“Rise, my friends.” Nero’s voice was quiet, his tone contemplative. He returned to the vista of his city as we climbed to our feet, making no move to begin the conversation.
We waited while a breeze brought the scent of smoke from the valley—not from another fire but the burning wood beneath the bath houses, heating the water for today. A hawk dove over the far hills, hovering for a time before it winged away, seeking prey elsewhere.
“It would be magnificent, would it not?” Nero stretched out his arm, indicating the view. “My domus, encompassing the hills around the Forum Romanum. A breathtaking perspective. But ah, well.”
He sounded disappointed that all the houses, public buildings, and villas were in the way of his designs.
“You have ambition to be a builder, you say,” Nero stated, turning to me. “Wouldn’t you like to work on my house? What a place it will become.”
Any architectus who constructed a grand villa for Nero would make his name and be able to seek any employment he wished. It was Gallus’s dream. On the other hand, if this builder displeased the princeps, it might cost him his life.
I nodded, though I understood Nero wasn’t truly looking for a response. He contemplated the view a while longer, then turned to me again, his tone brisk.
“Servius told me of the vigile captain and the murders he committed. Also that he is dead, so there is no need to worry about him anymore. What has it to do with the conspiracy against me? I gave you until Cerealia to unmask it, and that is tomorrow. Have you succeeded?”
I wasn’t certain my explanation would be clear, but before I could begin, Cassia, keeping her eyes averted from Nero’s, told him all in her concise way. Nero listened, brows coming together over his bulbous nose.
“Interesting,” he said when Cassia had finished. “A sad man slowly going mad for loss of a lover and a son he couldn’t admit he had.” Nero sighed thoughtfully. “A tale fit for a ballad.” He hummed a little to himself, eyes closing.
I feared he’d begin composing said ballad there and then, but after a moment, Nero opened his eyes and pierced me with his direct stare.
“I still have the ring,” he said. “It must have come from somewhere.”
I cleared my throat. “We think it a hoax.”
Nero’s face hardened. “You are a gladiator. You do not think. Your scribe does your thinking for you.” He switched his gaze to her. “A hoax, fair Cassia?”
“Possibly.” Cassia, as always, would see a problem from all angles, even when questioned by a temperamental princeps. “It might be a ring made recently for some purpose—a fake to cause trouble, or as a prop for a play, as intended. Even if it is real and belonged to Tarquinius, there is no evidence that any of his heirs are still alive. The fact that it ended up on a vendor’s tray could mean that it has lost its significance.”
Nero’s expression softened as Cassia spoke, but he didn’t quite lose his skepticism.
“You will continue to search,” he announced. He waved a hand. “Take as much time as you need. If there is no lost heir to find, then there is not one. I will believe you.”
I hid my annoyance. I had no wish to continue a wild chase for Nero—I wanted to return to being an assistant to Gallus. That job to me was as desirable as Nero’s all-encompassing house was to him.
Cassia dared catch Nero’s gaze. “We might have to leave Rome to do such a thing,” she said.
I disguised my start by moving my weight, as though seeking a more comfortable stance.
She was bold, my Cassia. Our benefactor did not want us departing the city for any length of time, but if Nero ordered it, there would not be much he could do.
“Of course,” Nero said without pause. “Go where you must. But return any time I summon you.”
Cassia ducked her head. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Nero turned his back on us to study the city once more. “Go now. I have a meeting with my architectus. Do consider building my house for me, Leonidas.”
A twitch of his lips told me he wasn’t serious—he was mocking my dreams.
I did not care. I had Gallus, who trusted me, and Cassia, who remained steadily at my side.
Servius saw us out through the grand walks of the domus. “An interesting tale,” he said as he opened the gate. “Nero probably will make a song about it, if he doesn’t lose interest.” Servius grinned at us. “Safe travels, Leonidas.”
He raised his hand in farewell, then the gate clanged closed, our audience done.
“I don’t want to leave Rome just now,” I said as we started down the hill. “Gallus might dismiss me if I rush off to find this descendent of Tarquinius who very likely doesn’t exist.”
“We will not leave right away,” Cassia said. “You will go to the building site today, and every day thereafter, until all is finished. But I thought I’d buy us permission to travel whenever we are ready.”
