by Tanya Bird
‘His strong leadership and enduring compassion have made him very popular,’ Aquila reminded him.
‘Yes,’ Paulus agreed. ‘Compassion—even in the throes of war.’ The way he said it did not sound like a compliment. He focused on Nerva again, quirking one eyebrow. ‘I meant to ask you, whatever happened to the prisoners who returned to Rome with you?’
There was no point in lying, as Paulus likely knew everything already. Still, he was not going to spoon-feed the new legate. ‘Many of them died from influenza.’
‘Not all, surely.’
He was fishing for a confession. ‘A handful survived.’
‘I did hear that a Maeatae warrior had been given her freedom and now roams our streets.’
Nerva’s stare was ice cold. ‘The woman saved my life. I paid for her freedom as an expression of gratitude.’
Aquila rose also. ‘There is that famous compassion again.’ She kept her tone light. ‘Never a bad word to say about anyone.’
Paulus smiled politely. ‘It is an admirable quality if directed at the right people. I am not sure his supporters would sing his praises in this instance.’
Nerva tried to keep his hands relaxed. ‘Romans have long believed in the fair treatment of slaves.’
‘Assuming they know their place, of course,’ Aquila added.
Rufus clapped his hands together. ‘Let us not delay the general any longer.’
Paulus’s eyes were still fixed on Nerva. ‘I shall see you very soon.’
Nerva gave a slow nod. ‘I am certain you will.’
The legate left the room, and the three of them remained where they were, listening to his footsteps recede. A few moments later, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house.
Aquila let out a breath. ‘He does not like you. That is a big problem.’
‘Is it? He will be more likely to stay away, which suits me fine.’
His mother’s expression hardened. ‘You should be very careful. He is a man with growing power.’
‘He is Caracalla’s puppet.’
Rufus rubbed his forehead. ‘Your mother is right. He might be Caracalla’s puppet, but he is also a big part of his agenda. Until we understand the game we are playing, we should be very careful.’ He looked tiredly at Nerva. ‘Now is not the time to be sympathetic to prisoners of the war that took Severus from the people.’
‘The war did not take him, poor health did.’
‘No one cares. They need somewhere to channel their grief and anger.’
‘What your father is trying to say,’ Aquila cut in, ‘is do not parade your barbarian lover around the city. You cannot afford to lose popularity right now.’
Rufus shook his head. ‘Just be careful.’ He left the room, his footsteps heavy on the floor.
Nerva considered leaving also before his mother had a chance to speak.
‘It was foolish to take her to the trigarium.’
Too late. Her spies were out in force, it seemed. ‘It was not a political statement.’
She stared at him for the longest time before speaking. ‘Please tell me you are not foolish enough to fall in love with some broken slave at a time like this.’
‘She is not broken.’ She was unbreakable, though this was probably not the right time to argue the fact. Nerva went to speak, then closed his mouth again. He was in way over his head when it came to her. Love seemed like a shallow word for what he felt. It was something far more consuming, and it was growing in strength. ‘She is going home to her family.’ He was not sure if he said it for the benefit of his mother or as a reminder to himself.
‘When?’
‘As soon as it is safe.’
Aquila gathered up the skirt of her garment and glided past him. ‘The sooner the better. For both your sakes.’
Chapter 28
After the fight, Brei was surprised to find Nerva waiting outside the small arena. ‘What are you doing here?’ She knew he hated watching her fight, and even if he had stayed outside, he would have been able to hear most of it.
‘I wanted to walk you home.’
‘Why?’ His tense body language and distracted expression made her uneasy. He was looking around as though he was expecting someone to join them.
‘Because the city is a dangerous place.’ He gestured for her to start walking.
‘In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m less vulnerable than most women. Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here, or am I supposed to guess?’
He glanced sideways at her as they turned onto a dark street. ‘What is with all the questions? Perhaps I just wanted to surprise you.’
‘Oh, well in that case, I’ll just ignore your morbid expression.’ He did not even appear to hear her. ‘Is this about me fighting?’
That brought his attention back to her. ‘No.’
He was clearly not feeling very chatty. ‘I won, in case you were wondering.’
‘Yes, I heard. Did they call you Venus?’
‘Goddess of love, desire, sex, and prosperity.’
He pressed his mouth into a thin line. ‘Another reason to walk you home. Does Gallus have you fighting topless also?’
She frowned at that, pulling her palla tighter around her. ‘Where I come from, the naked body is an effective way to intimidate one’s enemy.’
An abrupt laugh escaped him. ‘And where I come from, it is an effective way for men to get off.’
She grabbed him by the arm and stopped walking. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
He stared down at the marks on her arm, lit up by moonlight. ‘You are going to be an assortment of colours in the morning, Venus.’
‘And so are you if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind.’
He shook his head, his expression serious. ‘I am trying to figure out a way to get you home.’
Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it was not that. ‘I thought you said it was best if we waited.’
‘I said when it is safe.’
‘And is it? Safe?’
He drew a long breath and looked at her. ‘I do not think it is going to get any safer than right now.’
The prospect of returning home soon should have made her body sing. Instead, she felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach. There was one very big downside to her departure. ‘You’re awfully desperate to be rid of me all of a sudden. There are easier ways to back out of our plans this evening, if that’s what this is about.’
He stepped up to her, cupping her face, and kissed her with such intensity, all she could do was hold on to his wrists. Afterwards, he pulled away but kept hold of her face. ‘Do not say things like that, or I will be forced to take you in the doorway of that shopfront to prove you wrong.’
She swallowed. ‘Promise?’
He released her face, head shaking as he took a step back. ‘I said I would keep you safe, and it is not safe for you here anymore.’
Her eyebrows came together. ‘Talk plainly so I don’t have to guess at what’s happening here.’ When he did not answer straight away, she added, ‘Please.’
Nerva linked his hands on top of his head and exhaled. ‘Cordius is back in Rome. I am going to assume you remember him.’
Oh, she remembered him. ‘I never forget the names of men who slaughter children, nor the ones who tie me up and lash me.’ She crossed her arms, waiting.
Nerva’s shoulders fell a few inches. ‘He asked after you.’
She sat with that information for a moment. ‘Well, I'm not afraid of men like Cordius.’
‘You should be.’
‘I know his type.’
‘And I know him.’ He seemed to hesitate before continuing. ‘I fear he will come after you.’
‘Why?’ But even as she asked the question, the answer formed. It was not about her. ‘He’s not really coming after me. He’s going after you.’ She took a step back. ‘I’m just a means.’
‘That is why I want to get you home.’ Nerva closed his eyes. ‘If anyth
ing happens to you…’
A moving shadow caught Brei’s attention. It looked like the outline of a man. Every hair on her body stood on end. She had come to recognise every type of danger inside the city, particularly the drunk men who lurked after dark. Though judging by his even gait and steady pace as he walked towards them, this man was sober. ‘We need to go.’
Nerva followed her gaze, eyes narrowing. Brei was not going to hang about so he could assess the situation for himself; she was going to follow the feeling in her gut and hope she was wrong. Grabbing Nerva by the arm, she pulled him in the other direction. In that same moment, someone stepped in front of them. Brei pulled Nerva back this time, just as a blade swung past him.
She was not wrong.
It did not take Nerva long to catch up with what was happening then. He pushed Brei to the other side of him while keeping a close eye on the dagger in the man’s hand. Brei glanced back at the other man still approaching behind them.
‘Tell me you have a weapon hidden beneath that expensive tunic of yours.’ She was looking both ways.
Nerva did not have a weapon.
‘Did Cordius send you?’ he asked, putting himself between Brei and the man.
She resisted the urge to shove him out of the way. When was he going to realise that she was in better shape than he was?
‘Or did Caracalla give the order himself?’ Nerva continued.
‘Does it matter?’ the man behind them asked, a laugh in his tone. ‘What’ll you do with the information when you’re dead?’
Nerva’s gaze drifted between the men, one arm outstretched in front of Brei like a horizontal shield. ‘Let her go. She has nothing to do with any of this.’
The other man stepped forwards. ‘No one’s going anywhere.’ He pulled a small dagger from a sheath and wet his lips. ‘Don’t be too afraid. Wherever you’re headed, your father’s waiting there for you.’
Even in the dark, she saw Nerva pale. He seemed to stop breathing as the words reached him. They were surely toying with him, making him suffer in his final moments. Rufus Papias was entertaining in his home. That was what Nerva had told her that afternoon. And yet Nerva’s expression seemed to contrast everything she thought she knew.
‘No one is dying.’ Nerva spoke the words like he was giving an order, his voice deep and firm. ‘Unless you try something foolish. Then I make no guarantees.’
Brei’s breathing quietened, and her fingers twitched at her sides. If they made a move, she was ready.
‘Is Caracalla sending thugs instead of soldiers to do his dirty work now?’ Nerva asked.
Brei took in their plain clothes and weapons. They were different to the ones Roman soldiers carried during battle.
‘Ask yourself why,’ Nerva continued. ‘These desperate acts are going to upset a lot of people.’
He was trying to talk them off the ledge, but everything about their body language suggested it was too late.
One of the men went for Nerva, the other for Brei. She hated that Nerva was unarmed and was not particularly pleased about being unarmed herself. When her attacker thrust a knife at her middle, she curved her body so it missed. She responded with a hard kick to the offending limb. The knife flew from his hand, landing in the shadows some distance away. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he turned to her, his bushy brows pinching together to form one fierce scowl. He pulled another knife from a sheath on his leg and swung it at her with such force that she barely had time to get out of the way. She panicked when the blade brushed her neck, and her hand flew to her throat, surprised to find the skin intact. He came at her again, and she dropped into a crouch, kicking out at his knee. He cursed but kept hold of the weapon.
‘Run,’ Nerva called to her.
Run? She could see him fighting in her peripheral vision. There was no chance of her leaving him there to die. No, she was not going anywhere.
A growl erupted from her throat as she ran at her attacker, grabbing hold of the arm clutching the knife and turning sharply into him until she heard the snap of bone. When the weapon dropped from his hand, she kicked it in Nerva’s direction. ‘Dagger,’ she called as it slid towards him.
Without taking his eyes off his attacker, Nerva swooped down and snatched up the weapon. At least the fight was even now.
Brei shoved the injured man as hard as she could and watched him fall to the ground, clutching his arm and roaring through gritted teeth.
‘Run,’ Nerva said again.
If she was going to leave, this was her opportunity. Instead, she charged at the other man, knocking him sideways. She heard the smack of skull on stone and watched his body roll once before going limp.
Nerva grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. ‘Let us go—now.’
She resisted. ‘But they’re all still alive.’
‘Now!’ He broke into a jog, dragging her with him.
What on earth was he running from? Then a realisation hit her: he was not running away from the danger, he was running to his father. ‘All right.’ She sped up, and he let go of her.
As they sprinted through the streets and alleyways of the city, Brei could feel the tension coming off Nerva in waves. He surprised her by keeping up the same pace, even as they ascended the hill. Nerva finally slowed when he spotted a group of men on the street outside his house, talking in hushed tones. She watched hope bleed from him. The group turned when they reached them, and their expressions made Brei look down.
‘Where is my father?’ Nerva asked, looking between the men.
They shifted uncomfortably, smoothing out invisible creases in their togas. Finally, the grey-haired man closest to the steps cleared his throat.
‘Please accept our heartfelt condolences.’
That was when Brei saw the bloodstain on the cobbled road behind the men. She knew the moment Nerva saw it by his sharp intake of breath before he stepped back and collapsed to his knees. She had no idea how to help him, knew the burden of grief could not be shared. Nerva tipped forwards, fingers pressing into the stone. His head hung just a few inches off the ground. Brei went to him then, crouching down beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Silence rang out around them.
Chapter 29
Nerva walked a few paces behind the bier that carried his father. His mother was in the litter behind him. Far behind her were the women in Rufus Papias’s life who no one would acknowledge—the slave woman he had loved and one of his illegitimate daughters. His other daughter, Dulcia, would have likely received Nerva’s letter by then. He wished he could have told her in person, like he did Mila.
‘Dead?’ she had asked, blinking and swallowing as she waited for him to confirm it. While her relationship with Rufus had been strained, he was still her father.
‘Yes. I am sorry.’
She had hugged him then and held on for some time. ‘I am sorry. He did not deserve such an end.’
The high-pitched wailing and chest beating of the paid mourners pulled Nerva’s attention back to the procession. He looked either side of him at the people lining the streets to pay their respects. Many cried genuine tears. Rufus Papias had done much for the city, and those who truly knew him felt the loss.
The bier was taken outside of the city, the body placed in an elaborately decorated coffin without any worldly possessions. He would be buried, as per his wishes.
Nerva let someone else take care of the eulogy. He was barely holding it together as it was. The constant sniffs from his mother were not helping. Theirs might not have been the greatest love story of all time, but trust and respect sat in place of affection.
He glanced over his shoulder at Mila when his father disappeared through the mosaic entrance of the tomb. She offered him a weak smile. The man they had grown up with was really gone.
His gaze drifted to Brei, who had insisted on joining the procession despite his objections. He had wanted her to stay at the house where it was safe, but she could not be told. There was so much sympathy i
n her eyes, so much understanding and comfort, he was forced to turn away for fear he would embarrass himself with tears. He had gone to her every night since it happened, after his mother retired for the evening. He would bury himself in her until the pain eased enough to let him sleep. Waking up with Brei curled against him was the best form of comfort. She always knew what to say, and when to remain silent.
‘You must rejoin the senate,’ Aquila whispered to him, brushing an inconvenient tear from her cheek. ‘Every man present here today will support you.’
‘Must we discuss this now?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Now is the time to show the people of Rome that the Papias name continues to be a force in this world.’
He looked around to ensure no one was listening. ‘They are coming for me either way.’
His mother swallowed and waited for the eulogy to continue before speaking again. ‘Geta has promised you protection.’
‘In exchange for my loyalty.’
Her head snapped in his direction. ‘Where else would your loyalties lie after what Caracalla has done?’
‘My loyalties have always been with Rome.’
She faced forwards again. ‘Well, Rome is divided. In this city you choose a side or one is chosen for you.’ She looked around before adding, ‘And where is your pride? Those men came to our home and murdered your father in the street…’ She could barely get the words out.
He pinched the top of his nose. ‘Can we save the political conversation for after the feast? They have not even finished burying him yet.’
They fell silent as the eulogy came to an end.
She was right though. Everyone would be expecting him to step up and take his father’s place—and he did not want to. At some point the city had stopped feeling like home and had become a constant reminder of all the things he stood against. His political views had often been in opposition to his father’s.
Caracalla was no fool. He knew the death of Rufus Papias would put Nerva firmly on Geta’s side. The time for appearing neutral had passed.
He glanced over his shoulder again, eyes meeting Brei’s. It was time to get out of the city—before it was too late.
