“Was my freedom registered?”One had to go to the Forum Romanum when one freed a slave, to have it officially recorded that the slave was free.
“Hesiodos said so.”
Cassia began to unwind her palla.Out came more things as she unwrapped herself—a small leather case, a few scrolls, a bottle of ink and a pen.She laid them out in a neat row on the table.
“Do you have dinner and wine in there too?”I asked her.
Cassia folded her palla and hung it from a peg near the door without bothering to answer.She opened the case on the table, lifted a small piece of papyrus from it, and held it up to read.“This declares the man known as Leonidas the Spartan, gladiator, is a freedman of Rome.”She glanced at me over the paper.“You are not from Sparta,” she observed.“Or anywhere Greek.”
“I don’t know where I come from.Aemil thought up that name.”
“What is your real name?”Cassia asked with the first glimmer of curiosity I’d seen in her.
“I forgot that long ago.I’m Leonidas now.”I yawned again, this time not suppressing it.“I will sleep.”I moved toward the stone pallet, reflecting I had no blankets or mattress, but I’d slept on worse.
“With therudis?”
I stared down at the sword, my fingers stiff around the hilt.I tried to open my hand, but could not.
“It seems so.”
Cassia walked to me, footfalls soft.“Give it to me, and I will put it somewhere safe.”
I swallowed.“I can’t.”
For the first time, the fear left her.“Why not?”
I raised my hand, the sword coming with it.“I try, but I cannot let go.I slept with it last night, and my hand is now too cramped to open.”
“Hmm.”She peered at my swollen knuckles, dark from the sun and crossed with scars and fresh scabs from yesterday’s fight.
Cassia reached out a tentative finger and touched my hand.She did it rapidly, a quick brush, as though expecting a jolt to knock her across the room.
When I did nothing but stand in place, she touched me again, less hesitantly.“I will unbend your fingers.”
I did not think she could.My strength would overwhelm hers without effort, and if I could not force my hand open, I doubted she’d be able to.
Cassia rested her hand over mine, but instead of pulling at my fingers, she rubbed.
The softness of her touch surprised me.I’d never had anyone touch me like this—I’d been massaged by massive men digging soreness out of my muscles, or women bringing me to a cockstand, but never a light caress that tingled warmth across my skin.
Slowly, slowly, my fingers relaxed, and then they loosened.My thumb unlocked, and with it, my death grip on the sword.
As soon as my hand went slack, Cassia slid the hilt out of my grasp.
Ice cold fear hit me.I started to lunge for the sword, but Cassia had already turned away, and I brushed empty air.
“I will put it here.”Cassia laid the sword on the hanging shelf.“You can reach it at any time.”
She was humoring me, but I experienced a profound sense of relief.Therudiswas where I could touch it, and remind myself what it meant.
Cassia came back to me, her hands clasped over her long linen stolla.“What …” The word trailed off, and she swallowed.“What do you wish from me?”
She whispered the question, and I heard, through my haze, her fear return.Fear that went to the bone.I knew such fear, had experienced it myself.
I took the final steps to the pallet and nearly fell onto it.I turned my head so I could look at her with a single open eye.“Do you want dinner?”It was well past time for breakfast.
Cassia had gone wan, but she gave me a faint nod.
