He rose and pulled his pack from under the couch. He rummaged through it, tossing his belongings aside. He found the small leather pouch hidden at the bottom, untied it, and poured the bronze disks into his hand. Counted them out. Enough for maybe ten more days’ food and nights at the inn.
He didn’t have nearly enough to get back to Rome. Not that it would do him any good. His father wouldn’t let him in the gate, let alone the door.
Could he hire himself out in Philippi as a laborer? He had no experience as anything other than a soldier. But he could learn. He was still strong, resourceful. He could hunt, if necessary. He’d slept in the open more than in a tent.
A tap sounded on the door.
Quickly stuffing the coins back into the purse, he shoved it into his satchel and then kicked it under the couch. He strode to the door. When he opened it, an older man with gentle eyes and a crop of gray hair stood waiting on the other side.
“Quintus Valerius?”
Quin remained silent.
“I’m Decimus Magius, the duovir. May I come in?”
Quin scoffed and started to slam it, but Decimus jammed his foot against the frame. He was remarkably robust and quick for his age.
One hand still against the door, Quin leaned his forearm against the wall. “What do you want?”
“Don’t hold Gallus’s actions against me. I wish only to talk.”
He had a point. The man likely had no control over Gallus. “Come in.” Quin widened the door and moved to the small table in his room. He poured two goblets of wine. “Anything specific you wanted to discuss?”
Decimus closed the door behind him. “I thought we could get better acquainted. You are a tribune, are you not?”
“I am.” He offered the man one of the glass goblets.
“Legion?”
“Second Augusta.”
“One of Caesar’s best. Explains the grant from Vespasian.”
“I served for six years.”
“Then you just came from Britannia?”
Quin clenched his jaw. “I left earlier this year.”
“Why come here? Shouldn’t you have been assigned as a prefect somewhere?”
“Long story.” Why was this man questioning him? Did Gallus send him? Decimus said he was the other duovir, but he wore only a simple toga, not the extravagant purple-bordered toga praetexta he was entitled to. He could be anyone. Military strategy had taught Quin it would be better to withhold any information Gallus didn’t already possess. “I know you didn’t come here just to get better acquainted. What do you want?”
Decimus glanced around the room and pulled a stool away from the corner. “I’m sorry for what Gallus did to you. If I could change it, I would. But he has almost unfettered power here, due to his position and his family name. We’re supposed to work together, but it doesn’t always turn out that way.” He lowered himself onto the stool, adjusting the folds of his toga.
“I appreciate your concern, but it’s really not necessary.” He had no time for sympathy. It would not change his circumstances in the least.
“I may be able to help you.”
“You can get my land back?” Hope flickered in Quin’s chest . . .
“Not exactly.”
And was just as quickly snuffed out. “Then what?”
“I want you to be in charge of our prison.”
Quin laughed. “Impossible.” He drained his goblet and set it down. “Besides, why?”
The magistrate winced. “We’ve had some . . . incidents. We need someone experienced, someone with leadership skills. Someone like you.”
“Incidents?”
“Escapes. Brawls. Injuries to guards.” He traced the rim of his cup with his thumb.
He nodded and thought a moment. “Who’s in charge now?”
“A slave. It’s not the most sought-after position, as you can imagine.”
Quin pondered the idea. “Does it pay? I have nothing now. I chose land over money, which, in retrospect, appears to have been a bad decision. I can’t afford to rent or buy anything. Even food.”
Decimus set the cup on the floor and stood. “You’ll be provided everything. Food, clothes, a place to live.”
“What’s the staff like? How many guards do you have?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Decimus brightened, his hands moving quickly. “You’ll have as many people under you as you feel necessary. We have the resources. We are a small city, but we are not poor. We simply do not have the right people. And if you can train someone well enough to take over for you, you would have more than enough saved by then to do almost anything you desire.”
“Let me think about it.”
“At least if you do this, you’ll have a place to live and food to eat. I’ll protect you from Gallus.”
“He will not approve?”
“Probably not. But once I’ve appointed you, he cannot undo it.”
“I thought you could veto one another.”
“In theory. But he has the connections in Rome.” He retrieved the goblet and replaced it on the table.
“I’ll find you in a few days, then.”
At the door, Decimus turned back. “And Quintus?”
“Yes?”
“Until then, I would not discuss this with anyone.” He slipped out of the room.
Quin dropped back onto his lectus.
Prison guard. What would his pater say now?
The messages had been veiled all day, and Tia was exhausted from searching for them. It was as if Brigid was hiding from her the same way the sun ducked behind the clouds. Maybe if they got out of this dingy room and outside, where she could see the sun, feel it on her face, perhaps the visions would be clearer then.
Although maybe the goddess was just tired of Elantia coming to her all day, every day, and wouldn’t hear her any more, ever again.
It was worth a try . . . but she mustn’t admit weakness.
She gathered all her courage. “Domina?”
Cassia frowned. “Yes.”
“Do you think we might be able to go up to the forum? There might be some who rarely come down here, who only send servants to shop for them. We might find new customers.”
Cassia pursed her lips. “Max is already there, talking about you.”
“Perhaps if they see me . . .”
Cassia tilted her head, thought a moment. “All right. For the afternoon.”
She locked the room and they ascended the stairs. Tia’s golden hair brought people to her like flies to honey.
A young man in a dirty woolen tunic fought his way to be first in line. How did he come up with the money to pay her?
No matter. Not her concern. She reached for his hand. Smiled. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Philon.”
“And what is your question today?”
He glanced over his shoulder, as if he were being chased. “I . . . Someone . . . I need to know if I should stand up for myself.”
“Can you be any more specific?”
He shook his head, looked over his shoulder again.
“All right. Let’s see what she can tell us.” With so little information, and the messages blurry already, how could she know she was even asking the right question, let alone getting the right answer? A word finally came into focus.
“I believe the answer is yes, but it’s hard to tell with so little to go on.”
One corner of his mouth flicked up for a moment, then he bolted from the line.
Was that the answer he wanted or not? Who could know?
As the day dragged on, Tia searched the market for Xenia. The noisome celebrations throughout the night—along with the numerous empty wine bottles strewn throughout the domus and the bleary eyes of her domini this morning—had told her the grape harvest had ended yesterday. Had her prophesy held true? If not, Tia would be in serious danger. Perhaps life-threatening danger.
Then it wouldn’t matter if Brigid answered or not. If the domini were angry
at her just for saying negative things, what would they do if her visions were thought to be untrue? Surely they would beat her. Sell her.
Or even kill her.
Shivers crawled down her spine.
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” The old woman’s voice startled Tia. She was hunched over, her spine so contorted the middle of her back was at the same level as her shoulders. Her hands rested on a walking stick. Yet her face revealed no pain. Instead, she seemed to be far more concerned about Tia.
“I’m sorry?”
The old woman frowned, tilting her head. “You seem a bit pale. And you’re shivering. Are you ill?”
“Avia, you can’t ask things like that.” The younger Roumanos who had brought her adjusted her cloak.
“Hush, Aurelia. At my age you can.” She shooed away the girl’s hand. “Stop fussing. Besides, I’m truly worried about her. She doesn’t look good.”
“Avia? This is your grandmother?”
“Yes. Please forgive her. She’s gotten a bit blunt in her later years.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right. She reminds me of my grandmother.” Tia smiled at the memory. “I’m fine, really. The breeze . . . made me shudder, that’s all.”
“If you’re sure.” It was obvious the woman didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press further.
“I am. Now let’s see if we can find out what the gods have prepared for you, shall we?” Keeping an ear open, she cradled the wrinkled hand and closed her eyes, praying for a clear message.
Brigid, show me what you have for this dear woman, whom I know not, but who has shown me care nonetheless.
The images faded in and out, more than usual. Squeezing the grandmother’s hand, she waited until they stabilized.
“Avia, you have ten grandchildren?”
She gasped. “Why, yes.”
“You will live to see four more.”
She cackled as she tapped the stick on the ground. “How delightful!”
“I’m glad that makes you happy.” She glanced at Aurelia, the girl’s smile strained.
Still laughing, the older woman turned to leave, her feet shuffling, leaning heavily on her stick.
Aurelia leaned near Tia as she assisted her avia.
“Will any of them be mine?” she whispered.
Clasping her hands, Tia breathed a prayer and waited. The goddess did not give her the answer she wanted. What could she say?
“I see you with a baby in your arms.” She smiled as brightly as she could.
Tears came from Aurelia’s eyes as she threw her arms around Tia. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Tia’s stomach soured. She had deliberately misled this young woman.
Aurelia hurried to catch up with her avia.
Tia shook her head and caught a glimpse of Xenia hurrying toward them. Her heart rate sped up. Was she excited or angry? From this distance, it was still hard to tell.
“Domina.” Tia tilted her head toward the girl.
Cassia stepped next to her. She tapped her sandaled foot on the stone floor of the forum, waiting for Xenia to arrive. “I think she’s smiling.”
If Cassia was trying to sound confident, she wasn’t succeeding.
“Because she’s in love or because she wants her money back?”
“She didn’t pay us yet, remember?” Cassia grinned.
Xenia came nearer, and nearly slammed into Tia, embracing her tightly.
She stumbled back to keep from being knocked over. Tears wet her neck. “Good news, I gather?”
Xenia released her. “He agreed to my father’s terms. They finally agreed on a dowry, so now we can get married!”
“So she was telling the truth?” Cassia sounded shocked.
“Yes. It seems she was.” Xenia beamed. “And I am so sorry I doubted you. I hope I did not cause trouble for you.”
“No, no, of course not. You did nothing wrong. You just go and enjoy your new life now.”
“After you pay me.” Cassia held out her hand, palm flat, as Xenia filled it with coin. “Double, remember? And you’ll tell everyone?”
“I already have!” After one more hug, the girl flounced away.
“Looks like you’re safe on this one.”
“Yes. She’ll have a happy life with him.”
“What about the other one?”
“The other one?”
“With the old woman.” She pointed toward Aurelia and her grandmother, slowly making their way across the forum.
“Aurelia?”
“You lied to her, didn’t you?” Cassia narrowed her eyes. “Do I need to be worried?”
“I didn’t lie. I told you I would always tell you exactly what I have seen.”
Cassia tilted her head. “You weren’t telling the truth. I can tell.”
“I said I saw her with a baby in her arms. I did.” She bit her lip. “It just wasn’t hers.”
“Good, then. Everyone’s happy.” She pulled the string on the money sack tight.
Happy? How could she say that? She and Max had coin. That made them happy.
Aurelia might be happy for now, but only because Tia had intentionally deceived her. Many others, as well. That certainly did not make her happy.
As for anyone else, Elantia really couldn’t say.
Slamming the door behind him, Gallus stormed into Decimus’s office. “You had no authority to do that!”
Decimus slowly rose. He nodded to his scribe, who scurried from the room. “I understand you’re angry with me, but you will speak to me with civility. Now, would you like to start again?”
Gallus scowled. Decimus just loved to treat him like a child. The man may be old enough to be his father, but he most certainly wasn’t, and had no right to talk to him as if he were.
Still, further alienating him would not help.
Not yet, at least.
“You had no right to offer Tribune Quintus Valerius the job of prison master.”
Decimus leaned forward on his palms. “I had just as much right to do that, as you did to steal his land from him. And what you did was completely illegal.” His voice was calm. “It goes against every law we have and every oath you swore. And you made the scriba break his oath as well.” Decimus straightened and neared Gallus, face far too calm. “Care to tell me what this is about?”
There was no way Gallus was going to admit to the old man he needed the money in order to finish his term. Not when they had been in office less than four months. Decimus would only remind him of how many times he had tried to warn him.
Gallus crossed his arms and glared. “It’s none of your business.”
“You think just because your family is old and wealthy and has connections in Rome, you can get away with anything. But hear me, this will catch up with you.”
Stepping closer, Gallus pointed a finger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Decimus placed his open hand on top of Gallus’s finger and pushed it down. “You cannot use this city to fill your purse.”
“I can do whatever I wish!” Gallus blew out a breath. Great. He’d lost all the control he’d struggled to regain before he first came in. “If you ever do something like this behind my back again, I will ensure you are never able to transact business in this town again. I already have Helios’s cooperation. I may as well use it.”
Decimus raised a brow. “You would do something so foolish, so vindictive?”
“I will not let you interfere. My family has been in power in one way or another for generations here, and we will continue to do so long after you are dead, buried, and forgotten.” Gallus strode to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back. “You are an old man with no heirs, and your name will disappear into the clouds, but the family of Crispus will live forever.”
Gallus left, slamming the door again. How dare the old man defy him like that. Decimus may be the senior magistrate, but it was in name only, and he very well knew it. Gallus couldn’t let Decimus upset all the plans h
e had laid, negate all his hard work. He only needed a little more coin, and the tribune’s land would provide it.
He’d have to wait a little while to alleviate suspicion, and then the Greek he’d heard of could sell it for him.
If he could find out his name, which was proving to be harder than keeping the gods happy.
Then next year, he’d have enough to again satisfy the wealth requirement, and he would be re-elected during census year. It didn’t happen often that someone as young as he served as duovir quinquennial, but he had the determination and distinction to be the exception. He would fill the senate with men of his choosing, men who would do whatever he wanted. The laws he wanted would be put into place, the buildings he desired would be funded, the monuments he deserved would be erected . . .
He would be the most powerful man in Philippi for a long, long, time.
9
“One of those listening was a woman from the city of Thyatira named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth. She was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s message.”
Acts 16:14
Quin had realized that the rug dealer often had more time on his hands than he knew what to do with. His goods were some of the most expensive on Commercial Road, and one sale could sustain him for weeks. He’d already proved to be a good source of information. Whether that information was reliable was another matter, but his company was not unpleasant.
“Is there a fabric dealer here?” Quin ripped a chunk from the loaf of bread the innkeeper had given him.
“Of course, an excellent one. The shop is not on this road, though. You’ll need to go up to the Via Egnatia, go east, and turn south on Via Appia. You’ll recognize it. It’s the first domus on the right.”
“Thank you.”
“Still not ready for a fine rug?”
“Not yet.” Quin grinned and left a coin on the table. Following the man’s instructions, he came to the fabric dealer’s shop just as he finished his bread. The window next to the main door was full of colorfully dyed bolts of fabric, including a rich purple. At least he wouldn’t have to wait for it to be imported.
He slapped his hands together to dislodge the crumbs and knocked on the doorframe. A servant appeared instantly.
Sold Into Freedom Page 8
