by Ryan Lew
Livius’ heart fell. In one moment, just as before, his future had been snatched from his grasp. He had forgotten the confession he made one drunken night. The realization hit him hard.
“I await your return to our bed,” Alba said and slid under the sheets.
Livius removed his clothing and climbed into the bed next to her. She moved over and placed her head on his chest. “You may dream of Servilia in your next life, but in this one, it is you and me.” Livius placed his hand on his wife’s side and stared straight ahead. The balance of power had shifted once again.
Chapter 43
Justina was sitting on her bed, holding the dagger, the events of the past several weeks running through her mind. The guilt she felt was stifling. The pain, almost unbearable. So much had happened lately; she did not know where she stood. She had always felt safe here, but after today, after seeing her best friend lying lifeless on the cot, there was no place she felt safe. She also didn’t know who to trust any longer. It seemed that just as she placed her confidence in one person, it was betrayed.
Even Cato was holding secrets from her. The incident on the cross was never sufficiently explained. Then there was today. What did he mean when he said his trust lied in her and what she did? What secrets did he know? House Livius had become a house of secrets and of death. Justina was so lost in thought, she didn’t hear the light tap on the door.
When he didn’t get an answer, Fabricius stuck his head in the room. “Greetings,” he said. “Apologies for the late hours, but my patrol went long.”
Justina quickly slid the dagger under her pillow as Fabricius slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Antonia is dead.”
Fabricius sat on the bed next to her. “I am sorry to hear such news.” He tried to take her in his arms, to comfort her, but she pushed him away.
“Are you, brother? She is just a slave and you are Roman. Should it matter?”
“Of course it matters. She was part of this household. You grew up together. How did such a thing happen?”
“She took her own life. A wise decision versus the choices she had.”
“I am confused. I know Atilius is a foolish boy, but father was to take her back.”
Justina looked at Fabricius with hard eyes. “Your brother is a monster,” she said forcefully. “His actions caused her death. And she was not aware of father’s intentions. It was too late when I found her.” She didn’t mean to yell at Fabricius, but she was angry, and she needed to take it out on someone, anyone.
“This is terrible news,” Fabricius said. “I shall go talk to Atilius.”
“Do not waste your breath. What good will it do? He will not care. Antonia was property to him. Less value than a dog itself. He raped her, Fabricius. He raped her, and she killed herself because of it. His only loss is now he will have to do his own chores.”
Her brother was at a loss for words.
“Please leave my room,” Justina said and turned away from him. “I need to be by myself.”
Fabricius stood and slowly walked to the door. He took hold of the handle and paused. “And what of us?”
“I may have gone too far in being with you last night. Had I been there for her, she might still be alive.”
Fabricius said nothing. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Antonia had depended on her, and she had promised her protection. But she hadn’t delivered on that promise. Lucilius beat her and all she could do was stand there and watch it. She had promised Antonia a bright future only to have it snatched away by her mother. She had allowed herself a moment of pleasure and it had ended in tragedy. All she could think of was what horrors Antonia must have been made to endure at Atilius’ hand. She should have protected her friend, her sister. The dagger should be in Atilius’ chest. Justina jumped from her bed, pulled Atilius’ dagger from under her pillow, and rushed out of the room.
“Hello, Justina. It is nice of you to join us,” Atilius said as she stormed into his room. He was sitting in a chair next to Lucilius who was lying in his bed. “Did mother tell you the good news? I am to get a new bed in a day or two. This one has been stained.”
Justina ignored their laughter. It was nothing more than the cackling of imbeciles. She stood there in front of Atilius, letting the anger rise, holding the dagger behind her.
“It is a shame the last gift expired so soon,” Lucilius added with a smug smile. “We had great plans for it.” The two exchanged another great laugh.
“I think I may have found another gift of yours,” Justina said and lunged toward Atilius. Her swiftness caught him off guard, and before he knew it, she had the dagger pointed directly at his throat. Fear painted his face.
As Atilius sat frozen, Lucilius laughed even harder. “I had wondered where that went,” he said. “Thought it was lost in your slave. Gratitude, Justina, for finding it and returning it.”
She ignored Lucilius, focusing all her attention on her brother. She fixed her eyes on his, but it was to her detriment, for Lucilius had rolled off the bed and taken hold of his gladius. He now held it against Justina’s temple. “Hand over the dagger to proper owner or face dire consequences.”
Justina did not move, nor did she take her eyes off Atilius. They were focused, with sole intent. Her weight was against Atilius’ neck and the edge of the dagger was just short of breaking skin. How easy it would be to push it into his throat, to cut the jugular, and then join Antonia in the afterlife. Lucilius pushed the point of the blade into her temple, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to remind her it was there. She lowered the dagger and handed it to Atilius. Lucilius lowered his sword.
Justina turned and headed for the door. Emboldened, Atilius leapt from the chair and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “The next time you point sharp instrument at me, you best use it because I will be pointing one at you with deadly intent.”
Justina yanked her arm from Atilius with such force that he was unable to hold his grip. She stepped into him, face-to-face. “I know what you did last night. Actions have consequences, even for Romans.” Atilius’ bravado disappeared, replaced by concern. “The next time you lay your hand on me will be the last,” she said, then turned and walked out the door.
Chapter 44
The market was abuzz with people buying, bartering, and generally looking at the wares offered. A little girl stole a piece of fruit, causing a huge commotion as the vendor chased her through the crowd. Justina heard a familiar laugh coming from behind a vendor’s table. It was Antonia. She rushed to the table. Its wares were spread out before her, daggers, knives, and swords. They were all very fancy, most of a make Justina had never before seen.
“Hello, Justina,” Antonia said casually. “Would you like to buy a knife or perhaps a sword?”
“What are you doing here, Antonia?”
“I am selling my wares. Here is a nice sword for you,” she held up a wooden practice sword. “Best not use a real one. You might get hurt.”
Justina did not understand. Why was Antonia behind the table? “You better get home Antonia before you find yourself in trouble.”
“I have no home,” she said. “No home, no parents, no friends.”
“You have me.”
“Perhaps a nice dagger,” Antonia said. She presented Justina with the very dagger she used to take her life. “Perhaps you can use it to stab someone in the back.”
“No Antonia, it was not my fault.”
Cato suddenly appeared behind her. “Come,” he said to Justina. “This is not why we came.”
Cato led her to a clearing just past the market. A slave was hanging from the cross. Atilius and Lucilius were standing at the foot of the cross looking up at the slave. She could see them laughing and pointing. She looked up at the slave; it was a girl, a young girl with long brown hair. She stepped closer to get a better view of the slave’s face. She knew that girl. She was that girl.
It was
unbearable. There was simply no way to relieve it. No position that didn’t cause gut-wrenching pain. She looked over and saw the nail that had been driven into her hand. She could not move her fingers. She turned to the other hand. It too had been nailed in place. There was laughter coming from below. She could hear it; even from up here, their voices were clear.
“This is what we do to slaves that do not listen,” Atilius said.
“But is she not your sister?” Lucilius asked. The question brought a hardy laugh.
“As far as I know, she is not even Roman.”
Justina closed her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t come. When she opened them again, Atilius and Lucilius were gone. Alba and her father now stood in their place.
“You did all you can for this slave,” Alba said.
“I am fortunate I did not have to kill her like the others,” Livius replied. “To think of all the time and money we spent on this one. It would have been easier to just buy her instead of pretending she was our daughter.”
Alba and Livius shared a laugh, and then walked away.
“No!” Justina called out. “I am not a slave!” She started to cry, but her eyes were too dry to form tears. She sobbed heavily, the pain racking her body with each heave.
Herminius and Fabricius approached the cross.
“I heard you bedded this one,” Herminius said.
“I did,” Fabricius confirmed. “I spoke of love and only being with her.”
The two brothers laughed.
“Add her to the long list of slaves you have had your way with. This one took longer than most.”
“She did not know she was a slave. She thought herself Roman.”
Her brothers laughed again and walked away.
Cato stood alone in front of her. “This is what all of our sacrifices bear?” he asked her. “I could have been free from this place many moons ago if this was to be your fate.”
Cato was mad at her, but she did not understand why. “I thought I was Roman. How did I become a slave?”
“You were never Roman,” Cato said. In the distance, Livius could be heard calling for him. Cato turned and looked, then returned his attention to Justina. “I have said too much and now must go answer my master’s call.” He turned and stormed off.
She was alone now. Alone in the blazing heat. Along in her suffering.
After a few minutes, a man walked up to the cross. He stopped and looked up at her. His eyes were fierce, but kind, his skin darkened from years in the sun. He had on leather pants, much like the kind Cato wore and his chest was bare. Various scars adorned his arms and shoulders. She had never seen him before.
He smiled at her. “I have not seen you in many years,” he said.
“Do I know you? Are you friends of my family?”
“I am no friend to Romans.”
“Then how do you know me? I am Roman.”
“Are you?”
“All of my family came to see me but called me a slave.”
“Then you are a slave.”
Justina shook her head. “But all these years, I have been raised Roman.”
“You have been raised,” the man said. “But if you do not adhere to their laws and ways, then how are you Roman? Just eating their food and living in their city does not make you Roman. Slaves do the same.”
Justina considered his words. “I do not understand how I ended up here.”
“You chose your situation. We all do. At least free men and women do.”
“Was I betrayed?”
“The only betrayal here is to yourself. You betray your true self, so you deserve what has become of you.”
“I don’t understand,” she said and shifted her weight to relieve her arms. “How would I have fared differently?”
The stranger stepped closer to Justina. He was now face to face with her. “You allow yourself to be weak. You allow others to dictate your life and your choices. What does that make you?”
“A slave,” she said, bowing her head.
The man smiled again. He lifted her chin with his hand. “Do you want better?” he asked. “Do you want to be neither slave, nor Roman?”
Justina began to cry. This time the tears flowed.
“You need to look deep,” the man continued, “You question your thoughts because of what you can see. Why do you question your heart? It has no eyes. It knows only your truth.”
“How did I become a slave?”
“You must change your choices, your decisions.” He touched her arm. His hand was warm, familiar, somehow comforting. “I only wanted your safety. If I had known your fate, I would not have let you go.”
“Let me go? How did you let me go?”
The man did not answer her. He just smiled. In a moment, he was down at her feet again, looking up at her. “The next time someone offers you freedom, you must take it.”
“Will there be a next time?”
The stranger laughed. “I come to visit my daughter for the first time and she wants to know everything.”
“Daughter?” Justina said. “Why does a Legatus speak ill of Rome?”
“Do I look like a Legatus?” he asked, and as she looked down at him, he started to vanish.
“No!” she yelled out. “Don’t go! I need to know who my father is!”
Justina sat up suddenly, soaked in sweat, breathing heavy. She was in her own room, in her own bed. She patted the covers, still unsure of their existence. They were real. The bed was real. She looked at each hand. The nails were gone, and there were no holes. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to relax. It was now early morning.
“The next time someone offers me freedom,” she said aloud, “I must take it. I will not be a slave any longer.”
Chapter 45
april 8, 55 BC
“Have you come to fight me?” Fabricius asked. Justina was standing in his doorway, having just flung open the door. She was dressed in full combat gear, minus her helmet.
“Good morning, Fabricius. How did you sleep?”
“I did not sleep well.” He had tossed and turned most of the night, trying to come up with something that would save their budding romance. He was mostly unsuccessful. Women, in general, were hard enough to understand; this one was worse.
Justina closed the door. She turned and gave Fabricius a coy smile, then ran over to his bed, jumped on top of him, and gave him a deep kiss.
It all took Fabricius by surprise.
“I hope I was not reason for lack of slumber. Apologies if I was. I was not myself,” she said and kissed him again.
“If this is how I am to wake from rough night of sleep, then I accept new fate.” Justina placed her hands on his bare chest and smiled down at him. “You are in a good mood,” he said, “your friend not dead more than twenty-four hours.”
“I will mourn Antonia in my own way,” she said and jumped off him. “I had a vision last night and need help from loving brother.”
“A vision?” Fabricius repeated. “Were your eyes closed and your head on the pillow when this ‘vision’ occurred?” He leaned on one elbow.
“Of course,” Justina said.
“That is called a dream.”
“Call it what you want,” she said and walked over to the door. “Just get dressed in your fighting gear and meet me in the training room.” Justina flashed a smile and left.
Fabricius stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He wondered what Justina was up to, but based on the way she was dressed, knew it couldn’t be good. She would want revenge on Atilius and, worse yet, she would want him to help her get it. This was the only possible explanation for her elevated mood. He began to dress, all the while formulating a plan to dissuade her from her course.
When he got to the room, Justina was ready, gladius in hand. He took a deep breath. “Have we not already gone over this, Justina? I thought you were to stop this nonsense and find loving husband. I know of one who is interested in that position.”
“I ask one favor of y
ou, Fabricius. And in turn, I shall be loving girlfriend and confidant.”
“And what is this favor you ask?” he said, stepping further into the room.
“I need you to give me my freedom.”
Fabricius was puzzled. “I do not understand meaning. You ask for freedom and you will be loving and supportive girlfriend? Are they not contradictory?”
Justina laughed. “Far too long I have been trapped in this house. I do as commanded, like a good Roman girl should. I even allow my brother to bully me. I shall have my freedom in this life and no longer be commanded by those who I do not respect.”
“Freedom will come, Justina, when we move to our own place, funds for which I do not yet have.”
“That is not freedom,” Justina said. “Freedom is a mindset. If you empower me with battle skills, I will no longer feel as slave under these walls.”
“And what is your intention?” he asked. “What do you plan on doing with these new-found skills? Am I to train you so you can exact revenge on your brother?”
“You are to train me so I do not have to.”
Fabricius smiled. He understood the confidence that came with the ability to defend oneself. He knew it in his own life, and he had seen it with the recruits he helped train. Justina didn’t want to feel the victim, and the only way to do that was to know you could defend yourself if the need arose. “If this new confidence, apologies, freedom is what you seek, then I will grant it. However, if little girl shall appear and realize vision was but a dream, my favor will be ended, but your portion of the deal will remain. Do we have an accord?”
“We do,” Justina said eagerly.
“Know that I will not show leniency with you just because you are a girl. If you want to learn these skills, it will require you to be hurt physically and mentally. I will push you to limits you will not like. But, if you stay true to your purpose, your skills will rival those of your brother and Lucilius. It will take time and dedication. Are you willing?”
