“Of course.”
“Trajan told me you were a slave once, but now you are free. Why did you work for the Roman army when you became free? For those responsible for enslaving people like us?”
Though I hadn’t intended to sound accusing, I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice.
“Hmph.” He sighed and looked toward the open terrace, the sun setting and casting the city in a reddish-gold hue. “My master was a general. A well-respected one,” he added. “He was also good to me. He’d promised he would free me at his death, and he kept that promise. But it isn’t easy finding good work as a newly freed man here in Rome.”
“Why didn’t you go somewhere else?”
He shrugged a brawny shoulder. He was of medium height, but thick and strong looking. He appeared capable of working many kinds of jobs. Honest jobs.
“I’ve never lived anywhere but Rome. My family and village was captured and brought to the auction blocks in the forum when I was only ten. I was fortunate to gain my freedom, since so many do not. I suppose I have never left Rome because I was afraid. Better the demons you know, as they say.”
“No. I wouldn’t know,” I admitted. “I wasn’t born here.”
I was born in a beautiful land far from this city of decadence and rot.
He gave a stiff nod. “Legatus Julianus was looking for men to follow his legion, to set up camps. Cook meals. And the pay was very good. Better than I could make as a butcher, which is what I was doing before. Plus, I knew the job. I’d served as my former master’s body slave on his campaigns.”
His explanation didn’t appease me.
“You don’t approve, I see.” He crossed his arms.
“If I had the choice, I would never work for a Roman.”
He huffed a laugh. “It may seem all black-and-white, but this world doesn’t work that way.”
“Perhaps not your world. Evil lives here.” I gestured toward the city beyond the terrace. “I have seen the monsters who rule it with brutal malice.”
“I have too, madame. And they are not all Roman.” His lips tightened as if to keep from saying more, but then he went on. “There’s much you don’t know about—”
“Koska.” Trajan said his name curtly, standing in the doorway, holding a small bundle wrapped in paper.
“Tribune Tiberius.” Koska stood to attention and gave him a deferential bow of the head.
“Have you gotten what I needed?”
“Yes, sir.” He gestured toward me. “I’ve delivered all to her.”
“Good. Thank you.” He took a few steps into the room toward Koska. “And of the other thing I needed you to seek out?”
Koska’s face tightened like it did a few minutes before. “Not yet. But I believe I will have what you need soon enough.”
“Best get to work then.”
“Right away, sir.” He bowed again then disappeared through the archway.
Trajan’s gaze flickered over my new tunic. “I realize that may not be what you’re accustomed to, but it would raise suspicion if Koska went shopping for fine stolas at market.”
“I prefer this tunic over any fine stola.”
He dipped his chin then walked over to the chaise lounge in a corner that faced the window overlooking the back garden. I’d been gazing down all morning, ducking away when anyone from the kitchenstrolled into it. There was a small grove of olive trees beyond a stone courtyard with a fountain.
Trajan’s home had a spacious exterior and garden surrounded by a high white-stoned wall. The house was built on a hill so that his bedchamber had stone stairs to go down into the garden. I longed to go there, to walk barefoot in the grass, but I was no fool. I kept tucked away and hidden all day, although no one came near his bedchamber.
“Here,” he said, setting down the paper-wrapped bundle on the chaise beside him and opening the wrapper. “I know you must be hungry.”
I followed him and sat on the opposite side. Inside the wrapper was fresh bread, a hunk of cheese, and a pear.
