Surrender to the Roman (16 page)

Ademeni pushed open the heavy door to Marcus’s house, grateful now for the protective high walls the fortress offered. She steered Callia inside. Wide-eyed, the child hovered close to Ademeni’s legs.

“It’s all right.” She laid a hand atop the girl’s head to comfort her. “We’re home. We’re safe.”

“When will Papa come home?”

The innocent question squeezed Ademeni’s heart. Perhaps…never. Her tongue turned to dust.

“Soon,” she lied. “Very soon.”

Callia slipped away, confident in the answer she’d received, while Ademeni stood rooted to the floor. Marcus might never come home. The thought had not crossed her mind until the question had been asked. Would he simply disappear as if he’d never existed? Or would they make a spectacle of his alleged dishonor? In her father’s court… Her heart despaired to finish that thought but could not stop the memories from flooding her mind with rivers of blood.

Her fingers curled into fists. Soldiers would come for the family. She had to warn Lucia. As Trajan’s cousin, there might be some influence she could peddle to keep Marcus, or at least Callia, safe.

She lifted her gaze and found Lucia a few paces away, her brow furrowed and mouth downturned. “What is it?”

Ademeni rushed forward, voice wavering. “Marcus is in great danger. Tertullian has been poisoning the emperor against him, I feel sure of it.”

Her hushed declaration drew a small crowd from the kitchen. Work in the household ceased and everyone directed their attention to her. Lucia took her by the hands and drew her toward the table, but she refused to sit.

“What do you mean?” Lucia demanded in her kindly manner. “What have you heard in the streets? Tertullian is kin—he would never turn on his brother.”

“He would, and he has,” Ademeni responded, heart hammering in her throat. They would never believe her, an outsider, when they had known Tertullian for years. She struggled to order her words to be more convincing. “He has told your emperor that Marcus has become disloyal. There are rumors that Marcus is assembling forces outside the city gates and plans to raid the city in opposition to Trajan, while at the same time inciting an uprising from the Dacians held prisoner inside Rome.”

Color drained from Lucia’s face. “Trajan would never believe such a thing. Marcus is the best general in the army. His loyalty has never been in question.”

Never? Had Marcus lived such a clean life that his motivation had never been at issue? Of course he had. Swallowing became painful as Ademeni admitted, “His loyalty was never in question until I came to his house—until Tertullian saw to such a thing.”

A blanket of understanding settled on the room, and all argument ceased. No one could dispute the fact that she had changed the lens through which Marcus was seen. His affection for his slave—a daughter of the enemy of Rome—now made his loyalty suspect.

But Tertullian also had a daughter of Decebalus in his home. How did anyone know that Ademeni’s relationship with Marcus differed from the natural master-slave relationship?

She sought Flora among the women who surrounded her. Flora alone held a grudge from the first day Ademeni had entered the house, and she had seen the slave in private conversation with Tertullian more than once. Holding the older woman’s gaze, Ademeni asked but one question.

“How would Tertullian know the personal affairs of his commander?”

Lucia followed her trail of logic. “Marcus is a very private man. He does not discuss his personal affairs with anyone, much less a subordinate.”

“Perhaps he talks with his sister.” Flora sneered at their unspoken allegations. “Or perhaps his sister observed on her own Marcus’s unwarranted affection for his slave.”

Ademeni pushed through the circle of women and rushed at Flora, anger boiling in her heart. Unwarranted? A household slave did not decide what was best for Marcus.

“Do you understand that Marcus may be killed?” she shouted. “That this household could very well be destroyed and the parts scattered to the four corners?”

“Including you, Flora,” Lucia added with a lift of her eyebrow.

Flora glanced away, but not before Ademeni glimpsed panic. Grabbing the obstinate woman by the shoulders, Ademeni shook her. “Has he not been good to you all these years? Yet you would turn on him and put everyone in danger. Think of Callia. Would you see her put to the sword?”

A veil of tears fell across Flora’s eyes.

“I think not of myself,” Ademeni continued in a hoarse whisper. “Marcus is a more fair and just man than Tertullian. He should not fall out of favor. He does not deserve what is going to happen to him.”

Flora covered her face with both hands and wailed. “What have I done?”

Lucia stepped between the warring women and turned her pinched expression to Flora. “What exactly have you done?”

As her gaze flittered between her two accusers, Flora took a deep breath and replied, “He preyed upon my loyalty to Julia…and my distrust of Ademeni. I thought it strange for Marcus to be so smitten with her and forget his true love.”

“Who is it that you speak of?” Lucia asked.

“Tertullian,” she admitted. “He first stopped me in the market, but did not ask many questions, then approached me when they dined here. Each time we happened to meet, he would ask more questions. He said I would be helping Marcus maintain his position and eliminating a troubling presence in the house.”

“But he put me in this house!” Ademeni’s temper exploded. How long had Tertullian been plotting against his brother? What could he hope to gain?

“I loved Julia.” Flora defended herself with a small voice. “I had been with her from a child. I did not like to see her memory scrubbed from our lives.”

Ademeni opened her mouth, but Lucia held up a hand. “Flora, your loyalty to my daughter is admirable but foolish. She is gone, and you know that it is not good for a man to be alone. Your loyalty should be to Marcus, who kept you when he had no need of you. Your loyalty should be to Callia. You have brought severe judgment against this house. When Marcus returns—”

“If Marcus returns,” Ademeni corrected.

“You will tell him all that you have done and accept his punishment as binding. There is no other course, should we survive this.”

Nodding, Flora turned and fled the room. Lucia’s next words went to Ademeni. “Thank you for discovering the root of this terrible matter. Now we will say prayers and keep the fires lit. We must be alert, for it will be a long night.”

“Can you not use your influence with Trajan to sway his hand in this matter?” Ademeni asked the matron.

“I will do what I can and make necessary arrangements for this house and its members,” came the answer. “Leave such things to me—for now, all must appear as usual.”

Ademeni swallowed her anger and focused on the menial tasks before her. With trembling hands she prepared dinner as though nothing had changed. Vindication tasted like bitter wine in her throat as she choked back the imaginings of what might happen to the man she shouldn’t love, but did with her whole heart.

She vowed that her eyes would not close until she knew what fate awaited Marcus. Awaited all of them. She focused like never before to keep a clear head as darkness fell across the Capitoline Hill. She would need it, whether or not Marcus made it home this night.

* * *

The hair stood up on the back of Marcus’s neck. A soldier usually provided little distraction to those within the city, unless there was a row. Now, he felt glances of recognition pin him. Whispers chased him through the city from the moment he entered the Aventine.

He spurred his mount and hastened to the barracks, where entry was granted with thinly veiled suspicion. Fickle Rome had turned against him in a day’s time, like an intemperate harlot. Had his men been swayed as well?

A short trek through the barren stables told him little. The hands still saluted him with stiff respect, and his horse was treated to the usual fare.

He turned and nearly ran into one of his men, Quintas Pallus, who addressed him with a sharp salute. “General.”

“Quintas.” Marcus returned the greeting. This solider had been with him ten years or so, a hard worker who rose slowly but steadily through the ranks to quartermaster. “How are you?”

“Surprised to see you, sir.” Quintas relaxed, but scowled.

“Surprised?” Marcus had been visible in the barracks every few days. “Why?”

Quintas glanced around. They stood alone. “There is talk, sir. The men don’t know who they should listen to.”

What kind of talk? If rumors sprang from Tertullian, the men might indeed have trouble grasping the truth. He and Tertullian had appeared united at all times for the benefit of the troops.

While he’d thought it rash to air his concerns about Tertullian in front of the men, he saw how this now colored the situation.

A group of men entered the stable. They slowed and quieted their conversation when they saw him. Half the men saluted, the others did not.

“Walk with me.” Marcus steered Quintas away from the crowd onto a path in the adjacent riding field.

Quintas spoke first. “May I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“There is speculation that you have broken with Trajan now that another has seemingly replaced your wife.”

Struck by how such a simple truth could affect so much, Marcus grappled for words. Did he make Ademeni out to be merely a pleasure slave, or did he argue that women did not make or break the political and military lives of men?

He held his tongue, for neither was true. His marriage to Julia had been largely driven by his career. As the silence swelled between them, Marcus drew a deep breath. “My loyalty is to Rome and no other. But my wife is dead, and it is nobody’s business who sleeps in my bed.”

Quintas let out an audible sigh of relief. “This is what I told them, but they are conflicted among themselves, since she is the daughter of the dead Dacian king and was heard to make threat against you and against Rome.”

Marcus pushed. “I need to know the source of these lies.”

Stepping in front of Marcus, Quintas stopped and raised his hands as if to weigh things. “I am no traitor, General, but you have been a friend and given me aid over the years. Tertullian spreads these lies in hopes of taking your rank.”

Hearing the truth left Marcus cold. So it was true. Tertullian—his sister’s husband—literally hoped to throw Marcus to the lions.

As though such a thing was easy.

“And the men, what do they think?”

Again, Quintas paused to weigh his words. “Some are loyal to you. Those, like me, who have been fighting with you for years. But the younger curs think Tertullian will quickly reward them with gold and rank when this is over.”

“I see.” Marcus dragged a hand across his jaw. The impatience of youth. He locked eyes with Quintas. “Say nothing to anyone.”

“Sir, we stand ready to assist you—you need only to say the word.”

“You have my thanks.” Marcus rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I hope such a thing will not be necessary.”

Quintas nodded, but his frown said he was not convinced. They returned in silence to the stables, where Marcus wasted no further time making his next command decision.

He was still a general, still Tertullian’s commander. He needed to find the man and settle this matter before it reached the emperor for a decision. An audience with Trajan would put everyone at risk, foremost his family, which had grown to include Ademeni.

A quick search of the compound turned up nothing, not even a rumor of his second’s whereabouts. He thundered to the gate and demanded, “Where is Tertullian?”

The guard paled. “Not here, sir.”

“When was he last seen?”

“Last evening, sir. I saw him myself.”

With a curt nod, Marcus departed. If not at the barracks, Tertullian might still be at home. He galloped through the outlying streets, intent on finding the man who had a good start at ruining all the things he held in esteem.

Dismounting in a cloud of red dust at the gate of his sister’s home, he pounded on the door, demanding entry. He was unprepared for the face that appeared to answer him. Ademeni’s sister, Lilah.

Her eyes widened, but she did not speak.

“Where is your master?”

“Not here,” she answered, the accent familiar, comforting.

“Then where?”

“He went into the city early today and has not returned.”

The man was a ghost. “And my sister?”

“Drusilla left only a bit ago.”

“To go where?” Marcus prodded.

“To your home, sir.”

* * *

Drusilla dropped onto the bench beside the pool. She looked back and forth between Lucia and Ademeni with tear-reddened eyes. “I should have realized what my husband’s ambition could do. I was blinded by my anger toward him.”

Ademeni almost laughed. How much damage did Tertullian need to do before his wife realized he was an animal? Even from this short distance, she divined that poor Drusilla had been just another pawn in Tertullian’s power scheme.

“He’s made life miserable since returning from the Dacian campaign. It’s as if he made up his mind before coming home that he must make this play. As if his life did not move fast enough for him.”

Ademeni closed her eyes and shook her head. Many of their lives had been made ill upon his return. She and her sister had not asked to be dragged to Rome. The man poisoned everything in his path.

Now Drusilla spoke directly to Ademeni. “I don’t blame you or Lilah. It’s him—he’s not the same man I married. He’s not the same man he was when he left on campaign.”

He was the same man Ademeni remembered. Sneaking into the camp at night to harass the prisoners. No doubt he’d been gone too long, been at war too long, and lost track of himself. These things happened and never ended well.

“When he made Marcus a gift of you, and Marcus did not respond as he supposed, he became irate. That’s when I wondered what he might do.”

“You did not protect my sister.”

The accusation slipped out and stood between them as if it had legs.

Drusilla rose. “I didn’t know what to think. He seemed obsessed with her and I was a jealous wife. When I began to see things clearly, I was kind.”