by Sandi Rog
As Alexander neared Manius’s house, he spotted Elianna holding a basket up against the wall just outside the back gate. With her red locks tumbling down to below her waist, she could almost be called pretty for her age. At eight years old, she only came to Alexander’s chest, but that wasn’t Elianna’s fault. One of the slaves had told Alexander he was tall for fourteen, almost reaching the same height as Demetri. Elianna would always be like a little sister to him, especially since David was her father—and Alexander had always protected her for those two reasons. Her parents still lived in their apartment, and Alexander often spent time there training. Some days Elianna would get bored and come play with friends who lived near Manius. Clearly, today was one of those days.
Two of her friends ran from Elianna. Giggling, they scurried up the street and around the corner.
Elianna leaned against the basket, looking from Alexander to her friends then back at Alexander again.
“Zander! I need you!” she shouted.
Alexander walked up to her, standing over the little red-headed mouse. He crossed his arms, feeling very much like the man he was. “What’s wrong?”
“My arms are tired.”
Alexander shrugged.
“Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?” She lifted her pert little nose in the air.
“Sure.”
“A man lost his bird. Well, I caught her!” With a bright smile, she motioned to the basket with her freckled chin. “The man went to get her cage. But my arms are so tired.” She slumped and stuck out her bottom lip. “Will you hold the basket for me?”
“Why don’t you ask your friends?”
“I did, but they ran away.”
Alexander shrugged. “Sure.” He put his hand on the basket, being careful to keep the opening pressed evenly against the wall. Fabric draped along the edges and covered the holes between the wicker.
“Thank you.” Elianna sighed and let her arms fall dramatically to her sides. She rubbed them as she glanced in the direction her friends had run. “I’ll see if he’s coming. I’ll be right back.” She ran to where her friends disappeared. She stood on the street, facing the corner, hands on her hips.
Alexander made sure he held the basket steady so as not to let the bird escape. Good thing fabric covered the inside of it, otherwise the bird might slip out.
Elianna came back toward him, dancing and twirling her hair. “He’s not back yet.” She skipped up to him and stood on her tiptoes. She lifted a strand of hair to his cheek and flicked it against him.
It tickled. He rubbed his cheek against the onslaught of tingling that swept down his neck. “What are you doing? I thought your arms were tired.”
“They are.” Holding the skirt of her stola, she hummed a little tune while she danced around him. “I’ll keep you company.” She slipped between him and the wall.
He stood back to give her room, trying to keep the uneven basket steady against the stone wall. “If you’re not careful, I might lose my grip.”
She came to her toes and flicked her hair at him.
“Stop that.” He rubbed his chin.
She giggled and continued her little song and dance, every once in a while coming up to attack him again with a lock of her hair.
Laughter carried to him from up the street. He spotted her friends peering around the corner.
She came in front of him again, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she grasped another lock.
A small birthmark behind her left ear caught his eye. Its shape reminded him of a flame burning on the end of a wick. How appropriate. She was his little flame after all. He wondered if she even knew about that special little mark.
She spun around again and stopped behind him.
“Ouch!” Elianna grabbed her wrist. “Jumping Jupiter.”
“What is it?” Alexander twisted in an attempt to see her, keeping the basket steady.
“My hand.” She held her palm up to him. “It needs a kiss.”
“What?” Alexander furrowed his brows. “How did you get hurt? You’re not even doing anything.”
Elianna’s lips puckered and she stared at his feet. “It really hurts.”
Alexander rolled his eyes and sighed. “All right. I’ll kiss it.”
Grinning, she held her hand up so fast, she almost slapped him on the mouth. “Oops. Sorry,” she said as she held her hand near his lips.
He gave her palm a quick peck. “Better now?”
Elianna held her palm before her face as if she’d never seen it before. “Oh, yes. Much better,” she whispered as she walked toward her friends, her gaze focused on her uplifted hand. She rounded the corner.
Giggles and squeals echoed down the street.
“Really! He did! Right here!” Elianna’s voice carried to him. Her friends pushed her forward and he caught her kissing her palm in the same place he’d just kissed it.
His face went hot. She wasn’t hurt at all, the little trickster. He switched hands on the basket. When was the owner going to return? He’d had enough of these silly games; although, a small part of him did enjoy the attention. All three of the girls peered around the corner at him and giggled.
“Is he coming yet?” Alexander called to them, hoping the bird’s master would hurry up.
At that, the girls exploded in laughter. Even Elianna bent over, holding her stomach. One girl pointed at him then laughed.
Alexander looked at the basket then at the girls. More than kissing games were afoot. Dare he lift the basket to see if a bird was actually under it? What if it flew out? He lifted an edge and peered inside. Light from the sun lit a beige interior into the empty basket.
Still holding it against the wall, Alexander dropped his head. He couldn’t believe he’d been duped. And by Elianna of all people. David’s little girl. His little flame. He looked through his hair up the street. Elianna reeled with laughter, her red curls floating about her shoulders.
Alexander chuckled, shaking his head.
Dropping the basket, he growled like a lion and charged at her.
She straightened, eyes wide with shock. Screaming, she turned to run, but he caught her by the waist and spun her around. As she kicked and laughed, he tickled her into submission.
“Don’t do it.” Flavia tugged on Elianna’s stola.
Elianna pulled away from her friend. She turned to face the boys getting ready to line up for their race, the lion fountain at the Esquiline Gate looming behind them. Everything in her ached to charge down the street with them. She certainly didn’t think she’d win, but the desire to run with all her might overpowered every sense of propriety.
“Girls aren’t supposed to run.” Idetta cast a fearful look toward her brother Marcus who instigated the game with his friends.
The boys marked the starting line. They were to race to the bottom of the street and end near Manius’s house. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt for her to run with them. She imagined how wonderful it would feel to let herself loose like that, the wind in her hair, the pumping of her arms and legs.
“Whoever wins can have my model chariot.” Marcus crossed his arms as he spoke to his two friends, his blond hair capturing the brightness of the sun.
Of course, Marcus always won, but for him to put up his valuable chariot figurine as the winning prize made the race feel more spectacular.
Elianna had no interest in his chariot. All she wanted to do was run with the boys. There was something about being a part of the competition that excited her.
She hiked up her stola and walked toward the starting line.
Idetta gasped.
“You can’t!” Flavia’s cheeks turned red.
“I’m going to do it.” Elianna stopped next to Marcus near the line the boys had marked with sticks along the large, flat stones in the street.
Marcus straightened and rolled his eyes. “Go home and play with your dolls.”
“I want to run.” Elianna smiled into the face of Idetta’s tormentor. Marcus regularly hit his
younger sister and frightened her with threats of snakes and mice. Elianna didn’t like those creatures either, but Marcus tended to leave her alone, maybe because she was a year older than Idetta.
Surprisingly, the boy gave an exaggerated wave toward the starting line.
“Holy Jupiter!” Brianus slammed his fists on his hips. “You can’t let a girl run!”
Giddy, Elianna lined up with the boys.
“It won’t matter.” Marcus shrugged. “She doesn’t have a chance of winning anyway.”
Tatius, a smaller boy, shook his head, but didn’t say a word.
They all lined up, and Elianna’s heart pounded with excitement.
Flavia stood on the side of the street before the runners. She held up a square of cloth. “Get ready!” As she dropped the cloth, she shouted, “Run!”
Elianna charged forward, Marcus at her side. The shops flew by, the wind blew her hair away from her face, and her arms and legs pumped with speed. She glanced to her right at the other boys, but they were gone. They weren’t in front of her either. Had the race stopped? She looked over her shoulder, but they were still running. Did she miss something? Was there some obstacle course she was supposed to follow? She didn’t recall Marcus saying anything about one. He simply said run straight to the end of the street by the small fountain.
Well, if she got it all wrong, it didn’t matter. Exhilaration pushed her forward. Why couldn’t girls play these types of games more often? She passed Manius’s house and flew by the fountain, crossing the finish line.
Clapping, she cheered on the boys. Marcus was in the lead, of course. She shouted to the others, even though she knew Marcus would still win.
“Go, Tatius! Run! Run!” She decided to cheer for the smallest of the boys, the one with the least likely chance to come in first.
Flavia and Idetta ran behind them.
Marcus swept by her, then Brianus, and a few feet behind him, Tatius.
Elianna whooped and cheered.
Marcus, red-faced and panting, marched up to Elianna, his eyes narrowed.
Elianna cowered. Why did he look so angry?
“I must have done something wrong,” Elianna said. “Did I miss the obstacle course?”
“Pig,” Marcus said between his teeth, and with lightning quick speed, he punched Elianna in the arm. “You’re not getting my chariot.”
Pain seared right to the bone, and Elianna grabbed her upper arm. She never wanted his stupid chariot.
Flavia and Idetta jogged up to her.
Flavia laughed. “You won! You beat the boys!” She hugged Elianna, who still gripped her arm.
Idetta stared, mouth gaping, at her brother. “I never thought anyone could run faster than him.”
Tears formed in Elianna’s eyes from the throbbing pain. She held her arm and faced the boys. Clearly, she bested them all. How was it possible when Marcus was so fast? Her friends didn’t seem to notice Marcus had struck her as they patted her on the back and giggled.
Marcus had grabbed Tatius and wrestled him to the ground. Of course, he’d choose someone smaller than himself. He could have as easily wrestled Brianus who was more his size. But no, he had to pick on the weaker one. Just like he picked on Idetta. Brianus had clearly noticed what Marcus did to Elianna because instead of cheering, he stood with his hands at his sides, looking from her to the boys on the ground.
How dare Marcus punch her, especially since he knew she was smaller than him and couldn’t defend herself. He must have thought he could treat her like he treated poor Idetta. Anger welled inside Elianna, and fire heated her entire body as she watched Marcus besting Tatius.
Marcus would pay. But how could she make him pay when he was clearly stronger than her? It didn’t matter. Her rage was enough to make it happen. And happen, it would.
Gritting her teeth, she waited. Waited until he was close to the ground. Vulnerable. Finally, just as he pinned Tatius—and lay partially on the smaller boy—Elianna charged in.
She grabbed Marcus by the hair and slammed his head on the ground, his cheek squashed on the flat stones.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!” Elianna held Marcus down with her fists, and his face turned red as a tomato. But now what was she to do? She hadn’t planned anything beyond letting him have it. As soon as he got to his feet, he’d pummel her. She had to get away, and she had to get away fast.
Still holding him down, not daring to let go, she stepped over him. She moved as far away from him as possible, her hands fisted in his blond hair.
Ready to bolt, she released his head and tore down the street, certain he was right on her heels. She ran as fast as she could, glancing over her shoulder, but unable to tell if he followed or not. She faced forward and slammed into someone.
“Whoa!” A young man hugged her, lifting her off her feet and spun her around. “What’s the hurry?”
Zander.
He set Elianna down, but she started to run again, certain Marcus would kill her.
Zander grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. “What’s wrong?”
She twisted to get away from his grasp, but he held on.
“He’s going to get me!” she shouted, trying to free herself.
“Who?” Zander faced up the street.
Elianna clung to his tunic and hid behind him, not daring to look. “He’s coming, I know it!”
“No one’s coming.” Zander turned to her. “What happened?”
“I ran, and I won! Then he hit me, just like he hits Idetta all the time. I got mad, so I slammed his face in the ground.” She babbled as quickly as possible, telling him what took place, not daring to glance around him. She expected an enraged Marcus to show himself at any moment.
“Who hit you?” Zander bent before her, his eyes narrowed into slits, and he grabbed her shoulders.
“Marcus.” Elianna said, trembling all over.
“Where did he hit you?”
Elianna rubbed her arm, sure there’d be a bruise. “Here.”
Zander glanced over his shoulder, looking up the street.
Elianna ducked in front of him, hoping Marcus wouldn’t be able to see her.
“What’s he look like?”
“He has blond hair and … and freckles.” Elianna cowered into his tunic.
Zander put his arms around her, making her feel safe. “All is well. No one is coming.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears as she trembled against him.
“I’m sure.” He rubbed his hands down her hair. “No one is there.”
She peeked around him. The street was empty. Where had her friends gone?
Zander led her toward Manius’s house. There was no sign of the boys, but she spotted Flavia and Idetta walking in the opposite direction. Normally, she would have run up to them, but Marcus could jump out from anywhere.
“Flavia!” she dared to shout, but looked around to see if Marcus heard her.
Flavia turned, and then she and Idetta walked toward her and Zander.
“Where’s Marcus?” Zander asked.
“He went home,” Idetta said matter-of-factly, as if nothing unusual took place.
“He said he had things to do.” Flavia shrugged.
“I don’t think he’s going to hurt you.” Zander stopped at Manius’s gate. “Want to stay?”
Elianna shook her head.
“Want me to walk you home?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Don’t leave me.”
Ω
After taking Elianna home, Alexander went back to his house. He’d hoped to talk to David, but he wasn’t there, nor was he at Manius’s place. He was likely working. Anxious to buy his freedom, Alexander needed to talk to someone to make sure he presented the best possible case, one his master couldn’t refuse. He had yet to speak to his mother about his plans. After her regular crying spells, he had no doubt she’d want to leave.
The door closed behind Alexander, echoing in the stillness of his home. The hou
se was quiet. Too quiet. Where was the slave that usually tended the atrium? The statues hadn’t yet been polished as they were every third day of the week. He went to the peristyle. No one was there watering the plants and trees. He put his hand in the soil of a fern. Dry.
Where was his mother? Possibly in the kitchen. As he turned to go, laughter carried from his mother’s old bedchamber—now belonging to Mistress Claudia. He recognized her voice, but the other voice—a man’s voice—belonged to Brutus, a slave brought from Mistress Claudia’s home.
The front door of the house slammed open and footsteps sounded in the atrium. The curtain separating the atrium from the peristyle flung open and in marched the master.
Alexander stepped back, the fury in Demetri’s eyes sending a shudder of terror down his spine, only this time, Demetri’s gaze wasn’t locked on Alexander. Instead, it was focused on the bedchamber door. How did he know? Had he set a trap?
“Hurry!” Claudia shouted in a desperate squeal from within the chamber. Scuffling sounded and something crashed.
Demetri jerked open the door and a naked Brutus ran out, carrying his tunic and sandals. He bumped into his master. Demetri unsheathed his sword and ran after the slave. Brutus tripped over his tunic as it tangled between his legs, and he stumbled into a small palm tree. He landed with a thud at the foot of a statue of Maximus.
Demetri stood over the man, face red and sword trembling.
Brutus lay on his back, panting. He looked up at his master, eyes wide with terror.
“How long has it been going on?” The master’s voice shook with rage.
“Wha … what?” Brutus’s voice cracked as he lay beneath the master’s sword.
“Don’t play me for a fool!”
“This … this was the first.”
“Liar!” Demetri plunged his sword into the man’s chest.
Brutus gasped and clung to the blade. With each breath, the sword rose and fell, rose and fell. Slowly, his grip loosened as the hilt remained poised in the air, nothing but his chest holding it up. His arms dropped at his sides and his head lolled.
