A Stray Drop of Blood (56 page)

At that, Aquilia smiled. “I imagine not. It is hard to believe a man’s motives to be altruistic when the ‘sacrifice’ involves giving himself pleasure. Just as it becomes hard to believe his words of love to you when he is making love to someone else.”

Abigail flushed. “There is that. But also, I cannot tolerate the thought of letting her have her victory just because I fear your husband.”

“
You fear him with just cause.” Aquilia drummed her fingers on the table. “But Caelia you have no reason to fear. I will take care of her myself, and with pleasure.”

“
How?”

A cold smile twisted her lips. “Quite simple. I will tell her that if she ever mentions this again, either to you or Titus or Caius, she will find herself the play thing of the gladiators. I have sent troublesome maids to the arenas before, and I would not hesitate to do so again. I imagine all of Caius’s whores know that, which is why they all try not to displease me.” She stood. “I will go see to her. In the meantime, pass my advice along to Titus. And so you know . . . I have come to respect you, Abigail. You must be an amazing woman, if you have made my son’s heart thaw. I will understand his mourning when you leave.”

~*~

Caelia clutched the door until her knuckles were white, resentment burning in her chest as her mistress strode away. She wanted to slam the door closed, but she could not. She wanted to claw Aquilia’s eyes out, but she could not. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy that Hebrew witch, but she could not. Not yet, anyway. She would not disobey her mistress’s command, because she knew for a fact her threat was a meaningful one.

But there would be another opportunity, sooner or later, to get her revenge. And until it presented itself, she would simply be patient.

Ever so quietly, she closed the door.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Titus knew relief. It had never occurred to him that his mother would prove the answer to his prayers about his father, but he whispered his gratitude to God. He only wished he had found the time to discuss it with Abigail the day before, so she could have allayed his fears earlier. Some guests had come over the previous evening, ones who he could not in good conscience ignore. He invited her down, but she had declined. He had not minded, though he had missed spending time with her. By the time he had retired, she had been asleep, so it was not until the following morning that she managed to tell him about her conversation with his mother.

“
You were once again right, beloved.” He hugged her tightly. “We had only to pray, and we received an answer. I never should have doubted.”

She smiled up at him. “We all doubt. It is getting past it that is important.”

He returned her smile then, unable to resist, leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

“
How was your evening?” She posed the question guilelessly, but Titus still had to narrow his eyes. The family that had joined them for dinner had been an upstanding one, one whose daughter was just of age to be wed. It had not been a whim on his parents’ part to invite them over with their children, and Titus had been fully aware that both sets of parents were considering whether or not he and the girl would be a good match. He suspected that her brothers would not like the idea; he had been friends with both of the eldest, which meant that they knew his reputation.

“
What?” Abigail prodded when he did not answer.

Titus blinked away his thoughts. “It was a matchmaking venture. One would think they could at least wait until you left before they started this nonsense.”

Abigail sighed. “That reminds me. Your mother advises that you be more careful about how you look at me in front of your father. She says it is all too obvious that we are in love.”

Titus gaped. “My mother said that?”

Abigail nodded placidly, absently smoothing down his toga. “I will never get used to seeing you in all this cloth, Titus. I still expect you to be in your uniform every time I see you.”

Titus chuckled and tugged gently on her corresponding stola. “And every time I see you, I expect you to be in. . . that delectable blue thing.”

Abigail laughed and dug her fingers into his side, though she only got one good tickle in before he pinned her hands behind her back and pulled her against him. He proceeded to kiss her soundly.

“
There. That will teach you.”

Abigail laughed again. “Oh yes. I have learned my lesson well. If I want you to give me an exceptionally good kiss, I should tickle you.”

He kissed her again just to make sure the instruction stuck, then stepped away, holding onto one of her hands as he did so. “Are we ready?” He propelled them toward the door as he asked. They had been planning this outing for a week and half, and he was looking forward to showing her around his city.

“
We are ready. Antonia has the children, Phillip is outside the door, ready to take up residence in my shadow, I watched you grab some money, and I can think of nothing else.”

“
Marvelous.” He pulled her through his door, where Phillip was waiting to fall in behind them, and out the front. He tossed a smile her way. “How is it that we have yet to go out together, except that one time to the villa?”

She smiled back. “You are out with your father every day, and when I have gone out, it has been with Antonia. I suppose when you have a day with nothing pressing to do, you take the opportunity to stay home.”

“
True.” Though he had never done so before, he had to admit. He had run into a few of his old friends, and they had seemed a bit offended by his preoccupation. It reminded him rather forcefully of his own response to Jason when he had acted in this very way.

Abigail must have read his thoughts. “I seem to have that effect on people.”

Her tone said what her words did not: that she had that effect because they desired to be with her but were still ashamed to admit it openly. Titus squeezed her hand in denial. “We are going out. And we can do so anytime you wish to, beloved.”

She renewed her smile. “Perhaps you should wait to see me in action before you promise that. You may be quite embarrassed to be seen with me, Titus, I am shameless when I am haggling. Is that not right, Phillip?”

Phillip chuckled. “The merchants run for cover when they see her approaching; they all know she will practically steal their wares, but always in such a way that they are happy to part with them.”

Titus laughed as they approached the door that a servant opened wordlessly before them. “I saw you in action with Otho, and yet still I am willing to go with you to the marketplace. Shall I play the part of domineering lord again?”

Abigail smiled up at him sweetly. “It is what you are best at.”

He laughed again and pulled her closer to his side, knowing that if the rest of the day could continue in the same vein, they would have a marvelous time.

They had been browsing the stalls for an hour before Titus actually stopped her at one, his eye on the necklaces. Abigail looked at him curiously. “What has caught your eye, Titus?”

Titus picked up a length of gold with delicate craftsmanship.

“
Titus, no.”

He hushed her with a smile. “Indulge me, Abigail. I would like to give you something to remember me by.” He fingered the pendant with a grin. “Amethyst, right?”

She flushed. “As if I need any token to help me remember you.”

He glanced at the merchant, who had come to attention. “I am going to ask you how much this is, and you are not going to waste my time with your outlandish prices. Take whatever number that is in your mind right now and cut it in half.”

The merchant smiled slyly and named a number entirely too high. Titus sighed and replaced the necklace. “You have wasted my time. I will find my lady a token elsewhere.” He turned, pulling Abigail with him.

Naturally, the shopkeeper called him back with a shout of a number half as large as the original one he had mentioned, and Titus turned back to finish the negotiation. He got what he deemed a good price for it, even if Abigail did tease that she could have gotten it for half
that
.

“
Be silent and wear your gift,” Titus ordered with a grin, slipping the gold chain over her head. She obliged.

They had wandered half an hour more before an entirely too-familiar voice intruded upon their attention.

“
Titus! I was hoping to run into you.”

Titus froze and sighed, then turned to face his father. “Father. I thought you were spending the day at the baths.”

Caius waved that away. “Come, son, I need your opinion on something.”

Titus arched a brow in question, but Caius was already sidling through the crowds. With a glance at Abigail, who shrugged, he led them after him. By the time he realized where they were headed, his father had fallen in beside them again and had the audacity to take Abigail by the arm, proclaiming, “Actually, Abigail, this will interest you as well. You are still looking for a handmaiden, are you not? I believe I spotted a few Hebrewesses in the lines.”

Abigail looked at Titus over her shoulder as Caius led her onward. He clenched his teeth together. “She does not need to go there, Father.”

“
Nonsense, Titus,” Caius returned with an innocence that spoke of deviousness. “If I have learned anything about women, it is that they are never satisfied until they have control. If you were to pick out a slave for her, she would hate the girl. If you let her come and choose for herself, she will be satisfied. Is that not true, Abigail? Would you not prefer to decide for yourself who will serve you?”

“
Not there,” Titus maintained.

But it was too late. They were already on the edges of the slave sales, and Abigail recoiled. Still, Caius pulled her onward, and Titus could not stop him, short of tugging on Abigail’s other arm and turning her into a human rope. Opting to spare her joints, he squeezed her hand in encouragement.

~*~

Abigail was not certain quite what she expected Caius to do. Proclaim her a slave too and offer her to one of the traders? No, not with Titus there. Was he simply trying to humiliate her? Perhaps, but that seemed too simple. Seeing no other option, she held her tongue and her patience and followed him.

Caius stopped the group before a line of assorted peoples, their nations and races apparently as various as their sizes. He headed straight for one small woman. Under the grime, her hair may have been blonde. Under the pain, her eyes may have been blue. He grabbed her by the jaw and turned her face to Titus. “What do you think? Germanic, they tell me. Fine bones. Once she’s had proper meals for a week or two, I think she would be quite lovely.”

Abigail looked at Phillip, whose fingers were curled in fists. In all probability, this girl was from a far different place than the village he had come from, but she knew he would see her as a sister in that moment. Catching his eyes, all she could do was shake her head slightly, hoping he saw in her gaze that she shared his compassion. She watched him deliberately relax.

Turning her head back around, she caught sight of the girl. She was in another line of slaves, and she stood out. Most of them had had their heads shaven, but she still had long hair, falling in dark tresses to her waist; most of the others were filthy and looked malnourished, but she was clean and healthy, albeit pale and terrified. Abigail could tell at first glance that she was an Israelite. She stepped free of Caius, who released her without thought, and walked the few paces to the girl.

She spoke in Hebrew. “What is your name?”

The girl looked up as though shocked to hear the words, her eyes reflecting a fear that had Abigail’s heart racing in sympathy. “Miriam.”

Abigail smiled gently. “A lovely name. The sister of Moses, one who stood with faith beside him. It is a strong name, one to live up to. My name is Abigail.”

“
David’s wife.” Miriam looked sideways at the man guarding this group, as if afraid to be caught speaking.

“
Where are you from, Miriam?” Abigail knew no guard would dare to punish a slave for answering the questions of a prospective buyer. She tried to put her confidence in her words so that Miriam would feel it, but she was not certain that she succeeded.

“
Hebron.” Again, her voice was barely a murmur.

“
I am from Jerusalem.” She, too, looked at the guard. Keeping her words in Hebrew, she asked, “How much are you asking for this girl?”

The man looked at her as though she were a sea creature. Abigail smiled and turned back to Miriam. “He does not speak Hebrew. So I want you to tell me why you look at him with fear. Perhaps it has something to do with the reason you have not been shaven, or let to starve?”

Miriam’s hands shook, and she kept her eyes downcast. “He has not touched me, Mistress, I swear. He just–is a businessman. My hair, my skin. He said I would fetch a higher price if I showed up in Rome pretty, and that it would be higher still since I was a virgin.”

Abigail felt her blood boiling up. “I am certain of that. Miriam.” She waited until the girl’s eyes came up to hers. “How old are you?”

“
This summer will be my sixteenth.”