Blood Games (58 page)

"Ah.” His sad smile was compassionate. “Beyond your greatest fear is your greatest desire.” He was barely touching her now; he had half-risen and only the feather touch of his fingers was on her. “Imagine,” he said, his voice low and musical, “the petals of a flower opening in the heat of the sun, perfuming the air that passes, lingers and passes, like the figures of a dance.” He paused, one hand on her shoulder, one at her waist. “Think of warmth, growing like a plant, like tendrils, rising around you, containing you though you are unfettered.” He was closer to her. “Be like sunlight, that turns from white to gold to red, a fire, a torch, a blazing comet against the sky."

Olivia never knew how or when her miracle happened, but it was as she had wished, and for that one eternal moment, while her body was wrung with passion, she broke free of herself and knew only the immense force of her love.

There was dew in the garden when Saint-Germain rose from his place beside Olivia. Though the dawn chorus had not yet begun, a single bird was piping two high, perfect notes. Far to the east the night was rimmed with silver.

"I wish you could stay,” Olivia murmured, her fingers laced through his.

Saint-Germain stood still. “If that's what you wish, I will.” He had never consented before, and she had asked him but once.

"Truly?” She sat up on the bench then, reaching for her discarded palla. Now that Saint-Germain was not holding her, she felt cold.

"Yes.” His dark eyes smoldered down at her.

"Justus...” She had no way to describe the things she feared her husband would do should he learn she had a lover, had had him for several years. She could recall the way he looked at her when the men he forced upon her did not treat her as violently as he required. His wrath then was nothing compared to what it would be if he learned of Saint-Germain. She shuddered. “No, Saint-Germain. Go. I want you here, but I don't want what would come of it. Justus would...he might do anything to me. Or to you.” She did not want to think of her husband anymore, not with Saint-Germain holding her hand and watching her with an expression she could not describe.

"When shall I return?” he asked. “Tonight? Tomorrow? Tell me and I will be here.” He let go her fingers, but only to tilt her face up toward him. “I have an obligation to those who are dead, but beyond that, no one can command me but you.” He leaned down quickly and kissed her once. “Get me word and I will come to you, anywhere, at any time. You have only to send for me. I have been a secret part of your life, and you of mine. Time is too short for that, even when you have had as much of it as I have.” He stood straight, listening as footsteps passed in the street. “If you want me gone before your household wakes, then I must go now. What do those slaves who guard your room think when you pass the night in the garden?"

"They think I am foolish. They can see the walls, and there are others to watch outside. They think I am alone, trying to escape them."

"Well, so you are,” Saint-Germain smiled. Then he sobered. “Do I go?"

Reluctantly she nodded. “If there are people in the streets, it's probably best. My guards will be out of the house shortly, to be here when I wake at dawn.” She finished securing her clothes. “I will send you word when it will be safe to come again. If you are here too often, someone might notice, and then..."

"Olivia.” He held out his small, beautiful hands and lifted her to her feet. “Don't be troubled.” He wrapped her in his arms and whispered against her hair, “Olivia, you have given me hope again.” Then he stood back from her, turned sharply and went quickly along the garden path without looking back.

When he was gone, Olivia sank back down on the bench, assuring herself that she and Saint-Germain were safe.

By the time she dozed, Saint-Germain was at the Porta Viminalis, and Monostades was back at the house of Cornelius Justus Silius, waiting to tell him all that had occurred in the garden.

A PETITION FILED WITH THE PROCURATOR SENIOR OF THE SENATE.

Worthy Senators:

On behalf of the bondsman Rogerian of Gades, this petition for compensation and damages is being presented to you so that the bondsman Rogerian may claim his rights under the laws of Rome.

This man's bond was held by one Linus Aeneas Desider, who resides in Rome and Gades. Desider carried the usual contract with this man, and assigned him to overseeing the operation of his estate near Gades, which task the bondsman performed to the satisfaction of Desider and others in authority there.

On his last visit to Gades, Desider told the bondsman Rogerian that he was planning to take Rogerian with him to Rome upon his return there. Rogerian was not eager to make such a change, for though he is a good manager of estates, his experience does not include working in a Roman patrician household. He mentioned this to Desider, who told him it was unimportant.

When he arrived in Rome, the bondsman Rogerian states that he was badly housed and fed, and given nothing to do, either for his bond-holder or for his Roman household. He often asked to be given work, and was told that Desider forbade it. The houseman expressed concern on the bondsman Rogerian's behalf, in such a way that the said Rogerian was filled with doubts and apprehensions. These turned out to be well-founded, for Desider came home one evening, after having drunk a great deal of wine, and accused Rogerian of laziness and poor attention to duty. When Rogerian objected that he had often asked to be assigned work in the household, Desider accused him of impudence as well. Rogerian was then flogged, that day and each of nine succeeding days. Desider was present at each flogging and urged the overseer to be more free with his use of the flagellum.

One of the slaves who was given the task of keeping Rogerian alive told him, during those nine days, that this is a habit with Desider, who brings slaves and bondsmen from his country estates and keeps them for his amusement. He brings foreigners so that the Roman household will not revolt against this cruelty, and so that the victim will be without friends to protect him. Rogerian was thought of sympathetically by the household, but none of them were willing to make complaint, either to their master or to the officials of the city, for fear that their master would do the same thing to them that he had done to Rogerian. None of them told Rogerian that he was entitled to sue Desider for damages in such an instance.

Surely Roman justice means more than this. Surely a man who has been as ill-treated as Rogerian from Gades is entitled to a full remedy under law. He has discharged the conditions of his bond most honorably and has been rewarded with treatment that should have killed him.

I, Ragoczy Saint-Germain Franciscus, am filing this petition with you so that the great wrongs that have been done to this bondsman may be given the fair hearing to which the law entitles him. I state now that I found this Rogerian grievously wounded and abandoned by the beginning of the Flavian Circus. It was raining. The man had no protection, and was hardly conscious, so had no means to obtain protection. Many of those living in the arches were aware of his plight but disinclined to help him.

The deliberate abuse of slaves and of bondsmen, I remind you good Senators, is a flagrant contempt for Roman law, which specifically states that a slave may not be egregiously hurt by his master. Chastisement is to be conducted with rods for minor infractions and with the flagellum only when there has been a crime committed. There has been a crime committed here, truly, but it was against Rogerian.

I freely reveal that the man Rogerian is acting as houseman at my villa and will remain there. If there can be any question of the term of his bond, I will purchase the remaining years for whatever is reasonable. I have already secured Rogerian's bond to me in the form of one copper Brutus, that being the least-valued coin in my possession. He refused to take more.

Rogerian will be at your disposal, good Senators, and will appear when it is required of him. I am certain you will decide his case on its merits and award him the full measure of restitution that you are empowered to give.

This by my own hand, most respectfully, on the tenth day of June in the 824th Year of the City.

[Back to Table of Contents]

JUSTUS’ LANGUOR was deceptive: he was lying back in his bed, supported by five huge pillows, gazing across the room with an expression of patient resignation on his face. His visitor paced back and forth, his red-and-tan-striped toga flapping around his ankles. He glared at the man in bed. “But, Justus, I need you. You said you'd help me."

"I will help you,” he assured the young man. “But you see how it is with me."

"It's unfortunate!” his guest snapped. “It couldn't have happened at a worse time. My father has been wavering on his decisions about the Jews. He's forgotten the hard lesson we learned at Jerusalem."

"And your brother sleeps with a Jewish queen.” Justus sighed and motioned his visitor to a chair. “Sit down, Domitianus. You're fatiguing me."

Domitianus did as he was told, though he watched Justus petulantly. “What is the matter with you, anyway? Are you ill?"

"No, my friend,” Justus answered with a disquieting smile, “I'm being poisoned. I have a physician's report. Now all I have to do is find the poison in—"

"You're serious!” Domitianus declared, getting to his feet once more. “Poisoned? That's dreadful. What enemies of yours are doing this?"

Justus was delighted to answer him. “My wife, I think. I have had three attacks, each one after spending the evening in her company. We have lived apart awhile, and I thought her rancor had lessened, but I fear, I very much fear, that she and her lover are more interested in my death than I had thought.” He gestured to show that his attitude was philosophical. “She's young but her youth is leaving her quickly. I suppose she wants adventure while it is still available to her."

"But to plot your death with her lover! No, Justus, that's beyond the acceptable. It's one thing to tolerate an affair—it is expected—but murder, even the attempt, is not to be taken so calmly. If you do not act against her, she may succeed, and then others may feel that it is their right."

Justus looked away. “I can't help but feel that I brought much of this on myself,” he said heavily, knowing that Domitianus would believe the whole preposterous story. “She has been a woman of intense...appetites, and I have not always been capable of doing all that she wishes. I thought at first that this was only the excitement of youth and that she would change, given time and affection. I have begun to worry of late that I was wrong and that her desires are not the caprice of juvenile freedom, but a true depravity.” He let his voice drop to almost nothing. “You're a young man, Domitianus, and you don't know how, as you grow old, your mind can be so easily swayed by the promise of love. I hope you never have to...” He cleared his throat and faced the Emperor's younger son. “I should not have said this to you. I know you will keep this confidential."

"But we're talking about a plot against your life!” Domitianus protested, taking a brisk turn about the room. “You can't lie there and let that woman kill you."

"Perhaps I would wish to die,” Justus said, fixing a wistful smile on his sensual mouth. “I never intended to harm her, but it is clear that she thinks that I have not treated her well. That's a great condemnation, Domitianus."

"Do you honestly mean that you're willing to be murdered just so that your wife can be pleased? Justus, you're being a fool. Divorce her, prove her adultery and her attempts on your life. This is no tiff between husband and wife, this is a terrible crime against the home and the state.” He slammed his closed fist into his hand, his voice rising. He stopped at the foot of Justus’ bed. “Who is the lover? Do you know that?"

"Oh, yes. I know.” He folded his hands on the sheet. “I appreciate your concern for me, Domitianus. Truly. But you must let me deal with this as I think best."

"No!” Domitianus shouted. His voice had been rising since he came into the room and now it was enough to bring a worried slave to the door. Domitianus gave a short oath.

"Please do not disturb me again while the Emperor's son is with me,” Justus said to the slave, masking his annoyance. He had nearly managed to maneuver Domitianus into demanding to know who Olivia's lover was, and it was quite necessary for his stratagem that Domitianus know this.

Domitianus made an effort to control himself. “We haven't found the murderer of that Armenian scholar you brought to meet me. It's a shame."

"Yes. Probably one of the foreign slaves killed him. There were many who were angry, and it's likely that Led Arashnur did not realize how dangerous his position was there.” Secretly, Justus was delighted that Arashnur was dead, for the man had known too much about the plans that Justus had made. If Arashnur had been questioned, or had grown angry and decided to inform against him, it would have been awkward. And although Justus was quite sure that Arashnur had been a Persian spy, it would have been unpleasant to have to prove it. “A pity,” he added. “And so young."

"A pity, as you say,” he agreed, dismissing the matter. “Your wife is what must concern us now."

"If you insist on discussing something so painful...” Justus muttered, letting himself be coaxed and prodded.

"You say you know who her lover is.” Domitianus sat once more, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin. He looked extremely young.

"My library slave, a Greek, has been watching her, on my orders. You must understand that I have seen nothing of this myself. I have only his reports to go on, and he has observed them together but twice.” He rubbed his face, fussed with the sheet. “It is difficult. Her lover is well-respected, with powerful friends."

"As powerful as yours?” Domitianus asked, with obvious reference to himself. “What is he, one of my brother's cronies?"