Curses and Smoke (19 page)

S
omething woke him up. Another tremor? He did not know, but the sky looked different, as if someone had lit a large fire and then just as quickly put it out. He had finally fallen asleep, alone, outside the enclosure after Lucia left — long after she should have, but neither one seemed to have the strength to release the other. She’d taken her hoard and the small lamp, leaving him in the inky black. It suited his mood.

He rubbed his face, grateful that she hadn’t insisted — or even asked — that he consider abandoning his father for her. Because if she had, he would have said
yes
. He would have done it. He would have run away with her, and then never forgiven himself for it. She’d saved him from himself.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still considering it. The idea of never seeing her again hollowed him out. It left him wondering if maybe his father
could
manage whatever happened if they ran. Tag had been away in Rome for three years, and he’d handled everything then, hadn’t he?

Yet deep down, he knew Titurius’s rage at losing Quintus’s coin would be lethal. And he couldn’t take that risk with his father’s life.

The light on the mountain changed yet again, and Tag wondered if it was closer to dawn than he thought. Either way, he figured he might as well go back to the compound.

When he reached the broken city wall, he was stunned to see Lucia and Minos climbing through it toward him. With her hair flowing down her back, she looked so beautiful and lost, his heart lurched.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “It’s almost dawn. People will be getting up.”

“I don’t think I can do it, Tag,” she said, almost desperately. “I don’t think I can just walk away and pretend I don’t love you.”

Gods, he hated to see her so miserable. “Did you sleep at all,
deliciae meae
?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling. He moved to her and scooped her into his arms. “What if … what if we …” she began.

“Shhhhh,” he said, trying to soothe her. He could feel her heart racing.

“What if … what if I could convince Quintus to bring you
and
your father into his household? What if —”

He froze and held her out from him. “What? Are you suggesting that Quintus ‘buy’ me and my father?” It felt as if she had punched him hard in the chest.

“Then, when we run, we could be sure he would not be killed. Quintus said patricians treat their slaves better than people like my father.”

“And you believe him? You would leave my father with that man? Who would then sell him or throw him out into the street? No.”

Her eyes looked wild. “Tag, I just don’t want to lose you.”

He blinked, trying to understand. She hadn’t slept all night. She was not thinking straight. “Lucia, you cannot possibly think that this would be all right. I would rather run away and abandon my father to Titurius than be owned by Quintus. And to have to watch you go to his bed? Impossible.” Too late, he thought about lowering his voice.

She dropped her head into her hands and began to cry again. “I know. I shouldn’t have thought — It’s just that I don’t think I can do this, Tag. I would rather die than —”

Rustling came from behind her, and she stopped talking.

“You would rather die than what, my dear?” came a lazy voice that brought a chill to the deepest center of Tag’s bones. “Please, do tell.” Quintus emerged from the shrubbery.

Tag stared at the patrician, unable to move, unable to think, unable to speak. Minos bared his teeth and growled, but Quintus seemed not to notice. His gaze traveled over both of them. “Well, this explains so much. So, the lovesick act for me, it was all a lie, Lucia? Is that right?”

“It is not what you think, Quintus,” Lucia said in a rush. “We were just talking —”

“A lovers’ spat?”

“No —” Lucia began.

He flicked his eyes over to Tag. “I was right, then, wasn’t I? You are in love with your mistress. Only it never occurred to me that she loved you back. Well, hopefully you will fall for your
new
master soon.”

Silence. Tag clenched his fists and swallowed. He had no idea what Quintus was talking about. The bigger question was, what would the patrician do? Would he insist Titurius torture and kill Tag for this?

“How did you find us?” Lucia managed.

“A strange light woke me up, so I went outside. I saw you release your dog and hurry away. I was curious, so I followed.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Quintus mused. “I am hurt, of course. I thought you loved me. I found a surprising amount of solace in that. But this could work out to everyone’s benefit.”

“How is that?” she asked cautiously.

“Your father refuses to give me the young
medicus
as part of the marriage deal until he finds a replacement, but now he will have to give him to me in order to avoid an outrageous scandal. I am sure I am not the first to stumble upon this secret affair.”

“There is no affair,” Lucia said. “We have not —”

“I was to be part of the marriage deal?” Tag interrupted. “
Why?
”

Quintus turned to him. “Because I insisted.”

Tag exchanged a confused look with Lucia.

“Look, I know that you don’t care for me much, but over time, I believe that you will learn to like me,” Quintus said to him. “Maybe even love me. That you both will.”

Tag shook his head, hearing the words, but not understanding them.

“Don’t you see?” Quintus said, a pleading note creeping into his voice. “I don’t care if you love her as long as you’re with me. You’ll come to care for me. I know you will.”

Tag took a step back, confused. “But —”

“My feelings for you … They are a surprise?” Quintus asked, his face flushing. “Since the day you saved me from the other gladiators, I felt …” He swallowed. “I thought you knew. I thought you were only pretending not to notice or respond to me. But once you are part of my household, you will see. I will take care of you. Of both of you. You will come to care for me. I know it.”

“Quintus,” Lucia said. “If it’s not me you want, then why marry me?”

The patrician’s face flushed even more. “I was not lying. I do — did — find your love for me a balm. And I appreciate your beauty and intelligence. I thought this was a good solution for everyone. With this arrangement, you do not have to marry old man Vitulus. My father is pleased that I agreed to marry at all. I will have children, and I will finally have the chance to show you, Tag, that I am worthy of your affection,” he said, turning to him and putting his hands out in supplication.

Minos growled again.

Tag looked at Lucia. Her eyes were wide, one hand at her throat.

Quintus released a shaky breath. “I will give you some time to think about this,” he said. “You will see that it’s the best possible outcome for all three of us.” Nervously, he extended a hand to Tag’s shoulder.

This time Minos lunged. Quintus screamed as the dog’s teeth pierced the flesh of his forearm. Lucia yelled, “No, Minos. Down! No!” Tag tried to grab the dog’s collar.

In the commotion, they did not notice the two people rushing toward them from the compound.

“What in Jupiter’s name is going on here?” roared Pontius. He grabbed a stick and began smashing it against the dog’s back.

“Stop!” Lucia screamed as the overseer landed a blow on the dog’s spine. Minos released Quintus and yelped in pain.

“Minos, NO!” roared another voice, and the dog cowered on his belly, ears back in fear.

It was Titurius.

A
t the sight of her father, Lucia shrank back. “Father, what are you doing here? I thought you had to stay at the temple.”

“The goddess accepted my predawn sacrifice — and then I come back to find this?” He turned to Tag. “Why were you attacking this patrician, boy? A
guest
of this household?”

Tag blanched. “I wasn’t attacking him. I was trying to get the dog off of him.”

“That is not what it looked like,” Titurius said.

Lucia glanced at Quintus. Pontius was helping him wrap his bleeding arm. Gods, how would she explain this? And then it came to her. “I was with Quintus, and Minos thought Quintus was hurting me, so he attacked,” she cried quickly. “The dog was only protecting me. And … and the
medicus
rushed out to see if he could help Quintus.”

It seemed to take her father a minute to register her presence. “What are you saying?”

“I was with Quintus and the dog got upset. Tag was merely trying to pull Minos off of him.”

Titurius looked at Quintus. “Is this true?”

She begged Quintus with her eyes to go along with her story. He seemed to understand, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Yes, it is true,” he said. “The dog attacked me, and the boy was only trying to help.”

Lucia had barely let her breath out when she felt the crack of her father’s backhand across her face.

“You whore,” he growled.

“But … but we are to be married in days,” she stammered, flicking her eyes to Quintus. “There is no harm done.”

“That is correct. I believe I am allowed to sample the merchandise before the final event,” Quintus said.

Titurius glared at the young patrician. Lucia saw Tag clenching his fists just behind him and shook her head at him in warning.

Holding his injured arm, Quintus nodded toward all of the servants and slaves who had heard the disturbance and come running. “Given how this looks, the rumors are probably already spreading about your daughter. I believe I can make this … er, scandalous situation go away.”

Titurius frowned. “How?”

“Send the
medicus
to me right away. Problem solved.”

“I told you, I’m not releasing him until I have a replacement
on hand
.”

“You have the elder slave until then,” Quintus said.

“Not for much longer,” Titurius retorted.

Tag released a breath in almost a hiss.

“What do you mean, Father? Is Damocles all right? What are you planning to do?” Lucia asked on Tag’s behalf.

He turned to her. “We both know he is failing.” He did not answer the last question.

Lucia caught the look of dread on Tag’s face.

“Well, I’m afraid I will have to insist,” Quintus said. “I believe the arrangement we have made will adequately cover costs for an interim healer until you are able to purchase another slave.”

“I need a
medicus
who is used to working on gladiators and dealing with their injuries,” Titurius said. “They are not easy to find.”

Quintus shrugged. “My father knows a lot of former military medics. We’ll find you a
medicus
from the legions who has done his time and wants out.”

Her father still looked unconvinced. “Marry her today before sundown,” he said at last, “to avoid the scandal. And it’s a deal.”

“Fine,” Quintus said, looking at Lucia, then at Tag.

Pontius took the patrician by his uninjured arm and said, “Let’s get the elder healer to look at that bite.”

Quintus nodded. “I will leave for Herculaneum as soon as my arm is treated. Bring them both to me later today and we will have the ceremony before sundown. Agreed?”

Titurius made a noise of assent.

“Meanwhile, you are not to hurt either of them. No whipping the slave. No bruises on your daughter.”

Titurius would have none of it. “You
dare
tell me how to manage my own slaves? My own daughter?”

Quintus straightened into his usual posture of nobility. “Our deal is dependent on you pretending to be civilized for this one day, which I know must be hard for a butcher such as you. However, I insist that you somehow manage it.”

Titurius’s face reddened in rage, but he said nothing.

Quintus looked at Lucia and then Tag one last time before allowing Pontius to lead him back into the compound. Tag gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, as close to a “thank you,” Lucia imagined, as he could muster for the order that kept him from being whipped. But the set of his jaw told her he was still fuming over what the patrician had planned.

When Quintus was out of hearing, Titurius turned to one of his freedmen. “You — lock him up with the imprisoned gladiators.”

The man grabbed Tag by an upper arm.

“But he has done nothing wrong,” Lucia pleaded. “And you heard Quintus —”

Her father raised his arm as if to hit her again and then lowered it. His face was almost purple with rage. “You have caused me enough trouble. Start packing your things. I will not lose this opportunity. And I will send this slave on,” he added, pointing at Tag’s retreating back, “
only
when I see the ceremony concluded and not one moment before.”

He stomped back toward the house. “Go back to work, you lazy idiots!” he yelled at everyone who had gathered to watch.

*  *  *

As the morning wore on, Lucia paced in her small
cubiculum
. They could not follow through with Quintus’s plan. It would crush Tag’s spirit to be taken away from medicine and gladiator training just to satisfy another owner’s passing whims. And even if Quintus fancied himself in love, it wouldn’t change the fact that Tag and Lucia were both being bartered away for a price, to be used against their will. She couldn’t — wouldn’t — allow that to happen.

She heard Quintus announce to her father that he would have everything prepared for the ceremony in Herculaneum by the ninth hour. She and Tag would have to sneak away long before that. But how?

Think. Think
. She would tell her father she was going to Cornelia’s for a bath. Yes, he’d allow that. And … and she’d tell him she needed Damocles to attend her, because Cornelia wanted to consult with him about her upcoming birth. And Damocles would bring his medical things because he might need them.

They would proceed toward Cornelia’s, and then she’d slip out a different city gate with the old man. He probably wouldn’t even notice at first. Then Tag could get away through the Vesuvian gate, after which they would find each other at the abandoned shrine of Mephistis. It would be hard going with Damocles, but they could then get him to Nuceria, where they could hire a carriage to Thurii. Nobody would think to look for them there.

Best of all, if her father thought she was bathing and preparing with Cornelia, it would be
hours
before their disappearance would be discovered. She could send a note to Cornelia asking her to pretend that they were there and further delay her father’s summons to leave. Her friend would do that for her.

Her heart began to beat faster. They really could do it. If the gods were willing, and she got Tag released from the gladiator cells, they could make it out and protect Tag’s father too.

Once she was certain Metrodona was nowhere in sight, she drew the drape across the opening to her
cubiculum
and unlocked the chest where she’d hidden her hoard. She piled all the treasures into an old shawl, including the golden coins from her mother’s things.

A ring clattered on the floor and she picked it up. It was a man’s ring — her dead brother’s citizenship ring, she realized. She remembered when her brother had first received it, after his manhood ceremony, where he exchanged the
bulla
necklace protecting his child self for the traditional ring of an adult Roman citizen.
Mater
must have gotten the ring back when the officers came to tell her about his death. It gave Lucia a pang to think of her mother holding her firstborn’s ring to her heart in grief. She would have had nothing to hold on to for her lost, exposed babies.

She put the ring in the center of the pile and then reached under her mattress for the votive of Turan that Tag had given her. The small piece of clay fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, and she closed her fingers around it.

Keep us safe from harm
, she begged the Etruscan goddess of love.
Protect us from our enemies and we will honor you for the rest of our lives
.

When she heard voices, she hastily put the votive with the other treasures and wrapped it all up to look like a small stash of laundry. Then she hid it under the bed. They were going to do this. And they were going to have to do it right away. It was just a matter of figuring out how to get Tag unshackled.

She wandered out to the atrium, where slaves had hung the laundry to dry. At the ends of the lines flapped the slaves’ own tattered tunics and unraveling shawls. Carefully, she slid off a few pieces that looked about the right size and rolled them up. She dashed back into her
cubiculum
and changed. Even though everyone in the compound knew her, she gambled that she would appear invisible to the guards as long as she covered her hair and slouched like a tired slave.

Once dressed, she looked around her room. Metrodona had left some bread and fruit for her earlier. Perfect. She would pretend to bring Tag food from the kitchens, and they could make their getaway plans then. She put a shawl over her head, hugging the bread to her chest, and peeked out of her
cubiculum
. All clear.

With her heart thudding in her ears, she walked toward the barracks.