The other prostitute, petite and skinny, giggled then added, “He’s one of my regulars. Tends to visit me after he’s gone to Euphemia’s.”
Could likely be the man in charge of medicines to carry for long voyages. But instinct told me it was more than that.
I turned to Koska and spoke in a low voice, “See if you can get a good description from her and try to find this man. When you do, don’t talk to him. Just bring me any details you can find. What merchant he works for, if he stays on port or travels with the goods his merchant imports or exports, where he lives, anything.”
“I will find him.”
He followed me toward the women, where I placed a silver denarius in each of their hands, their mouths gaping wide.
“This isn’t for any services rendered so no need to share with your madame. But I need you to describe Euphemia’s visitor to my man here. And if anyone else comes around asking for information about us, you’ll forget you ever saw us.”
“It’ll be hard to forget a pretty face like yours, domine, but that denarius will make my memory vanish completely.”
“Make sure that it does.”
I handed over both coins to the women and left Koska with them, winding my way quickly back out of the Aventine. I always used backstreets and dressed as informally as I could to blend in, a thin blue belt around my waist to signify who I was.
Using a litter or my horse would draw undue attention. But I also couldn’t be found wearing commoner clothes to attempt to hide my identity. I was just as likely to see someone who knew me. The only suspicious thing I was doing was being here in the first place. And I could easily say I was visiting the brothel next door to Euphemia’s. No one would blink an eye at that.
As I passed through an open plaza where a public fountain stood, I saw a mother showing her young daughter how to wash a tunic. When she caught sight of me, she instantly wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and pulled her close.
Of course she was wary of a dragon in her neighborhood. Though I wasn’t draped in a blue toga, my height and appearance was enough. Dragons were much taller and larger than human men.
It was to be expected she might fear me. Even so, I wished it weren’t necessary.
It made me think of one late afternoon after a decidedly bloody battle in Carthage when Julian and I spoke for the first time about a different kind of Rome. A new one that wasn’t riddled with war and death and fear.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world where armies weren’t constantly at war?” Julian asked.
“There will always be war.”
“True. But I’d rather fight for my people, to defend them, instead of fighting to enslave and ruin the lives of others.” He gestured toward the battlefield, bodies still burning from the circling deathriders’ fires. “What does all of this get us? What do we truly gain?”
“You’re thinking of your mother? She didn’t live a bad life though. You’d said her owners were kind people.”
He turned to me with that pensive stare of conviction only Julian could give and said, “Would it appease you knowing your mother had been enslaved and owned bykindpeople?”
He rarely spoke of his mother’s past. Until that moment, I’d never given true consideration to how I’d feel if it had been my mother.
“No,” I answered soberly. “It would not.”
It was the first time I looked beyond my own experience and thought of those beneath the yoke of the Roman Empire.
He wiped at the blood on his hands with a rag. “There must be something else, Trajan. Something besides misery and death.”
I walked faster through the busy streets, commoners going about their tasks of the day, buoyed by the memory. Julian might be far away but my dearest friend’s goals had become mine. And I wouldn’t let him down. Or our allies and all of those Romans who longed for a better Rome, even if they didn’t know it was possible, or necessary, or on the horizon.
Rounding another corner closer to home, I headed in the direction of Palatine Hill. Euphemia’s sudden departure was a bad sign. Something had spooked her. I needed to know who had and why.
Suddenly anxious to see Lela, to be sure she was safe, I quickened my pace. Right as I reached the last turn toward Palatine Hill, I caught sight of two praetorians in the red-and-black regalia of the emperor marching straight toward me.
“Tribune,” one of them called.
“Yes.” I slowed as they approached.
Wearing typically stern expressions and in full armor, they stopped in front of me. “Caesar requests your presence at the palace.”
“When?”
