The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  Quintus stood at the door, watched Julia leave. He turned back to Damon, a slow, triumphant smile curving his lips.

  Damon answered with a glower. “When will I die, Prefect?”

  Quintus gave him a measuring look. “You’re not as ignorant as I believed. Tomorrow morning you will die the lowest death. You will be crucified.” A cold smile curved his lips. “I do so love to win.”

  Damon closed his eyes, willed himself not to give into the despair licking at his heart. There was still hope. Not for him, his pathetic luck had run its course. But for Julia. He would spend the last day of his life praying to every deity he could think of that she would find the evidence that would save her life.

  ***

  “There is nothing here, mistress,” said Kaj.

  Julia raised her head at the sorrow in her friend’s voice, clenching the papyrus roll in her hand. Kaj couldn’t give up, he just couldn’t. She had to find it. She had to find the scrolls and save Damon.

  She’d returned from the prison, desolate. Damon had been so wounded. Quintus had insisted to her that they had only interrogated him a bit, wanted to learn the truth and as all good patricians knew, a slave would only speak the truth under duress. That Damon had even been able to still raise his head and give her that wonderful, arrogant half smile had only sent the dagger deeper in her heart.

  Immediately, she’d set the household to looking for the scrolls. They’d searched every crevice, looked beneath furniture, torn the house apart. She even had two servants dig up the garden. She’d concentrated the search to her father’s library. With Lares’ and Kaj’s assistance she’d scanned and discarded scores of texts, records, and personal writings.

  She rose from the desk. “No, Kaj. It is be here.” It had to be here. “It only makes sense when that man, Theophilus kept coming to see father.” She snatched up a leather tube that was already emptied of its contents, let it drop from her hand. She let out a ragged sob. “Damon.”

  Kaj’s eyes filled with sorrow.

  “Julia,” said Lares gently.

  Julia slapped away her brother’s reassuring hand, rubbed the tears away. She was not giving up. Damon’s life depended on it. She would send the family away to safety and go to the Emperor and plead his case. She’d ask her father’s friends to help.

  “Let him see.”

  Julia raised her head and wiped her eyes. Aunt Sophia knelt beside her, one frail hand stroking Julia’s shoulder. She wanted to weep all the more for the compassion in her befuddled aunt’s eyes.

  “Let him see.” She repeated.

  “Oh, Aunt Sophia,” she said in a trembling voice. “Please, not now.”

  Sophia’s mouth twisted in a frown. She caught Julia’s wrist in a firm grip and pulled her to her feet.

  “Aunt Sophia!”

  Aunt Sophia answered by guiding her back to her father’s massive desk. She fell to her knees and poked her head under the table.

  “I will call Helena,” said Kaj.

  “No,” said Julia, holding up a hand. “I think she wants to show me something.”

  Aunt Sophia smiled and picked at some loose mortar in the floor. Julia tried to lift the stone out but Kaj nudged her aside and removed it. Julia reached in and pulled out three leather tubes. Hands shaking, she opened the first and scanned the rows of carefully scribed entries.

  *****

  Damon stumbled as the soldier prodded him forward with the point of his spear.

  At dawn, two soldiers had come to his cell, shackled him hand and foot, bolted an iron collar around his neck and taken him to the entrance of the prison. There he joined another group of prisoners just like before, though these men looked anything but innocent of heinous crimes.

  This time his execution would be a more public affair. No sinister machinations but a proclaimed message of triumph for Quintus Marcellus. The condemned men were paraded out of the prison with a blast of trumpets and driven through the streets of Rome toward the most populated road in Rome, the Via Appia.

  Yes, Damon thought dully. Quintus wanted the entire world to view Damon’s corpse and know that he had won.

  Damon paid no attention to the crowds who jeered at him. He couldn’t care less about anything save Julia. The not knowing, or worse, the knowledge that she might even now be suffering under Quintus’ cruelty was killing him faster than any cross.

  “Master!”

  Damon plodded forward, barely registered the rotten cabbage that glanced off his shoulder.

  “Master! Damon!”

  Dazed, Damon looked to his left, searched the crowd. His mind was playing games with him.

  “Master Damon Pontus!”

  Damon blinked, focused on the bald man towering over the crowd. Kaj?

  Kaj shouldered his way to the edge, took advantage of the soldier’s inattention to walk beside Damon. “It is found. Julia found it.”

  Damon paused, his chains clanking as he gripped Kaj’s arm. He searched his eyes, relief flooding him at the truth there.

  “Move, you dog,” growled the soldier, jabbing Damon forward.

  Kaj tried to follow, but another soldier held him back. “Master, it...” he shouted.

  Damon tried to hear what he said, but the din of the spectators drowned him out. It didn’t matter. He raised his head, ignored the pain as pride squared his shoulders. Julia was safe. His woman was safe. This time he would die for a reason. He would die with honor.

  The remainder of the journey was a blur. He roused enough to note he was to be among the first to be spiked. He stood without struggling as they stripped the tunic from his body, vaguely noting the raw pain of the dried, bloody cloth ripping open his wounds.

  Damon squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch the preparations as they tied him to the cross. It would be over in a few hours. He’d never truly thought a man could die content but he would in the knowledge that his goddess would live. He whispered a prayer to Jupiter and one to Jared’s god that she would be happy. That she find a husband worthy of a goddess’ love.

  “Halt,” barked a deep voice.

  Damon kept his eyes closed. They were talking about something else. His death would not be interrupted, not with Quintus orchestrating the execution. He jumped as the ropes binding him were removed and he was lifted to his feet, the world spinning into blackness.

  *****

  Roses. The afterlife smelled of roses and woman. His woman.

  Damon floated in a light haze. It was a pleasing surprise to find that his eternity would be scented with memories of the goddess who had, for a brief time, made his life in the mortal world worth living.

  “Damon?”

  Damon’s brow furrowed at the gentle voice. It sounded like her, too.

  “Damon Primax, open your eyes.”

  With effort he did, squinted at the blurred image hovering over him. Blinking slowly, for even that small action was painful, the vision came into focus.

  A look of relief crossed Julia’s face before she spoke. “It is past time for you to wake up and speak to me.”

  Damon shook the cobwebs from his mind and looked around the room. He was lying on the bed in Julia’s chamber. The window was open, sunshine lighting the handful of people scattered along the walls; Jared and Bryna with their tiny son, Lares, Aunt Sophia, Basil, Dorcas, even Kaj who—he blinked again—was actually smiling.

  Julia was perched on the bed beside him, tempting him to reach out and touch her thigh. He managed to do so but his hand shook. She smiled and slipped her hand in his, wiping a damp cloth over his brow.

  “I don’t understand,” he croaked, pausing to drink from the cup of cool water she held to his lips.

  “Aunt Sophia,” Julia replied. “She knew where the scrolls were hidden. Father no doubt thought she would not comprehend what they were and felt no need to conceal his actions from her.” She sent a loving look to her aunt. “But she did and she saved you.”

  Aunt Sophia blushed and stepped forward. “I am glad you
are well, Faust.”

  Damon gave a short laugh, moaning against the pain in his ribs.

  “Julia brought the evidence to me,” continued Flavian, who stepped from the shadows. “I procured a late-night audience with Nero. Not an easy task. Octavian had kept meticulous records of Quintus’ deceit. Nero was not pleased.”

  Damon laced his fingers through Julia’s. “Quintus?”

  Julia stroked the top of his hand. “When the Emperor saw the extent of the theft and the other parties—Tertius in particular—he issued immediate warrants for their arrest. Tertius committed suicide before the soldiers could gain access to his house.”

  A bolt of dread shot through him. “My sister?”

  “Safe,” Jared answered. “I went myself and saw her delivered to your mother.” He frowned. “She almost wouldn’t leave with me, insisted I tell her the code word.”

  Damon smiled. “Cleopatra.”

  Jared raised one brow. “You can explain that later.”

  Damon’s grin widened. “And the Prefect?”

  Julia held his gaze. “He took your place on the cross.”

  Damon considered that. He felt no remorse but wished he could have had a hand in ending the bastard’s life.

  Flavian stepped forward. “The Emperor also bade me to bring this to you.”

  Damon looked from the scroll Flavian offered to Julia. “Is it another death warrant?”

  He heard Jared snort and watched as Julia took the scroll, broke the Imperial seal, untied the leather thongs and began to read. His apprehension turned to confusion as she laughed. “What does it say?”

  “It says by decree of the Emperor Nero, your designation as a Roman citizen is reaffirmed and your rank as a noble of the equestrian class reinstated.”

  Damon was stunned speechless—again.

  Julia continued. “And in gratitude for exposing the plot against the Empire, Nero bestows on Damon Primax a domus of his choosing and a yearly stipend of one thousand silver pieces.”

  Somehow he managed to find his tongue. His gaze shifted back to Julia. “Why is everyone here?”

  She lifted her chin. “They are here to witness my marriage.”

  “Marriage?”

  Julia leaned down and brushed her lips across his. “Indeed. Damon Primax, you will marry me.”

  Damon’s lips curved against Julia’s. The goddess Fortuna had finally bestowed her favor on the Primax family.

  On him.

  He splayed his hand behind her head and deepened the kiss. “Who am I to argue with a goddess?”

  _____________

  Epilogue

  “By the gods! Look at that one!”

  Damon Primax turned at Lares’ exclamation, tossed a coin to the vendor for the sweet figs he’d just purchased. The boy might be his brother-in-law, but he was still a boy whose enthusiasm and energy could weary the gods. But he’d kept his promise and brought him to see the sailing vessels.

  That it had taken six months to see it done could be forgiven.

  It had taken that long to settle all the pieces of his new life into place. It had taken weeks for his body to heal from Quintus’ torture and while he would have insisted that Julia postpone their marriage until he was in prime health, she would have none of it. Dressed in a simple white tunic and crimson veil worn by her mother on her wedding day and he propped with pillows to his back, they had said their vows before a priest and enough witnesses between their families for two weddings.

  The Emperor had made good on his promise to reinstate Damon’s equite rank which proved daunting, accounting for property and familial treasures scattered to the four winds by his father. With Jared’s connections in the trade world, he’d even been able to track down part of his Mother’s jewelry. Revisiting those dark times had also revealed that his father had died of the pox not two months after he’d decimated his family. While he found it difficult to mourn the man, heeding Julia’s suggestion that their new life need start out cleansed of past sins, he’d offered a sacrifice at the household’s altar for Felix and—for good measure—himself.

  “Damon! Look! An artemon!”

  Damon hid a smile and stepped down to the dock, keeping a sharp eye on Lares as he ran along the wooden dock, moving from one ship to the next. Lares attention was consumed by the varied crafts, not the milling crowd of slaves, sailors and undesirables bent on preying upon an unsuspecting youth. If one should make such a mistake, it would be their last as Damon Primax would kill to protect his family.

  Family. By the gods, he had a family. People he loved, who loved him—an amazing thing to his mind—who depended on him. He glanced to a small rise of ground just clearing the docks, to the simple litter which held his heart, his soul. He clenched his jaw against the raw emotion.

  “Gods, Damon. Doesn’t the boy ever speak below a shout?”

  Damon grinned as Jared joined him, scowling with mock affront.

  “Not so much,” he laughed, “His spirit and energy and voice have grown with the strength of his legs.”

  Jared sent him a sidelong glance. “You and Julia must find it difficult to be alone.”

  “We manage,” he answered, the heat rising in his blood at the memory of the previous night. It had been money well spent to refurbish the domus’ stable.

  Jared smirked, then sobered. “My father has had news of Senator Manulus.”

  Damon nodded, knowing the grave tone of his friends voice meant the news was as he suspected. “Where?”

  “A small town, a settlement really, not ten leagues from the city gates. His body was found at the bottom of a well.” Jared pulled a cloth pouch from his cloak and handed it to Damon. “This was found with the remains.”

  Damon opened the pouch and slipped out a gold ring. A sad smile tugged at his lips at the entwined dolphins engraved on it.

  “Father will take care of the burial,” continued Jared. “As soon as he knows your wishes.” Jared’s gaze tracked to the litter. “When will you tell her?”

  “Tonight,” he answered, stuffing the pouch into his own belt and looking out over the harbor, the sun sparkling off the water like jewels, like Julia’s eyes. Lares’ laughter carried to them. “Let her enjoy the beauty of this day.”

  Jared nodded. “I also received word that your mother and Lita arrived safely in Alexandria. I had my agents find them a suitable dwelling and other household necessities.”

  Damon released a breath and with it welcomed a flicker of hope. Obtaining Lita’s freedom had come easier thanks to a royal decree but his sister had still struggled with her change in status. So young when she was enslaved, she fought constant tension, the fear of displeasing, a hyper-awareness so common to slaves for survival. His efforts to comfort her had been met with meek silence which both angered and terrified him. For a time, he’d feared he’d found his sister only to lose her again.

  Then Chryse had intervened, declaring she and her daughter would move to Alexandria, away from Rome and—pray the gods—away from Lita’s fears so that she may heal. That Chryse also decided to retire from her profitable enterprise, bestowing her house to a thrilled Lyris, came as unexpected but welcome news.

  “Damon?”

  The soft voice drifting from the hill drew him back to the present. Once before a goddess had called out to him and had led him to his own Mount Olympus. He grinned at the woman leaning out of the proper confines of the litter, the sun glinting off the honey-gold curls escaping her veil, a veil she casually slipped off her head. He glanced again at Lares, saw the ever present Kaj keeping watch, then slapped Jared on the back. “My thanks for all you have done. You are a good friend, one I do not deserve.”

  “As are you,” replied Jared.

  “Ah, but there is one difference.”

  Jared frowned.

  Damon leaned close. “You do deserve me.” Damon spun on his heel as Jared snorted and headed away from the docks, dodging porters, beggars and patricians to reach the path to the litter. With a wave of his
hand he dismissed the bearers, his gaze locked on Julia, heat rising as she flushed beneath his regard. He leaned into the conveyance. “I understand there is a goddess in need of worship at this temple,” he said in a husky voice, inhaling the sweet rose scent as he nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear.

  “Damon, you are incorrigible,” she replied with a throaty laugh. “We are in public.”

  Damon trailed kisses down her shoulder. “Do we not have to convince the nobles of our devotion?”

  Julia caught his hand, splayed it on the swell of her stomach. “Oh, I feel they must know.”

  Damon grinned and covered her mouth, pleasure sheering through him as she met his kiss with equal fervor. He growled like a starved animal when she pulled away.

  “We must see Lares home and then,” she nibbled at his jaw, “then my patrician husband we shall see what fortune brings you.”

  “I’ll take my chances now.” Damon climbed into the litter and snapped the curtains closed.

  Author Bio

  Joan Kayse believes love spans the ages. She crafts stories that transport readers to other time periods and other realities. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky where she shares her home and keyboard with two baby cats, Cricket Marie and Grayson the Monkey Cat.

  www.joankayse.com

  facebook.com/joankayseauthor

  twitter.com/joankayse

  romancebandits.com

  Also By Joan Kayse

  The Patrician

  Jared of Alexandria, a merchant prince, must find the enemy who threatens his empire. He seeks the counsel of a beautiful seer only to fall into a fate worse than death. Bryna of Eire lives with guilt which grows when she is forced to lie to the sensual man. Thrown together by fate, they evade capture and seek their enemy. Can the differences that separate them save their lives and their love?

  Available now on Amazon

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2013 By Joan Kayse