Surrender to the Roman (19 page)

In a blur, Praetorians appeared at Marcus’s side to escort him from the floor of the Circus Maximus as the crowd exploded. A glance at Tertullian’s face said everything. Eyes wide, mouth open, he saw his future, and the moments did not last long.

As Marcus exited the arena, cheers followed him, whether for him or for Tertullian’s fate, he did not know. Nor did he care. He had his life, his freedom and his position at the head of his legion.

He skidded to a halt. He returned to the mouth of the tunnel which led into the arena.

Ademeni.
His life would be worth nothing without her by his side. He dared not hope that she remained in Rome, that she would forfeit her family and homeland to see whether he lived or died.

“…a soldier’s death by the sword!”

Trajan’s verdict for Tertullian reverberated in Marcus’s ears, as did the frenzied bloodlust that followed. Tertullian’s gaze met his, and Marcus looked away. The desire to see this man—his confidant and sister’s husband—killed did not fall on him.

But he bore witness all the same.

Bitterness flooded the back of his throat. He’d seen enough death to last a lifetime. Retreating from the arena, he offered a silent prayer to the gods.
If you bring her back to me, there will be no more blood
.

Ademeni clutched the stone column, relief and the crush of the crowd threatening to wash her to the floor of the arena in a roiling flood of humanity.

Horrible words flew from the crowd like arrows.

“Murderer!”

“Liar!”

“Kill him!”

Plunged into the emotion that swirled about her, Ademeni could no longer see Marcus with her own eyes. Where had they taken him now?

She pushed through the mass of bodies only to be shoved first one direction, then another. Clawing her way down the stairs, she darted through an opening in the throng and slipped out through the same gate she’d entered.

In the street, she fared no better. The verdict seemed to have infected the city with a fever of madness. Not even the red-robed soldiers held any semblance of order, instead using their weapons and power to take food and trinkets from others at will. Vendors hastened to pack up their goods and women and children sought safety behind barred doors.

As she scurried from shadow to shadow, Ademeni was amazed that the debate between Marcus and Tertullian had sparked all this frenzy. Day had turned to night.

Any excuse for revelry. How quickly she’d forgotten.

Pushed to the margins of the road, she surged through openings in the crowd, ducked away from a drunken man’s reach and skirted around a knot of soldiers arguing their loyalties while the streets rioted around them.

Ademeni paid them only passing attention, as she moved too fast for anyone to follow or grab on to. Her heart pounded only for Marcus, only to reach home, for it was now her home as well—a fact she had been loath to admit not so long ago.

She had given up everything for this man, and nothing would keep her from him now. She had come to know these streets so well that she reached the residential lane in quick order. Only then did she slow her pace and consider her deportment.

She felt as though she’d been dragged down the road; no doubt she looked it as well. The curious glances she received confirmed that either her appearance had suffered greatly, or that they knew about Marcus and the verdict. After all, these were his neighbors.

Large gulps of air helped widen her focus. She would not be the only person interested in seeing Marcus now that he’d been exonerated. The house might already be besieged by well-wishers and post-seekers.

She heard the noise of idle conversation before rounding the bend that took her to the house, her feelings now so different from the first time she’d seen the structure.

Ademeni’s eyes widened. A line of visitors wound down the street and turned into a mass near the front entrance. They pounded on the door and called his name, somehow ignorant of the idea that even if he was there, he’d want privacy.

Knowing what he would want, she diverted her path and came upon the side gate, where the soldiers had camped just the night before. A familiar shadow lurked behind the wall.

“Flora,” Ademeni whispered, urgency behind the word.

The house slave peered around the column, and her jaw dropped when she saw Ademeni. She reached forward. “Come, child, I thought you’d gone.”

Whisked inside, Ademeni dug in her heels long enough to ask, “Is he here?”

“No,” Flora answered, and her heart fell. “What happened?”

“Trajan ruled in his favor but—” she paused, thinking of Drusilla, “—Tertullian is dead by now.”

Flora closed her eyes and muttered, “The gods have answered my prayers.”

“The house must be ready for him.” Ademeni glanced around the cold kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

“Lucia has gone to retrieve Callia from hiding, and Drusilla will put her house into mourning once she hears the news.”

“Then it’s up to us,” Ademeni told Flora, “to make it look like the fires never went out in this house. We must be ready when Marcus comes home.”

* * *

Exhausted, Marcus flung a brown cloak around his shoulders and pulled the edge of the garment around his head to hide his face. Trajan’s men thought it safer for him to leave under cover of darkness.

As he exited the Circus Maximus on horseback, he struggled to put in order the events of an excruciating day. His head throbbed. Just this morning he’d been standing in the dust, staring at Trajan through a murderous haze of sunlight.

And now he was supposed to simply…go home.

That word meant something different now that so much had changed. He must see his sister, must be the one to tell her what had transpired and why. He must be the one to hold her tight and promise that her life would settle into a new rhythm.

He’d seen the end of Tertullian with his own eyes. His hands began to sweat around the reins at the memory. Battling in the arena was nothing like the war they had grown accustomed to. The fight did not last long.

No need to tell Drusilla everything; he would spare her the gory details.

Had Lucia and Callia survived? Had they been apprehended or mistreated while the gods determined his fate? He smiled and shook his head. Lucia still had allies both in the city and abroad. She was smart and strong enough to take care of herself and her grandchild.

So was Ademeni, yet his smile faded into a grim frown. He prayed for her safety as she traveled with her sister to their home in the mountains, for Drusilla had shared her plans to free Lilah.

Given freedom, and knowing he might die, he could not blame her for walking away.

He still had his life, praise the gods, and with his career intact, he could continue in service to Rome so long as it pleased the emperor.

Even though it no longer pleased him. In these many years, he’d never paused long enough to consider the havoc and destruction he’d brought to countless lives in the name of Rome. If the fates did truly balance the scales, one day he would know that kind of pain.

He already knew. He’d lost his love, the one woman in all the empire who could challenge him, stand beside him and make him a better man.

Spurring his mount up the hill and down the road to his home, he fought back sudden anger.
The gods give and take, and humanity must make the best of things.

He focused his scattered attention on the house. Blazing with light from the inside, home beckoned to his tired bones. As he drew closer, he noticed the shadows inside, a large crowd, he surmised, ready to congratulate him.

For what? They had all survived another day. He simply did so in a more dramatic fashion on this particular day. This was Rome, and he’d found favor. Of course his house would be filled to overflowing. After all, he needed a new second in command.

But tonight, celebration seemed wrong. These events had changed his life, the life of his sister and countless others. He would never know if Ademeni completed her journey, if she found another, married, had children…

“Papa!”

Callia’s excited yelp in the distance drew him off his horse. His feet hit the ground before he spotted her tiny figure in the distance. She sped toward him, and he only took a few long strides before she leaped into his embrace.

He could do this, be a good father and make sure she had everything she needed in life. The gods had granted him this job, and as he held her tight, he promised himself he would not fail.

Leaning back in his arms, Callia pulled the hood away to reveal his face. “Come inside, Papa. Everyone is waiting.”

He kissed her cheek, then took his horse by the reins and trudged toward the house, preparing himself for the crush of people inside, imagining the insane things they might say, and the strange questions he’d be asked.

A few paces from the house, he noticed another shadow, waiting by the door. His throat tightened. Surely not. He dared not hope, but as she stepped onto the moonlit walkway, he heard a particular lilting accent.

“I thought you would never come home,” Ademeni teased with a broad smile.

The crushing, weary load of the past few days fell from his shoulders as she stepped forward into his embrace. Scalding tears burned his eyes.

“You’re here,” he whispered into her ear while Callia giggled. “You’re here.”

She smelled like lilies and incense, and he held his body in check as it strained to respond to her nearness. Suddenly revived, he jostled Callia and took Ademeni’s hand.

“Where else would I be?” she asked, tilting her head toward the door. “Your friends are waiting for you. Flora and I have seen to them, and they are waiting only to see you.”

Understanding she’d done all she could to make his homecoming good, Marcus nodded and followed her inside. He could deal with anything, so long as she was by his side.

* * *

“That’s the last of them,” Flora remarked as she passed Ademeni in the hall. She’d just escorted the last guest from the house. Dawn was but a few hours away. “May I retire?”

Ademeni hesitated, realizing that Flora had bowed to her as
domina
of the house. She rested her hand on Flora’s shoulder, hoping to absolve her of any guilt she felt for her part in Marcus’s problems with Tertullian. The woman stood still, then raised her head and looked Ademeni in the eye.

Ademeni smiled. “Thank you.”

Flora returned the gesture then disappeared to her room. Ademeni couldn’t be too hard on the old woman. She’d thought she was protecting her family, and fate had smiled upon her because Marcus had come home after all.

Tertullian had fooled so many.

Marcus leaned against one of the columns near the pool. He had not faltered once this evening when searching for the right things to say. Although she understood the need for this political process, she was jealous of the time spent with others when all she wanted was to be alone with him.

So she’d prepared the house and waited on the guests, seen Callia and Lucia to bed, and now, they were alone. She lingered behind him, hands trembling at her sides, while he finished his drink. When he lowered his hand, she eased the cup from his grip.

His arm circled her wrist, and she looked into his eyes. She smiled at the seriousness of his drawn brow and pursed lips. Reaching out, she tried to smooth worry away with her touch.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured, planting a kiss against the palm of her hand. “I thought you were gone forever.”

Tears pooled in her eyes as she explained, “How could I leave the one I love?”

“Your sister?” he asked. “Where is she?”

Sadness touched her smile. “Well appointed on the North Road, gods willing. I pray she finds her way, but I could not leave with her.”

Now he smiled and pulled her close. “Were you there today? Did you see?”

“Yes,” Ademeni admitted, pushing the unbidden memories from her mind in favor of the current moment. “Your emperor is wise after all.”

“Today he is,” Marcus agreed, holding her tight. “I see things differently now that all this has passed. I see my life in a new way.”

Though Ademeni knew how much she had changed, this was the first time she understood that his firm underpinnings in Rome had been truly challenged. “And how do you see your life now?”

His lips lightly teased hers. “My life is with you and Callia. I want nothing besides.”

“Nor do I,” she answered, reveling in the moment for which she’d longed, the moment that made all trials bearable.

He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “Will you have me for your husband?”

Stunned, she found her tongue too heavy to move.

Smiling, Marcus joked, “I know you’re a princess and a free woman, but I think if I don’t ask for a dowry, perhaps I have a fair chance.”

Ademeni had never thought past the moment when they would be reunited. Had never considered what should happen next. But this felt natural and right, and considering her position in life, she dared not ask for more.

“You have more than a fair chance,” she answered. “What are your customs?”

He kissed her forehead. “There is a contract to sign, and certain rites. When Julia and I married, she insisted every single thing be done in proper order.”

“It seems like much work,” Ademeni mused. Her own customs and religious ceremonies were but a jumble of colors and pronouncements. Perhaps the trappings of his position required all the pomp and circumstance, but she hoped not. “Is there a more simple way?”

He held her at the waist and his expression became sober once again. “Swear to me now to be my wife, and I will swear to be your husband.”

“I do swear,” she answered, taking his earnest face in her hands. “And do you?”

“A hundred times, yes.”

Ademeni took to her toes and kissed his mouth, while the night died around them and a new day rose to take its place. She could not have known what changes each sunrise would bring to her life. Of all that perhaps should have happened to her, Marcus’s kindness and compassion had been the forces to change her heart.

When the kiss finally broke, Ademeni whispered, “What now?”

“We go to Dacia.”

She could not have heard correctly. “We go where?”

“Trajan has granted my original petition to serve as Legatus of Dacia. We journey there as soon as preparations are complete. As a family.”

“You have done this for me?” she whispered, heart straining with love.

“Yes, and it will not be without its share of trials. But it is your home, and Callia’s birthplace. It is a beautiful and magnificent place and I would see us make our family there.”

Ademeni had no words to thank him for such thoughtful consideration, and her mind sped with the challenges that would lie in store upon arrival. Above all else, she grasped fresh hope of reuniting with her sister.

“Now, to bed,” he growled with a mischievous glint in his eye. “And tomorrow, we sign the documents to make ours a legal arrangement.”

With the burden of slavery gone and the threat of death deterred, she found no argument to being his good wife. After all, spending the new day wrapped in both the sheets and the arms of her husband sounded divine.