Chapter 3 #3
Cassia continued to assist Marcella until all the children had taken stools, the older ones helping the younger onto theirs, and then sat next to me. Marcella thumped down a pot of stew before she seated herself and ladled out portions, beginning with one for her youngest.
I noted Lucius’s surprise—in a Roman household, male guests were served first, then female ones, then the paterfamilias and on down. Children were usually kept out of sight for meals until they were twelve or so, old enough to converse on topics of interest to the head of the household.
Marcella had never cared about protocol. She made certain her family ate first, and if there was anything left after that, she was happy to share with guests.
Once the offspring started tucking into their stew, Marcella filled Cassia’s bowl and then finally handed the ladle to me. I decided to be polite and give Lucius a small portion before I took the dregs of the pot for myself.
Cassia lifted one of the round loaves and began tearing it into wedges, passing them down to the children, then the adults. I eagerly dunked my portion into the stew, savoring the soft and tasty bread that Marcella made herself in the big oven in the courtyard.
In the cities, it was impractical for all but the largest homes to have an oven that could grow hot enough to bake bread. Most households went to the nearest baker with their portion of grain doled out to every Roman, who would mill the grain into flour and then bake up the bread.
Marcella had no time to trudge to the village for her bread every day. She milled the grain herself—though Ennius had taken over that task now—and sieved the flour to make certain the grit from the millstones were filtered out.
Our baker, Quintus, gave us our bread and other baked goods for nothing, through a bargain Cassia had once made with him, but I was sure he made certain we got the loaves with the most pebbles in them. Marcella’s bread, by contrast, was tangy and delectable, without a hint of sand.
Lucius ate the simple meal without complaint. He was obviously used to luxury, but if he traveled as much as he claimed, he’d have faced plenty of hardship on the road.
Once we’d slaked our hunger with bread and stew, our thirst with wine, Marcella laid down her spoon with a thunk.
“Now, Lucius, tell me why you are here.”
Lucius drained his wineglass and made his expression carefully blank. “As to that, I am being hunted, dear lady. Leonidas thought I’d be safer here than in Rome.”
Marcella turned her sharp glare on me. “Oh?”
Cassia quickly explained to her what Lucius had told us. Marcella listened with growing uneasiness.
“He is being sought for cheating his former master and you decided to bring him here?” Marcella demanded of me. “To Xerxes’s family?”
Endangering us all, she meant.
“It was the safest place I could think of,” Cassia said before I could answer. “It is my fault, Marcella. None know of you except two very trusted men, and this farm is remote. We took care that Lucius was not seen as we traveled.”
Marcella relaxed the slightest bit. “If it was your idea, Cassia, then it might be sound.” She switched her gaze to Lucius. “I suppose I could use him. I have a roof that needs repairing. That is, if his soft hands can lift a hammer.”
“I grew up on a farm like this,” Lucius said in an injured tone. “I assure you, I can repair roofs and walls and guide a plow. Easier work than the fetching and carrying I did when I was first sold to the silk merchant. I was slave born too, just like my brother.”
Marcella regarded him skeptically. “We’ll see.” She fixed her gaze on me again. “You’ll retrieve him as soon as it is safe?”
I nodded, though how long that would be, I could not predict. My hope was that the silk merchant’s hired bullies would give up when they could not readily find Lucius. Journeys were dangerous, and they might conclude that Lucius had perished somewhere on the long road from Parthia to Rome.
Ennius studied Lucius in fascination. “Did you really go to Ctesiphon? That seems a great way away. I’ve been to Aricia,” he finished proudly, naming a large town about twenty miles south of the farm.
“It is indeed a long way,” Lucius said. “All the way across a vast desert. A month’s journey, even from Antioch.”
“A whole month?” one of the younger boys said in amazement. “In a desert? Didn’t you die of thirst?”
“Very nearly.” Lucius bent a grin on the lads, who eyed him with interest. “We traveled from oasis to oasis, hoping the bandits didn’t steal our water when we were on the road. They might steal our silk as well, but the water is what we guarded with our lives.”
Six small mouths popped open, and six pairs of eyes fixed on Lucius. The children began to pepper him with questions, which Lucius easily answered.
Xerxes had been this easygoing with his sons and daughters, I remembered. He’d liked children and loved his own, though he’d never admitted this in words.
Marcella silently left the table and headed for the open door. Without a word, I rose and followed her.