The Protector (19 page)

“When we all heard you were accosted like some common street wench—”

“Where did you hear of the matter? No one knew about the attack outside of a few who’d never prattle about me.”

Claudia grew thoughtful. “I don’t know where the rumor began, if truth be told. It…it just was. Salonius meant to murder you. When that plot failed, maybe he started the scandal as an attempt to discredit you instead.”

The explanation seemed plausible. A few well-placed rumours was all it took to spark a wildfire. Adiona picked up her cup and sipped the hot, lemon water. “What I don’t understand is why Salonius wished me dead in the first place.”

“You humiliated him,” Claudia said without hesitation. “All of Rome was aware of how you spat on his every proposal of marriage. No one knew how to react when he told us you’d changed your mind.”

“Even if he weren’t so irksome, he was
already
married.”

“Divorce is a simple matter.” Claudia’s bracelets jangled as she waved away the issue. “Everyone knows the real reason you rejected Salonius and every other suitor over the years is because you despise men. At least you
did
hate them. How goes it with your gladiator?”

“He’s not a gladiator. And he’s none of your concern.”

“I understand.” Claudia eyed her with feigned sympathy. “We’ve all enjoyed a dalliance or two with the lower orders, but you’re right, it’s best not to speak of our forays in the mud.”

Adiona slowly rose to her feet, ice flowing through her veins. “You’re wrong, you poisonous shrew. Quintus is the finest man I’ve ever met. If he’d have me, I’d consider myself truly blessed. I’d take hold of his arm in the
Forum and raise my head high with the knowledge that I was the most fortunate woman to ever walk the earth.”

Claudia’s eyes glittered. “Oh, my! So a slave rejected you, eh? How dreadful for you.”

“He didn’t reject me and he’s no longer a slave,” she muttered, disappointed in herself for allowing Claudia to bait her.

“Then you’ll be marrying him?” Claudia asked, clearly excited by the scandal Adiona’s marriage to a former gladiator would create. “Or will an affair have to suffice?”

“Neither, Claudia. He’s no longer in Rome.”

“What a shame. You must be devastated.” Claudia sipped her lemon water. “Still, the ocean is full of other fish. Now that you’re no longer averse to men, we’ll find someone suitable for you and your social position.”

Adiona bristled. There was no one more suitable for her than Quintus. Her social position was worthless compared to him. Even the thought of marriage no longer terrified her when she imagined herself as his wife.

Felix cleared his throat discreetly in the doorway. “Forgive me,
Domina,
but—”

“What is it?” Adiona asked, grateful for the interruption.

“The
lanista’
s wife is here. Shall I tell her you’re occupied?”

“Caros’s new wife is here? I’d love to meet her,” Claudia said. “She’s become quite famous since Caros fought for her in the arena.”

Thinking of the unassuming and gentle-spirited Pelonia, Adiona hesitated to put her in close proximity with Claudia. Still, there was no way to ignore Pelonia without being rude. She would just have to protect the younger woman from Claudia’s poisonous tongue. “Show her in,
Felix. And order more lemon water. I don’t want Pelonia catching a chill.”

The steward disappeared. Claudia’s smile widened. “This is why you’re competition for the rest of us matrons, Adiona. You always know the most interesting people.”

A few moments later, Felix showed Pelonia into the sitting room. A tiny dark beauty with huge brown eyes and ruby pins in her expertly arranged hair, Pelonia was dressed in a red
stola
trimmed with prized white ermine.

Adiona stood and greeted Pelonia with a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful of Claudia,” she whispered for only Pelonia to hear.

Pelonia showed no sign she’d heard the warning. Adiona groaned inwardly, concerned she was leading a lamb to a butcher.

“Hello.” Pelonia smiled. She moved deeper into the room as Adiona introduced the two women. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I agree,” said Claudia. “I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance for weeks, but you and the
lanista
have denied your company to all of Rome. Given your husband and Adiona’s…history together I’m surprised the two of you are friends. You must be very open-minded.”

Adiona frowned. “Claudia—”

“I assure you,” Pelonia said with a laugh that hid any offence she may have taken. “I’m not open-minded in the least when it comes to my husband and other women. Thankfully, Caros is trustworthy and I’ve no cause for concern on that score. As for Adiona, she’s been an excellent friend to both of us. Without her, my husband and I might have lost each other after we became separated
for a time before we married. I’ll never be anything but grateful to her and her kindness toward us.”

Claudia opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of whatever she planned to say. Instead, she set her cup on the low table in front of her and stood. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Pelonia. Adiona, as always it was good to see you, but I must be on my way. So many other friends to visit and the morning is on the wane.”

“Indeed,” Adiona said, calling for the older woman’s
palla.

Claudia wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. “We must meet again sometime.”

“Absolutely,” Adiona agreed, thinking once every other decade would suffice.

When she returned after seeing the older woman out, she found Pelonia standing in the center of the sitting room, her head tipped back as she admired the painted ceiling.

“It’s so lovely,” Pelonia said, turning to face Adiona. “The way the artist made it look as if it’s a cloudless blue sky at all times.”

“Mmm…I gave Octavia free rein. She said I needed some sunshine in my life.”

“Octavia? Your friend who just passed away?”

“Yes, she wanted to be an artist, but Drusus refused to allow her. He said painting was a man’s trade.”

“How sad,” Pelonia said.

“Yes. Octavia turned her hand to flowers instead. Her garden was a beauty to behold.”

“I’m glad she found a way to use her talents.”

Adiona smiled. “I’m also glad.”

Both women returned to their seats across the room. Pelonia straightened the frothy folds of her red
stola.
“I apologize for interrupting the visit with your friend when
I stopped by unannounced today. I was on my way to the Forum. I thought you might like to go with me.”

“I don’t think so. I’m very tired.”

“Tired or depressed?” Pelonia said, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Why would I be depressed?” Adiona hedged. “I’m home, my attacker is no longer a concern and I even have a new friend who can put Claudia Arvina in her place.”

Pelonia chuckled. “I’m glad you think of me as a friend. It’s my sincere hope that we become close. I meant what I said to that…that sly woman when I told her how grateful I am to you.”

“There’s no need. You and Caros are fated. I’m certain your God would have provided another track to bring you together had I not intervened.”

She turned to find Pelonia studying her, a smile curving her lips. “You’ve been talking to Quintus about the Lord.”

“Yes,” she hedged.

“Have you accepted the Lord in your heart?”

Adiona shook her head. “What do you mean?”

Pelonia moved to sit by her on the couch. “Have you spoken with Jesus and asked Him to be your God?”

“No. I’ve only asked him to protect Quintus and bring him back to me.”

“I see.” Pelonia beamed. “If you speak with Him, I think you must believe in Him.”

“Perhaps.” Adiona picked a stray thread from her tunic. “But I have no idea if He hears me.”

“He does. He adores you. He loves to hear from you. Our texts say He cares for you so much He even numbers the hairs on your head.”

“I think He might love other people that much, but not me.”

“Why would you think that?” Pelonia asked so genuinely perplexed that Adiona didn’t have an answer.

“Whoever tells you Jesus doesn’t love you is a liar, even if that person is yourself,” Pelonia continued. “The truth is He loves you so much He gave His life for you. He wants to fill you with joy and a peace so pure it’s beyond your understanding.”

“I want that,” Adiona admitted quietly, “but I’m not certain I can believe you fully yet.”

Pelonia squeezed Adiona’s hand. “That’s wonderful. Don’t worry if you can’t believe yet. Just keep talking to the Lord. He’ll reveal Himself to you. And if you need a friend, please come to me whenever you like.”

Adiona gave a hesitant nod.

“Promise? Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

Adiona laughed. “I’m sure Caros would love that. He’ll think I’m insane.”

“No, he’ll be overjoyed. We both pray for you daily.”

“Thank you.” Touched that her friends prayed for her, Adiona smiled for the first time since Quintus left. “If you still plan to visit the Forum, I’d be happy to go with you.”

“Excellent. I’ve been having the most incredible craving for apples and I’m sure you need to get out of this palace.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Quintus has been gone almost two weeks.”

“What does he have to do with me?”

“You don’t have to put on a brave face,” Pelonia said, gently clasping Adiona’s clenched hand. “It wasn’t so long ago that I was in your place.”

“What place is that?” Adiona asked, dreading the answer.

“The place where your heart feels like it’s shattered into a thousand pieces and life without the man you love looks like a lonely, hopeless road stretching into a dismal eternity.”

“Yes,” she said, unable to pretend otherwise. “That would be the place. Except my heart isn’t shattered. It’s gone. Quintus took it with him.”

A
diona, Pelonia and their handful of guards made their way to the fruit stands located on the first floor of the Forum’s central market. An icy wind blew through the open colonnade, making Adiona wish she’d traded her wool cloak for a warmer, fur-lined one. The dark gray sky signaled the onslaught of another afternoon rain.

Adiona’s guard created a path through the crush of patrons buying produce for their evening meal. After visiting several fruit sellers, Pelonia was still looking for apples. This late in the season, Adiona secretly believed there were none to be found, but she admired the younger girl’s determination.

Spotting a large basket of pomegranates, Adiona selected several ripe pieces before following the scent of roasted chestnuts to a wagon outside.

Once her steward paid for the items she chose, she wandered through the citrus market. The tangerines reminded her of Quintus’s garden at the coastal villa. She bought a dozen of the ripest fruits more for sentimental value than because she enjoyed the taste of them. Meandering past a large display of various kinds of figs,
she located Pelonia near an exotic fruit stand, speaking with an older woman who looked vaguely familiar.

Pelonia lifted her basket. “I found my apples,” she said happily. “Cook will have a few brown spots to cut off, but they’ll do well enough.” She turned to the elegant, silver-haired lady beside her. “Adiona, this is my friend, Annia. She owns a textile and ladies’ goods shop on the second floor.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you before,” Adiona said. “Your shop has the best silk in the Forum.”

“Thank you,” Annia murmured. “I’ve waited on you before in the shop, but it’s a pleasure to make your formal acquaintance. Pelonia’s told me wonderful things about you. My thanks for your hand in bringing her and Caros back together.”

Adiona rolled her eyes at Pelonia. “Have you told everyone in Rome that story?”

“Oh, no, there’s at least three or four people I’ve yet to share it with.”

Laughing, the three ladies made their way to a small
thermopolium
that served beverages and light snacks of hot sausages, cheese and dates. The smells of smoked meat and fresh bread teased Adiona’s nose, making her realize she hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. Street musicians played various instruments, seeking to fill the overcast afternoon with a sense of merriment.

While the ladies ate, they discussed the latest fashions and colors. “I’ve ordered a new shade of soft linen from North Africa,” said Annia. “The samples I saw are a pale orange, similar to a ripe peach. It should be lovely on lighter skin tones.”

Pelonia groaned and set down the apple she’d been unable to resist. “That leaves me out. I always look too sallow in shades of orange or brown. But the color sounds
perfect for my cousin, Tibi. She has beautiful flaxen hair, alabaster skin and the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll tell you when my shipment arrives,” Annia said. “You can bring her by the shop and we’ll see how she likes it.”

Adiona finished her smoked sausage and dabbed her mouth with a facecloth. Shivering and ready to go home, she looked out the open window and down the long, crowd-filled courtyard between two multistory wings of the Forum’s shops. The swarm of people shifted and Adiona caught sight of a woman who reminded her of Octavia and Drusus’s neighbor, Gaia. “I’ll be right back,” she told her companions. “I think I recognize someone.”

Her guards surrounding her, Adiona lost track of her quarry thanks to the hectic masses. She was about to give up and return to the
thermopolium
when she caught one more glimpse of the woman.

After failing for the third time to get the lady’s attention, Adiona turned to her closest guard. “See that woman in the green
palla
near the apothecary? I want you to follow her. All day if you must. Learn her name and report her address to my steward.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, venturing into the sea of shoppers.

Adiona returned to her companions. Annia was standing over Pelonia, a worried frown on the shopkeeper’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Adiona asked.

“I’ve gotten frightfully dizzy,” Pelonia said, her eyes closed and her fingertips rubbing her temples.

Annia went to fetch a cup of cool water from the service counter.

“Do you suppose it was the apple?” mused Adiona.

“I don’t know. It’s possible. It tasted good. A bit soft, but far from rotten.”

When Annia came back with the water, Adiona sent one of her men to prepare her litter.

“We need to take her home,” she told Annia. “Caros will feed us to Cat if anything bad happens to his wife.”

An hour later the rains arrived. A physician had been summoned to the
ludus
to examine Pelonia. A tormented colossus, Caros prowled his office where he, Annia and Adiona waited for a report on Pelonia’s health.

Adiona watched Caros with a mix of confusion and astonishment. A shared understanding of life’s cruelties had forged their friendship over the past three years, but the last few months had altered Caros at his core. Pelonia had brought him true happiness and his new religion had healed the inner torment his past had caused to fester for far too long.

The physician returned. “You can go to your wife now,
lanista.
”

“What’s wrong with her?” Caros said, failing to hide his anxiety.

A smile curved the doctor’s thin lips. “Go ask her yourself.”

Caros broke into a run, shocking Adiona with his haste.

“My word,” the physician said. “To look at him now, one would never know he used to murder for sport.”

“Not fair,” Adiona refuted, always quick to defend her friend. “As a gladiator, he didn’t have much choice except to fight or end up dead. What would you have done in his place?”

Caros and Pelonia returned within a short time. To
Adiona, they looked as though someone had lit a lamp inside each of them.

“We’re having a child,” Caros said without preamble. The pride and wonder in his announcement filled every crevice of the room. His happiness was blinding. Like staring directly at the sun, it hurt to look at him.

Annia squealed and hurried forward to offer heartfelt congratulations, while Adiona hung back, struggling to find the right words. She didn’t resent her friends’ joy; she was thrilled for them, but for the first time in years, the lies she’d convinced herself to believe refused to stifle the truth of how much she longed for a happy marriage and children of her own.

But Quintus was gone.

She moved forward, a well-practiced smile learned from years of disguising her feelings was plastered on her face. She clasped Pelonia’s hand. “I’m so pleased for you, both of you,” she said to Caros. “What a pleasure it will be to have a little one to spoil.”

Pelonia hugged her. “How fortunate our child will be to have you for an aunt.”

Caros pulled Adiona into his bearlike embrace. “Can you believe it?” he asked, his deep voice marked by amazement. “Me, a father.”

“I can.” She laughed, his good mood infectious. “I have no doubt you’ll be the very best.”

Hours later, Adiona wandered through the vaulted corridors that wound through her palace. Alabaster sconces cast flickering light across the elaborately painted ceiling and mosaic-tiled floors.

In her bedchamber the shutters were fastened tight against the earlier storm. Her terror of being trapped in closed spaces was a mere shadow of the monster that once plagued her, but the residual fear forced her to open
a window. The damp night carried in a whiff of smoke and the sound of dripping rain.

Having grown used to caring for her own needs while she traveled with Quintus, she dressed in a soft wool tunic and prepared for bed before calling her maid.

While Nidia brushed out the long strands and plaited Adiona’s hair, Adiona allowed her thoughts to wander back to the happy events of the afternoon. Caros’s joy made her smile. He truly was a man reborn, as the Christians were fond of saying. She’d known Pelonia and Quintus only as Christians. Both of them acknowledged their faults and failings, while thanking their God for bringing them through difficult times. But Caros she’d known before he became a follower of the Nazarene and his transformation was as complete as a caterpillar’s metamorphosis into a butterfly.

Adiona envied Caros’s newfound freedom and wished for her own. Quintus’s kindness and understanding had helped to heal the wounds inflicted by her husband’s evil, but there was a darkness that still lurked inside her soul.

The soft click of the door signaled the maid had finished her task and left Adiona alone. The candlelight illuminated the glass bottles and mirror in front of her. The polished metal was higher quality than most, but the reflection it offered was distorted at best.

She wanted to see herself clearly. Not her face and outward appearance, but her inner being. She remembered Quintus telling her that he tried to see people the way his God saw them. Pelonia had said their God loved her enough to die for her. Marveling at the concept of a love that true, she twisted the end of her long braid, wondering if it was possible that He genuinely cared enough to count the hairs on her head.

She thought of the prayers she heard Quintus say and
the words Pelonia used when speaking of their God. She cleared her throat, hoping their God would accept her into His fold.

“Dear Heavenly Father.” To her surprise the word
father
came more easily than she’d anticipated. “I’m Adiona. We’ve spoken a few times before when I asked you to protect Quintus. I’m here to plead for his safety again, but also to do as Pelonia suggested and ask You to be my Lord.”

She stood from her chair and walked to the open window where the breeze ruffled her hair. “My friend Caros became Your follower recently and You’ve done a fine job helping him to be a better person. I’m not kind and gentle like Pelonia or as honest and wonderful as Quintus, but if You’ll have me, perhaps You can place some good in me.”

As an afterthought, she realized she’d forgotten to ask for forgiveness. “I also pray that You forgive me for the wrong I’ve done in my life. Please help me to do…to
be
a person worthy of Your love.” Remembering how Quintus prayed for Octavia, she added, “In Jesus’s name, amen.”

She waited. There were no lightning bolts, no claps of thunder or celestial music. But a sense of tranquility pervaded her being until there was no room left for fear or doubts.

She closed the window. Crawling into bed, she covered herself with furs and burrowed into the soft pillows, feeling very much like a caterpillar who’d just been given a glorious pair of wings.

Verging off the Via Caecilla, Quintus rode into Amiternum ten days after he left his heart in Rome with Adiona. Built in a fertile valley at the junction of
four roads, his birthplace was a thriving city based on commerce and trade. For centuries his family had been among the area’s civic leaders, contributing to and overseeing the various public works like the theater, aqueduct, public baths and even the amphitheater.

Until his arrest, he’d owned myriad acres of fertile farmland, a vineyard and a hillside estate along with the large city residence where he’d been born. Now all of it was gone, stripped from him by an unnamed accuser and a greedy magistrate who’d worked in tandem.

He rode his horse through the energetic heart of town—a way he’d traversed thousands of times to find his way home. Given the mountainous region and the season, the weather was remarkably pleasant—cold but clear. The street vendors were taking advantage of the blue skies and the greater number of patrons enjoying a bit of sun.

After eight months away, he noted the new storefronts and the disappearance of shops he’d patronized over the years. Tempted to stop and speak with old friends, he kept riding. The need to know about Fabius compelled him onward.

He turned a corner and followed the street up the slope of a hill. His familial residence came into sight. A high wall surrounded the large two-story villa, but the gate was open, allowing him a voyeur’s view of his home. Beech trees and mountain pine lined the front of the house. Painted in a mellow hue of gold, its arched windows and doors, as well as a covered balcony gave the place a stately yet welcoming appearance.

The front door opened. For a moment, he was transported back eight months in time. He held his breath, expecting his five-year-old in his little tunic and sandals to run onto the wide steps to greet him.

Instead, an old man in slave’s garb tottered onto the
portico, a broom in hand. He closed the door behind him and began to sweep the tiles.

Quintus choked in air and blinked rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes. Fabius, with his sweet, ever-present smile, was gone. Never again would he hear his son’s bright laughter or feel his chubby little arms squeezing his neck in a too-tight hug.

The loss gutted him. His chest ached and his throat convulsed as he worked to keep his emotions in check. He’d known his son was dead, but the events leading up to Quintus’s arrest and sale to the slaver’s wagon had happened rapidly, making it easier to deny the truths he didn’t want to face.

Now he had no choice but to fully accept what he could not change.
Why, Lord?
clamored over and over in his mind. All of his losses combined failed to compare with the death of his son.

Another slave closed the gate. Quintus turned away. His old life was over and done. Oddly, his only regret was Fabius. Grateful for the peace of knowing his son was with the Lord, that he would be reunited with him in heaven one day, he tugged on the reins and sent his horse in the direction of his former brother-in-law’s villa. He and Faustinus had never been friends, but they’d always been civil. There was no reason for Faustinus not to answer his questions.

As Quintus climbed the steps of his in-law’s villa, black memories of his wife assailed him. Her tantrums and insatiable vices had brought misery to both families although her kin made endless excuses for her actions.

He’d been a fool to ever compare Adiona with Faustina. On the surface the two women seemed similar, but in heart matters, they were as different as summer from winter.