Couldn’t one just be a decent human being? Not in this garrison.
Wryn thudded along the walkway, past high barracks and familiar stone walls. He swung the door to the officers’ quarters open.
Half a dozen tribunes stood by the back wall, all men he worked with here and there through the past six years.
“Felix.” With a grin, Tribune Vitus stepped out of the knot. “Back in Rome at last.”
“Salve.” Wryn grasped his hand and nodded to the others. Yes, back in Rome, and he intended to have a praetor position to show for it this time because he grew thoroughly sick of drilling legionaries and wished to do something meaningful with his career.
The door hinges squeaked behind him. A courier held up a tablet. “Missive for Wryn Paterculi.”
Tribune Vitus took it. “Who’s Wryn Paterculi?” Vitus swung his dark-eyed gaze to him, the man’s voice all too loud. “That’s a barbaric tribesman name.”
Wryn grabbed for the tablet.
Vitus jerked it above his head, and now the other tribunes circled, all looking at him. “Your name’s Felix.”
Wryn glared at the tablet. “My familia calls me Wryn.”
“Wryn?” A tribune with a high-pitched voice guffawed. “Sounds like some painted savage. A berserker stripped naked and decorated in woad.”
Yes, perhaps his mother should have thought of that before saddling him with a Celtic name he worked years to avoid letting anyone he worked with know. At least Father had the sense to list something more normal in the official birth register. Wryn extended his hand. “Just give me the tablet.”
“Wryn. Wryn.” Vitus jostled him, smirking.
“Quidquid, Vitus.” Wryn flipped the wooden tablet cover open. His sister’s name etched the wax. A missive from Gwen, of course. Trust Gwen to get him mocked in front of every soldier he worked with. She wanted him to come to a dinner party at Legate Aemilli’s house tonight. Just what he didn’t want to do after five days of travel—talk to people.
This evening, he’d like to pour over the information he discussed with Marcellus last night. What would Victor Ocelli smuggle on the Ides of Junio? Grain to flood Rome’s supply and ruin the farmers? Slaves? No, Emperor Trajan would welcome an influx of slaves.
What then? He’d discover it and bring down his archenemy Victor Ocelli, the man who had tried to assassinate him.
“Come tonight.” Vitus elbowed him. “We’re all going to a party.”
Wryn sighed.
“It’s a perfectly reputable party.” Lucius, a tribune with long fingers, slapped his shoulder. “Nothing to offend a Paterculi.”
“I have work to do.” Wryn bent to sign his name on the garrison log. Why did everyone want him to talk to people? He much preferred work hours, orders, campaigns, building projects— all things he excelled at.
“It’s at Legate Aemilli’s house.” Vitus’ newly polished armor caught the glint of afternoon sunlight. “His daughter will attend. I hear he’d like a marriage alliance with you.”
Lucius knocked his bracer against Wryn’s tunic sleeve. “Though the legate might rethink that if he knew our Felix was actually the woad-painted Celt, Wryn.”
Thanks to Gwen, he’d have to endure weeks of this mocking. Wryn scratched the last ‘i’ of his name on the garrison parchment.
Vitus winked at him. “You’re twenty-five, time to get started on those heirs.”
“My father’s signing the papers for the Valeri daughter this summer.” Lucius leaned against the wood wall. “You’ll come to my betrothal?”
“Very well.” Wryn rolled the parchment. More people to talk to, and call it the insanity of his mother’s Celtic notions, but he wanted to fall in love with a girl, not mindlessly make the political alliance of a marriage. Though, of course, she had to come from a politically influential family. As the Paterculi heir, he couldn’t choose a girl from one of the less-connected patrician families.
Yawning, Vitus scratched underneath his bracer. “Your sister flamed the ears of Rome in your absence. Rumor says she slapped an Aedile for belittling his wife.”
“Your brother entered this year’s Olympic Games.” The squeaky-voiced tribune turned his nose up. “Chose working in trade over politics, and now he’s competing in Athens like some Greek.”
Wryn tugged the garrison reports off the shelf. He’d read over these tonight and catch up on what he missed. Also, he knew his family was insane. Did he truly have to get ridiculed for it too?
What he would give for his familia to act like respectable Romans for once rather than some sort of Celtic barbarians who created gossip throughout Rome.
The door jolted open. The decurion dragged Libya into the room, his hand clamped on her arm. Her ebony hair caught in the soldier’s shoulder plates, her fast breathing calling attention to her bosom.
Wryn slammed the garrison reports on the table. “I told you to leave her alone.”
“I didn’t suppose you’d like the entire garrison burned down.” The decurion motioned behind him. A legionary wrenched Horus forward.
Libya shoved at the decurion’s cuirass, and his hand dropped from her. Her black eyes had an ethereal quality.
Wryn turned his gaze to Horus. The boy raised round cheeks, a smile turning up his small mouth. “You expect me to believe this child almost burned down a garrison?”
The legionary held up Horus’ little hand. The boy grasped flint and tinder with smoke-tinged fingers. “He had a barrel of olive oil alight. We only just got it out before the barracks could catch fire.”
Wryn stared at the boy. “You’re a violent—”
Libya fell to her knees. Her dress slid down over her sculpted shoulders. The sunlight glistened on the star-shaped tattoo on her cheek, and her falling hair caressed each of her curves, just like on that dancing floor five nights ago. “I’m to blame for not watching him better. Please don’t punish him.”
Wryn groaned and motioned to her to stand. “We’re leaving.” Only a few more hours remained until he sent Libya and her savage of a son away forever.
Vitus’ eyes lighted. “Wryn, the Celtic berserker, brings a slave boy to the garrison and the boy almost burns it down. Your barbaric allies will congratulate you.”
“Don’t you have any other inane gossip to titillate your small mind with?” Wryn grabbed the garrison reports.
“Perhaps. Who’s the girl?” Vitus ran his gaze down Libya’s lovely body in the way he struggled not to allow himself to for the last five days.
Wryn stepped between Vitus and Libya. “No one.”
Lucius smirked. “She doesn’t look like no one.”
“A slave?” the squeaky-voiced tribune said.
“Your slave?” Lucius circled his finger around the gilt design on his scabbard as his gaze raked over Libya’s body same as Vitus’ had.
“Your mistress?” The squeaky-voiced tribune also looked overly long at Libya.
“Ha!” Vitus smirked, laughter lighting his pinched face. “Everyone knows the Paterculis are too stoically virtuous to stoop to mistresses. Though his sister ran away with a man who wasn’t her husband before they married. Guess those stellar morals only descend through the male line.”
In one stride, Wryn grabbed Vitus by his shoulder plates. “Don’t insult my sister.”
All the men’s eyes stayed focused on Libya.
“Then again, a siren like her could break down even Stoic morals.” With a grin, Lucius ran his finger down a lock of Libya’s all too available hair.
Wryn shoved Lucius. His gaze touched Libya. “Come.” Kicking the door open, he thrust a legionary out of the way, and Libya and Horus followed him out.
Translation Key
As—a small copper coin.
Chiton—a dress with sleeves that was popular with the Greeks as well as the Romans.
Denarius—a silver coin equal to a day’s wages for a laborer.
Domina—the title for an elite married woman. A slave would also address his mistre
ss by this title.
Dominus—the title for an elite man. A slave would also address his master by this title.
Domus—house.
Ecce—behold, see, look.
Equestrian—a person of higher rank who still wasn’t as elite as a patrician.
Familia—family.
Legate—a Roman general.
Legionary—a foot soldier roughly equivalent to our modern day private.
Patrician—a member of the noblemen class.
Plebian—a commoner.
Salve—greetings, hello, goodbye.
Sestertii—silver coins worth about 1/4 of a denarius.
Stola—an outer garment worn by married women.
Stulte—stupid, foolish.
Tunic—a knee-length garment worn by men.
Tunica—a floor-length, sleeveless dress.
Tribune—a Roman officer position usually assumed by young men of the patrician class. This office was a stepping stone into political positions.
Quidquid—whatever.
The Way—an old name for Christianity.
Paterculi Family Tree
Discussion Questions
1. What values do Gwen and Marcellus share? Where do they derive those values from?
2. How does being from opposite worlds, Marcellus a slave, Gwen an entitled patrician, both tear them apart and bring them together?
3. Many things are said today about the importance of having a father in the home. How do the callous choices Marcellus’ father makes affect him?
4. Was Gwen running off with Marcellus a good idea? What kind of trouble could she have gotten herself into?
5. Even though Fabius never broke a Roman law, he was still the villain of To Deceive an Empire. Marcellus and Gwen, on the other hand, broke many laws. When is it appropriate to break man-made laws?
6. Gwen and her family often butted heads, but in the end, they are the reason she was able to save Marcellus’ life twice. What did you think of Gwen’s parent's actions? How did they show they cared about her?
7. Patriarchal laws barred Gwen from many of the things she wanted to do. How did marrying Marcellus give Gwen new opportunities?
8. What is the difference between revenge and justice? Do you think, in the end, Marcellus made the right choice to give up the slave revolt? Why or why not?
9. What did you see as the difference between Gwen’s relationship with her two older twin brothers, Eric and Wryn? How did the way Gwen interacted with Wryn in To Deceive and Empire compare to how she interacted with Eric in When Gambling?
10. How did Gwen’s mixed cultural upbringing and her mother being Celtic affect her values and ideas? Learn more in For Life or Until, the story of how Gwen’s parents met.
Historical Note
In Ancient Rome, if a master died and foul play was suspected, every single slave in his household was killed. This tragic law was supposed to stop angry slaves from murdering their masters and covering it up as an accident. Roman masters were especially afraid of cooks since they feared, perhaps correctly, that an abused cook would poison the food.
Slaves were considered property instead of people, so consent was of no concern in intimate relations between masters and slave. Male masters almost unanimously participated in intimate relations with their own slaves regardless of slaves’ feelings on the matter. Unlike modern culture that defines people by what gender they are attracted to, Roman men were expected to be attracted to male and female alike. As long as they kept their proclivities confined to the slaves in their household, no one cared what they did.
Free women, on the other hand, were expected to remain chaste until marriage and then remain monogamous in order to bear untainted heirs. The introduction of the early church’s teaching on sexuality shocked the Roman world. The idea of holding men and women to the same sexual standards and that every person was created in the image of God and had intrinsic worth, even slaves, was an empire-shaking notion at its time. While many of the elite struggled with the idea of giving up their abusive power to follow this Jesus, slaves and women flocked to this new religion that gave them equal dignity before God.
Infamia under Roman law was the official loss of social or legal standing. A prostitute was considered a woman of infamia, but infamy stretched further than that. Men could become infamia as a result of dishonorable conduct in the military or cheating in business dealings. Deeds such as becoming a public actor could bring infamia on a person, male or female. Once a person became infamia, they no longer enjoyed legal protection under the law. If someone committed a crime against them, they could not sue the perpetrator in court.
Acknowledgments
To my critique partners and beta readers. Thank you for reading at a crazy fast speed so I could meet my deadline.
Kati
Abigail Cossette Ryan zarecaspian.com
Ben Wand http://inventingbendwand.wordpress.com
J. L. Bradley http://jlbradley.com
Kim Griggs http://www.kimberlygriggs.wordpress.com
Sue Campbell Freivald
Rachael Tamayo
Rick Ellrod
And others who did not wish to be named.
A big shout-out to my husband for all the countless hours he came home from long days at work and fed, entertained, and educated “Joe-Joe” so I could write.
I’m very thankful to my parents for all the hours they watched “Joe-Joe” so I could write and for how they made sure Joe-Joe had so much fun he didn’t want to come home when I picked him up.
To Baby Chip, for making me so sick my first trimester that I was incapable of getting off the couch and doing anything except write.
Cavé
CAVÉ - (pronounced kah-weh) Latin meaning Caution or Caution (You).
The Cavé Books imprint is dedicated to relating true to life stories from the historical period in the time of the early church. Scripture offers much wisdom on the topic of caution. Proverbs 14:16 informs believers that The wise are cautious and avoid danger; fools plunge ahead with reckless confidence.
Daily life for the followers of Christ the Lord during the latter part of the first century in the Roman Empire is truly difficult for modern Christians to imagine. These godly saints behaved so bravely in such trying times because they cautiously but devoutly followed the narrow path, the path of the cross - “the Way” (John 14:6; Acts 24:14-15). The legacy of their devotion and caution is the body of believers we know as the church today.
More Books by Anne Garboczi Evans
Love & Warfare Series
For Life or Until
When Gambling
To Deceive an Empire
Whoever Does Not Love
Lawmen & Suffragette Series
Hot Lead & Cold Apple Pie
Plum Pudding Bride
Short Fiction
Christmas Treasures: A Collection of Christmas Short Stories
Forever Family Series
What’s a Foster Family?
What’s A Forever Family?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
annegarboczievans.wordpress.com
Anne Garboczi Evans is a mental health counselor, military spouse, and mama to an opinionated preschooler named “Joe-Joe” and a very dramatic baby named “Chip.”
Reading Rosemary Sutcliff as a middle school student and taking Latin in college instilled in her a love of the Roman Empire, leading to her Love and Warfare series. Moving to the CO Rockies inspired her to write the Lawmen & Suffragette series, romantic comedies set in the Old West. Working in mental health got her interested in writing women’s fiction.
When not writing or reading, you can find Anne introducing her boys to the outdoor wonders of colorful Colorado.
Website: annegarboczievans.wordpress.com
Blog: annegarboczievans.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/annegarboczievans
Twitter: twitter.com/garboczievans
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/garboczievans
Anne Garboczi Evans, To Deceive an Empire: Love and Warfare series book 3
To Deceive an Empire: Love and Warfare series book 3 Page 37
