Faithful

by Carol Ashby

  It was best not to think too much about that...about her.

  She lifted one of the scrolls from its shelf and unrolled it enough to see the Greek letters. “All this...you could read it if you wanted. You could know everything the man who made this did.” She waved her hand toward the wall. “What all these men knew.”

  He shrugged. “With enough time. But they aren’t the ones who know the truth. Tiberius wouldn’t have the scrolls that tell the real truth.”

  She turned toward him. “The real truth?” Those warm blue eyes held the question in their depths.

  He took her hand in his and swept his thumb slowly across the back of it. His heart rate ramped up. Was this the opening he’d been praying for? She was asking, but would she listen this time? Would she understand? Would she feel God’s call to her heart?

  “Yes.” He took her second hand. “Come sit with me, and I’ll tell you.”

  He’d taken several steps back toward the couch, drawing her with him, when Tiberius’s voice interrupted the opportune moment.

  “Crassus. Dinner is ready.” He was smiling that formal smile expected from a gracious host. “I trust you’ll find it an improvement on what you’ve been eating. Follow me.”

  Adela withdrew her hands from his and turned to follow Tiberius. Galen heaved a sigh. Maybe it wasn’t the right time after all.

  Chapter 33: The Perfect Host

  The soft music of a lyre greeted Galen as he followed Adela and Tiberius into the dining room. Nine wide couches covered with red sheets were arranged in three sets of three, each set surrounding a low table. Centered under each table was an elaborate mosaic of servants delivering dishes of food. A row of living servants stood along the wall.

  Tiberius’s steward was already there, gazing into the garden just outside a wide window.

  Tiberius waved his hand toward him. “This is Tiberius Cornelius Graecus.” The formal smile that made Tiberius’s mouth look stiff relaxed into a genuine one. “Graecus’s service as steward has been invaluable during my many times away from Rome serving the Empire. He’s also my good friend and a second father to Decimus. He will be dining with us.”

  Graecus tipped his head. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Crassus, but not this lovely young woman.”

  Galen stepped beside her. “This is Adela, daughter of Adalmar, chieftain of the Hermunduri.”

  Adela tipped her head and smiled. In her accented Latin, she replied, “It is my pleasure.”

  The corners of Galen’s mouth curved. The warrior woman could do a fair job of passing herself off as a Roman lady, Latin and all.

  Tiberius took the host’s position at the head of the left couch, and Graecus took the right one.

  Tiberius’s hand swept toward the center couch. “I assume the two of you will recline together. You have, after all, been traveling together for a long time.”

  Their host’s suggestive smile made Adela’s eyes widen and her mouth straighten.

  Galen shook his head. “It’s not that way with us, and Adela has never reclined to eat before. We’ll sit on the dining couch.”

  He settled on the edge as if it were a chair and patted the spot next to him. She sat down beside him, but her back stayed straight and her head erect with chin slightly raised.

  Galen had to fight a smile. Tiberius was used to Roman noblewomen with their gracious manners and slaves who did what he wanted without question. Adela was neither.

  A nod from Tiberius started the dinner service. As a boy of about ten filled the wine cups and handed one to each of them, the appetizer course consisting of a salad of mixed greens, boiled crabs, and hard-boiled eggs was placed on the table.

  Galen ate each in turn, and Adela followed suit.

  When the servants took that course away, water and towels were passed to the diners to prepare for the next course.

  The main course included carrots in a white wine sauce and lamb in a cream sauce made with red wine, onions, mushrooms, and any number of spices that Galen was at a loss to identify. The silky richness exploded in his mouth with each bite. It would be much too easy to eat more than a man should at Tiberius’s table.

  Again, the water and towels appeared.

  As the platters of pastries filled with fruit were placed before them, Adela placed her hand over her mouth and whispered in Germanic, “Do Romans always eat three meals for dinner?"

  Galen whispered a reply. “Some do, but this is a dinner fit for company in a noble house.”

  Tiberius kept his host’s smile from turning into the one Adela’s question deserved. A wise governor learned what he could of the local language, and no one would ever question his political wisdom.

  There had been little conversation while they ate, but the time had come to answer the questions that had plagued him for years. He caught Graecus’s eye. His steward would be his inquisitor. As host, it would be impolite for him to interrogate his guest. He wanted to know everything about Decimus, but he didn’t want young Crassus to return to Germania and tell the son he banished how desperate he was for news of him.

  Graecus took a sip of wine. “I’ve known Decimus since he was born. It’s good to hear that life has gone well for him since he was last in Rome. How long have you known him?”

  “He joined us eight years ago.”

  “Do you see him often?”

  “We raise horses together.”

  “It was a pleasure to watch him as a boy. His own sons―I had hoped to see them. What are his boys like?”

  That question brought a smile to Crassus’s lips. “Publius is six. He’s a smart one and eager to try anything new. Gaius is four, and whatever his brother is doing, he wants to join in.”

  “So far from Rome, are they learning Latin, history, and philosophy like every noble Roman should?”

  “Dec has a small library, and the boys are learning Latin and Greek from Dec and their mother. She’s an educated woman herself.”

  Publius and Gaius. Tiberius tightened his lips to suppress the frown. Why those names, not Decimus and his own? He caught Graecus’s eye. A raised eyebrow was enough to tell him what to ask.

  “Publius and Gaius? Not what I would expect. It’s customary for the first son to share his father’s name and common for the second to share his grandfather’s.”

  “Publius was Dec’s mentor growing up, and he preferred honoring his mentor over using his own first name.”

  “And why Gaius?”

  “That’s the name of the man who was father to his wife.”

  “What is her name?”

  Crassus’s smile broadened. “Valeria, and it suits her. She’s a woman of strength in many ways. She and Dec are well matched and very happy together.”

  “From which family of the clan Valerius is his wife?”

  Crassus’s mouth twitched. “I never heard Dec speak of that.”

  “Near what city do you live?”

  “The nearest legion town is almost two days away. The name of the nearest village wouldn’t mean anything to you. It’s in the hill country about halfway between Mogontiacum and Argentorate. I sell Dec’s horses in both towns.”

  “Why did he choose to settle there?”

  Crassus shrugged. “I never asked.”

  Tiberius considered himself a master at reading a man to see if he spoke truth. Nothing Crassus said seemed off, but his answers were short and to the point. He seemed relaxed and unperturbed by the questions. Still, a niggling feeling in the back of Tiberius’s mind said there was more to the story.

  His gaze settled on the German woman. It was harder to lie in a language that wasn’t naturally your own, and a chieftain’s daughter would be no match for a man who’d thrived no matter who the emperor and his favored subordinates were. Her eyes and body language were open and honest. She was ripe for interrogation, but not by Graecus.

  “Adela, I hope you are not feeling left out of what we are talking about. Do you speak muc
h Latin?”

  Her face remained relaxed. “Some. Galen has been teaching me so I could get home alone if I had to."

  Tiberius kept his face friendly. Galen? An odd name for a Roman who introduced himself as Gaius Licinius Crassus.

  Tiberius slipped into Germanic. “That’s very thoughtful of him. Why did he think that likely?”

  Germanic words triggered a smile, just as he expected. “I’m not sure. His sister’s husband taught him so well he’s amazing with a sword. He could beat anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  He glanced at Crassus and detected a tension that hadn’t been there. “What have you seen that’s amazing?”

  “He was sitting by the campfire when a man attacked him from behind with a dagger. He rolled forward to get out of the way, and when he stood, he’d drawn his sword. Then he knocked the man out with the handle. It would have been so easy to kill him then, but Galen didn’t want to.”

  “That is impressive. It sounds like a trick my son sometimes used.” He turned his eyes from Adela to Crassus. The hint of tension remained. “Well, Crassus, it’s fortunate both you and Otto trained with my son.”

  Crassus’s face relaxed into the slight smile that was his normal expression. “It is.”

  Tiberius scrutinized Crassus over the rim of his cup as he took another sip of wine. Without doubt, the young man knew more about Decimus than he’d revealed. What he’d spoken was not unreasonable for a good friend to know, but it was certain a brother-in-law would know it. If this Galen’s sister was the mother of his grandsons, why hadn’t he just said so from the beginning? And why was she not a Licinius like him?

  As the remains of the final course were carried away, Tiberius turned to Adela. “So, what do you think of a Roman dinner prepared by a fine chef?”

  “It tastes good. Some of it is like nothing I’ve ever had before. And there are so many different things on the table and so much of it. If I ate everything, I could get sick.”

  Tiberius tightened his lips, but that didn’t stop his grin entirely.

  Her blush heightened her beauty. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Tiberius relaxed his grin into a friendly smile. “No, it’s perfectly fine that you did. It’s refreshing to have a woman at my table who speaks her thoughts instead of what she believes I want to hear.”

  He shifted his smile to Crassus. “You are a lucky man to be traveling with such a companion. The evening conversation must be most enjoyable.”

  Crassus smiled in return. “Not for the reason you imply, but for many others, I am.”

  A quick glance at Adela revealed no blush. That signaled either her lack of understanding of the hidden meaning of his words or the truth of Crassus’s claim that it wasn’t that way with them.

  Tiberius appraised Adela over his drinking cup as he took another sip. The way the girl looked at Crassus…no Roman man could miss reading how much she was attracted to him. The way he looked back…the attraction was mutual. So, if it was true they didn’t “recline together,” why not?

  As Galen and Adela strolled past the mural of alpine scenes on the way to their bedchambers, he glanced at the beautiful woman walking beside him.

  “I’m sorry I had to bring you so far from home, but tomorrow we free Otto and can start back. It’s been good having you with me on the hunt.”

  Adela’s smile wrapped him in its warmth. “I’m glad you brought me. You’ve shown me so many wonderful things. Today was beyond what I ever imagined. It’s so pretty here, and Tiberius has been so welcoming.”

  “I’d hoped he still cared enough for Dec that he’d help. I’ve no doubt now that he does. I’m glad I was able to tell him his son is married and happy.”

  “Eight years since they parted, and Tiberius hadn’t heard anything. He must have thought Decimus was dead.” Her smile dimmed. “Father probably thinks that about me.”

  “Another month and he’ll know you’re alive and well. It was a pleasure to see the smile on Tiberius’s face. I’ll enjoy seeing your father’s smile, too.” Before I leave you with him. Galen blocked a sigh.

  “I hope so.” Uncertainty colored her voice.

  He took her hand and stroked the back with his thumb. “I’m sure of it. Don’t believe anything Gundahar said. Dec left because his father ordered him to, and you saw how glad Tiberius was to know Dec was well and happy. Your father will be overjoyed to get you back.”

  Adela’s eyebrows rose. “He told his own son to leave? Why?”

  Galen lowered his voice. “Here is not the place to talk about it. After we’re headed home, I’ll tell you.”

  They had reached her door, and he pushed it open for her.

  Adela released his hand. “I still have the horse money, but I’d rather you did. Wait here.”

  She dug to the bottom of the bag tied to her saddle and returned with the belts.

  Galen draped them over his shoulder. “Tiberius said breakfast would be ready shortly after dawn. He’ll send someone to fetch us. Until then, rest in peace.”

  She leaned her head against the edge of the door. “It seems strange, you not sleeping by the door. The sound of you breathing…it makes the room feel safer.”

  Galen’s mouth curved into a near grin. “It’s good to be spending the night where I don’t have to worry about someone breaking in. I expect the best night’s sleep I’ve had since I left home.”

  Adela’s eyes warmed as she stepped back into the room. “Good night, Galen.” She closed the door, and he heard the latching rod slide into place.

  As he pushed open his own door, his mouth pulled sideways into a wry smile. It was ironic. The place he thought might be the most dangerous had turned out to be the safest of all.

  Chapter 34: Not the Same Mistake

  Crassus and the girl had retired to their chambers, but Tiberius sat at the desk in his library. He drummed on its surface with a stylus while his old friend lounged in the chair opposite his own.

  “An interesting day, Graecus. After eight years of silence, I never expected to hear anything about Decimus. To have this young man suddenly appear with the news that my son is not only alive but married with two sons of his own…If I believed in the gods, I’d say the goddess Fortuna smiled on me when Crassus’s friend was kidnapped.”

  Graecus’s smile was as big as Tiberius’s own. “The only thing that would give me more pleasure would be to see him again myself.”

  “I might go to Germania again…to meet my grandsons.” Tiberius’s smile dimmed. “When I spoke to Adela in Germanic, she let it slip that Decimus’s wife is Crassus’s sister. Odd. If I needed help from a stranger, I’d use that as the reason he should help me, not because the stranger’s son was a friend of the one needing help.”

  Graecus’s smile dimmed as well. “That is an odd choice. But are you sure that’s what she said? His wife’s a Valerius, and he’s a Licinius.”

  “Assuming he spoke the truth about her.” Tiberius rubbed his chin. “His relaxed demeanor during your questioning suggests he’s honest, but he tensed when his pretty friend said that.”

  Graecus’s brow furrowed. “So where does the truth lie? He requested a large sum to buy Decimus’s friend. A suspicious man might think the tale is a story made up to cheat you out of 1600 denarii.”

  Tiberius stood. “The simple way to find out is to ask him.”

  As he approached the door to Crassus’s bedchamber, light was visible along the thin crack between the door and the floor. Crassus was still up, and that drew a satisfied smile. A good host wouldn’t awaken a sleeping guest, but he didn’t want to wait until morning to settle his doubts.

  Tiberius pushed lightly on the door. Crassus had failed to slide the latching rod across. The well-oiled hinges let the door swing open soundlessly, and Tiberius stepped into the room.

  Crassus sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees and forehead against his clasped hands. A peaceful smile curved his mouth.
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br />   Tiberius crossed his arms and watched that smile broaden, relax, and broaden again. A peaceful aura surrounded his guest. Tiberius’s jaw clenched as the meaning of what he saw struck home.

  Galen sensed a presence in the room and opened his eyes. Tiberius stood just inside the door, arms crossed and a deep scowl dragging his mouth down.

  “Are you praying to the Christian god?” Cold anger colored the voice. Hostility simmered in his eyes.

  Galen’s heart dropped into his stomach as he stood. He’d let his guard down in the presence of his enemy, and he was trapped. He straightened to his full height.

  God, give me courage and strength to face what’s coming.

  With shoulders squared, he took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “And yet you dare to enter my house, receive my hospitality, and ask for my money?”

  “To save my friend…yes.”

  “Do you really know my son?”

  “He’s lived with us the past eight years.”

  “Licinius Crassus…I should have made the connection, but it’s been fifteen years. Is your father the Licinius Crassus who fled Rome just ahead of the troops sent to arrest him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he the one who corrupted my son and took him from me?”

  Galen shook his head. “No. Father died three years before I met Dec. My sister found him near death after an ambush and brought him home to heal.”

  “My son knew Christians were enemies of the Empire until that ambush. He was never the same afterward.” Tiberius’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. “Was your sister responsible for my son becoming one?”

  Again, Galen shook his head. “No. Dec didn’t follow the Way when he left us after healing from his wounds. It was in Rome that God himself led Dec to faith.”

  Tiberius advanced three steps. A flicker of light by the saddle just to his left caught his eye. The polished brass of a scabbard reflected the flame of the lamp. He gripped it and drew the sword. When he tossed the scabbard aside, it clattered against the wall.