by Milinda Jay
Marcus looked at her quizzically.
Annia looked away, fighting sudden tears she didn’t understand. Was she crying out of joy for having her boys with her? That’s not what it felt like. Something was troubling her. Fear? Or did it have something to do with Marcus? She had never given coherent thought to the things she felt for him.
“Annia, something is troubling you. What is it?”
“Why, Marcus,” a female voice broke in, startling them.
“I thought I heard your voice.” It was Cassia. She had not yet gone into Scribonia’s office. Instead, she took both of his hands, and pulled him up off the bench.
She didn’t even seem to notice Annia sitting beside him. Annia was in servant’s clothes and, therefore, invisible to a senator’s daughter. Annia knew she herself had been guilty of similar oversights.
Cassia took Marcus out to the peristyle garden, chattering gaily as she pulled him along. She chose a bench on the farthest end of the garden.
Annia stood and backed away, then headed in the opposite direction, but stopped, realizing in her haste she had forgotten there was but one way to the back pool and fields beyond. The only way she could get back to her quarters was to walk in front of the couple cozily ensconced on the garden bench.
She yearned to get back to her children. She could simply walk by them, like the servant she was. But Philip stopped her.
“While you are here,” he said, and handed her a polishing cloth.
She looked at him, trying to read his meaning. The look on his face was kindly understanding.
“The children have all gone to pick olives in the back grove,” he said.
Was he trying to put her mind at rest?
She nodded. “Thank you,” she said.
And then, he left.
“The girl is lovely,” she overheard Scribonia say, completely unaware of the drama unfolding outside of her door. “Her husband was an oaf and a fool. He knew her to be faithful to him—his spies were all over the house, reporting back to him everything she did.”
“So I’ve heard,” Nona said.
“The day the baby was born, I walked into his chamber and laid the baby before him. It was the third baby I had laid before Galerius Janius. It was a formality, really. But even then, he was entertaining his new wife-to-be and was furious that I had brought the baby in.”
With a jolt, Annia realized they were speaking of her, of her baby. And now she couldn’t leave. She busied herself polishing the large urn that stood outside the door. Was this what Philip intended? The urn was as big as Annia, and hid her well.
“‘Child of an adulterous woman,’ he said when I laid the baby down.
“One of his slaves said, ‘Oh, no, master, this is your child, of this we are quite certain.’
“It was one of his house spies. When the poor man spoke, Janius was infuriated. ‘Lying thief,’ he roared, and had the slave taken directly to the slave market to be sold,” Scribonia finished.
“No,” Nona said. “Why, that is horrible.”
“Yes,” Scribonia said, “it was. But my husband heard the story and bought him. No one else was going to. He was not a young man and had served his master and his father before him since he was a boy.”
“The poor man. I am so glad you bought him,” Nona said.
“He didn’t fetch much of a price at the market,” Scribonia said. “Poor man. We set him free at once. His fondest desire is to go to Britain and live among his relatives.”
“And why is it that Marcus despises Britain?”
Marcus despised Britain? Her home? The news brought new pain. It also stiffened Annia’s resolve.
It was very clear to her. To get Marcus out of her heart and mind, she would have to be far, far away. She loved her homeland. There she would be able to forget Marcus. Annia would go home to her mother and father. Britain was the perfect place to go. Besides being far away from Marcus, it was the only place where her children could be safe.
But what she heard next made her more frightened than she had ever been in all of her life.
“I’ve heard it was not enough for her to be rid of the boys. Even now, I fear she has spies searching for them,” Nona said.
“But why?” Scribonia asked.
“The marriage between Janius and his new wife was sine manu—she still legally belongs to her father—as does her fortune,” Nona responded. “But she has promised to change the status to cum manu—under the legal guardianship of her husband—if Janius will get rid of his other three children. She says they must be dead, not simply taken by slave traders, or her father will not agree to it. Only if the inheritance goes to their new son, and him alone, can she rest safely without the sine manu.”
Annia’s heart was beating wildly now. She had to go immediately and find the safest place to take her sons. Britain, place of freedom.
She had no time to even thank Nona.
She had to gather her sweet children. She had to find them a safe place. Far away from Rome. Now.
Action would keep her from having to think. Action would give her heart a chance to heal.
Chapter Ten
Cassia was a sweet girl, Marcus thought as he struggled for sleep in the hot barracks, but compared to Annia, she seemed a mere child. The fact remained. His father wanted him to marry Cassia and so did the senator.
Was that the price of a position as prefect? The senator arranged for Marcus to have an audience with Claudius himself. Marcus was closer to gaining the position than he had ever imagined.
Marcus thought of Annia. He remembered the joy he had felt working side by side with her, cleaning the sheep, scrubbing the floor. They’d shared none of the traditional courting rituals—the dinners, the walks, the family gatherings—and yet he felt a comfort with her. She made him feel for the first time that a family, a wife and children could be something he would enjoy, something he even eagerly anticipated.
When a young messenger called out to him, Marcus woke from his dreams of Annia, and back to the present hot summer day in the barracks of the Vigiles.
“Yes,” Marcus responded. The boy was about ten, the same age as Annia’s oldest.
“My uncle sent me,” he said, breathless. “They’ve taken Arrius Pollio, my brother.”
“Who has taken him?” Marcus asked.
“I believe it to be in this note,” the boy said, and handed Marcus a paper that had been neither folded nor sealed, so hastily had it been written.
Marcus read it. The note confirmed the boy’s message. It did not look like the handwriting of Gamus.
“If this is true, where does your uncle want me to meet him?” Marcus asked, studying the boy carefully.
“At the baths,” the boy said. “Outside the bathhouse.”
The boy looked very much like Arrius Pollio. Marcus guessed Gamus had sent him. But why would Gamus send an unsealed document written by someone else?
“I will be there,” Marcus said.
“Thank you.” The boy turned and sprinted in the direction of the baths.
Who would kidnap Arrius Pollio, and for what reason?
He gathered his things—he would be going straight to night duty after the bath—and strode quickly to the bathhouse.
This was the time of day he might normally find a bath relaxing. If someone wanted to share information unobserved, the bathhouse was, ironically, the place to do it. One hardly noticed who talked to whom. Was Gamus waiting for him there?
The bathhouse was large and beautiful. It rose from the street like a palace and was open to all, rich and poor, young and old.
It was, his mother said, the way the empire kept the masses from rioting. Providing beautiful public bathhouses, theaters and plenty of water.
Whatever the reason for the bat
hs, Marcus was grateful for them. On a normal day, he loved the easy camaraderie of the people within. Everyone talked to everyone, and many business transactions occurred while patrons were being oiled and scraped or simply relaxing in the warm or cold baths.
Today would not be a normal day.
Marcus stood at the door and looked for Gamus. In the morning, the bathhouses were reserved for women only, in the afternoon, men. Marcus could not recall ever arriving at this hour. The women had not yet finished their time.
He was relieved to see he was not the only man there. A line of men stood waiting at the door for their turn. He scanned the line, but Gamus was not there.
Soon, the line began moving into the outer room of the bathhouse, where the men would shed their clothes and hang them while they relaxed first in the hot room, followed by the warm room, the steam room and finally the cold room.
Marcus liked the cold room best. Nothing was more invigorating than jumping into cold water after the heat of the steam room. Today he was wary. Where was Gamus? Marcus worked hard to keep to his normal bathing routine. He did not wish to draw attention to himself.
He finished his bath ritual and dressed. Still, no Gamus.
He walked around to the front of the bathhouse.
Marcus looked around him, every muscle in his body taut. Gamus was not one to keep him waiting.
Marcus feared for Gamus’s safety. In normal circumstances, Gamus would send a messenger to let him know that he would be running late.
Marcus got a prickly feeling in the pit of his stomach and turned to search for his friend.
“Going so soon?”
Marcus looked around for the speaker.
Galerius Janius looked out at him from a heavily brocaded litter.
Janius motioned Marcus over.
“Come here,” he said. “I have business I need to discuss with you. I see you got my note.”
“What business have you with me?” Marcus asked.
“You are wondering why I’m here?” Janius said, his tone so jovial it made Marcus’s skin crawl. “A very good question. Of course, it’s not for the baths. I have my own private bath.”
Marcus was silent. Did this odious creature have Gamus?
“Well, my business is this. Aren’t you the man who stole my son from my house three days ago?”
Marcus jerked as if scalded. “You ordered he be taken and arrested.”
“Have you any proof?” Janius asked, smiling, oblivious of the slaves holding the litter as rivulets of sweat poured down their temples.
“I hear someone has done you a favor and you will be talking to the emperor himself. I would hate for that little plan to be spoiled.”
Marcus chastised himself for not saving the note the slave boy had delivered to him.
“So,” Janius said, “you are going to lead me to my son, or you are going to bring them to me.”
“Bring who to you?” Marcus asked.
“My precious sons, Cato and Flavius. I need neither their mother nor her brat.”
Marcus tensed, and Janius noticed. “So the seductress has enticed you, as well? I’m so sorry. She will cheat you as she cheated me.”
Did the man truly believe Annia had committed adultery?
Had she?
“Now, run along,” Janius said, as if speaking to a child. “You bring me my sons, or I will make certain that your father’s villa is burned to the ground.”
In that moment, Marcus knew that Janius was bluffing. His father’s estate was built of marble and concrete. It would take more than a fire to bring it down.
They must have lost the trail at Gamus’s place.
Nona and Gamus. Where were they?
“Not to worry about your friends Nona and Gamus. They are quite safe, probably walking home now, along with Arrius Pollio. His brother was willing to do anything to save him. Even lying to you about meeting me here. Of course, I assured him you wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Do you ever tire of playing the villain?” Marcus asked.
“Oh, no, not at all. It rather suits me, don’t you think? Anyway, your friend Gamus tried to be the brave one. But he is an old man and easily deterred. We only had to threaten to hurt his wife, and he talked readily, telling us how kindly he treated the boy.”
Janius motioned to his slaves. They moved forward, their heavy burden straining their muscular bodies.
The hot taste of anger rose in Marcus’s throat. “I don’t know what you are working to achieve,” he called after Janius, “but I know this. In this game, you stand to lose far more than I.”
The sound of Janius’s laughter spilled from the litter and onto the street like shattering glass. His slaves grunted as they carried their burden.
Marcus sprinted toward Gamus’s shop.
He found the merchant and his bedraggled wife limping down the street toward their home.
Seeing Marcus, Gamus called out, “Tried to get us killed, did you? But we are much tougher old birds than you thought.” Gamus laughed, and the laughter softened his face and made Nona laugh, as well.
“Ouch,” she said and stumbled. “It hurts to laugh.”
Marcus rushed forward to catch her. “Are you injured?” he asked, but she brushed him away.
“No,” she said, “only my pride. That, and I’m very, very tired. We must have walked ten miles.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Nona,” Gamus said. “It was barely a mile.”
“Well, it felt like five,” she said, huffing. “And it’s hot out here. Very, very hot.”
Gamus laughed. “That it is.”
Marcus admired the wisdom in their humor. They were being cautious, so as not to draw the attention of anyone on the street that might be listening.
They moved into the shop’s sheltering cool. Gamus closed and locked the door behind them.
Inside, they went straight to the cellar. The couple sat heavily on the folding stools stored against the walls, and Marcus stood to listen. He was too nervous to sit.
“Sit down, lad,” Nona said. “We’ve had enough interrogation to last a lifetime.”
“Nona is like a star in the sky,” Gamus said. “She is a clever woman, more clever than I imagined. When they came looking for the boy, she dressed him like a girl, more quickly than you can snap your fingers, before the soldiers could even find her.”
Nona laughed. “That I did. I always wished to have a girl and, instead, I got two battle-hungry boys. I even had some clothes and a doll stored away for a little girl. I pulled the doll down when I looked through my things for old toys the boys played with. Then all I had to do when they came in for him was dress him in a stola and thrust the doll in his hands. He took it willingly, and the men, stupid sods, didn’t even look twice at him.”
Gamus smiled broadly.
“I’m thankful neither of you is seriously hurt,” Marcus said. “Who took you and why?”
“Oh, just some street roughs hired, I’m sure, by Galerius Janius. They wanted to be certain that the boy was far, far away. When I told them I’d made a little profit off the boy selling him into slavery, they got all greedy eyed. I told them I had the money in my pocket from the sale and if they would like me to share it with them, no one would be the wiser.”
“He’s a smart one, my Gamus,” Nona said. “They tripped all over themselves reaching for the money Gamus held out to them. We walked away while they were arguing among themselves over who got what.”
“So they came into your house that night and took you away?”
“No, no, no,” Nona said. “The ruffians came today, just a few hours ago.”
“The soldiers came the night you left the boy,” Gamus clarified. “They left before the sun rose.”
“Then,” Nona continued, “I took
the boy and we stayed at my sister’s house until I felt it was safe to take the boy to his mother.”
Marcus remembered the reunion. He could still see Annia’s eyes sparkling, surrounded by her boys, cradling Maelia in her arms.
Nothing was so beautiful to him as Annia holding her baby, her sons beside her, her face glowing.
Pure joy. Would he ever know a joy that pure?
His joys had all been on the battlefield. The joy of conquering a city, of expanding an empire.
But now he wished to learn new joys. He believed this woman, Annia, could help him.
She wasn’t the woman he had planned on, that was certain, so why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? He could see her now, nearly dancing with joy.
“You saw her. She was so happy she danced, Marcus,” Nona said. The woman had the most uncanny way of knowing his mind. “I told her you followed through on your promises. I think she understood.”
Marcus smiled his response. But then his face clouded with worry.
“He said something,” Marcus said, his voice cracking like an adolescent’s.
Nona looked at him. “What, son? What did he say?”
“He said that she had slept with someone else, had been completely unfaithful.”
“Of course he said that,” Nona said. “It’s the only way he could get rid of her. But you know, Rome is big, but Rome is small.”
“What do you mean by that?” Marcus asked.
“What I mean by that is that I know she has never been unfaithful, if that is what you are thinking.”
“How would you know that?”
“My sister is friends with her cook. She says Annia was the sweetest thing the house ever knew. She claims Galerius Janius is a greedy, self-interested pig. She says that he became that way because his father told him he would never amount to anything.”
“Are we supposed to feel sorry for him?” Marcus asked.
“No, not at all. It’s just nice to know why people are the way they are. He has to prove to himself and everyone else that he will amount to something. He believes power is success and power is for sale.”
