“Why?”I roared.
Tullius abruptly ended his laughter, his fury surging.“Because he killed my father, that’s why!”His glare cut to Nero.“Hedecided my father supported Britanicus and tried to block his way to the throne.Brought my father to trial on trumped-up charges, when my father had donenothing.A misunderstood conversation, a rival happy to ruin my family.I was already in the legions, a long way from home, in bloody Damascus, and I couldn’t get back to stopanyof it.”
Tullius gasped for breath, his eyes fixed in his rage, as though he’d forgotten I gripped him, ready to end his life.“I had a new purpose—work through the ranks and become a Praetorian Guard.I changed my name in case he got any ideas to slay me as well.”He pointed a shaking finger at Nero.“The money my mother left me helped me plan.I didn’t need it for myself—it all went to my goal.No one pays attention to the guard at the end of the room—I heard him talking one day about Priscus and the strange bargain that Nero dies if Priscus does.”
His laughter returned, rasping in his throat.“Terrified him.Easy to take advantage of such a thing—I make certain Priscus dies, and then watch while Nero is assassinated.I wouldn’t have to do a thing!A whore and a fool of a patrician and his insipid son are small sacrifices compared to whathedid tome.So is your slave.”Tullius shifted his gaze to me, savage triumph in his eyes.“Youshould have died from that poison, Leonidas.Remember that when you weep at her funeral.”
Spittle flecked his lips—his rage was complete.So was mine.His lack of remorse about Cassia sealed his fate.
I tightened my grip and plunged the sword into Tullius’s throat.
Blood poured over my hand, hot and wet.The wrath left Tullius’s expression, replaced by gratitude, even relief.Then his eyes emptied, and he died.
Nero began to speak.I had no idea what he said.I flung Tullius’s body and sword aside and ran to where Gallus held Cassia.She shivered, eyes closed, face waxen.
I lifted Cassia from Gallus and cradled her close.“Fetch that wine,” I barked at Gallus.“Hurry.”
Gallus, understanding, stumbled from me and rushed to the door.The guards tried to stop him, but a command from Nero made them part.
I turned with Cassia in my arms, looking for a safe place to lay her down.
Nero was clapping his hands, issuing orders to slaves rushing into and out of the room, a few dragging away Tullius’s pathetic body.“Take her to a chamber,” he ordered one bunch.“Fetch my physician.She’ll have the best of care.”
“No.”My snarl made theprincepsof the Roman Empire stop and regard me coldly.“Send for Nonus Marcianus, from the Aventine.He’s the best physician in the world.”
Nero continued to stare at me then he gave me a nod and snapped another order at his slaves.
The shaved-headed man reappeared as more guards surrounded Nero.“You,” the man said to me.“Bring her.”
He turned and marched out of the room, not bothering to see if I’d follow.
Chapter 25
The shaved-headed man took me to a room with a sleeping couch, hangings screening it from the passageway outside it.It was a small chamber with plainer decorations than any I’d seen in thisdomus.
Cassia was limp and gray-cheeked by the time I laid her down, her breathing shallow, lips blue.I knew she’d not last the night.
The wait for Marcianus stretched.Gallus found the wine cups, saving them just as a servant had gone in to clear the table.He’d brought all three, two still brimming, the third half-empty.
The hapless servant, a slave whose job it was to deliver food and drink to whomever in the palace required it, was hauled before the shaved-headed man and beaten.From his sobbed confession, it was clear he’d had no idea the wine had been poisoned.
His story was that Tullius had told him guests awaited Nero in the long antechamber and they should be served wine at once.Tullius had inspected the glasses once they’d been on the tray, turning his back to the servant to sniff them.He’d wanted to make certain the guests had the best wine, not inferior stuff, Tullius had explained.
I believed the slave.Tullius would have given the command in his offhand way, and the servant would have had hurried to obey without question.
“Leave him,” I shouted at the shaved-headed man.“No one else should suffer for Tullius.Youshould for not noticing he was an assassin.”
The slave was released, and the shaved-headed man made himself scarce.
Cassia should not suffer for Tullius either, or for my slowness.Tullius had been too friendly, too ingratiating.I was used to men excited to meet a famous gladiator, and I’d taken his fawning as truth.
He’d had the height and build of the man who’d attacked me in the street and again in the bath.Avitus had been too spindly—Gallus, Celnus, or Kephalos too feeble.The middle-class man who toadied to Priscus also was too soft to be my attacker.
I’d also suspected the man who’d purchased Floriana’s lupinarius, but he was probably an elderly patrician who lived in a villa outside Rome and never bothered to look at his own properties in the city.I’d never thought of Tullius.
Cassia must have known—she’d been adamant about something when we’d left Priscus’s house tonight.Our meeting with Avitus had overshadowed it, and she’d assured me it would keep.If I’d made her tell me her thoughts …
I held her hand, which was too cold.If she died, what would happen to me?
