by Carol Ashby
Calantha held out her hands for the writing supplies. “When Leander thought he was dying, he said I should send a message to Father telling him to come alone to the Baths of Titus and to tell no one he’d heard from me. He said you and I could pretend to be mother and daughter while we waited for Father to come. That’s still a good plan.”
She flashed Leander a smile. “It’s much better to have you here to deliver the message and make sure all goes as planned.”
She headed out to the counter to write with Servilia behind her. When they returned, Calantha held a papyrus roll tied with three pieces of yarn.
Servilia took some rolls and cheese from the cupboard and dropped them in a small sack. “If we leave now and eat as we walk, the baths will be opening when we get there.”
Calantha spread her arms and inspected her tunic. “I’m already dressed like your daughter, so I’m ready. It’s maybe an hour’s walk to the villa from the baths. Then Leander will need to wait his turn in the salutation. I think Father will want to come as soon as he reads my letter. So that would be another hour to two hours before he can return with Father. We can wait in the garden for a long time without drawing too many eyes.”
She waved the rolled-up papyrus at Leander. “Father should want to come immediately after reading this. But it’s important that you put it into his hand yourself. Don’t let his secretary take it.
“For a week after Father returns, there are so many people wanting his attention that salutation lasts well into the afternoon. There should be plenty of time for you to join the clients and gain an audience today. There are some people who get his immediate attention, so we’ll have you say you have a private message on behalf of one of them.”
She tapped her mouth with her fingers. “Father was consul with Egnatius Marcellinus. Marcellinus always said I reminded him of his own daughter and told me if I ever needed anything, he’d be happy to help. He wouldn’t mind us saying you’ve brought a confidential message on his behalf that demands urgent attention.”
“Egnatius Marcellinus.” Dacius wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “What if someone recognizes me before I can say his name and present your letter? They might not let me see your father.”
“Father’s private secretary screens the clients. He was in Sicilia with Father, so he shouldn’t recognize you. Tell the slave at the front door that you’ve come for the salutation, and he’ll have someone take you straight to the waiting area.”
She leaned over and swept some hair off his forehead. “I wish you had your cloak here. It would make you look more…worthy to receive Father’s immediate attention.”
Servilia stood. “I have the perfect thing for him to wear. I just finished a special order, and they won’t pick it up until next week.” From a shelf next to the door, she picked up an off-white cloak with several bands of colored wool woven in. She shook it open and draped it across Leander’s shoulders. From a small box on a shelf above her bed, she removed a brass brooch and pinned it on the cloak.
“There.” She patted the brooch. “We’ll add a new tunic.” She got one from the same shelf and handed it to him. “Now you look like a man of business.”
He glanced down at his well-worn sandals and lifted his eyebrows. “From the knees up.”
Servilia tipped her head and scanned him head to foot. “My handiwork in the cloak will draw all their eyes.” She grinned. “And a prayer to keep their eyes partly closed would be a good idea, too.”
She took Calantha’s hand. “We’ll step outside for you to dress. Call us when you’re done, and we can leave for the baths.”
Leander stroked the soft fabric as they left the room. The cloak was skillfully made, and the colors were beautiful. But nothing could compare with his own cloak that he’d given to Gaius.
He stripped off the tunic that had belonged to Servilia’s husband, slipped the new tunic over his head, and fastened the well-made belt he’d worn as Mistress Julia’s litter slave. He flung the cloak across his shoulder and pinned it with the brooch.
A slave owned nothing, and it was fitting that nothing he wore as he returned to that life was his own.
Chapter 62: End of the Hunt
Gaius’s Farm, Day 50
Aulus reined in at the crest of the hill overlooking Gaius’s farm, this time wearing the purple stripes that declared his rank. Africanus waited to his left, wearing leather body armor over a blood-red tunic. Several dark patches where blood had soaked in and stained the leather declared the armor’s purpose was battle, not decoration. Leather arm guards and the strap across his chest, holding the gladius at his side, completed the message that the time for friendly talking was over. Marcus, on his right, sat a stallion fidgeting as it sensed the tension of its rider.
Gaius was repairing a chicken crate, and his wife was hoeing in the garden. No sign of the limping impostor, but that might mean their red-haired quarry had returned and awaited them in the house.
Aulus nudged his horse, and they started down the hill.
Cantering hoofbeats pulled Gaius’s attention from the crate he was mending. Then his breath caught. Wealth and power bore down upon him, and the bodyguard who’d seemed only suspicious the day before radiated menace.
He closed his eyes, breathed a prayer for protection, then faced the approaching trio with a smile.
“Welcome back. Did you come for more honey?”
They reined in three feet from him, and the armed giant’s shadow covered him.
“We’ve come for your limping friend. The real one, not the impostor.” The young man formerly in white, now in purple stripes, glared at him.
Gaius’s pulse raced as the big man in leather armor rested his hand on the handle of his sword. Leander and Calantha were in Rome with Servilia, but would they be safe if he said the wrong words? He glanced toward the garden. Would he and Marcella be safe, even if he said the right ones?
God, deliver us from evil, and give me wisdom.
“Salve!” Marcella’s cheery voice boomed as she marched toward them. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.” She reached his side and stood beaming as her eyes swept the trio. “What would you like today? More of the finest honey in Rome?”
The young man leaned forward in his saddle. “I’d like the truth. My sister was taken by her litter slave, and we saw him here two nights ago with the limp he had when he took her. When we came yesterday, you’d switched in another man to fool us. But we won’t be fooled today, and you will give that slave to us now.”
Gaius opened his mouth, but before the first word came out, his wife’s chuckle stopped him.
“Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday? We could have saved you a trip.” She rested her hand on Gaius’s arm. “Sextus came to help because Leander isn’t here. Sometimes Sextus’s hip bothers him. He limps a little then but not all the time.”
“Leander?” The young aristocrat’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, he’s a young man we took in to help with the work.” She patted Gaius’s shoulder. “Gaius isn’t so young anymore, and he can use the help, even when he doesn’t like to admit it.” She shifted her gaze to the bodyguard, then back as she smiled. “Even a young man like yourself needs help sometimes.”
“Where is this Leander?” The bodyguard’s voice was quiet, but there was menace behind the measured words.
“He went to Rome to help a friend.”
“He’s not the only one who’s been staying with you. Where’s the girl?” Ice coated the big man’s voice as his eyes drilled first into Marcella, then Gaius.
Gaius swallowed. How long had they watched, and how much had they seen?
“Calantha? She went to town with him to visit her father.” Marcella’s chuckle drew Gaius’s gaze to her face. “She plans for him to meet Leander. She wants to ask his permission for them to marry.”
Gaius fought to keep the amazement off his face.
The young aristocrat’s eyes focused first on the young man
beside him, who shrugged, then on the bodyguard.
With eyebrows dipped and a frown curving his mouth, the bodyguard stared too long for comfort at Gaius, then even longer at Marcella.
Marcella’s smile never wavered under his glare.
Finally, after a quick nod, the bodyguard turned to the young man. The corner of his mouth turned up. “Truth is free, and we just heard it.”
The young man released a deep sigh. “So, we start over.” He directed a weary smile at Marcella. “May Fortuna bless them with many children and a long life together.”
Marcella’s smile broadened. “I’ll tell them you said so.”
First the bodyguard, then the two young men turned their horses and rode away.
Marcella drew a deep breath and blew it out quickly. “Praise God that’s over.”
Gaius stared at her, his mouth open.
“Something wrong, dear?”
“I never expected my wife to be such a skillful liar.”
“When we ask the Lord for wisdom in the face of danger, He guides us through.” She bounced her eyebrows at him as she grinned. “But I wasn’t lying at all.”
After a quick kiss to his cheek, she marched back to the garden, singing to herself.
Gaius rubbed his chin. God had blessed him with the perfect wife, but even after more than thirty years, he didn’t understand her.
Chapter 63: No More Time
As he trudged up the Clivus Suburanus toward the top of the Oppian Hill, where the Baths of Trajan and Titus overlooked the city, Leander’s leg complained with every step. He fought to keep from limping worse than normal. He didn’t need Calantha questioning his decision to take her home before he had healed enough. Sometimes a man had no choice, and he just had to bear whatever he must.
When the pain ramped up enough to win the battle, he slowed to let Calantha and Servilia move ahead of him, and he fell in behind.
Finally, they reached the hilltop, and the street leveled off. Coming toward them was a litter on the shoulders of four blond men. Its canopy and curtains were the same shade of red as the Secundus litter. The escort was a tall, muscled German who could have been Taurus’s twin.
Leander glanced at the new clothes Servilia had given him. He looked like a man who might ride, not the ones on the poles. But he hadn’t forgotten the weight on his shoulder and the long hours of boredom waiting to go back to his horses.
Still, a man must live where God had put him and choose to be content. Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear and sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. That was what Apostle Paul had commanded. Serve with your whole heart, as if you were serving the Lord, not men.
He’d done it before. God would give him strength to do it again.
They were two blocks away when Calantha pointed to a townhouse with an intricate mosaic in the entryway.
“That was the home of one of my friends who married a few months ago. I was supposed to marry my best friend’s brother. Father had arranged the match when I was twelve. Metilia always said he was a kind brother who’d make a wonderful husband, but he died in Britannia. I was on my way to console her when Leander stopped the kidnapping.”
Leander’s mouth curved down. How long would Calantha remain in her father’s house before she married? Would her father find her another kind man who would love her, or would he only care about a political alliance?
He ran his fingers through his hair. What if the man her father chose was cruel or unfaithful? Would that man give her children to love?
Would he ever know if she was happy?
As a stable slave, he wouldn’t be there to see her new husband place the iron band on her finger. He wouldn’t be part of the procession to the house that would become her new home. But that was something to be thankful for.
“It’s hard when a daughter marries and moves away. Gaius and Marcella must be missing you already. I’m sure I would.” Servilia’s voice was wistful.
“Marcella looked after Leander like a son. No woman could help growing fond of him.” Calantha glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him before turning back to Servilia. “I want to keep him near me. I don’t intend for him to remain a slave in Father’s house.”
Her words hit him like the arrow. She’d remain in her father’s house until she married, and then she’d become domina of her husband’s house. Keeping him near―she might mean it for his good, but she didn’t understand a man’s heart.
He’d been so careful to never let her see how he felt. She couldn’t know how much it would hurt to watch her love another man. If he must, he would ask her to leave him in her father’s house when the time came for her to marry and leave. Surely she’d grant him that request. Until then, he’d at least get to watch over her and know she was safe.
By the time they reached the concrete walls of the Baths of Titus, his leg was burning. But as long as he focused on each step, he managed not to limp any more than he had at the farm.
Calantha led them through an ornate arch into a rose garden. Small groups of mostly women strolled or sat on benches. That would change after lunchtime, when the bathing rooms opened to men, but there would still be enough women for them to blend in.
Servilia pointed to a vacant bench by the wall. “That should do for us while we wait.” She led the way and sat before someone else claimed it.
Leander drew a deep breath. It was time for him to leave them and fetch her father. Time to return to what he’d been and forget what he longed to be. But he was still in charge of her safety, and he could still tell her what to do one last time.
“I should be back in two, maybe three hours, if all goes well. But if I don’t return with your father by late afternoon, you need to go back to the farm. Servilia will get you to Gaius when he brings the wagon into town again. He’ll help you figure out what to do next.”
“You’ll be back, and you’ll have Father with you. We’ll be praying for you.” She handed him the papyrus roll. “Don’t say anything to anyone about me being alive and waiting here. Don’t let anyone but Father see what’s in the letter. Everything depends on only Father knowing. I’ve asked him to come with you right away, and I’m sure he will.”
He held out his hand for the letter that signaled the end of his time with her, the end of his time as a free man. She placed it in his hand, then stepped against him.
Leander’s hand squeezed the rolled-up sheet when Calantha slipped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest. His heart raced like the stallions he once trained.
He should push her away, free himself from her arms. He was her father’s slave, and it was wrong to let her touch him like that. But in that moment, he could no longer deny he loved her, no longer pretend she was only the mistress.
He enfolded her in his arms and rested his cheek against her crown. Her luxuriant hair caught on his stubble when she wriggled a little as she snuggled in, holding him tighter. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The faint scent of roses entranced him and drew a smile.
God, I’ve resisted for so long, but just this once, for a memory to treasure until You take me home. He entangled the fingers of his free hand in her silken tresses. If only she really was Calantha and I was Leander.
His heart beat faster, and his chest ached. Why did You let me fall in love with her?
Smiling lips sagged into a frown. He stared past her at the marble statue of Venus, its reflection shimmering in the pool surrounding it. Why couldn’t she have been cold and remote instead of a flesh-and-blood woman with the kindest heart he’d ever known?
If only her brother had never tried to kidnap her and she’d never become more than the mistress he carried. But she had, and how was he ever going to bear seeing her every day but never speaking with her, never feeling her fingers swish through his hair, never gazing into the teasing eyes that drove everything but her from his mind?
She slid her hands up his back until h
er fingers wrapped over his shoulders. He felt the pulsing of her heartbeat in his own chest.
The sheer pleasure of holding her close―it was no danger to her, only to him, and the damage was done anyway. It was too late to turn back from giving her his heart. She would own it forever. They had no future, but at least he would have the memory of these precious moments wrapped in the arms of the woman he’d gladly die for.
She made no move to release him, even as the pleasure transformed into pain as he faced what must be.
God, help me do this.
He slid his hands to her upper arms and eased her away from him. “Mistress, I’m only Dacius, your father’s slave.”
The shackles of the past clamped around his heart as the future he longed for died. “And it’s not right for me to hold you.”
Her face glowed as gold-flecked eyes gazed into his. “Not so, Leander. You’re the lion who protects me, and I’m Calantha, not mistress.”
Her eyes still teased. Was it all only a game to her?
Did she not realize everything was about to change back to what it had been, that he had to become a thing again instead of a man? Her father had owned his body, but his heart and mind had been free. No more. She’d taken his heart captive as surely as the Roman soldier had taken his body, and he’d never be free again.
Dacius stepped back as he straightened his arms. She’d slip her arms around him again if he didn’t hold her away. If he was going to return her, he needed to make the break now. Every moment together made it harder.
“I’ll return with the master as soon as I can.”
He spun and strode toward the garden exit. Each step was agony, but this time it wasn’t only his leg that pulsed with pain.
It was his heart.
Calantha watched Leander as he wove his way between several small groups of chatting women. He was favoring his right leg, and the farther he walked, the more pronounced the limp became. His shoulders drooped, and his head hung lower, too.
