by Tessa Afshar
My stomach dropped. Had Felonius bricked up the niche after Claudia the Younger witnessed its existence? Had he moved the box? Was this entire bruising exercise wasted? Spinning, I saw another tapestry, this one smaller, stitched in shades of red, blending into the vermilion-stained wall on which it hung. I rushed toward it. With more care than before, I tried to move it. It held fast.
I examined the bottom edge and found a hook. Undoing it, I was finally able to move the tapestry. A sigh of relief escaped me when I saw the opening I sought. I stepped over the edge and entered. The niche offered no light and I found myself blinded by the absolute darkness. I swept the tapestry aside again and spied a lamp. Felonius had thoughtfully left fire steel and flint next to it on a marble counter. As quickly as I dared, I struck the steel against the flint until the wick caught a spark. The room flooded with weak yellow light. I needed no more.
A big box. A small room. How hard could it be to find? Long, sweat-filled minutes passed and I could not unearth it. I looked into every spot I could think of, without success. My innards were twisting with pain.
I sank on top of Felonius’s table. Father in heaven, help me! I looked to the ceiling instinctively as I cried out to him. And there, in the corner of the pale ceiling, I noticed a faint straight line. Too straight to be a haphazard crack. I lifted the lamp above my head and stared. The line, delicate as a spider’s web, spanned into the shape of a rectangle.
A trapdoor in the ceiling! I never would have seen it if I had not cried out to God. Grabbing the chair from behind the table, I climbed on top with ease, worked out the mechanism of the door, and tugged it open.
Tucked inside a narrow space sat the black-and-white box with its ornate ruby sparkling in the light of my lamp. In moments, I had pulled the box down and set it on the table. I had instructed Claudia to line the cloak she had loaned me with a second layer of fabric from the edge to waist high, creating deep pockets. Into these, I wedged the scrolls, trying to spread them in such a way that would not look too lumpy.
When the last document had been shoved securely inside, I shut the lid of the chest, replaced it inside its hiding place, and closed the trapdoor quietly. Blowing out the lamp, I returned to the main tablinum and hooked the scarlet tapestry back into place.
I now faced the most vulnerable part of my plan. I had to leave the tablinum blind. Leave, trusting that the guard was still standing with his back to me, entranced by Chara’s charm. I listened for the sound of rustling fabric, or an impatient shuffle of feet, any indication that he was back, and heard nothing. With agonizing caution, I cracked the door open.
The curtain diminished my scope of vision. As far as I could see, the guard was not present. I edged near the side and examined my surroundings. The guard had not moved from his discreet hiding place behind the column. I sprinted for the lavatories and signaled Galatea to leave. She would await us in the carriage.
Folding the cloak over one arm, I trudged forward, acting like I had just left the privy. As soon as Chara spotted me, she stopped playing. “Ariadne!” she cried, setting the cithara aside.
I grimaced. “Forgive my intrusion. Truly I cannot remain. I need to return home.”
“Of course,” Chara said, coming to me. “You look very ill. We should have left sooner.” She turned her gaze on Justus. “Do stay, if you wish.” She spun toward Dionysius. “I am taking Ariadne home in the carriage. You can walk home if you like.”
She was magnificent. She even had me convinced of her righteous outrage. Dionysius colored and sprang up. “Certainly, Chara. We will leave at once.”
“I will fetch your shoes,” Justus said.
Felonius looked like a child deprived of his favorite pet.
“Chara, why don’t you and the gentlemen stay?” I said, my voice weak. “Finish your song. Perhaps Claudia can come with me so I do not have to go alone? We will send the carriage for you immediately after we arrive home.”
“I?” Claudia said, sounding like she had drunk a cup full of sour milk.
Felonius leapt at the opportunity opened before him. “Absolutely. My wife shall accompany you home. Chara and the rest can return in my personal carriage. Claudia, you may come home then.”
Time for retreat. I lifted the cloak I had folded over my arm. “I apologize, Claudia. I fear I may have soiled your cloak. I shall return it to you after it is cleaned.”
Claudia sauntered toward me. “By the gods, keep the thing.” She turned to her husband. “You wish me to leave with . . . with that?” Whether she pointed to the cloak or me, it was impossible to distinguish.
“Of course. Of course. Go now. Ariadne is in distress. We must not delay her any longer.”
By the time we were in the carriage, Chara had picked up the cithara once more. “Farewell, beloved. I will see you no more,” she sang in her rich voice.
In the carriage, I handed Claudia the cloak. “This belongs to you.”
She shook as she took the garment. “I will not believe it until I hold those letters in my hand.”
The carriage interior was too dark for reading. “Do you wish to go to your father’s house? You are welcome in our home. Or if you prefer to read them in a place unknown to Felonius, I can take you to a safe place that belongs to a friend.”
“Let us start with your home. If what I seek is not here, then I can return to him without his knowing that anything is amiss.”
I gave directions to the driver. Like Claudia, I could not truly rest until we examined the documents I had smuggled out of Felonius’s tablinum. For all I knew, we might have a mountain of scrolls declaring his ownership of his villa and slaves.
As soon as we arrived at our house, I dismissed the hired carriage and drew Claudia into Father’s tablinum, barring the door. It took me a few moments to light several lamps. Claudia had spread the rolls of papyrus on Father’s table and was going through them, her hands tearing into each with shaking urgency.
She had unrolled nine or ten documents and dropped them heedlessly at her feet when finally she found what she wanted. She sank to the floor, her legs powerless to hold her. The papyrus crumpled in her hands. She beat her chest with it, like she needed to feel its scratchy solidity against her skin to believe that it was not a figment of her imagination.
“The lamp,” she demanded.
I brought it to her without comment. She held the letter to the fire and watched it burn. Watched it turn into black ashes.
“Now the other,” she said, going back to the pile. She found the second letter more quickly and burned it with less emotion.
“You are free now?” I asked.
Her eyes glittered. “I am free of that vermin.” To my relief, she remembered her promise and extended a hand toward the pile. “Come and fetch the letter you want.”
I found Papirius’s document after a few tries and tucked it under a cushion on Father’s chair. I had another battle yet to fight with that man. But my odds at winning had improved.
“Why did you not simply take what you wanted?” Claudia said. “Once you had the contents of that chest in your possession, you could have seized what you wished. You could have taken the whole box and I would not have been able to stop you.”
“I am not a thief.” The last time I made that claim, I had been deceiving myself. This time, I spoke truth. “As Felonius’s wife, you have a right to those scrolls. You took what was yours, like the jewels you are wearing. They were yours to give. But not mine to take.”
Claudia stared at her fingers, weighed down with precious stones and gold. She had known she would walk out of her house with nothing but the clothes on her back. Known that if our gambit proved successful, she could never return to Felonius’s house to pack her belongings, nor would she be entitled to receive her dowry back from her husband, given that she was the one demanding a divorce.
The jewels were her future provision. Not enough to make her wealthy and give her the luxury to which she had grown accustomed, but enough to see her throug
h the years with some measure of security. If she chose to marry again, she was free to do so. But she would not be pressed into marriage out of financial necessity.
She cast her eyes on the scrolls that now littered the table and floor. She picked one up at random. “These are mine?”
I saw the temptation that she faced. Those letters were valuable. They could make her wealthy. “Don’t,” I said, pressing her hand with mine. “These are the mistakes and tears of others like you. They are sleepless nights, terror-filled days. One day, when you face God to give an account of your life, you do not want this on your conscience.”
She dropped the roll of papyrus on the table. “God? I did not know you were religious.”
I laughed, self-conscious. It was one thing to speak about matters of faith with Paul or my brother and Justus. Claudia was another matter entirely. To her, my faith would seem at best quaint, at worst ignorant. “I believe in a God who does not take our sins lightly. Nor does he discount the sins that have been done to us. That God sent me to your rescue, Claudia. Now you have the power to set these others free.”
“How?”
“I will return their letters as I did yours.”
She took a scroll from the top of the pile on the floor and weighed it in her palm. Time slowed as she considered her future, and the future of the dozens of people that lay at her feet. “Take them,” she said.
I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. Relief exploded inside me. Not until that moment had I realized how badly I wanted to help the nameless, faceless men and women who had fallen prey to Felonius. “Thank you.” We were silent for a time, recovering, pulling the edges of our relief-drugged thoughts back into some semblance of order.
“Where will you go, Claudia? Felonius will surely come looking for you. Will you be safe at your father’s villa?”
“He can do nothing to me now.”
“If you prefer, I know someone who will provide you with a safe hiding place for a few weeks. Felonius would never find you there. It will buy you time to settle your affairs without having to deal with your husband’s unpleasant threats. I should warn you that although this is a comfortable dwelling, it offers none of the luxuries to which you have grown accustomed. It belongs to a husband and wife who work in leather goods. Tent making and such. Honorable work, but not glamorous.”
She considered for a moment. “I would like that.” The violet eyes settled on me. “You have been kind to me. Why?”
I struggled to capture what I felt without sounding patronizing. “I saw you. I saw you.”
Her smile fluttered. “Will your friends be surprised to find me at their door?”
“No. I visited them earlier and spoke to them of my plan. They know you might choose to go to them, and they will do everything in their power to offer you a courteous welcome and a safe haven.”
Claudia left me speechless when she embraced me. It was a warm embrace—a friend’s clinging hold, drenched with affection and trust. Her months of living in Felonius’s power had softened her. She was more human than ever she had been before suffering by his hand. God could use even this evil in the remaking of our hearts, it seemed.
The carriage bearing Chara and the men arrived shortly after Claudia’s departure. The girl was wilting by the time she stepped into our courtyard. The hours of pressure had worn her thin.
I kissed her cheeks. “Bless you,” I said. “You have helped save many. I am in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing.” She gave a ravishing smile. “I did it for my Lord, and it was little enough to pour at his feet.”
“You found what you needed, beloved?” Justus asked.
“Everything is in good order. Claudia is on her way to Priscilla and Aquila’s residence.”
Dionysius cleared his throat. “I will accompany you home, Chara.”
“Excellent idea,” Justus said. “Take my chariot, Dionysius.” Dionysius’s eyes brightened with enthusiasm. There was not a young man in all Graecia who could resist the offer of Justus’s fast chariot.
When my brother escorted Chara out of the house, Justus and I returned to Father’s tablinum to gather the scrolls I had left there. I turned to tidy the floor. Justus hauled me back against him. “Leave it for now,” he said, his voice husky. He cradled my face. His fingers shook against my skin, shook with fear, not passion. Knowing the peril I would face in Felonius’s house had rattled him.
He gave me a long, long kiss. “Don’t do that to me again. Don’t force me to sit through three hours of blind torture.”
I wrapped both my arms around him and drew him close. In the aftermath of so much agitation and the dread of discovery, I was feeling light-headed and a bit out of control. I poured it all into the kiss: the fear, the relief, the excitement, the sheer exhilaration of besting Felonius, the delicious knowledge of having reached the successful culmination of our plans and hard work. It was an amalgam of passion and love and pent-up terror. He grasped me hard about my waist and kissed me back until we were unsteady.
“When will you marry me?” he said. “I am tired of waiting.”
I smirked. “We have only been betrothed for one month.”
“An eternity.”
My face twisted as I remembered why we needed to wait. “Theo.”
“Yes.” Justus pulled a hand through his short hair. “Theo.”
By tacit agreement, we stepped away from each other and spent our energies gathering the papyrus rolls Claudia had given me. We headed upstairs to my father’s chamber. He was awake and, although Galatea had told him the news of our success, eager for more details. We had revealed part of our plans to Galatea so that she knew our desire to help Claudia, though she remained ignorant of our own need for Felonius’s documents.
I described the events of the evening, telling how I had found the box hidden in the ceiling.
“How long before we can expect Felonius knocking on our door?” Father asked after I finished the tale.
“I give him an hour.” Justus cracked his knuckles.
I waved the letter that Claudia had left behind for her husband. “I pray this will send him on his way.”
“Shall we?” Father swept an arm over the pile of papyrus rolls on his bed.
I gave him the letter that proved Papirius’s guilt first. He whistled when he finished reading, then set it aside.
I settled myself next to him on the bed, careful not to nudge his broken leg. “You will notice an additional sheet rolled up with each letter, indicating dates and amounts. According to Papirius’s sheet, he has paid Felonius a fortune in the last twelve months. No wonder he is desperate to retrieve the incriminating evidence.”
We read the letters, not because we wanted to know these people’s dirty secrets but because we needed to discover the identities of the owners in order that we might return their documents to them. And where merited, to expose them to the law. The accounts showed hundreds of thousands of sesterces being funneled into Felonius’s pockets over long years. These people had been squeezed to the bone.
“How did he get his hands on such personal correspondence and documentation?” I said, stupefied.
Justus shrugged. “Disgruntled slaves and dishonest servants can be bribed. Even honest men and women can be pressured into doing what they loathe. We know this about Felonius: he is a bully and knows how to inspire dread.”
Some were letters of an explicit nature from married women to their lovers. One document proved a man posing as a freedman was still a slave according to the law. There was a confession from a woman who had terminated her pregnancy because she did not wish to lose her figure, and lied about it to her husband. A will indicated that the ownership of a farm had fallen into the wrong hands. One letter by an official spoke vitriol against the emperor Claudius. Everyone vented against the emperor upon occasion. But if you were fool enough to record your complaints, you could be crucified for treason. There were many boring legal documents, which to the owners meant the difference bet
ween poverty and wealth.
Each of us went through different scrolls, noting down the name of the person concerned in a corner when we discovered it. Without warning, Father straightened against the pillows, gasped, and seemed to choke, unable to draw breath. My head snapped toward him. He had turned whiter than a senator’s toga.
“What is it?” I said, wondering if he was ill. He shook his head. I reached for the scroll in his hand, intending to set it aside and help him lie down. He shook my hand away.
“No!” He made a visible effort to calm himself. “No. I need to think on this.”
“What have you read?”
Before Father could answer, we heard loud banging below stairs. Felonius, as always, had rotten timing. I grabbed a blanket and threw it over the pile of documents that covered Father’s bed, in case our visitor took it into his head to examine every room in person. As I darted down the stairs, Justus followed behind me, his reassuring bulk like a shield at my back.
CHAPTER 32
FELONIUS CAME IN bellowing. “Where is my wife?”
“You will not like what I have to say,” I told him calmly. “Your wife has left you. She is seeking a divorce.” I handed him Claudia’s letter.
“Leave me? I will crush her with one word!”
“That is between the two of you,” I said.
“Where is she?” he screamed again, and strode forward. Quietly, Justus moved in front of him, muscles cording in his neck and shoulders. Justus could be very intimidating when he smiled like that, I realized, fascinated.
“Your wife is not here, Felonius.” Justus took half a step closer. Felonius took a hasty step back.
“You are welcome to look,” I added, my tone conciliatory. “You will not find her here under my roof, I assure you. She left our house not long after she arrived, charging me to give you that letter.”
Felonius must have seen the truth in my face. “Where did she go?”
I shrugged. “Read her letter.”
His mouth curled. With jerky motions, he broke the seal of the letter and unrolled the papyrus. His face turned puce as he came to the end. With a choked sound, he whirled about and ran out into the street. I motioned the slave to bar the door behind him.
