“All you did was get men killed,” Aelia snapped at Cloelius. “I’d never have forgiven you if Vibius died too. I think I won’t forgive you for putting him in danger.”
Cloelius surged to his feet. “Do you think I care about your upstart husband? About any of you?” He swept a look of outrage at us all. “That man took Titus from me. He deserves to be torn asunder.” He sank back down, head bowing. “Go away, Aelia. Take them with you.”
Aelia regarded her brother with a mixture of pity and infuriation. Even in her anger, she reached down and squeezed his shoulder, offering comfort. When Cloelius did not respond, she turned from him, laced her arm through her husband’s, and walked out of the garden with him.
Before I followed, I stepped to Cloelius. “I will have Marcianus return Titus to you so you can honor him.”
Cloelius raised his head and stared at me, as though stunned I’d even think of that. He nodded once, then sank his chin to his chest, a man weary of all in his life.
Cassia fell in behind me as we moved from the garden to the atrium. She said nothing as we exited the house to the lush greenery of the hortus, where Livius waited.
“I am happy to see you emerge, my friend,” Livius said to me. “All is well?”
“It is done,” I said.
“Good. Then I will return you home and say farewell.”
I did not need him to walk me home, now that Scaevola had been taken, but I knew he wanted to do this favor.
“Should we stay, love?” Vibius asked Aelia. “He doesn’t like me, but I hate to leave him alone like this. Grief is a hard thing.”
Aelia shook her head as she adjusted her palla. “Euphemios will look after him. My brother truly will be better alone. Most people irritate him, including me.”
Vibius gazed at the front door as though ready to rush inside and try to soothe Cloelius, whether the man wished it or not.
Then he turned away, resigned, and clasped Aelia’s hand. “We will go home then.”
“Indeed.” The smile Aelia sent her husband told me that she was content with her choice. This immense villa held no happiness for her. The small house on the Aventine was truly what she considered home.
We made our way down the hill, surrounded by Livius’s guards, Cassia staying close to me. At the foot of the Esquiline, Vibius and Aelia broke off to make for the Aventine, Vibius raising his hand to me.
“I will see you tomorrow, Leonidas.”
Tomorrow. At the building site, where work would commence. Gallus would scratch his head as he thought over the design problems and then guide us through the build with a gentle hand.
I’d labor each day until he dismissed us for the afternoon, then I’d relax in a bathhouse and return home to the dinner Cassia and I would put together. She’d tell me what she had learned throughout the day, and I’d continue my reading lessons until I was sleepy enough to seek my pallet.
A simple life, staid and predictable. I very much looked forward to it.
Chapter 25
We had one thing left to do, and that was seek Nero and explain all to him. Reassure him, Cassia said, that the conspiracy was all smoke.
But at the moment we were exhausted and only wanted dinner.
Livius said his goodbyes when we reached the base of the Quirinal, he and his men marching smartly away. Cassia had the presence of mind to pause at Quintus’s to fetch bread and then food from other vendors along our path.
The popina where Nero had diced with me was closed, the shutters over its entrance resting in slots in the stones. I wondered if the owners would find another man to run it or shut it down entirely.
Blasius sat at the counter of a popina on the next corner. He balanced a bag of dice in one hand, a wine cup in the other, and scanned the crowd in hope. He caught sight of me, gulped the wine, and thrust the bag back inside his cloak.
Later, as Cassia and I ate and drank at home, I found the energy to speak again.
“If he loved his son so much, why didn’t Cloelius free him?” I asked as I chewed bread, pausing to spit out a piece of grit. “He could have legally freed him then adopted him.”
“Cloelius Crispus isn’t the sort to do that.” Cassia had her tablets open and was making marks as she ate. “He is very conscious of his place in the world. A son has to be from a legitimate marriage before he can leave him the land, whatever money he has left, his name. In Cloelius’s view, anyway.”
“He never married, though,” I pointed out.
