Sold Into Freedom Page 4

Tears filled her eyes when she looked up at him. “You don’t understand what it does to see my child like this. No mater wants her child to hurt, ever.”

  He slid his arm around her and pulled her into his side. “Te amo.”

  “I know.” She pulled back to touch the scar that ran toward his jawline. “I love you too. And you are still beautiful to me.”

  “I’m glad you think so. No one else will.”

  Her eyes glistened. “Oh, yes. Someone will. The perfect one for you will. That’s how you’ll know she truly loves you.”

  His mater might believe that, but he knew better. The army didn’t want him. His pater didn’t want him.

  No one would ever want him.

  The iron rings rubbed fresh wounds into the tops of her already mangled feet as Tia followed their new owner, Maximus. The fading sun hovered over the rippling water in the west, but the heat remained.

  “Stop dawdling.” Max’s belly hung over his belt, and he was barely taller than she was. Almost every Roumanos they had met so far was shorter than Tancorix. A weak people, these Roumani. Amazing they had conquered nearly all of Britannia. They were nothing without their armor and their weapons. No wonder they failed the first time they came, and only succeeded the second time through sheer force of numbers.

  She bumped her bratir with her shoulder. “I didn’t know it was possible for a person’s stomach to get that big. He looks like he’s carrying a baby.”

  Tancorix chuckled.

  She groaned. “How can you possibly find any humor in this?”

  “What’s the other choice? Anger?”

  “Sounds like a perfectly viable option to me.”

  Ahead of them, Max halted and turned to face them. “We’ll stay here for a few nights.”

  “Isn’t this where you live?” Though she deplored the idea of boarding another boat, a harbor full of them could afford many opportunities to run away from this hateful man and head toward home.

  “This is Ostia. We live in Macedonia, but we’ll stay here for several days before we go home.” He headed toward a row of houses near the end of the dock. He didn’t wait for them. Apparently, he didn’t think they could go far with iron on their feet.

  When they caught up, he spoke with an older woman, whose long silver hair, elegantly arranged on her head, was held in place by a blue band. A matching blue sash draped over one shoulder. By the time they arrived at the entryway, Max was dropping silver coins into her palm.

  “I’m Dorkas. Follow me, then.” She nodded before leading the three of them deep into the domus, which was much larger than it looked from the outside. “Your rooms are here.” She halted before several spacious, airy rooms to her right. Beds with fluffy, wool-stuffed mattresses, trays full of fruit, and pitchers of wine awaited.

  Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she had feared.

  Max entered one room and slammed the door shut.

  Tia moved toward the next one.

  A man with a dagger on his hip blocked the doorway, glaring down at her.

  She backed up.

  The innkeeper beckoned to Tia and Tancorix and continued down the hall. “These are for you.”

  A pair of windowless rooms lay before them, each barely large enough for a sleeping mat, and smelling of sweaty feet.

  Tia forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Food will be brought to you shortly.” Dorkas disappeared back the way she came.

  Tia glanced around. Similar rooms surrounded them. Many must already be occupied for the night, with doors pulled tight. Hulky men with sheathed blades waited at the end of the hallway, prohibiting any chance of escape, or any other unsanctioned behavior, apparently.

  She entered her room and dropped to the floor. A gentle knock sounded and the door pushed open. A young boy, in a tunic that reached his feet and hung off one shoulder, waited with a plate of fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, and a large bunch of grapes. A pitcher of watered wine was also set before her.

  At least she would be fed well.

  A pounding on the door came too soon after a restless night. The only indication of a new day was the light shining under her door. Just as she stuffed down the bread and fruit left outside her door, the same young boy lightly rapped on her door and beckoned her to follow. She noticed her bratir’s room was empty as she passed it.

  She walked back along the hallway toward the front of the house until she arrived at a spacious open-air room, much like the courtyard the roundhouses shared back home. Columns surrounding the garden supported a shaded walkway.

  Max reclined on his elbows on a luxurious backless couch, an overflowing platter of food on a table nearby. No wonder his belly was so large.

  “Come.” His mouth full of grapes, Max sat up on his lectus.

  She approached, heart pounding.

  “Here is what will happen today.” He swallowed noisily. “I have arranged for Dorkas to bring customers here for the next few days. They will ask you questions, and you will supply the answers. If missteps are to be made, better to make them here than at home where people will remember them.”

  Her thoughts reeled. What had Tancorix told them? Brigid’s visions had never come on command before. They simply came when they came, how they came.

  Of course, she had never asked.

  “Clear?” Max angrily snapped his fingers in front of her face.

  “Y-yes. I’m sorry.” She glanced around the room. No Tancorix. “May I . . . may I ask where my brother is?”

  “He is working elsewhere. It’s none of your concern. He’ll return tonight.” He smiled—almost, and then turned toward Dorkas. “Let’s begin. Daylight is wasting.”

  “Wait.” Dorkas’s eyes skimmed her from head to toe. “I realize a slave of her talents is a new venture for you, but don’t you think she might bring you more coin if she were a little more . . . presentable?”

  Max stared at her, blankly. “What are you talking about?” The annoyance in his voice was evident.

  Dorkas sighed. “If I wanted to talk to her, I might be inclined to pay more if she were . . . cleaner, and in a nicer tunic. She looks like her skin hasn’t felt water since Britannia.”

  Tia shivered at the memory of the bucket of icy water dumped on her head in the cold, white room.

  The innkeeper pinched her arm. “She also looks like she will drop dead at any moment. You should get some food in her.”

  Twenty-five days in the belly of a ship with barely enough food to keep a mouse alive had taken its toll.

  Max scoffed. “We’re already late. We just need to get started.”

  Dorkas tilted her head, grinning. “You might get more coin in the long run . . .”

  Please, please, a bath would be so nice. Thoughts of washing in the river at home with soap made from fat and ash flashed through her mind.

  “Fine, then, just hurry, whatever you do.” Max leaned on his elbow again.

  “Take care of the merchandise, and she will take care of you.” Dorkas winked at Tia and took her arm. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and into some new clothes.”

  “Nothing too expensive!”

  The innkeeper laughed.

  “Thank you,” Tia whispered.

  “It’s just business, dear. I take care of my customers, they keep coming back.” She threw back a curtain. “Now get in here and clean up. Quickly.”

  Two large pitchers of water sat on a low table next to a stack of cloths. She untied the sash around her waist and pulled her tunic over her head.

  Not a real bath, but better than nothing at all. At least she would be clean.

  She gasped as the curtain was yanked open again, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Put this on when you’re done.” Dorkas tossed a garment at her.

  Tia picked up the tunic that had fallen to the floor. She rubbed it against her cheek. So soft, softer than any fabric she’d ever felt. Not wool. What was it?

  She finished washing as best as she could
and slipped the new tunic on. At least this one would not allow the men to see right through it. She brushed through her hair and held up the polished bronze mirror.

  It was as good as she could do with the amount of time and water she was given. Not to mention the lack of soap.

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  Now the hard part.

  4

  “There is a way that appears to be right,

  but in the end it leads to death.”

  Proverbs 14:12

  The stone Temple of Castor and Pollux dwarfed Quin as he stood before it on the southeast side of the forum. As a child this had been his favorite building. He loved the many columns on all four sides, stretching skyward, taller than the height of four men. He used to walk along the perimeter of the temple, touching and counting each of the pillars while his father conducted business on the forum.

  So many new buildings had been erected in the last sixteen years, it was a wonder he had even found the forum. To the southwest, the Temple of Jupiter sat like a sentry atop Capitoline Hill, overlooking the city, dominating the landscape. As long as that remained, he could find his way home.

  He’d walked farther than he intended, and the constant ache in his thigh had worsened. It was probably best to go home, but he couldn’t resist one more walk around the temple. He limped south between the Basilica Julia and the temple. Disreputable traders hovered in the shadows on this road, eager to separate the naïve from their silver.

  At the temple’s corner, he stepped onto a wider road. To his right, behind the basilica, a rowdy crowd gathered. A pudgy man stood atop a raised platform, in front of people wearing dirty clothes and defeated expressions.

  A slave market. One of the more disreputable ones. The buyers here were not wealthy. The people offered were not the best—they were older, injured, uneducated. These were not to be used as skilled workers, merely laborers.

  The trader dragged the captives one by one to the edge of the platform. Men called out prices, asked for information, and occasionally demanded the person on display be stripped for closer inspection.

  He had never thought about where the many slaves in his house had come from. His pater simply made a trip to the city’s center, and later that day a new slave showed up at the estate. Quin had never seen the slaves before they were cleaned up and delivered. Never watched the bidding. Never witnessed money changing hands.

  He didn’t want to see it now, either. He turned and headed back the way he came until he reached the Via Sacra, then turned east toward home.

  Tia hugged the wall as Maximus strode toward the corner of the peristyle in Dorkas’s inn. He arranged two of her couches so they faced each other.

  “Sit here.” His gruff voice matched the glare.

  She perched on the edge of the lectus.

  “Now, remember.” He held up one finger. “Smile. No one will even approach you if you scowl.” Another finger. “Each person gets one question. Any more than that and they must pay again.” Third finger. “And above all, don’t touch the coins. They should pay me before they see you, but just in case anyone should offer you any, remember they are mine. I’ll be waiting over here.”

  She nodded.

  He leaned over her, his hot breath washing over her face. “And you will respond to me with ‘Yes, Domine.’”

  “Yes, Domine.”

  Max stepped a few long strides away and leaned against one of the columns, glaring. Watching her every move.

  Brigid, help me. I have no idea what’s to happen today.

  By midday, a steady stream of people had come and gone. Rarely had anyone had to wait, but Tia wasn’t idle long, either.

  Max tucked a customer’s payment into the leather pouch he kept in his belt. “We will become less busy soon as everyone goes home for a quick meal and the baths. We’ll eat then too.”

  “Yes, Domine.” He controlled even when she ate.

  An old farmer’s knees creaked as he dropped onto the couch.

  She plastered on a smile and searched for a familiar feature, anything that reminded her of her parents. Even Tancorix. It was the only way she could care about these strangers. This man had kind eyes. She focused on those. “Will you tell me your name?”

  “Galenos.” His weathered face spoke of years in the sun.

  “Are you a farmer?”

  He grinned. “How could you tell?”

  Should she point out the dirt under his nails, his sunburnt cheeks, the mud stains on the sleeves of his tunic that probably wouldn’t come clean no matter how many times his wife washed it? “I’m a seer.”

  His cackle rewarded her restraint.

  “What’s your question?”

  “I don’t know what to plant.”

  She glanced over his shoulder at Max and leaned near.

  “I’m so sorry, but you can only ask a simple question. Yes or no. Either this or that. Do you have choices?” she whispered.

  His wrinkled cheeks colored. “All my choices so far haven’t done well. I’ve planted wheat, millet, vegetables . . .”

  “Let me ask her.” She patted his hand and closed her eyes.

  Brigit, tell me how to help this sweet man. A picture slowly formed.

  “I see you standing in a field of golden plants . . . and they have long hairs coming from them. But I don’t know what they are called.”

  His face split into a wide grin. “That’s barley. I haven’t planted that in many years!”

  “Then perhaps it’s time to try this year.”

  “And it’s a good harvest?”

  “Very good.”

  He laughed again as he stood. “If my crop comes in as well as you say, I will come back in the spring and give you more coin, dulcissima.”

  She didn’t know that word. But it must be a nice thing. He was smiling.

  Max stepped in, claiming the payment. “Thank you.”

  “I need to go purchase seed now.” Old Galenos toddled off.

  “That took far too long. Why?”

  “My Latin is not good enough for some of these questions yet. I didn’t know the name of the crops.”

  “He’s supposed to tell you names, then you choose one.”

  “He did give me names, but I didn’t know what I saw.”

  Max drilled his stare into Elantia.

  “If I find out you are giving more service than you should be, then you are stealing from me.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Then do it faster.” Max leaned nearer, his nose a hand’s breadth away from hers. “I don’t care if they call you sweetheart, or not. Your time is mine, and my time is money. I say be quicker about it.”

  Tia steadied her voice. “I’m going as fast as I can. The visions come when they come.”

  “You’d better hope they come faster then. Pray to your goddess. Sacrifice. Whatever it takes.” He straightened. “Because you only have to remain pure as long as you are a seer. If you can’t do that, then . . .” His eyes traveled up and down her body like a snake slithering along a tree limb. “Now let’s eat.” He left, expecting Tia to follow.

  As if he hadn’t just somehow threatened her.

  At least that explained what Tancorix had told them. It was a common belief that only girls who were pure could hear from the goddess. It wasn’t true. Her mamma had been a seer her entire life, as had her mamma before her. But if it would keep her safe, she could keep up the deception.

  Sweet, sweet Tancorix. Still protecting her, even when he wasn’t with her.

  As to how long it would work, who knew? But for now, she’d take whatever she could get.

  The cooling evening breeze of midsummer kissed Quin’s skin as he looked over the Valerius estate from his cubiculum on the upper floor. Strawberries and oranges scented the air, and the plop-plop-plop of the bubbling fountain drifted in, soothing his frayed nerves.

  Perhaps he’d build one on his new property in Philippi.

  He tossed linen tunics from his cupboard into
the wooden chest on the floor, along with a second pair of sandals and his studded army boots.

  “What are you doing?” Mater’s sharp voice behind him caused him to jump.

  “Packing. I’m leaving in the morning. Pater has made it clear I can’t stay here.” He answered without turning around.

  She came around to face him, then pulled his hands from his task, holding them between hers. “Let me talk to him. I’m sure—”

  “Don’t bother. He doesn’t want me here.” He sighed. “And what would I do if I stayed? Flavius has ruined my name in both the military and the government. Pater will never allow me into the family businesses, I won’t inherit, and it would be too embarrassing to him for me to be even a paid worker, for him or anyone else. How would I live?”

  Releasing him, she pointed to the pile of clothing on his sleeping couch. “You should at least let the slaves pack for you.”

  “I don’t need them to.”

  Scowling, she gestured from the bed to the trunk, to him. “This is not proper.”

  “I don’t want anyone else handling my belongings. I’ve been taking care of myself for the last fourteen years without slaves.” After tossing the remainder of his clothes in the trunk, he knelt to fold them.

  She huffed. “You have no slaves in the army?”

  “Of course we do. Hundreds of slaves. But they don’t pack my personal things. Every soldier takes care of himself.”

  She crossed the room to the window and stared at the dusky landscape for several long moments. “Where will you go?”

  “Before he left Britannia, Vespasian told me I could take my retirement pay in either sesterces or land. I’ve chosen land. In Macedonia.”

  She whipped around. “Macedonia? So far away?” Her voice squeaked.

  He spun on one foot to face her, the move sending pain shooting down his thigh. “It’s little more than two weeks’ travel. It’s half as far as Britannia.”

  “But you had no choice then.” Her eyes glistened. “Can’t you at least stay in Italia?”

  “There is land available in Macedonia, not Italia.”