“Our princeps has no heir,” Cassia said, then shuddered. “I hate to think of what would happen if an assassin did succeed. Poppaea has a son by her first marriage, but he hasn’t been named the heir. There would be chaos.”
“The assassin went for Poppaea, not the princeps,” I pointed out. I drank deeply of the wine Cassia had poured for me, savoring its smoothness.
“Drusus was trying to hurt him by taking away someone he loved,” Cassia said. “A cruel plan. Drusus wanted the princeps to suffer, not necessarily die a clean death.”
“Drusus must hate him, then.” I took another sip of wine, rapidly losing interest in Drusus’s troubles. “Or, he might have been angry at Poppaea herself. She comes from the same area where his villa is.”
“No, Drusus is from a town north of Rome—he built the villa at Baiae when he grew wealthy enough to. I doubt he knew Poppaea, whose father was only a quaestor.” Cassia ran her finger along a neat line of words inside her wax tablet. “Drusus’s son was executed years ago. Apparently, he was one of a group of plotters to put the princeps’ stepbrother Britannicus in power. Drusus was spared, as the magistrates ruled he had no knowledge of the plot, but he never forgave the princeps.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to imagine Drusus’s grief and impotent rage. Britannicus had been murdered, many said by Nero, and any who supported Britannicus had been declared a criminal.
As much as I disliked Drusus, I could understand his festering rage and his need for vengeance. I was doubly glad he’d managed to slip away, and that his dancer had as well.
But this was Saturnalia, which should be a joyful time. I tried to banish Drusus’s desperation and focus on what was in front of me. Nero and Poppaea were unharmed, Drusus had escaped, and the bloodshed remained in the arena. Cassia and I were home and safe for now, with good wine to drink.
I briefly touched the wooden table, not wishing to tempt Fortuna to take all I’d gained in this year of freedom away from me.
When I opened my eyes, Cassia was sliding a slim wooden box across to me.
“Happy Saturnalia, Leonidas,” she said softly.
I stared at it, mystified. The box was no different from those that merchants put goods into for ease of carrying, but for some reason, it perplexed me.
“If you open it, you’ll discover what is inside,” Cassia said in amusement. “It is your Saturnalia gift.”
I raised my gaze to her in surprise. “You had no need to get me a gift. You help me every day.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to. You have been free a year and a day. It is a time for celebration.”
“I bought you a gift as well.” I laid the small bag, which I’d unhooked from my belt, in front of her. “Joyous Saturnalia to you.”
Cassia took up the bag, her expression wary, as though she expected one of the joke gifts the merchants were currently selling by the basketful.
She undid the drawstrings and opened the bag, then she stared into it, her lips parting in shock.
I undid the small brass catch on the box and lifted its lid.
A tapered piece of golden wood, well carved and polished, lay in the box. Narrow bronze supports rose from this base, as finely wrought as the pin I’d procured.
“Where did you get this?” Cassia asked me in hushed tones.
“From a goldsmith called Decimus,” I answered. “I had him make it. For your best cloak.”
“Oh.”
Cassia glanced at the pegs that held my cloak and her foul-weather one. The day had cleared, which I hadn’t thought of when I’d seen her hanging it up.
“If you don’t like design, I can ask Decimus to exchange it for another,” I said when Cassia spoke no further.
“No, no.” She lifted the pin, turning it around in her fingers and studying the delicate leaves in wonder. “It is beautiful. An astonishing gift.” She lowered it, her eyes guarded as she gazed at me. “But I sold that cloak.”
“You did?” I barked, stunned. “Why?”
“Because I knew the wool merchant would give me a good price.” Cassia touched the wooden piece in front of me. “So I could purchase this. It is a stand for your rudis. To hold it in honor.”
“Ah.”
Cassia’s smugness at her transaction began to fade. “Leonidas.” She glanced at the shelf above us, but seated, she’d not be able to see whether the rudis was on top of it. “How did you pay for the pin? I assumed Aemil’s fee, but?—”
