Remembering his frustration on Accipiter, Julius never thought he would be thankful for the heavy weight and slow speed of a Roman galley. As dawn had arrived with the sudden glare of the tropical coast, his men had cried out in fear as the square Roman sail was first sighted. Julius had watched it for the first few hours of light, until he was certain the gap was closing. Grimly, he gave orders to send the cargo over the side.

At least the captain hadn't had to witness it, as he was still bound to a chair in his cabin. Julius knew the man would be raging when he found out, and more of Celsus's gold would have to be handed over to him if they were ever successful. There really wasn't a choice, though it had been an uncomfortable hour as his men brought out small groups of the crew to help them drop the valuable goods of a continent into their wake. Some of the rare woods bobbed in the waves where they fell, but the skins and bolts of cloth went quickly to the bottom. The last items to be thrown were enormous tusks of yellow ivory. Julius knew they were valuable and considered keeping them before his resolve firmed and he gave the reluctant signal to drop them overboard with the rest.

He had the men stand ready then, watching the sail on the horizon against the glare of the rising sun. If it still came closer, he knew the only thing left was to strip the ship of anything that could be torn out, but as the hours passed, the galley that followed them grew smaller and smaller until it was lost against the reflected light of the sea.

Julius turned to his men as they worked amongst the crew. He noticed Gaditicus was not with them, having stayed belowdecks when the call came to move the cargo. He frowned slightly, but decided not to go to him and force the situation. He would eventually see they had to continue with the original plan. It was their only hope. He would take Ventulus clear of the coast for a few weeks, continuing to train his recruits in sea warfare. He would have liked to have a corvus made, but they must look like any other merchant to tempt a pirate into an attack. Then he would see if he had managed to turn farmers into legionaries, or whether they would break and force him to see Ventulus sunk under him as Accipiter had been. He clenched his jaw and sent a short prayer to Mars. They must not waste this second chance.

CHAPTER 16

Alexandria looked around the small room she had been offered. It wasn't much, but at least it was clean, and it was hardly fair to take up space at Tabbic's tiny house now that her jewelry was bringing in a wage. She knew the old craftsman would let her stay longer, even accept a small rent if she insisted, but there was barely enough room for his own family in the tiny second-floor home.

She hadn't told them of her search, intending to surprise them with an invitation to dinner when she found a place. That was before almost a month of searching. They might have thought it strange that a woman who had been born a slave would turn anything down, but for the money she was willing to pay, the rooms offered had been dirty, damp, or infested with scurrying inhabitants she had not waited to examine closely.

She could have paid for more than one room, even a small house of her own. Her brooches were selling as fast as she could make them, and even with most of the profits going into new and finer metals, there was enough to add to her savings each month. Perhaps being a slave had taught her to value money when it came, as she begrudged every bronze coin that went on food or a roof over her head. Paying a high rent seemed like the ultimate idiocy, with nothing owned after years passing over hard-earned coin. Better to spend as little as possible and one day she could buy a house of her own, with a door to shut against the world.

“Do you want the room?” the owner asked.

Alexandria hesitated. She was tempted to try to bargain the price down still further, but the woman looked exhausted after a day working in the markets and it was an honest price. It wouldn't be fair to take advantage of the family's obvious poverty. Alexandria saw the woman's hands were sore and stained with color from the dye vats, leaving a faint blue mark over her eye as she brushed her hair back unconsciously.

“I have two more to see tomorrow. I will let you know then,” Alexandria replied. “Shall I call here in the evening?”

The woman shrugged, her expression resigned. “Ask for Atia. I should be around. You won't find better for the price you want, you know. This is a clean house and the cat deals with any mice that get in. Up to you.” She turned away to begin the evening's work preparing the food brought from the markets as part of her wage. Most of it would be near to spoiling, Alexandria knew, yet Atia seemed unbowed by the grind of her life.

It was a strange thing to see a freewoman on the edge of poverty. On the estate where Alexandria had worked, even the slaves were better fed and dressed than this woman's family. It was a view of life she had never explored before, and she had the oddest feeling of shame as she stood there in good clothes, wearing one of her own silver brooches as a pin for her cloak.

“I will see the others, then return to you,” Alexandria said firmly.

Atia began to chop vegetables without comment, putting them into an iron pot over a clay stove built against the wall. Even the knife she held had a blade as thin as a fingernail, worn down but still used for want of anything better.

Outside in the street, a chorus of high-pitched yelling broke out and a grubby figure skidded through the open doorway, running straight into Alexandria.

“Whoa, lad! You almost had me over, then!” Alexandria said, smiling.

He looked at her with a quizzical expression in his blue eyes. His face was as dusty as the rest of him, but Alexandria could see his nose was dark and swollen, with a trace of blood at the end, smeared over his cheek as he wiped it, sniffing.

The woman threw down the knife and gathered him into her arms. “What have you been up to now?” she demanded, touching his nose.

The boy grinned and squirmed to get away from her embrace.

“Just a fight, Mam. The boys who work at the butcher's chased me all the way home. I tripped one of them when he went for me, and he landed one on my nose.” The boy beamed at his mother and reached under his tunic, pulling out two bare chops, dripping blood. His mother groaned and snatched them with a quick dart of her hand.

“No, Mam. They're mine! I didn't steal them. They were just lying in the street.”

His mother's face went white with anger, but he still clutched at her as she moved to the door, jumping as high as he could to retrieve his prizes from her grasp.

“I've told you not to steal and not to lie. Take your hands off me. These must go back to where they came from.”

Alexandria was between Atia and the door, so she stepped out into the street to let her out. A group of boys stood around with a vaguely threatening air. They laughed to see the little boy jumping around his mother, and one of them held out a hand for the chops, which were slapped into his palm without a word.

“He's fast, missus. I'll give him that. Old Tedus told me to say he will summon the guard if your lad steals anything else.”

“There's no call for that,” Atia snapped in irritation, wiping the blood from her hands on a piece of cloth she pulled out of a sleeve. “Tell Tedus he's never lost anything he hasn't had back and I'll spread the word not to use his shop if he tries it. I will discipline my son, thank you.”

“Fine job you're doing,” the older boy sneered.