“I was in much pain,” Herakles spoke in a deep voice, his accent just thick enough to reveal he came from a land far away yet not so thick that his paramour would have difficulty understanding him. “I cannot feel shame for berating Marcianus. I am now grateful.” He made a seated bow to Marcianus that was anything but humble.
Domitiana caught sight of her servant and then Livius with me behind him. She straightened her stola, which was of shimmering red silk.
“Sextus Livius, you’ve returned,” she said brightly. “Bringing me another gladiator?” She regarded me with dark eyes that were not as hard as Chryseis’s, but nowhere near as friendly as those of Merope and her sister. “You are Leonidas the Spartan, are you not?Were, I should say.”
I bowed, hoping I looked more polite than Herakles.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” Livius said smoothly. It was clear Domitiana did not mind—Livius was young, attractive, and wealthy. “We have need of Herakles.”
“Oh, do you? I would insist on knowing the reason, but it is not my business.” Domitiana flashed a smile that made her appear years younger. “Very well, Herakles, you may go. Remember, my banquet is two days before the Ides. I will speak to Aemilianus if he is too stubborn to let you come.”
She meant she’d pay Aemil, if necessary, to allow Herakles to attend her.
Domitiana waved a slim hand, gold and gemstones flashing in the sunlight. “It was good to meet you Nonus Marcianus. Tell my majordomo to give you a token on the way out.”
Marcianus rose as Herakles heaved himself reluctantly from the couch. “No need for that, your ladyship,” Marcianus said.
“Nonsense. I bleated on to you about my digestion, and you are a professional physician. It is only right I pay a fee for your time. Good day to you.”
She snapped her fingers. Three servants materialized from the upper terrace to bring her wine, adjust a cushion, and hold out scented water so she could bathe her hands. Domitiana reclined more deeply on her sofa and closed her eyes, finished with us.
A fourth servant led us away as the doorman had scurried back to his duties. I glanced at the view as we climbed to the higher terrace, marveling that distance could reduce the dirt and stink of Rome to a shimmering, hazy beauty.
None of us spoke as we followed the servant back into the house past the peristyle garden, and into the atrium. There the servant spoke quietly to a tall, thin man who handed Marcianus a pouch that clinked. Marcianus murmured his thanks and pocketed the coins.
Once the servant had ushered us to the dusty path outside the villa and pulled the gate closed, Herakles, tall with golden brown hair and hazel eyes, scowled at me.
“Thanks to you, Leonidas, I must trade a soft pallet for a hard slab. What are you doing here?”
I did not want to discuss Ajax on the open path with others passing, but Marcianus, his countenance serious, faced Herakles.
“There is danger about,” he said. “You need to be at the ludus.”
“What danger?” Herakles demanded.
“Ajax is dead,” Marcianus said flatly. “But this is not the place to talk about it.”
He started along the path, leaving Herakles and Livius stunned behind him. I strode after Marcianus.
“Cassia. We can’t leave her.”
“And we will not. She will appear about … here.” Marcianus halted next to a nondescript door in the villa’s outer wall.
Not a moment later, the door creaked, and Cassia ducked out, settling her cloak over her head.
“I think you should explain, Leonidas.” Livius had reached us, his bodyguards hanging back at a flick of his hand.
Herakles gathered close to Livius, his expression sour. There was nothing for it. In quiet tones, I told them what had happened, Marcianus adding details. Cassia kept a fold of her cloak over her face and said nothing.
Herakles’s jaw had gone slack by the time I finished. “Jupiter and Minerva. What sorcery is this?”
I hadn’t thought of it until Herakles said the words, but it was true that the way Ajax had been killed could have been the result of a gruesome spell.
“Sorcery or madness,” Livius said.
Marcianus looked him up and down. “May I inquire who you are, sir? You came to call upon Domitiana Sabinus, but I was not certain of your name.”
“This is Sextus Livius,” I broke in before Livius could answer. “A friend.”
