by Carol Ashby
“What is the asking price for my son’s friend?”
“His owner started at 9000 denarii, but I brought him down to 5400 by betting I could beat him sparring. I’ve trained for years with Dec as well.”
Tiberius’s brows rose, triggering Galen’s grin. “Yes, I know I don’t look like much of an opponent for a man who owns gladiators, but Brutus learned it’s the heart, not the height, that matters. Plus years of training with one of the finest swordsmen who ever held a gladius.”
Tiberius’s mouth pulled sideways into a wry smile. “I’d wager being a horse trader helped as well.”
Galen rubbed his lower lip. “No doubt. So, will you help me buy Dec’s friend?”
“I’ll provide the money you need.”
Galen’s grin broke free. “Thank you from Otto, from Dec, and from me.”
Tiberius tipped his head once. “It will be my pleasure. You can make the purchase tomorrow.” The corner of Tiberius’s mouth twitched as amusement filled his eyes. “Graecus said you have an unusually pretty armed companion still mounted in the stable yard. Tonight, you both will stay here as my guests. I’d like to hear what Decimus has been doing these past eight years.”
Tiberius scanned Galen from head to foot, and his mouth turned down. “You look like you’ve traveled halfway across the Empire. You’ll both want to clean up before we dine. You should find the bath here as comfortable as any, and Graecus will provide suitable clothes for you both.”
Galen kept his grin from turning into a chuckle. Tiberius wouldn’t understand what was so funny. The warrior woman had never seen the inside of a Roman villa, and her reactions would be entertaining to behold. “That will be most welcome. I’ll go tell Adela.”
Tiberius tipped his head. “I have some matters to attend to, but I will join you for dinner. Relax and enjoy yourselves. There are gardens and a library, if you’re so inclined.”
“Dec told me about your library. I look forward to seeing it.”
Galen followed Tiberius out of the tablinum and headed for the stable yard.
Adela chewed her lip as she kept her gaze locked on the door through which Galen had disappeared. Would he ever come out? She blinked hard to push back the tears.
The stable man had come over to take the horses as soon as Galen left, but his eyes had saucered and he’d scurried away when she drew her dagger and glared at him.
“Adela.”
Her head snapped sideways when his deep voice came from a different door. He walked toward her, a huge grin on his face.
All the tension drained from her body.
“Tiberius will provide the money, and he’s invited us to use his bath, have dinner, and stay the night.”
Galen summoned the stable man she’d scared away. She caught something about saddles going to their rooms and the horses being stabled and groomed. It would be a luxurious night for Astrelo and Otto’s horse, too.
She swung her leg over her horse’s neck and slipped off. She offered his purse, and Galen tied it back on his belt.
He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it. As his fingers wrapped around hers, happiness wrapped around her heart.
“Dec said the gardens here were beautiful. Let’s take a short walk, and then we’ll get cleaned up for dinner.”
He grinned at her. “I’m expecting a good night. I can sleep in a soft bed instead of on the floor to keep unwelcome night visitors out.” His grin broadened. “But keeping you safe is worth all the cold, hard floors. And setting Otto free…nothing could make me happier.”
Adela nodded. For Galen’s sake, she wanted Otto free, but the greatest happiness she could imagine wasn’t freeing Otto from bondage. It was binding herself to Galen Crassus as his wife.
But her days of a woman still hadn’t come. If Gundahar had spoken the truth and she now carried his child, could a fine man like Galen want her?
Chapter 32: Still Not the Time
Adela felt her own smile grow as Galen led her toward an archway in the wall around the stable yard. Through it, she could see a patchwork of color. As they passed through, the scent of roses wrapped around her. A profusion of red and pink and white dotted the rows of bushes. Beds surrounded by low brick walls were filled with patterns of blue and pink, yellow and white. The blooms were so thick she could scarcely see any green between them.
Her breath caught at the large red flowers waving atop tall stalks with circles of silvery green leaves at their base. “What are those?”
“Poppies.” Galen fingered a petal. “My mother loved them, and they grew everywhere around our villa. If you leave the blooms alone, they turn into brown seed pods. I used to like to turn them upside down and shake them to get the seeds out. Our cook used them on top of the little bread rolls that were my favorite part of lunch.”
Galen led her toward a tower at the corner of the garden wall. “Looks like a watchtower, but what would Tiberius need one for? Let’s go see.”
He released her hand as they climbed the stairs. At the top, a panorama stretched out before them. Mountains rose in the distance past nearby fields and pastures. To their left, horses grazed in the long grass.
Galen’s gaze settled there. “That’s the pasture we rode by.” His finger moved as he counted the horses. “I see at least two dozen horses. I wonder if this is where the tribune at the top of Summus Poeninus got his horse. He said Tiberius had the best stable in Rome.”
Adela’s gaze focused on the fields beyond the pasture. “The people working out there look like ants from here.”
“Some owners treat them as if they were nothing more than that.”
“Does Tiberius?”
“I don’t know. Some men who treat their equals well treat their slaves like living tools that have no hearts and minds. They even call them instrumentum vocalis―talking instruments.”
Adela’s brow furrowed. “That’s wrong. Even a slave is a man.”
“And every man is precious in the eyes of God.”
“But not in Roman eyes.” A shudder passed through her. “I can still see that man on the cross in Octodurus. Let’s not talk about this.”
She led him back down the stairs.
A long, narrow pool stretched between the rows of flower beds. Along it stood several statues of men and women and animals, but Adela’s eyes were drawn to the one at the end.
It was a warrior without clothes, sitting on his shield with his sword and a trumpet beside him. A sword wound in his chest dripped blood. He was dying.
Her gaze locked onto his face, and her hand covered her mouth. With his mustache and long hair and the torc around his neck, he looked exactly like her cousin. Brave in the face of death, but he looked so sad. Like he’d fought so hard, but he’d lost everything. Death was the enemy no man could defeat.
She’d seen that look on her father’s face after Mother died, but only when he thought no one was looking. She wasn’t as strong as he was, and she’d worn the look where others had seen. But even that was a mask. Only when she was alone under the stars had she let the deep pain show. Before she returned to the house, she always put on the mask again.
Galen’s hand touched her arm. “Adela? Are you all right?”
She nodded and forced a smile as she turned her gaze back to Galen. “I hope I never see that look on your face. You were gone so long in the villa…I was afraid you weren’t coming back. I couldn’t bear it if you died here.”
Galen’s heart leaped. Here was the opening he’d been praying for. “If I did die here, it wouldn’t be death. Not like you’re thinking of it. Life won’t end for me when my body dies. My God has made certain of that.”
A frown accompanied the shake of her head. “But that’s not what I’ve seen. Life is over and gone when the body dies. I saw it with Mother. I saw it with my baby sister. She only lived a few hours, and I was holding her when she died.”
“It only seems that way.” He tapped his chest. “
What you see dies and is buried, but we’re much more than what you see. We’re―”
The crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind him made him spin. Tiberius’s man was too close. No time to explain and maybe too risky even if there was time. He exhaled without finishing his sentence.
The man bowed. “The bath now awaits you. I will escort you there.”
Galen glanced at Adela. “Is there only one bathing area?”
“Yes.”
Adela’s eyes widened. Then a deep blush swept across her cheeks.
“I’ll bathe quickly and leave it for you to enjoy alone. I’m eager to look at the library anyway, and this will give me more time there.”
Tiberius’s man made no move to leave, and Galen suppressed a sigh. The opportunity to talk with her about Jesus was blocked yet again.
“If you want to enjoy the garden longer or relax in your room, someone will come find you the moment I’m through.”
Galen followed the man into the villa.
As they walked down a hall lined with mosaics, the man pointed to a door. “Your things have been placed in here.” He pointed to the door next to it. “And your woman’s things are here. All you should need is already in the bath, but a boy will be there to get anything else.”
Galen’s brow furrowed. “Is there a woman who can take care of Adela instead?
“Yes, I will arrange that.”
“Good. We’ve been travelling a long time, and she doesn’t have what she will need for a formal dinner.”
“I will take care of that as well.”
As they entered the bath, the man’s hand swept toward the shelves. “You will find clean clothes there and towels. When you are through, send the boy to me, and I will see that your woman is summoned and has all the help she needs.”
Galen let his grin leak out after the man left. A hot bath, a good dinner…a man couldn’t ask for a better evening. Maybe having to come to an enemy of the faith wasn’t a bad thing after all.
After Galen left, Adela strolled back to the house and entered through the door where Galen had reappeared. Her breath caught as her gaze swept the interior of Tiberius’s villa. Nothing she had seen in the public baths or respectable inns had prepared her for the elegant surroundings and luxurious lifestyle of a noble Roman.
The floor mosaics portrayed many kinds of animals, some engaged in mortal combat with people. The walls were painted with scenes of oceans, mountains, forests, and farms.
A woman walked up behind her. “Mistress, if it would please you, come with me to select what you wish to wear this evening for dinner.”
Adela glanced down at Galen’s clothes. “I have something Galen got me in my saddlebag.”
The woman tightened her lips to fight off a laugh, and Adela felt her ears heat. “Steward Graecus told me to provide something suitable.”
She swept her hand toward a hallway. “This way.”
Adela followed her past the many wall mosaics to a room with a door carved with a floral garland. Inside, a wicker chair and a small table holding a polished silver mirror held by two dancing nymphs stood between two windows. A cabinet with a Roman goddess carved on the door and a matching trunk were on the opposite wall. A blanket striped with reds, oranges, and browns draped a bed. Adela pressed on it, and it was softer than any pillow she’d laid her head on.
The woman opened the chest and lifted out three tunics: one blue, one red, and one green. “Which do you prefer, mistress?”
Galen had picked blue for her in Luna. Adela touched the blue one, and the woman laid it on the bed before returning the others to the trunk. Then the woman opened the cabinet. She removed a cord of braided silver chains and placed it with the tunic. From a drawer in the small table, she selected eight silver pins and placed them in the small silver basket sitting on the table.
The woman’s hand swept toward the door. “The oils and fragrances are already in the bath chamber, mistress. Please follow me.”
Adela had enjoyed the baths Galen had taken them to, but they were nothing compared to the private bath of Tiberius Lentulus. The many different fragrances of cleansing oils left her trying to remember what Galen had said he liked best. She settled on roses. The woman had then washed her hair and rinsed it with water that smelled just like the oil.
The water for soaking had been perfect: hot, but not too hot. And the robe she’d been wrapped in when she rose from the tub was made of the same material as the towels.
After slipping her feet into a pair of slippers, she followed the woman back to her chamber. She stepped into the tunic and discovered it was nothing more than a tube. Then the woman pinned the top shut, and it turned into a tunic with openings that let her shoulders and arms peek out. After the cord was wrapped around her upper body, crossing in the middle, the curves of her body were obvious, yet somehow she didn’t feel embarrassed by that. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and a slow smile formed. Galen would like the color.
Her hand rested on her belly, and the smile vanished.
“Sit, mistress, and I’ll do your hair.”
Adela settled into the wicker chair and forced herself to relax as the woman first dried her hair with a towel and then combed it to remove the tangles. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of fingers running through her hair, dividing it into thick strands, and braiding it.
Her eyes popped open when she felt the braid being wrapped around her head. The woman pushed gold picks tipped with butterflies into the thick mass of hair to hold the braid in place.
The scent of roses wrapped around her again as the woman dabbed perfume into her hair, behind her ears, at her throat, and on her wrists.
She gazed at her reflection in the silver mirror. Was that beautiful woman really her? What would Galen say when he saw her in the soft tunic that draped her form so elegantly, drawn in at all the right places by the silver cord? Would admiration curve his lips into a grin and light up those laughing eyes?
The woman rested her hands on the back of the chair. “We’re finished. You look lovely, mistress.”
Adela turned in the chair to smile up at her. “Thank you. Can you take me to the library now? Galen is waiting for me.”
Galen lifted another scroll from the library shelf and unrolled it. It had been a relaxing afternoon. He’d found history, poetry, and philosophy to choose among. Galen always thought Dec had embellished the description of the library at the Lentulus villa, but he’d understated how extensive it was. Tiberius had probably been adding to it during the last eight years.
His concern that Tiberius would kill him seemed rather foolish now. There’d been no need to reveal anything about his own relationship with Dec for Tiberius to be willing to help Otto.
Everything was turning out like he’d prayed for. After he freed Otto and they were heading back, surely the right time to tell Adela about his faith would present itself.
Adela.
His sigh escaped. If only she would let him tell her about Jesus, maybe she would choose to follow Him. Then his dear friend could become his wife…if she wanted him. She liked Romans even less now than she did when he first met her, but he considered himself more German than Roman. She’d said “those Romans” often enough that she must, too.
He suppressed the next sigh. He had no reason to think she didn’t still want a German chieftain’s son. And Otto would be traveling with them. What German woman in her right mind wouldn’t want Otto? Tall, muscular, handsome, smart, good sense of humor, wealthy family…everything a Hermunduri chieftain’s daughter would find appealing. And a truly good man, even if he did sometimes think with his eyes instead of his head. This trip may well have cured that problem.
Galen rubbed the back of his neck. Adela’s father might insist she marry a Hermunduri, and then it wouldn’t matter whether he or Otto were the richest, most handsome men inside or outside the Empire. German fathers had the power to choose, and Adela’s father would never choose
him. Otto, maybe, but never him.
But what her father would choose wasn’t the only obstacle. Until she chose Jesus, he could never choose her. His own Father had rules about whom His children could marry, and a pagan woman, no matter how much he liked her, didn’t fit those rules.
But if she decides to follow you, Lord, and if she puts Your choice for her over her earthly father’s choice…maybe there is a way.
He turned at the soft sound of her sandals on the mosaic floor.
“Adela.” His grin spread slowly. “I was right about my clothes not complimenting a pretty girl. I thought you looked good in what we got in Luna, but now…” His lips puckered as he blew out a long breath. The silver clips that closed the tunic at the top revealed her bare shoulders. The silver cord wrapped around her body emphasized her womanly curves. “You look just like a Roman lady. A very pretty Roman lady.”
A flush of blood colored her cheeks. His grin skewed and broadened.
“Blue and pink together―I think I have a new favorite color combination.”
“You look different, too. So...Roman.”
His eyebrow arched. “Is that good or bad? I know you admire big Germanic warriors most.” He ran a hand through his fresh-cropped hair and rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Personally, I prefer shirts and pants to tunics and togas, but when in Rome…”
She walked over to stand close beside him. He inhaled the soft scent of roses that wafted from her hair. It was hard to keep his eyes off her. Such a pretty woman. So brave. So strong. The kind of woman any man would be proud to call his own. Proud to have love him. But she wanted a warrior, and he wanted a woman who loved Jesus like he did.
Every time he tried to tell her about Him, she turned the conversation another way.
But…God, I still wish she could be what you plan for me.
