by Carol Ashby
As he glanced around the yard, his back straightened. Who should be there but the younger brother of Marcus’s best friend, Lucius Drusus. Septimus had met Titus five years earlier when he’d stopped by the Drusus estate for lunch with his brother. He’d know Titus Drusus anywhere, and for him to be one of the more senior tribunes who could provide advice and maybe help in making the best of this posting was remarkably good fortune.
Titus strode toward him, and Septimus prepared to greet him. But Drusus only flicked a glance his way and walked past without even a nod of recognition.
Septimus’s lips tightened. If Drusus thought himself too important to speak with him, that was Drusus’s loss.
“I need a pack mule until tomorrow.” Drusus’s words to the centurion caught Septimus’s attention.
“Yes, tribune. Soldier, get Tribune Drusus a pack mule.”
Septimus turned to watch the man take a mule from the corral and put a pack saddle on it. Drusus also watched with his arms crossed. As the soldier finished cinching the saddle, Drusus walked to where his stallion was tied, mounted, and rode over to take the mule’s lead. Then he kicked his horse into a trot and headed out the gate.
Septimus rubbed his cheek. Why would Drusus be needing a pack mule for only one night?
He strolled over to the centurion. “Wasn’t that Claudius Drusus? He’s the brother of my brother’s friend. It’s good to see him out here in Thracia. How long has he been here?”
“That’s Drusus. Four years or so.”
“Why the pack mule?”
“He’s moving from a rented room into a house.”
“A house? Is he getting married?”
“No. His sister just came from Rome, and she’ll be living with him.”
“That will be nice for both of them. His sister’s a lovely girl.”
The centurion nodded. It was clear that he considered the conversation ended as he turned his attention back to one of the horses that had just gone lame.
What a stroke of luck. Marcus gave a banquet just before Septimus’s departure, and Lucius Drusus had been there. Many were talking about the unexpected disappearance of Lucius’s sister, Claudia. Lucius was claiming she’d been kidnapped. He was offering a handsome reward for information leading to her return. A very different version of the story emerged when Lucius got drunk. Septimus overheard Lucius complaining privately to his brother that she’d run away to avoid marrying Flavius Sabinus. Sabinus was furious about that and told Lucius he’d better find her and drag her back to marry him if he knew what was good for him. He’d searched all over Rome and hadn’t turned up any trace of her.
Septimus had inherited an estate when his father died, but it was a small one. His net worth exceeded the 100,000 denarii required to be a member of the equestrian order, but not by much. The 10,000-denarii reward would come in very handy.
He hurried to his room to write a letter to Lucius. If he could get it included in the mail dispatch being sent to Rome tomorrow, he could be a much wealthier man in less than a month’s time. Lucius could pay his brother, who would get it to his own steward promptly.
He fought the grin that threatened to turn into a chuckle. This would be the easiest 10,000 he ever made.
When Titus rode through the gate and back to the stable area, he led the borrowed pack mule carrying everything he’d had in his lodgings. He wasn’t a man who accumulated many things. It had been easy to pack everything onto a single mule. He only had a couple of boxes that contained his library, some civilian clothes, and assorted items of military clothing, armor, and weapons.
As he dismounted, Nestor came from the kitchen.
“Good evening, master.” He looked at the mule. “Shall I take it all to your bedchamber?”
“Yes.” Titus sniffed the air, and a smile appeared. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes, master. Miriam has prepared an excellent dinner for you.”
“So I bought myself a cook after all. The trader hid her being a cripple, so I don’t really know if she’s anything he claimed.”
Nestor untied the first box and lifted it onto his shoulder. “You would have been pleased to see her in the marketplace, master. She was very careful to get a good bargain for you on everything, and she spent only what was necessary to run your household until a little after your next payday.”
“Good. What I really want to see is how good a job she's done cleaning. Our house in Rome was always spotless. I want Claudia to feel at home here.”
As they passed through the kitchen, Titus tipped his head back as he inhaled the tantalizing aroma. The corner of his mouth lifted. It would be a good dinner tonight.
He glanced down as they entered the courtyard, and his mouth turned down. There was too much dirt on the cobblestones. Miriam needed to do a much better job if her cleaning was to be up to the standards that Claudia was accustomed to in Rome. Sloppy work was a sign of laziness, and that was not something he would tolerate, especially from a slave he’d paid too much for.
Nestor led the way up the stairs and along the balcony to the master’s bedchamber. When the door swung open, Titus’s frown vanished. The room was immaculate. It looked like the walls had even been washed. Clearly, she could do a good job if she tried.
Titus turned to Nestor. “I want to see Claudia’s room.”
“This way, master.” Nestor lead Titus past four small rooms to the main bedchamber.
Nestor opened the door, and Titus entered. Again, he found an immaculate room with freshly washed walls. Titus’s approving nod was accompanied by a slight smile. This was more like it. She’d done a thorough job on both his room and Claudia’s. Maybe he just needed to tell her to keep the courtyard clean.
“Where is she?”
“Still cleaning, master. There are many hours of cleaning still needed to get the whole house clean. It was very dirty from sitting empty for some time. She’s been working hard on it all afternoon, ever since we returned from the market.”
They descended the stairs to look for her and found her in the room with the bath tub. The floor was already spotless, and she was washing the walls when Titus walked in.
Miriam spun to face him and bowed her head. “Master. Your dinner is ready. Did you want me to serve it now?”
“First I want to talk with you about the cleaning.”
Her whole body tensed, and she kept her head bowed. Titus frowned. She was acting like she was afraid of him.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
She raised her head, and he found himself looking into those serious brown eyes again.
“Yes, master.”
“I was not happy with the state of the courtyard when I saw it.”
Fear filled her eyes. She sucked in a breath and bit her lip.
“But I’m pleased with how you’ve cleaned the two bedchambers. I’ll expect you to clean everything that well in the future.”
“Yes, master.” She let the breath out. The fear faded from her eyes, and her mouth relaxed into a shy smile.
In the future―those words were music to Miriam’s ears. The master was satisfied enough with what she’d finished that he wasn’t planning to return her.
Thank you, God, that he’s patient enough to give me more time to finish. Thank you so much that he isn’t like Mistress Xanthe.
Miriam always tried to do her best, but that had never been good enough for her first mistress. She’d enjoyed hitting Miriam for anything and even for nothing at all. Master Titus was a powerful man with a broad chest and muscular arms. If he liked to hit, he’d be a dangerous master.
“Now that’s clear, you can go prepare to serve me dinner.”
“Yes, master.”
The corner of Titus’s mouth lifted. One word of praise and her pretty smile appeared. It seemed genuine, too, not just something to curry his favor.
She bowed and limped out the door ahead of him.
He turne
d his attention to Nestor again. “Take everything into my room, and tell her I’ll be ready to dine as soon as I clean up.”
Titus had been looking forward all day to the three-course dinner of the Roman upper classes. It had been too long since he’d eaten anything for dinner other than the porridges and stews prepared by the garrison cook or the cook at his lodging house. Those kept body and soul together, but that was about all that could be said for them.
Salad, some delicious meat dish as first table, a sweet dessert as second table. His mouth started watering at the mere thought. That scrumptious aroma that wrapped around him as he walked through the kitchen would have been from the second course, but it promised an evening of true dining pleasure. If the second smelled that good, what would the first and third be like?
Nestor stopped beside Miriam as he headed out to get the rest of the master’s belongings. “The master was very pleased with how you cleaned his room and that of the mistress. I think we’ll find him to be a reasonable man.”
“Oh, I hope so. I’ve served a mistress who was never satisfied. She used to hit me almost every time she saw me. I know God told me I was meant to be here to serve his sister, but I’m so glad He’s given me a master who’s willing to be pleased with something I do.”
“Time will tell, but I think you have one.” Nestor gave her an encouraging smile and headed out the door to fetch the remainder of the master’s belongings.
Chapter 43: Proving Her Worth
A basin and a large pitcher of water were waiting for Titus on a table in the bath chamber. A full bath would have felt good just then, but he was eager enough for that three-course meal that he settled for washing his face and hands in the basin. He’d have Miriam fill the tub with hot water for a good soak after dinner.
Nestor was carrying the final box into the courtyard when Titus emerged from the bath chamber.
“Tell her to serve me now in the dining room.”
“Yes, master.” With the box still on his shoulder, Nestor stepped back into the kitchen.
Nestor watched Miriam stir the stew before lifting the spoon to her mouth for a taste. The aroma was mouthwatering, possibly the most tempting Nestor had ever smelled. That was saying something, since Philip had an excellent chef and under-chef.
“The master’s ready for you to serve him.” Nestor inhaled the heavenly aroma. “He should be delighted. I hope there will be some left over for me.”
Her eyes warmed at his compliment. “I made plenty. Unless the master tells me otherwise, we’ll always get to eat the leftovers.” She dipped the spoon in the pot again and offered him a taste.
He blew on it and took a sip. His eyebrows shot up as he licked his lips. “Master Titus will love this. You could give Master Philip’s chef lessons.”
“Mother taught me most of what I know. She cooked for my first master until his wife sold her when I was ten.”
Nestor’s lips tightened. “I don’t remember my mother, but serving in Master Philip’s house gave me a new family.”
“I’m sorry you had to leave them, but I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t thank you enough for everything you did today. I could never have gotten enough done without your help.”
“Don’t tell the master I helped clean. We want him to appreciate how valuable you are. You’d better serve him now. I still need to take the last of his things up.”
Nestor returned to the courtyard and climbed the stairs to begin arranging the master’s belongings in his chamber. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the taste of her stew. It was good that Master Philip had loaned him to Master Titus. It was an honor to be chosen to watch over the woman his master loved. Eating Miriam’s cooking would be a fitting reward for his effort.
Upon entering the dining room, Titus was pleased to see it was as immaculate as the bed chambers had been. It contained the usual couches arranged around a low table for banquets, but it also contained a table and four chairs more suitable for use by Greek women and for less formal meals. He’d grown accustomed to dining at tables during his posting to Thracia, so he seated himself rather than reclining.
When she entered through the door to the storeroom that connected the dining room and kitchen, she carried a tray with a goblet, a bottle of wine, and a small pitcher of water for mixing to taste.
She placed the goblet before him and filled it to about half with water. Then she added about half as much wine and waited for him to taste it.
He took a sip and nodded approvingly. She’d selected good wine and diluted it exactly as he liked it. Not a bad beginning to a real dinner. She left the bottle and pitcher on the table, bowed deeply, and disappeared into the storeroom.
When she returned, the tray held a large, steaming bowl of stew and some bread. The rich aroma that had fueled his anticipation filled the room.
He took one look at the bowl, and a frown appeared as he raised his eyes from the bowl to her.
“Where’s the first course?”
Miriam’s heart raced. She’d made a terrible mistake when she cleaned instead of making the three-course dinner the master expected. She bowed her head and stepped back from the table to get out of striking range.
“I beg pardon, master. There was time for cleaning or cooking but not both. I tried to guess which would be more important to you. I thought it would be preparing the house for your sister’s arrival tomorrow. I know now it’s the full Roman dinner, and I won’t make that mistake again. I beg pardon for only making you a stew tonight.”
She raised her head just enough to glance at him to see if he was still frowning, then she bowed even lower when she saw his frown had deepened. Her apology had done nothing to appease him. She stayed beyond his reach. Even one strike from that heavily muscled arm would hurt more than anything Mistress Xanthe had done. Bruises she’d lived with for her first ten years, but his blow might break a bone.
The spontaneous responses that had given some protection during those years with her cruel mistress kicked back in. She knew what it took to survive serving an angry master.
Titus frowned and shook his head. She was too frightened whenever he was the least displeased. The trader may have lied about her coming from a household that treated its slaves well. Only frequent cruelty would make a slave that jumpy. No slave of his should cringe every time he spoke to her.
“Look at me, Miriam.”
She raised her head. Fear pulsed in her eyes.
“Now come back to me at the table.”
Her steps were halting, but she obeyed. She obviously knew she was getting close enough for him to hit her, and she was expecting it. Time to break her of that.
“Your guess was correct. It is more important to me that my sister is well served than for me to get the three-course meal I’ve been looking forward to all day. Your stew smells delicious, and it will do for tonight. I’ll normally want the full meal when Claudia is here, but I’m not angry that you didn’t get it made today.”
She’d been as tight as a drawn bowstring when she came back to him, but her whole body relaxed as he spoke to her. Much better.
“However, you are doing something that I don’t like.”
There was fear in her eyes again before she bowed her head.
“What, master? I can stop it.”
“You’re doing it again. Look at me.”
Miriam raised her head to look into the master’s eyes. No anger simmered there. They even seemed friendly, and the frown had been replaced by a slight smile.
“I don’t like you acting like you think I’m going to hit you all the time. Cruelty had no place in my father’s house; it won’t have one in mine. I don’t hit slaves for no good reason. As long as you try to do your best for me and work hard, you have no reason to fear me. That means no more cringing, no more bowing your head like you have been, no more stepping back quickly like you expect me to strike. And when I speak to you, I want you to look at me.”
�
��Yes, master.”
It sounded almost too good to be true. She’d asked God to place her in a kind household; the master’s words promised that it would be.
God, please forgive me for being so afraid. You brought this tribune to keep me from the brothel. I should have known You’d give me a kind master who doesn’t even mind me being a cripple.
His smile grew bigger. “Good. Now we have that settled, I can eat.”
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly as he inhaled the tantalizing aroma.
“If this tastes as good as it smells, I should enjoy what you’ve made me.”
He filled his spoon, then blew on it to cool it a little before placing it in his mouth. His eyebrows rose, then dropped as a broad smile appeared.
“This is delicious. I’m glad you chose cleaning over cooking. I’ll want this again.”
“Yes, master.” She bowed before returning to her post by the wall.
Master Titus finished his first bowl as she stood by the storeroom door, waiting to do whatever he asked.
“Very good. Bring me another serving.”
“Yes, master.” She stepped forward and picked up the bowl, bowing quickly before she carried it back to the kitchen.
Nestor was sitting at the table as she stepped out of the storeroom. His smile mirrored hers when she carried the empty bowl to the stew pot and refilled it.
“I see he liked your stew.”
Miriam beamed. “Yes, and he said he’d like me to serve it again.”
What a relief that he liked her stew and was satisfied with what she’d cleaned. She hadn’t done everything the master told her to do, but he understood that she’d done the best she could in the time she had. She still hadn’t cleaned the women’s room or the sitting room, but she could complete those before his sister came if she worked all night.
