I was skeptical that Ariston would never try thieving again but did not say so. If Cassia had not recognized the boy and realized he’d plunged into something out of his depth, he might have gotten away with the theft. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t try again, with a safer target.
But I might be able to help this family in my own way.
“Gnaeus Gallus is an architectus and builder,” I told Epikrates. “His office is on the Clivus Pullius on the lower slope of the Oppian Hill. He is always in need of workers. Tell him I sent you, and he will find something for you to do.”
Epikrates did not brighten. “A Roman citizen will not always hire men like me.”
This surprised me, because Greeks worked for Romans all the time, even poor ones from far-flung colonies. Epikrates didn’t speak Latin well—I noted that children of foreign parents often learned the language of Rome faster and easier than they did—but that should not deter him. I wasn’t sure what Epikrates meant but didn’t press him.
“Gallus is different,” I said. “It does no harm to ask.”
Epikrates nodded, though not enthusiastically. From the steel in Korinna’s eyes, I guessed she’d make certain, when Epikrates told her of my offer, that he went to the Oppian Hill.
Cassia leaned to Ariston. “Please, no more theft. You not only endanger yourself, but your family, and possibly even your friends and your neighbors. They could all be put to death for your actions.”
Ariston blinked, as though he hadn’t thought of this.
Epikrates squared his shoulders. “I am not afraid of execution,” he declared. “I will face it with dignity.”
I doubted he would. The executions at today’s games would be truly horrific. Men who went bravely to their deaths were cheered, but it was understandable when they succumbed to terror.
Korinna’s scowl only deepened. Her husband might be tranquil about being executed for theft, but I could see that Korinna had no intention of any of them being dragged to their deaths. She’d do everything, her determined glare said, to prevent that from happening.
Cassia made another exchange with Korinna, then indicated that we should take our leave.
Epikrates began offering us hospitality, to share a cup of wine, but Korinna’s snapped words cut him off. Epikrates sent us a rueful smile and escorted us the short way to the door.
“Your kindness will not be forgotten,” Epikrates said. “From both of you.”
He bowed to us, which a freedman never did to a slave. But it was Saturnalia, and order was overturned during this festival. I had the feeling, though, that Epikrates would show Cassia deference no matter what her status, or his. His gratitude was true.
Ariston emerged with his father to wave us off. He was still downcast but the glint in his eyes told me he’d toon recover.
I took the pouch from Cassia before we turned from the door and made our way back down the shadowy lane.
I held the leather bag close under my cloak, not wanting it to jingle. I imagined that every thief in Rome would somehow know I carried this amount of money, perhaps noting that my step was a little heavier leaving this house than it had been going in. The sooner I thrust the bag at Drusus, the better.
“Back to the arena?” I asked Cassia as we emerged from the narrow staircase cut between the walls. “Or to Drusus’s home, since Nero dismissed him? I will guess that you know where his domus lays.”
“On the Oppian Hill,” Cassia answered readily. “But we should not go there. Not yet. There is much to consider first.”
Chapter 5
Cassia set a pace for home that gave us no more time for conversation.
Epikrates had not exaggerated when he’d said all of Rome was on holiday. It was now the fourteenth day before the Kalends of January and the streets were thronged with revelers. Two days ago, on the first day of Saturnalia, a ceremony and feast had been held at the Temple of Saturn on the slope of the Capitoline, but the general celebration would go on for a few days, the games at the Circus for ten.
In one lane, we came across a man in a slave’s tunic sitting in a sumptuous chair full of cushions, while he ordered young men in finer clothes—patrician’s sons—to do ridiculous things like walk backwards or dance wildly, flapping their arms. Everyone was laughing, including the highborn youths.
Patricians, Equestrians, and slaves alike wandered the streets wearing the pilleus, the freedman’s cap. During Saturnalia, everyone was considered free together, slaves allowed liberties they’d never have the rest of the year.
Most shops were shut, but those that were open, selling Saturnalian trinkets and small scrolls with verses to go with them, did a thriving business. So did the popinae, which held more revelers.
We pressed our way to the Quirinal and the Vicus Longus that took us to the tiny street that held our apartment. The wine shop beneath our home was shut, and I unlocked the bolt I was constantly replacing to the door that led to the apartment above.
Once inside, Cassia shed her cloak and hung it on its peg, draping her older cloak on top of it to keep it clean.
She loved her new cloak. It would be even more sumptuous adorned with the pin I was determined to buy for her. The sooner we returned the money to Drusus and collected any reward plus the fee from Aemil, the sooner I could purchase the gift.
