Faithful

by Carol Ashby

As they walked past a table laden with fruit, cheeses, and pastries, he paused to select two plain wheat rolls. As he raised one to his lips, he handed the other to Adela.

  The slightest smile lifted a corner of his mouth as his eyes held hers. “If you feel hungry any time, feel free to get something here.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. He knew, but he was a friend who would help, not a man who would betray her secret.

  The man seated in a throne-like chair by the front railing turned his head. “Salve, Lentulus. I see you brought your guests from Germania.”

  Tiberius placed his hand on Otto’s shoulder. “I have, Macatus, and Otto of the Vangiones will be my business agent for a new stable I’m starting there.”

  Macatus’s eyebrow rose. “An interesting choice.”

  “He is young, but he already raises horses and sells them in Mogontiacum and Argentorate, so there’s wisdom in it.” His smile turned wry. “You know I never do anything without a good reason.”

  Macatus’s formal smile relaxed into a genuine one. “True. In forty years, I’ve never seen you act without thinking. Always the level head. Rome has been fortunate to have your service.”

  “And yours.” Tiberius turned and reached back toward Adela. “Come up here to the front where you can see better. Macatus will start the race when he waves that flag.”

  She moved to his side. He raised his roll for a bite and offered her a smile. As she nibbled on her own roll, she glanced at the stately man of power. Who would have thought he’d be an understanding friend?

  The roar of the crowd was deafening when Macatus waved the flag and the twelve chariots burst from the gates below. With horses at a fast gallop, they fought to be first to get the position closest to the wall that stretched at least a quarter mile before them.

  Adela’s hands flew to her mouth. “They’re beautiful! What power!”

  Tiberius’s smile broadened. “Yes, and the horses love it. The charioteers have to hold them back at the start, or they’d tire themselves out before they finish the seven laps.”

  When the chariots rounded the wall directly in front of them the first time, Adela gasped. “That was too close. Those two almost hooked wheels.”

  “The goal is to win, whatever it takes. Some days a charioteer dies, but it’s a life of glory. Men often die young with no one to remember them, but a winner here will have a monument erected in his memory. Most start as slaves, but no one wants to stop even after they’re freed. Some become very wealthy if they win often enough. The man we spoke with downstairs has won over a thousand times.” He pointed at the rows of men with purple-striped togas along the track’s edge. “He’s made enough to buy out many of the senators sitting down there. His wealth may someday surpass mine, if he doesn’t die first. But there’s more to life than money.”

  Adela pulled her eyes from the horses to smile into his. “That’s what Galen says.”

  Tiberius’s wry smile was accompanied by a soft snort. “He would say that. Many might say it, but he would truly mean it.”

  She hadn’t thought it possible, but the yelling grew even louder. For the last time, the chariots rounded the posts at the far end of the wall and sprinted toward the white line in the dirt that marked the finish.

  Adela found herself bouncing on her toes as the two lead teams crossed the line less than a horse’s head apart.

  The winning team pulled up directly below them. The driver was the man who’d spoken to them. Macatus stood and tossed a bag of coins down to him.

  He caught it and raised it over his head. Then his eyes caught hers. He placed his fingers on his lips, then raised them to her.

  She felt Galen’s eyes, and for no reason she could say, her cheeks warmed. When her gaze returned to Tiberius, she found him smiling.

  “It’s a delight to have you here. One can take beauty for granted until he sees the joy it brings to fresh eyes. Your excitement reminds me of Decimus when he was a small boy and watched from here.”

  Galen’s chuckle came from beside her. “I can picture Dec like a stretched bowstring just before the release. His own sons are just like that when waiting for something they want. Whenever I return from a trip, they’re all over me like ants on a honey jar the moment I’m off Astrelo.”

  Otto stepped to the rail and rested his elbow on Galen’s shoulder. “I won’t have Roman ants on me, but Father will nearly crush me with a hug when I come home safe after so long.”

  Adela’s smile faded, and Galen wrapped his hand around hers. “Your father will be delighted to see you home, too.”

  A gentle squeeze, and then he withdrew his hand much too soon. She forced a happier smile, for Galen’s sake. Would her father be glad, like Galen said? Like Otto is certain his father will be? And even if he is when she first arrives, what will he say if she has to tell him she carries a kidnapper’s child?

  Otto had been a slave, but tomorrow morning he’d be free again. The nightmare of slavery was over for him…but not for her. Otto had agreed she was free when he gave her to Galen, but her kidnapper had chained her to him even after his death.

  Chapter 39: Business Partners

  The Roman Forum, Day 35

  As Otto, Galen, and Tiberius emerged from the Basilica Julia, Otto rubbed his shoulder again.

  “Why did that judge whack me so hard with the rod when he pronounced me free? You said it would be a light tap.”

  Tiberius wiped the start of the smile off his lips. “Did your father never tell you about the rebellion of Antonius Saturninus a little over thirty years ago? He was governor of Germania Superior with two legions stationed in Mogontiacum, and he allied with some Germans from across the Rhenus against Emperor Domitian. But he hadn’t expected an early melt of the river ice. The Germans never got across the river, and Saturninus was defeated and executed.

  “Quintus Albus’s mother was Saturninus’s niece. She blamed his death on the deliberate betrayal of his German allies rather than the ice melting. She encouraged her son to hate Germans for causing that family disgrace.”

  Otto’s brow furrowed as Tiberius’s smile grew. “Did you know he was going to hit so hard?”

  Tiberius shrugged. “I haven’t seen him actually hit a German in court before…”

  Galen chuckled. “He didn’t hit as hard as you hit your sparring partners at Ludus Bruti. Besides, wasn’t it worth it to become Tiberius Cornelius Baldricus?”

  Otto’s frown shifted into a smile. “Yes. It’s even worth wearing this stupid-looking liberty cap until we head home.”

  Tiberius gripped the yellow felt cone and lifted it from Otto’s head. “As your patron, I can solve that. Don’t wear it in my presence unless I tell you to. I don’t need you following me around in it to make me look more important.”

  He slapped the hat against Otto’s chest, and Otto took it.

  Tiberius looked first at Galen, then Otto. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a wry smile. “Now that we’ve created the newest citizen of Rome, we’ll go select the horses for the newest racing stable in Germania Superior.”

  As they rode through the gate at Tiberius’s villa, Galen scanned the portico for Adela. Each time he’d gone off with Tiberius, she’d been sitting at the table when they returned. And each time it felt like she was watching for him.

  She was there again, but her elbows rested on the table, and her face rested in her hands.

  “Adela!” Otto kicked his horse into a trot and headed for her. He swung the liberty cap in a circle over his head. “You’re looking at Tiberius Cornelius Baldricus now. But to my friends…still Otto.”

  Adela lowered her hands and turned her smile on. But it wasn’t the same bright smile that she’d worn in Luna. And though her eyes focused first on Galen, they shifted to Otto as soon as Galen waved. Otto rode over to her and dismounted.

  Tiberius swung his leg over the gray’s neck and slipped off. “Galen, you’re welcome to join us as we select the horses tha
t will accompany us to Germania.”

  Galen slid off Astrelo, and the stable slave led him away. “Adela might like to join us as well. It’s boring to stay here alone for hours.”

  “We’ll be riding.”

  “If you lend her a horse, that won’t be a problem. As she’s told me more than once, she’s the daughter of a Hermunduri chieftain and can ride anything I can. And I can ride anything.”

  “No proper Roman maiden rides like a man.”

  “But a proper German one does.” He raised his eyebrows and left his request hanging.

  Tiberius’s gaze shifted to Adela where she stood holding Otto’s liberty cap. With a grin, Otto lifted it from her hands and plunked it on his head. When he bounced his eyes at her, her giggle brightened the courtyard.

  “Very well. I suppose it is asking too much for a chieftain’s daughter to become a demure Roman maiden, but you’ll all be in tunics, not trousers.”

  Silent laughter lit Tiberius’s eyes. “Go tell her now.”

  Galen couldn’t stop the smile Tiberius’s words spawned. The two Tiberius Corneliuses could ride together. He’d make sure Adela rode by his side.

  It took no maneuvering to get Adela to ride beside him. She took her usual place even before Tiberius told Otto to ride beside him.

  As he spoke with Otto, Tiberius’s voice drifted back to Galen. “First, we’ll select the stock we’ll be taking, but there’s much more to running a racing stable than breeding and selling the horses. Do you know anything about tracking bloodlines?”

  “Yes. My father has done that for years. Our regular customers know which bloodlines they want to buy. I’m skilled in keeping the kinds of records that satisfy in Germania, but if there’s anything else I should be doing, I want to learn.”

  Tiberius leaned over and slapped his shoulder. “Admitting you might not know everything is the beginning of wisdom. I’ll have my own stable master prepare a stable codex for the horses we’ll be taking. He’ll show you what is required.”

  Tiberius turned in his saddle and rested his hand on the stallion’s rump. “Galen, do you track your bloodlines?”

  “Dec brought three fine Spanish mares as his bride price, and Val used Astro as the stallion to found the herd. Val keeps records like he showed her, so I think we do what you do.”

  “Tiberius?” His gaze shifted to Adela when she spoke. “Can I learn how to do a stable codex, too?”

  Her question drew Tiberius’s smile. “Of course. Perhaps your future husband will need you to understand how to help with this.”

  Adela’s smile grew. “Good. I like to learn.” She turned toward Galen. “I want to keep learning to read and write Latin and maybe someday Greek, like your sisters did.”

  “Teaching you made the trip to Rome more enjoyable than I ever expected.”

  “I need lots of practice, and you’re the best teacher.” She squared her shoulders and raised her head. “Voluptas meus est for Latin and many other things. I hope I get to use what I’ve learned for years.”

  Tiberius nudged his stallion into a trot, and all conversation ended.

  Galen’s gaze drifted toward Adela. Tiberius had mounted her on a gentle chestnut mare, but a horsewoman like her could have ridden his most spirited stallion.

  Did she want to learn the stable codex because she thought she might become Otto’s wife? He obviously admired her, and his attentions seemed to delight her. She’d told him from the start that a chieftain’s daughter expected to marry a chieftain’s son. Did she realize that stirred an emotion he’d never felt before? Envy was a sin, but for the first time, comparisons between himself and Otto fed it.

  He’d never spoken of his feelings for her because he couldn’t do anything about them unless she followed the Way. No, that’s until, not unless. How could it not be God’s will for her to give her heart to Jesus before they reached Hermunduri country?

  But even if it was, maybe it wasn’t God’s will for her to give a short Roman her heart as well.

  Galen had just finished dressing after a relaxing soak in the hot tub of the villa’s bath when Graecus appeared at the doorway. “Tiberius would like to speak with you in the library.”

  He followed the steward down the hall. Tiberius stood by the library window, contemplating the garden, but he turned with a smile the moment Galen entered. He waved his hand toward a cluster of three wicker chairs. Graecus settled into one, so Galen took another.

  Tiberius lowered himself onto the blue cushion embroidered with a silver laurel wreath and leaned back. He draped his arms across the back of the chair.

  “We need to discuss some financial matters so Graecus can get the necessary papers prepared before we leave.”

  Galen cocked his head. “Financial matters?”

  “Decimus probably told you we had to fake his death to prevent his execution when he decided to worship the Christian god. That presents a serious problem for transferring the Lentulus property to him when I die.” The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Roman law doesn’t define how a paterfamilias can pass his rights and property to an already-dead son.” A full smile appeared. “I suspect the issue hasn’t been raised before.”

  He glanced at Graecus. “Graecus and I are the only people in Rome who know he’s still alive. Before you came, we had no idea where Decimus was so how to make the transfer was a pointless question. But now that you’ve come, I can see a way forward. I recognize an honest man once I get to know him, and I believe you to be as honest as any man can be.”

  “I try to be. What do you want me to do to help?” Galen tensed when Tiberius leaned toward him.

  “I want to formally adopt you so you will inherit with the understanding that you will find a way to transfer at least half my wealth to Decimus. You will still have a few million denarii after the transfer.”

  Galen’s head drew back. “Adopt me?”

  “Yes. It’s a common solution to the problem of a man having no male heir. With Decimus's sons, I actually have three, but no one in Rome knows that. If you become my heir, you can adopt your sister’s children and make a clean line of inheritance for them.”

  Galen rubbed the back of his neck. “I see the logic of the plan, and I’m honored that you consider me a trustworthy partner in it. But I can’t dishonor my own father’s memory that way. I’m content to be paterfamilias with what I have rather than erasing my father’s lineage by accepting your offer. Besides, doesn’t that require special approval that would draw attention to who I am and who my father was? There might still be an arrest warrant for us, and I don’t want to put my sister at risk by revealing where we’re living.”

  Tiberius frowned as he settled back in the chair. “I understand your reluctance.” He looked at Graecus with raised eyebrows.

  Graecus rubbed his chin. “There might be a different way that avoids that. The estates will revert to your known living relatives, but there’s nothing that prevents you from bequeathing Galen a large sum of money.” The steward’s eyes warmed as he fixed his gaze on Galen. “I believe you can trust him to make certain most of it is passed on to Decimus and his children.”

  Tiberius nodded. “And I can start the transfer by taking a sizable sum with me on this trip.”

  Galen straightened. “How many guards will travel with us?”

  Tiberius shook his head. “None. No one but Graecus knows the real reason I’m going. Even my household thinks it’s for the pleasure of the trip and to participate in starting the new stable with Otto.”

  Galen blew his breath out through pursed lips. “Then I have some suggestions. I travel often with a few thousand denarii on me, but I try to look like I don’t have much. We’ll need to do the same. Your tunic with the senatorial stripes―that has to go. You shouldn’t even wear one like this one you gave me. It looks too expensive. Anything that suggests wealth is an invitation to robbers. We’ll already draw attention with the horses we’ll be leading. We need to look like
your servants, not like men with money.”

  Tiberius tipped his head. “The roads are safe enough this side of the Alpes, and we’ll be sleeping at the villas of men I know. After we cross the pass, that would be wise. We’ll also ride with swords in plain sight so no one will doubt that we’re ready for trouble. That usually prevents it ever starting. I’ll supply Otto with a gladius from my own collection.”

  “I’d like to arm Adela, too. Hermunduri women learn to fight. She can use a gladius as well as a dagger.” Galen touched the scar on his cheek. “I know from personal experience.

  “Otto is intimidating, but even though I’m a good fighter, I don’t look like it. Your gray hair makes you look like an easier target than you are. Adela looks like she’s only a girl, even though she’s a warrior woman. But dressed in men’s clothes and wearing a sword, that should make her look as threatening as a Roman of sixteen or so.”

  Tiberius’s eyes crinkled. “Adela looks like no Roman girl I’ve known. Even when she’s dressed Roman, only a fool could fail to see she’s no helpless maiden. She’s like a statue of Diana with an arrow nocked in her bow and a glare that says she’s ready to fire.”

  Galen chuckled. “I’ve never seen her draw a bow, but give her a little while to set snares, and we’ll be eating roast rabbit for dinner.”

  Tiberius stood. “Graecus will attend to preparing the will so I can sign it before we leave. You and I have other business in this room. Decimus will need a good library to educate his sons. I don’t want to duplicate anything he has, and you can help there.”

  His hand swept toward two boxes by the wall of scrolls. “He will need my scrolls of Pliny’s Natural History. Also, Tacitus’s Annals and Histories.

  “He always liked history best. We both thought he would make history himself.” Tiberius’s eyes focused on Galen. They seemed sad, then they hardened. “But the Christian god put an end to that.”

  Tiberius shoulders squared. “But even a Christian father needs a good library to educate his sons. The scrolls he read as a boy will serve my grandsons as well.”