Without Love: Love and Warfare series book 4

by Anne Garboczi Evans

  She squeezed her hand into a tight fist as she forced away the memories.

  “Just go. I’ll tend him.” The old woman patted Horus’ cheek. “Want to help me make honey cakes?”

  “Yes!” Horus slipped his hand into the woman’s.

  “Gratias. I’ll return soon.” Turning, Libya walked into the streets.

  Soon towering colonnades of marble loomed over her.

  Victor stepped out from the shade of the temple roof. “What news on the Viri?”

  None that she’d tell him. “Wryn freed Horus and me. We are living elsewhere, so I have no more access to information.”

  “My son’s free?” Victor’s eyes widened.

  Libya nodded. Free, even without help from Victor. Now that Horus had his freedom, did she truly desire Victor to adopt him?

  “I’ll adopt him now. I only waited because I knew Wryn wouldn’t sell you or him to me, though after the Ides of Junio that would no longer have….” Victor shook his head. “Anyway, yes, I’ll do it now.”

  The Ides of Junio, Wryn and Aulia’s problem now, not hers. Libya blinked back tears. Should she allow Victor to adopt Horus? The boy longed for a father. Libya ran her nail across the pad of her finger. Victor would give Horus a patrician life. How could she condemn Horus to toil for his daily bread in ignorance when he could have an education and pursue a career leading armies or ruling cities?

  “Where’s the boy? The courts are open for another hour.” Eagerness filled Victor’s voice.

  Today? Would Victor adopt Horus today? Libya fidgeted. “Porridge and mutton are his favorite foods. You must watch him closely. He almost burned down the school he went to last month.”

  Victor snorted. “He won’t do that with me. No matter how many beatings it takes.”

  “He’s free now, and you said you’d adopt him!” Libya raised her voice above the marble temple stairs. “You can’t strike him.”

  “Not just slave boys earn a lashing for disobedience. As a child, my backside often felt the blow of my father’s rod.”

  Wryn never struck Horus. Libya pressed her tongue against her teeth as she shifted on the slippery stairs. “How long do you want him each day before he comes home to me?”

  Victor raised dark eyebrows. “Comes home to you?”

  “Horus has nightmares. He’s much too little to sleep in your villa. I want him all day sometimes.” The summer breeze blew across her face.

  “Dancing girl, I’m giving your son my name and a patrician life. I don’t want him sullied with slave ties. After I adopt him, I’ll help him forget you.”

  Libya choked back a scream. “He needs a mother.”

  “My wife will raise him. Don’t fret, Libya.” Victor flicked her hair. “He’ll have more than you could ever dream of.”

  Heart pounding, Libya twisted her fingers into her sash. “When will I see him again?”

  “Never.”

  “But Victor —”

  “I’ll give you a money payment too if you wish.” Victor hardened his stance. “Now give me my son.”

  She dropped her gaze. She’d not give him Horus. “He’s not with me. We can meet another day.”

  “No, within the hour.” Victor grabbed her arm, his dark gaze boring into her. “Don’t lie to me. Marcus is my son, and I will track you down and find him.”

  “Marcus?”

  “A family name, it’s what I’ll call him.” Victor dug his fingers into her flesh. “Do I not have the right to do as I wish with my own son?”

  “Of course. I’ll bring him here at once, dominus.” She inclined her head, and Victor dropped his hand from her arm.

  She wouldn’t have her son grow up like Victor for all the wealth of Rome. She snuck a look at Victor through downcast eyes. He didn’t know where she lived.

  How many weeks would it take him to track her down, break down her flimsy door, and snatch Horus?

  She chafed her hand against her dress. Only a patrician of Victor’s rank would know how to thwart him. She could go to Wryn.

  When he knew Horus was Victor’s son, would he still help her? Would Aulia even let him?

  She visited five different places of employment with one possible work offer from a fuller’s shop. Libya increased her pace as the brick apartment she now called home came into view. Perhaps Victor wouldn’t search very hard for Horus. These plain apartments lay miles

  from Palatine Hill and the patrician villas.

  The landlady tore out of the apartment, her gray hair falling around her shoulders. “Your son, he’s gone.”

  Libya’s breath stopped. Terror shot through her. “What do you mean gone?”

  “A man came three hours ago. He said your son’s name. I tried to tell him ‘no,’ but he grabbed Horus. The boy was screaming.” The woman wrung her hands.

  Cold chills shot through Libya. “Horus,” she yelled. No answer. “Horus!” The pounding of her sandals filled her ears as she ran. The buildings blurred before her eyes. “Horus!”

  Three hours ago the woman had said. She’d only met Victor two hours ago, but who else would kidnap her son?

  Carts hurtled by as peddlers crowded the busy streets. A marketplace reared up in front of her. The way to the left led to countless streets and houses in the neverending sprawl of Rome. Right led to the Paterculi gates.

  If she told Wryn why Victor took Horus, he’d guess at the role she played in stealing those parchments and helping Victor. She’d broken the law and betrayed Wryn. If he wished, he could hand her over to the garrison.

  If Victor kept Horus, she’d never see her son again. She turned right.

  Consul Julius assumed the most stately gait his bad leg allowed as the porter showed him into Aetius Soranus’s tablinum. At last, he’d receive the wealth that Emperor Trajan never allowed him. A higher political post too. When he decided to join the Viri, he never guessed they’d rule the Empire. Wonderful planning on his part.

  Inside, Victor Ocelli stood across from Soranus. Even better. Consul Julius smiled. The men’s conversation halted as Consul Julius let the curtain swish back in place. “Salve. I’m here about your assassination plan against Emperor Trajan.”

  Victor froze.

  “Guards,” Soranus called.

  “Tsk, tsk. No need for all that.” Consul Julius waved his ring-bedecked hand. “I wish to join you. I’m sure you will see fit to reward me with a significant political post after, Emperor.” He bowed.

  Soranus narrowed his gaze.

  “I’ve worked against you for years, as your spies no doubt have informed you.” With a huff of air, Consul Julius plopped onto a cushioned stool. “So, I’m well-familiar with your organization and will be a great asset.”

  “Why should we believe the word of a man who works with Wryn Paterculi?” Victor shoved a knife against his throat.

  “Wryn?” Consul Julius blinked. “Oh, Felix, I think you mean.” He flicked his fingernail against Victor’s blade. “Because I have your son. Horus. Mother’s a dancing girl. You’d planned to adopt him, I believe?”

  Victor’s knife arm dropped. “Where is he?”

  “All in good time.” Consul Julius clicked his tongue. “Am I welcomed into the Viri?”

  “I have no great objection.” Soranus shrugged. “You’ll have to prove your loyalty over time, but I will have many political posts to fill.”

  “Splendid. First things first.” Consul Julius rubbed sweaty hands together. “Who’s the assassin for the Ides of Junio? If you haven’t selected one, I’d suggest Caius Marcellus, excellent with a knife.”

  Victor stiffened.

  “Yes, I know who works in your organization. Eight years I’ve sought to bring about your downfall, and now I wish to join you. Ah, how the world turns ‘round.” Consul Julius smiled.

  Soranus wrinkled his long nose. “We have some doubts as to Marcellus’ loyalty. Otherwise, he would have been my first choice too.”

  Victor paced across the tile. “I still think Marcellus
was behind some of those ships we lost to Wryn Paterculi last month.”

  “You think Marcellus has betrayed you?” Consul Julius snorted. “He’s worked with me ever since the beginning.”

  Victor turned red. “I should have killed him years ago.”

  “I have the means to control him.” Consul Julius patted his knee. Slave mothers were so very useful. “And there’s not an assassin in all the Empire to compare to Marcellus.”

  “I don’t care if he’s controlled or not. After his betrayal, he deserves to die.” Soranus raised his voice.

  “I’m sure you could arrange an unfortunate accident after Marcellus kills the Emperor.” An accident he’d quite enjoy. Marcellus had proven to be a thorn in his side ever since he illegally joined with the Paterculi daughter and she had the audacity to force him to give up the profitable Marcellus estates that had been his inheritance. After he arranged for Gwen and Marcellus’ two half-breed brats to suffer their own unfortunate accidents, he’d recover the estates.

  Victor pushed black hair back from his forehead, the same motion Horus had made right before he kidnapped the boy. “Isn’t the reason you chose not to attempt this mission yourself, Soranus, because you fear the assassin may die in the attempt? As the life of a traitor is expendable, perhaps Marcellus is the perfect choice.”

  “True.” Soranus looked to Victor. “If the consul has discovered our plot, Felix Paterculi may well discover it soon too. Send for Marcellus. We’ll assassinate Emperor Trajan tonight.”

  Victor nodded. “Very well. First, though, I’m sending this to Legate Aemilli.” He held up a scroll bearing the Paterculi crest. “An illegal Revelations scroll proving Wryn Paterculi follows the eastern religion, the Way. Wryn will languish behind bars while we kill the Emperor.”

  Wryn shoved the Paterculi gate open.

  “A letter for you, dominus, from your brother.” The porter bowed and extended a parchment and wrapped bundle.

  With a nod, he took it. Wryn snagged his thumb in the seal as he walked into his room. He dug his key into the locked box latch. Filing a lawsuit against Victor would fill up these next two days. Oh, to see that man executed, or at least exiled.

  Eric’s letter unfurled. Had he won that idiotic Greek pentathlon that meant more to him than army careers and politics? Wryn glanced at the parchment.

  I remembered where I recognized Libya from. She was with Victor at his Dacian villa when he and I went there six years and nine months ago. I’d wager Horus is Victor’s son.

  Eric

  PS Cara sent this gift for Aulia, for your wedding day.

  The letter dropped from Wryn’s hands. Victor’s son? Horus couldn’t be.

  His worst enemy’s son had spent three months underneath his roof? He’d played knucklebones with, carved spears for, taught Victor’s son? No!

  Dark eyebrows, dark hair, the slant of Horus’ nose, the shape of his eyes, the way the front tuft of his hair shot up. Wryn slammed his head back against the plaster. Except for inheriting Libya’s darker skin, the boy was the very image of Victor. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

  She lied to him when he walked in on her with Victor, and she called the man a stranger. Libya had known Victor years before that. She’d been Victor’s woman first. Libya wasn’t that old. Six years ago, had Victor been the one to take her maidenhood? That bloody lecher enjoying the firstfruits of what should have gone to Libya’s husband?

  If he’d eaten the afternoon meal, he’d want to lose it now.

  Wryn yanked his lockbox open and grabbed for the Ocelli parchments.

  His fingers closed on air.

  He rummaged through the box. Nothing but garrison paperwork. He felt for the key at his neck. He never took it off.

  Who could have taken the parchments from his room? His heart stopped.

  Libya. She birthed Victor’s son, and she obviously had contact with the villain.

  All the time Libya had spied with him in Ostia, she’d reported the information to Victor. She betrayed him.

  Anger should have surged through his veins. Instead, a knife stabbed through his heart. They’d talked for hours by moonlight, laughed over Horus’ antics, bantered about the philosophy of life. Had all that meant nothing to her?

  Wryn hardened his jaw. Of course, it had meant nothing to her. Horus was Victor’s son and Libya Victor’s woman. More than likely, as soon as he freed her, she went straight to Victor’s villa with all the information he and Marcellus had worked months to accumulate.

  Footsteps pounded outside his door. The curtain ripped as a woman plunged through the cloth, her loose hair tangling around her shoulders. Libya.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “Wryn, Victor took Horus.” Sobs shook Libya’s body. “You have to help me rescue him.” She clenched his hand, her breathing coming in gasps.

  “You mean Horus’ father? The one you betrayed me to and stole the evidence I’d gathered to bring that murderer to justice?” Wryn ripped his hand away.

  The blood drained from her face.

  “Tell me, have you worked for the Viri these entire six years as Victor’s woman? Planned the desperate circumstance in Moesia so that I’d buy you and you could infiltrate the Paterculi household?” Victor had better treat his son with kindness. Horus bore no blame for Libya’s backstabbing.

  “No!” Libya’s voice quavered. The scent of olives clung to her skin. She clutched his hand again. “I only met Victor a month ago at that first dinner party. He promised to adopt Horus and purchase my freedom. I wanted my son to have a future, so I did as he asked with stealing those parchments. Can’t you understand —”

  Wryn balled his fingers. “Understand that you spent these last three months under my roof plotting how to work my demise at the hands of my archenemy? I think I understand very well.”

  “How could you believe that of me?” Tears streaked Libya’s dark cheekbones.

  Pain rankled Wryn’s stomach. Oh, to wipe her tears away. Wryn hardened his heart. “You’re a woman of infamia who bore Victor’s son and stole the evidence that would have brought that murderer to justice. I could easily believe you’d sink a dagger into me while I slept.”

  “Please, Wryn, you have to help me get Horus back.” Libya raised both hands, her hair swishing around her lovely face. A face duplicitous enough to shipwreck sailors against the rocks without the aid of a siren’s voice. “Victor won’t ever let me see him again. He’ll raise Horus to become a smuggler and a murderer like him.”

  Wryn snorted. “You claim you only aided Victor because he pledged to adopt your son. Now you cry you do not wish to see your son become an Ocelli? Are there Viri guards outside my gate waiting to murder me when I follow you?”

  “I’d never do that to you, Wryn.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, staining her dark skin as her hands trembled.

  “How much of a fool do you take me for?” More of a fool than he liked to admit, for her tears tore at his heart. Surely as a woman of infamia, she’d learned to fake tears.

  Libya fell to her knees in front of him. Her breathing came in gasps as sobs shook her entire body. A river poured from her eyes, and she looked like she was ready to break into hysterics. “Please, Wryn, I beg of you. He’s my son, my only son.”

  Wryn sighed. Taking her hand, he led her to the bed. “Sit. Tell me what happened.” Not that he’d believe a word from her lips. He spread his stance, one hand on the pommel of his gladius, other thumb hooked in his belt.

  “This morning I rented an apartment, and the landlady offered to teach Horus to bake honey cakes while I searched for work. Last week, Victor told me to meet him at the Fecunditas temple, though he’d not adopt Horus until the Ides of Junio. I met him there. When he heard Horus and I were free, he demanded to adopt Horus at once and said —” Libya’s chest shook, her tunica spotted by tears. “He’d never let me see my son again. I told Victor I’d fetch Horus, though I planned to hide him. When I got back, the landlady said a man who knew Horus’ nam
e had abducted him.”

  A tragic tale. If it held any truth. “I want to help you, rescue Horus if some kidnappers have snatched him. But how can I believe a word you utter after you betrayed me?”

  “Please,” Libya reached out to him, “I’d never see harm done to you personally, but I didn’t care if Rome lost tariffs or an emperor died.”

  “An emperor!”

  Glancing up, Libya blinked back tears. “Marcellus said he told you last night at the tavern. That’s the Viri plan for the Ides of Junio. Marcellus learned it from a ship captain.”

  The Viri planned to assassinate Emperor Trajan, and Marcellus hadn’t seen fit to tell him?

  “I’d never harm you, Wryn.” Libya’s raised arms trembled. “I’m not like you and Marcellus. All Rome has brought me is slavery. I didn’t care whether the Viri or the Emperor triumphed.”

  Not like him, and neither was Marcellus. A pit fell to the bottom of Wryn’s stomach. What had the Viri offered Marcellus to betray him? Victor must have offered something colossal to motivate Marcellus to put Gwen and his children’s lives at risk by betraying the Emperor. Despite the man’s many flaws, Marcellus did love Gwen.

  Wryn twisted his gladius. He was not thoroughly convinced that love extended to him. Marcellus knew enough to get him killed. He’d have to turn Marcellus in to Consul Julius.

  “I’d never betray you, Wryn.” Libya touched his hand. A spark shot through his veins. Her voice sounded so innocent, her tear-stained face begging for comfort. Now he knew why all the Trojans wound up dead.

  “Um, you did, many times.” Wryn glanced to his open lockbox that proved Libya’s betrayal. With Consul Julius’ knowledge of Marcellus’ slave roots, the man could very well order Gwen’s husband crucified for his infraction. At least he could trust Consul Julius to keep Gwen’s secrets and not involve Gwen or her children in any retribution.

  “That wasn’t you. That was the Emperor, Rome. I never told Victor anything that could get you hurt. He wanted me to betray you as a follower of the Way, and I refused. You’re the only man I ever trusted, Wryn.”