Chapter IV Trajan
IV
TRAJAN
From the window, I watched her go when I longed to follow her, to stop her from going back to Valerius’s house. The mere fact that Consul Valerius—the one lackey of Caesar’s that my grandfather and I hated above all others—had her in his claws was unimaginable.
I watched her striding down the cobbled street, her spine straight, her head held high, while plebeians veered out of her way.
Not out of respect, but out of fear. Gods, she was brave.
So strong. My pulse had stuttered at the faint glimpse of her life last night at Valerius’s home.
And there were so many others like Lela, bearing the weight of Emperor Igniculus’s Rome. A fierce urgency clutched my heart.
We must move faster.
Finally dragging my attention away from the window, I rounded the counter and ducked through the curtains. Euphemia leaned over the worktable where Doro worked and his wife, Thea—whose real name was Rhea—stared down between them. All three jerked their heads up in surprise.
“Well, that’s certainly a guilty look,” I noted.
Euphemia made a dismissive sound and waved me over. “Doro’s work is excellent. Come and see for yourself.”
Doro and Rhea had been slaves of Legatus Ciprian.
They escaped the night my friend Julian killed Ciprian and set his house on fire.
Caesar’s praetorians believed the slaves died in the fire since there were several bodies found in the rubble.
I knew that those bodies were Ciprian’s guards, who Julian had also killed the night he stole Malina away across the ocean.
Julian had unintentionally freed more than one slave that night.
And people in the Aventine didn’t ask too many questions.
No one here much cared who you were or how you came here.
But Rhea didn’t want to take any chances, changing her name since she worked in the front of the shop with customers of all classes.
“This is your work, Doro?” I asked, picking up the nearly completed crossbow.
Doro, a gentle giant of a man, beamed. “It is, dominus.”
I’d told him more than once I wasn’t his master, but he continued to address me so. Old habits.
“This is fine craftsmanship. I haven’t seen one made with more metal than wood. This is your design?”
He smiled proudly. “Yes.”
“He’s working on an arrow that will penetrate the chest plate of a dragon in half-skin,” added Euphemia.
I nodded. “You may need to work on a design for a ballista as well.” I admired the weapon another moment then handed it back to him. “Good work.”
“He’s smart, my husband,” added Rhea, smiling at Doro.
The brawny man, who was nearly as tall as I was, flushed red at her praise.
“You’d best keep this hidden when you’re not working on it,” I added.
“Pshht.” Euphemia waved her hand again. “What kind of fool do you think I am? I hide all of my secrets. Which reminds me. Come with me, Senator.”
I followed Euphemia down her short hallway and into a cluttered parlor that was lined with shelves of books and a small desk.
She walked to her wall of books and scrolls—a small treasure for a plebeian since bound books were so expensive.
Then she plucked out one that looked like all of the others and opened it.
I knew it wasn’t a book at all; the interior had been hollowed out for secret messages. There was more than one in the compartment. She fingered two of them, then lifted the third—the small missive sealed with familiar red wax and embossed dragon insignia.
“Here you are. The latest from across the sea.”
“Thank you.”
I stepped to the side, quickly broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment.
Julian sent reassurances that all was still well and there had been no encounters with Romans in nearby provinces.
They were well hidden from Rome. He also assured me the local Saxon and Celtic clans had been friendly enough to barter with for food and supplies and assist with tools they’d needed to mend the barn for the heavy snows.
I chuckled at the thought of Julian, the famous Roman conqueror of legions, mending a barn.
He and his new wife, along with his servants, now lived on the outskirts, on land I’d bought in secret many years ago. Grandfather and I had been acquiring property in various provinces for this very reason—the need for an escape and a hideaway.
“This emperor,” my grandfather had told me one night as we sat alone under the moonlight of his terrace. “He could be the death of us all.”
There had been a public execution earlier in the day of three senators—one he’d known since childhood—who Igniculus claimed had committed treason.
I’d never even remembered their trial or the details of their crimes.
Only their deaths. For Caesar had demanded all patricians be present at their executions.
They’d been disemboweled by his praetorians in half-skin, their heads mounted on spikes on the Wall of Traitors.
“We need to plan for an escape, my son,” Grandfather had said.
So we had. And yet, now we were planning for a battle. I’d never confessed any of my covert business to Euphemia, or that I didn’t actually believe that Julian was a traitor, as I’d been spouting in the forum. She’d guessed it.
My man Koska sought her out when we needed someone to get missives out to Julian across the Roman Empire. Messages that could get me killed if I were found out.
So Koska did quite a bit of digging in the Aventine and was directed by more than one trusted friend to Euphemia. The first time I walked into her shop, she took one look at me and said, “Ah, the liar of the forum.”
I’d asked, “How do you know I lie?”
She grinned, her crinkled eyes glittering. “I’m a witch. I know these things.”
“You’re also a trader of secrets, from what I’ve discovered.”
She’d tossed her head back and laughed then said, “Come on in then, dragon. Let’s trade secrets.”
Confiding in her had been the right decision. Now, she had Doro designing weapons for when the day came to fight. And she vowed she knew there were many plebeians in the Aventine who’d be willing to fight when the time came.
But that time wasn’t yet. There was still much to be done. Emperor Igniculus was a cunning bastard, and he had many Roman dragons of powerful houses on his side, including Valerius. My gut twisted yet again at the thought of Lela.
“Bad news?” asked Euphemia.
“No.” I folded the paper and tucked it in the sash of my tunic. “All is well.”
“Your expression says otherwise. You smiled, but then your face went dark.”
“I was thinking of someone else.”
“Someone?” She arched a black brow and grinned. “You mean Lela. How do you know the mystical Lela?”
“How do you know that I know her?” I asked.
“Ha. You begged time alone with her in my shop, your eyes followed her like a besotted boy. And few people can look past the monstrosity she wears on her face. But you see past it, don’t you, Tribune?”
Rather than address her provoking insinuations, because they were all true, I asked a question of my own. “What do you know about her?”
She eyed me for a moment, likely wondering if she could trust me with any information about her.
“I know that she has been the property of Consul Valerius for over three years. I know that she’s been foully misused by him.”
A low rumble vibrated up my chest, my dragon stirring and burning behind my eyes. Euphemia didn’t even flinch, holding my gaze carefully.
“I know that she’s too strong to take her own life to escape her prison.” She paused. “Though she’s thought about it. And she’s tried to run away, and he punished her dearly for it.”
I was going to enjoy killing Valerius.
“I also know that she has very powerful magic inside her, though she keeps it locked and hidden. For now.”
“Mmm.” I nodded. “I’ve heard of such women, touched by the gods.
” Julian had told me his Malina was one of them, though I’d never seen proof of it myself.
But I’d seen the scar Valerius wore that he said Lela had given him.
And I’d felt the presence of magic as she sang that haunting song in the temple and when she’d touched her blood to my skin.
Euphemia was right. She possessed magic. Bestowed by a goddess, she’d said.
“Pssht.” Euphemia waved a hand in the air. “The gods couldn’t care less about the women in this world. But a goddess.” She pointed a finger upward and squinted her dark eyes. “Minerva. She has bestowed power among some human women, yes.”
I smiled. “That is good to know, Euphemia.”
“You think so? A high and mighty senator of Rome likes the idea of a slave girl having more power than him?”
“I believe this world needs warriors, men and women alike. And I’d like to think that she—”
The heat of my dragon flared in my chest. He was so close now, almost as if he wanted to edge me out and take my skin for merely talking about Lela. And why was I talking so much about her?
“Never mind,” I said abruptly.
Euphemia cackled and walked toward the curtains. I followed her through to the front of the shop.
“Do not fret.” She turned on me with a knowing smile. “I believe the goddess will find favor in you.”
I set a coin on the counter. “Why is that?”
“A feeling.” She shrugged a thin shoulder.
Not in the mood to riddle out Euphemia’s cryptic words, I nodded as I opened the door. “I’ll send Koska with my reply in a day or two.”
I’d have a letter of my own to send to Julian soon enough. Hurrying down the steps, Koska fell in slightly behind me from where he’d been leaning against the stone wall, waiting.
Koska was a well-built Macedonian, a free man, who lived in Rome and served us in the camp on many campaigns.
He’d served Julian in particular, constructing his tent, as well as those of the other officers, and tending to whatever our needs were while on war campaigns.
After Julian fled Rome, I realized I needed someone I could trust to assist me.