True Freedom

by Carol Ashby

  “Finished with the honey. Now I just need to rewrap you, and then I’ll do your leg.” Marcella’s calm voice brought Julia some comfort. The arrow had pierced both sides of his leg, but at least a third of the cleaning was over.

  As Marcella treated his leg, Julia again held the basin and counted the knots in the planks that made the ceiling. Relief surged through Julia at Dacius’s next deep sigh.

  “All finished.” The relief in Marcella’s voice matched her own.

  Gaius had gone to attend to the mules when Marcella started on the leg, and he returned as his wife finished. As he bolted the door, Marcella embraced him with her smile. “It’s so late. You must all be hungry. Bread and cheese tonight, but I’ll feed you well tomorrow.” Her hand swept toward the table. “Sit.”

  She withdrew some hard cheese and bread from a cupboard as Gaius and Julia settled into the chairs.

  The sight of the crusty bread and cheese fired Julia’s appetite more than a banquet at home. She’d eaten nothing except Servilia’s small roll since breakfast, and her mouth watered at the prospect of quieting her murmuring stomach.

  Marcella cut some cheese slices for Dacius and carried those and some bread to his bedside.

  His eyes opened when she sat beside him and offered him the bread. He took it in his left hand. “Thank you.” After he took the first bite, his eyes closed. His chewing slowed, then stopped.

  Marcella tapped his uninjured shoulder. “Dacius. Stay awake.”

  His eyes reopened with several fast blinks. He started chewing again, only to have his jaw slow and stop. With a jerk, he awoke and swallowed.

  She took the bread from his hand. “You need rest more than food at the moment. I’ll give you a good breakfast in the morning.”

  He nodded, and she spread Servilia’s blanket over him. Then she ran her hand lightly through his hair and rested her palm on his cheek.

  Julia’s brow furrowed. Just like Servilia, Marcella was showing him affection like a mother would her own son, even though he was a total stranger.

  Marcella placed her palm on his forehead. “Dear Lord, keep Dacius in Your loving care this night. Take his pain and give him rest. Thank You for bringing him to us in this time of need. Please heal him quickly, and restore him completely. We ask this in the name of Your Son, our Lord Jesus. Amen.”

  Gaius’s “amen” came from beside Julia, and Dacius whispered the word as well.

  Julia’s breath caught. Marcella and Gaius were Christians. So was Dacius. She knew the emperor didn’t approve of them, but she knew only a little about them herself.

  At a banquet with Aulus’s friends, there had been mocking comments about how they were willing to die in the arena for some dead carpenter all because they didn’t want to honor a living emperor with a little incense.

  Someone had teased Marcus Drusus about his grandfather becoming a meal for the lions when he became a Christian. Marcus responded with scoffing remarks about them picking up exposed babies to raise as their own and not as slaves. He mocked them for being so stupid when they helped sick neighbors and even strangers when they could sicken and die themselves. His grandfather was a fool for becoming one, and his father was right for turning him in.

  But Aemilianus claimed they were harmless. He didn’t see why the emperor and some of the provincial governors were so hostile to them. Sabinus had argued they were dangerous fools whose rebellion couldn’t be allowed, no matter how harmless they were as individuals.

  Her jaw clenched, then relaxed. It was good that Christians picked up abandoned babies and helped sick people. These Christians had welcomed her wounded slave and her when they needed it most, no questions asked. She would never let anyone say anything bad about Christians in her presence again.

  After Marcella settled into the chair between Julia and Gaius, she glanced at Dacius’s sleeping form. “I’m thankful today was your trip to Rome, Gaius.” She touched Julia’s hand. “Thankful, too, that you found Servilia.”

  “Fortuna smiled on us when she took us in.”

  Marcella patted her hand before withdrawing her own to take the slice of cheese that Gaius offered her. “Not Fortuna, dear. God.”

  Julia smiled and said nothing more while Marcella and Gaius ate and talked.

  When all had finished, Marcella rose. “You can sleep in what was our daughters’ room before they married. Let’s get you settled in. You must be tired.”

  Julia dredged up a weary smile. “Very.”

  Marcella led her into a short hallway and directed her into a room on the left that was no more than five feet wide and only a little deeper. A small window high over the single bed let the moonbeams dance on the wall. “Sleep well.”

  Julia bit her lip. “Will Dacius be all right?”

  Marcella took her hand and squeezed. “The worst is over, and God will take care of him.” She freed a curtain from a hook at the side of the door. “He’ll take care of you both now.”

  As the curtain fell into place behind Marcella, Julia turned back the covers and lay down on the bed. She pulled the sheet up to her chin, and closed her eyes. It had been the worst day of her life, but somehow things would turn out all right. Dacius was still there to protect her, and he would get her home.

  Chapter 24: Calantha, not Mistress

  Day 20

  Dacius still hadn’t awakened when Julia scraped the last spoonful of breakfast porridge from her bowl.

  “He needs to get some food in him.” Marcella rose from the table. “I’d hoped he’d wake up on his own, but I guess I need to wake him.”

  She moved over to sit beside him on the bed. “Dacius. Time to wake up and eat.”

  Marcella ran her fingers through his hair several times before his eyes finally opened. “Ready for some porridge now?”

  His smile came slowly. “I should be, but...” His voice started soft and faded away to silence.

  She rested her hand on his cheek. “I know you’re still weak, but I’ll help you.”

  “I’ll wait a while, if you don’t mind.” His eyes drifted shut again.

  Julia’s eyes moistened as she watched. He should have been stronger, not weaker than yesterday. He’d never get stronger if he didn’t eat. But he was hers, and even if he wouldn’t eat for Marcella, he’d have to eat for her.

  She rose and scooped an ample serving from the pot. With the full bowl and a spoon, she walked to the bedside.

  “Dacius, you won’t get well if you don’t eat. Marcella’s porridge is very tasty, and I’m going to feed you a bowl of it.”

  Marcella rose and swept her hand toward the bed, inviting Julia to take her place.

  His eyes opened wide when she sat beside him, and his lips parted as if to speak. She placed her finger across her lips.

  “Hush. I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not going to let you say it. You belong to me, and if I want to take good care of you right now, you shouldn’t be telling me it’s not something I should do.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, as she had just seen Marcella do.

  That trace of a smile appeared, and his eyes warmed as she did. “Yes, mistress.”

  “That’s better.” Julia scooped up a spoonful and held it to his lips. They parted again, but this time it was only to receive the spoon.

  If anyone had told Dacius two days ago that Mistress Julia would not only be looking into his eyes but caring for him herself, he would have asked if they’d broken into the wine stores. She was always ready to help her little nieces, but to help him like he was a man who mattered―that was beyond imagining.

  Yet there she was, sitting beside him, her lips parting slightly with every spoonful she held to his lips, smiling at him as he swallowed each one.

  He was dreadfully tired and not hungry at all, but he ate the whole bowl...for her.

  Dacius had just swallowed the last spoonful when the shadow fell across him. A man was standing in the doorway. The
stranger’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze swept first Dacius and then the mistress. The smile that lifted the corners of his mouth was more leer than greeting.

  Mistress Julia set the bowl on the floor and adjusted his blanket.

  “Don’t you feel better now you’ve eaten something? It’s always best when you o―”

  “I’ve had enough. You can go now.”

  Julia’s back straightened and her eyes saucered at his harsh tone and words of dismissal. No slave had ever spoken to her like that before.

  “Rutilus?” The voice behind her was more growl than greeting.

  Julia jerked as the surprise shot through her and transformed into fear. She twisted to stare at the man. His gaze swept over Dacius, lying helpless on the bed. Then his eyes scanned her and lingered as his gaze shifted from curious to lecherous. A shudder followed the cold chill that ran up her spine.

  She scooted back on the bed until she felt Dacius’s thigh against her hip

  Dacius raised himself up behind her and rested his left hand on her shoulder. “What do you want with Rutilus?”

  “I came to look at a ram, but that’s a very pretty one. Is she for sale?”

  “No, and she’s never going to be.”

  Julia turned wide eyes on Dacius’s face. His voice was forceful, his jaw set, his eyes serious. He’d been so weak a moment before; where had that strength come from?

  The man hesitated as his eyes shifted between Julia and Dacius.

  Marcella stepped through the door and slipped past the stranger to stand between him and the bed.

  She greeted the man with a smile. “Can I help you?”

  The stranger pulled his gaze away from Julia. “I came about a ram Rutilus has for sale.”

  Marcella swept her arm toward the door. “Please. Go ahead of me. I’ll take you to Gaius.”

  After scanning Julia once more, he turned and led Marcella out the door.

  Dacius collapsed onto the pillow. It had taken all he had to bluff the stranger who’d threatened the mistress.

  “I beg pardon for touching you that way, mistress.” His voice was weak enough that Mistress Julia leaned over to hear his words. “I meant no disrespect. I had to make him think you belong to me. He’d come back otherwise.”

  “I know. You only protect me.” She bit her lip. “He felt...dangerous.”

  “He might be. We must be more careful. What we say in front of Gaius and Marcella doesn’t matter, but we are in hiding. Calling you mistress in front of that man, even acting like I’m your slave, could put you in danger. The wrong person could learn we’re here, so I must stop. But I won’t forget you’re my mistress, even when I don’t speak it.”

  Even those few words drained what little strength he had left, but he pressed on. “You shouldn’t use your real name. Pick one for while we’re here. Something common, not noble.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” Julia rested her palm on her cheek. “Not noble? So maybe something like the name of Metilia’s old nursemaid? Calantha. She’s a freedwoman now, but does that sound too much like a slave name?”

  “No, mistress. Calantha means beautiful flower. Free Greeks are named that, too.”

  His eyes focused on her face. She truly was a beautiful flower among her friends. So pretty, but also kind. Calantha was a good name for her.

  “Free but not noble is good, don’t you think?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It seems so odd to be changing my name. It’s going to be hard to remember to answer to my new one.”

  “It’s not hard. I expect a new name when I’m sold. A few days, and it seems like your own.” He drew a deep breath. Talking so much had exhausted him, but for her own safety, she needed to know what he’d told her. He closed his eyes.

  “So you haven’t always been called Dacius?”

  He struggled to open his eyelids. She wanted a conversation? She was the mistress, so...he must try.

  “No, mistress.”

  ”What else have you been called?”

  “Diegis.” So long since I last heard it…through Ariana’s sobs as the soldiers dragged her away.

  “That’s an odd name, not Greek or Latin. Where does it come from?”

  “Dacia.”

  “So that’s why we call you Dacius?”

  He nodded once.

  “Have you always been a slave?”

  “No.”

  “When did you become one?”

  “When Trajan captured Sarmizegetusa…our capitol.”

  “You couldn’t have been very old then.”

  “Eleven years.” Old enough to remember everything...but it’s better not to.

  “Have you had many owners before my father?”

  “Three.”

  “Were you a litter slave for your last mistress?”

  “No.”

  “What were you before we bought you?”

  “I trained horses and mules...on a large estate.”

  “So you were the one who calmed my brother’s stallion when it killed my litter slave.”

  “Yes.”

  “The special food I sent out to reward you, did you like it?”

  He nodded once. No need for her to know it was never given to him. It wasn’t her fault if Vilicus ate it himself.

  “Were you anything different before that?”

  “Free.”

  Silence.

  Please. No more questions. Let me rest. Even one-word answers had dragged the last shred of energy out of him. His eyelids drifted shut.

  His last answer caused her discomfort. Conversation about things long past that could never be again pained him as well.

  He forced his eyes open. Two fast blinks to keep them that way didn’t help much. She wanted his full attention when she spoke to him, but try as he might...

  “I beg pardon, mistress...I mean Calantha...I’m trying...but I can’t stay awake.”

  He drew the deep breath he needed to continue. “But I do thank you...for helping me eat.”

  Pity tugged at Julia’s heart. With each blink, his eyes stayed closed longer.

  “You saved me, Dacius. Of course I’m going to help you.” His eyelids opened halfway. “If I change my name, we should change yours, too. What should I call you now?”

  “You pick something...I’ll answer...to anything you choose.” His eyes didn’t open after the next blink.

  She gazed down at his ordinary face. Before yesterday, he’d been invisible to her. Now his unremarkable features were burned into her memory. Fatigue and pain were etched there only because he’d risked his own life for hers. He was so brave, fighting those horrible men to save her.

  “I think Leander. Like a lion. That’s how you fought for me. It fits you.”

  His eyes flickered open as the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Leander it is.” Then they shut again.

  She gazed down on him as his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep.

  Leander. Yes, that fit him very well.

  Chapter 25: The Stupidest Thing

  The Secundus villa, Day 20

  Aulus swallowed his mouthful of dried dates and swung his feet off the couch when Gallio entered the dining room. “Any news?”

  Gallio’s mouth turned down as he massaged his neck. “The tribune of the XI Urban Cohort is supposed to come first thing this morning. He’ll be in charge of the effort to find Mistress Julia and catch her kidnappers.”

  Marcus rose from his couch. “I think Aulus and I should go see Antonius Brutus. Maybe he’ll have some ideas about where someone might take her if they wanted to keep her hidden…or sell her when they don’t have legal papers on her.”

  Gallio’s jaw clenched. “I hate to think that’s happened already, but we can’t assume it hasn’t.”

  “Brutus will want to help us find her if he possibly can. Not much happens in Rome that a ludus owner can’t find out.”

  Gallio’s shoul
ders drooped. “Go.”

  As Aulus walked toward the stable beside Marcus, his brow furrowed. “Why did you tell Gallio that?”

  “He’d wonder why we left and where we went. Now he won’t be asking questions we might not want to answer when we get back.” He placed his hand on Aulus’s shoulder. “Besides, we really are going to see Brutus. Never tell a lie when the truth serves the same purpose.”

  The ride to the Drusus house was quicker than Aulus expected, and they hurried down the steps from the Fagutal to the Amphitheater, then on to the Ludus Bruti.

  Since both Aulus and Marcus trained there, the door slave barely glanced at them as they passed. Up the steps to the balcony overlooking the training arena, then down to the sand to talk with Brutus.

  Stripped to the waist, Brutus and Africanus struck blow after blow with dull-edged gladii, each parrying with the sword or deflecting with a shield.

  Marcus leaned over and spoke softly. “That’s how I want to fight…good enough to stand against Africanus.”

  With sweat-soaked hair clinging to his head, Brutus stepped back, and Africanus did the same. As Brutus wiped the perspiration from his brow with his forearm, his gaze settled on Aulus and Marcus.

  “Not your usual time, boys.”

  Marcus stepped forward. “No. Can we talk with you in private?”

  Brutus handed his sword to Africanus and snatched a towel from the stack on the bench by the wall. He toweled his hair, face, and chest before tossing it in a basket.

  “Follow me.”

  He led them down the hall by the weapons room and into his office. Marcus came last and closed the door behind him.

  Brutus’s eyebrows rose as Marcus slid the bolt. “What’s wrong?”

  Aulus glanced at Marcus, who nodded. One deep breath, and he forged ahead. “I made a horrible mistake. I wasn’t supposed to be gambling for high stakes, but I got drunk at my step-sister’s house and lost more than I should to her husband’s cousin.”

  Brutus spread his legs and crossed his arms. “It takes a fool to be high-stakes gambling with any Sabinus and an even bigger fool to be doing it drunk.”