued, “I would also hope you come to senses in terms of your mistress. Women like her tend to have loose lips.”
