“Not by force, no.”
My eyes narrowed.“You think Priscus will trick his way out of paying me?”
Cassia shook her head.“He seems an honest man, which is probably why he is in such danger.His slaves, on the other hand, know they have a soft place, and will do all they can to keep his money in their house.I know how to not let them.”
“Priscus will pay me in Rome, not Ostia.When I return him safely.”
“That remains to be seen.What if he decides to stay in Ostia?Or breaks the journey elsewhere?Or sends you back alone?I ought to be there to collect our payment at the point you are dismissed, or we might never see it.”
I sat all the way up, and Cassia stepped back in some alarm.But the set of her chin told me she’d not give in on her point.
“If you come with us to Ostia, I have to protectyouas well as the senator.”I hadn’t forgotten the ruffian who’d accosted Cassia outside the barber’s and how angry the incident had made me.
“I will be one more servant with the other servants.No one will notice me.”
It was true she moved silently through the streets, slipping between people as though she didn’t want to touch them.Priscus wouldn’t be traveling alone, but have a caravan of his servants to cater to his every need.
I imagined that if I forbade Cassia, which I had a right to do, she’d find a way to follow.I’d never encountered a woman with such a strong will, but maybe scribes were a different breed.
I flopped back down to the blankets.“Wake me before the first hour then.”
I arranged the covers around me and turned my face to the wall, rapidly sinking into sleep.I heard Cassia scurry toward her own pallet, and her footsteps sounded distinctly satisfied.
In the morning,I joined Priscus’s party on the far side of the Aventine at the Porta Trigemina, the triple gate to the Via Ostiensis.
Fog coated the city.The nearby river lent its murk to the mists rolling from the hills and we stood in a haze, the gates a dark bulk in the stone wall.The arches of a nearby aqueduct were lost in the white, like a ghostly ruin.
At the blare of a horn signaling the dawn hour, we proceeded through the gate.We were among the first out, Priscus having the standing to be at the front of the line.
Priscus was mounted on a horse, his seat easy.A cart pulled by a mule carried his baggage.His retinue, including me, followed him, both on foot and on mules.Priscus had seemed confused as to why I’d wanted to bring Cassia, but he didn’t begrudge me a servant.
Cassia had been right when she’d claimed she’d be absorbed into the household slaves and ignored—no one looked twice at her bundled in her cloak as we exited the city.Their gazes were on Priscus, an obviously wealthy man, and on me, his gladiator bodyguard.
Priscus led our small caravan, which annoyed me.If he worried so about assassination, he should be surrounded by people, not out in front like the head of a spear.
“Habit,” he told me when I pointed this out.“I ride in the lead to keep others from accusing me of being the coward I am.”
Priscus found himself amusing, but I strode solidly next to him, keeping a wary eye out.
The Via Ostiensis runs alongside the Tiber to Ostia’s large port.The road is the artery from Rome downstream to ships waiting to take people and money to the ends of the empire and beyond.Likewise, goods from the entire world are trundled up the river and this road into Rome, to be unloaded to vast Emporium warehouses.
The Via Ostiensis was lined, like the Via Appia, with tombs and monuments to the dead.No one was buried inside Rome, and so the wealthy sought the closest proximity.Prominent families erected large memorials to their ancestors.
The trouble with the tombs was that they made a good place for brigands to lurk, especially on a foggy morning.Mist rose from the river on our right, met the colder air of the hills, and clung to us like a white shroud.Spaces between the tombs were gray with shadows.Marauders could also wait on top of the tombs behind convenient statues or decorative urns, ready to leap down and rob the unwatchful.
Priscus rode without worry, as though he were in an ambulatory—a covered walkway in a villa, protected and private.I kept alert constantly, peering into each foggy shadow and around every bend, halting our train until I made certain the next stretch of road was safe.
At least Priscus accepted my admonishments to wait with good humor.I’d guarded men in the past who’d snarled at me every step, and I appreciated Priscus’s willingness to obey me.
The tombs thinned and ceased after a few miles, and the fog began to burn away, but the open countryside was no safer.Instead of knives coming out of nowhere, I had to worry about arrows shot from clumps of trees or from behind small rises in the land.
The first half of the day passed, thankfully, without incident.Cassia rode quietly on a mule, her palla pulled over her face to keep out the mist and dust.She didn’t speak at all.
Priscus, on the other hand, was voluble.Possibly from nervousness, though his body didn’t betray any tension.
“A long time since I’ve journeyed to Ostia,” he reflected.“Ten years, I’d say.Gracious, how time passes.My wife owned warehouses there.Shehad the money, not I, at least when we first married.I was flattered that she loved an old warhorse like me.”He chuckled.“She left all her wealth to me when she went to her ancestors.”Priscus lost his smile and let out a sigh.“But I’d rather have her next to me.”
His sadness was genuine.“I am sorry.”I knew such sorrow, and Xerxes’s widow still held on to it.
