Crispina turned back to Gaia. “Aelius isn’t home?”
Gaia shook her head. “He’ll be back for dinner.”
“Do you think he’ll…” She didn’t want to raise the possibility that Aelius might not let Max stay, not when the boy could hear it.
Gaia seemed to understand. “He may take some convincing, which I trust you can manage. In the meantime, I believe someone could use a bath.” She raised an eyebrow at Max’s dirty face and threadbare clothes. “Come along, young man.” She held out a hand. Max latched onto it and trotted after her toward one of the spare bedrooms.
Crispina followed. She felt a small flare of relief. If Gaia liked the boy, Aelius would be hard-pressed to throw him out. She knew Aelius valued his mother’s opinion over nearly everything else, and she hoped it would be enough in this case.
Getting Max into the tub took both wrestling and cajoling, but once he felt the warmth of the water, he suffered Crispina and Gaia to scrub him clean. His skinny body was peppered with scrapes and bruises. He must have gotten into some scuffles while living on the streets. His back bore different marks, faded and thin, as if inflicted by a switch or strap. Crispina drew in a breath. No wonder he wasn’t eager to go home. By the tightness of Gaia’s lips, Crispina knew she had noticed the marks too, but she said nothing.
After the bath, they dried Max and dressed him in one of Aelius’s tunics. Even the short tunic reached to the boy’s ankles, and the neckline kept slipping off his shoulders. Crispina made a mental note to send someone to Horatia’s later to see if she had any spare child-sized tunics to lend.
Crispina surveyed Max uncertainly as he munched on a plate of figs and grapes on a bench in the atrium, a bribe for the successful completion of the bath. She glanced at Gaia, who was drying her arms. “What exactly does one do with a child?” She knew they had to be kept busy somehow, but she was utterly at a loss for how to pass the time until dinner.
Gaia set aside the towel. “Boys this age are full of energy. They need ways to expend it.” She beckoned to Max, who had finished his fruit. “Max, I want you to see how many times you can run around the atrium. I’ll give you a honeyed date for each lap you complete. Agreed?”
He nodded and took off, sprinting down the side of the atrium. Crispina watched him, a smile growing. His energy, despite the rough few days he must have had, was infectious.
“Was Aelius like this at his age?”
Gaia’s eyes tracked Max as he rounded the corner and ran down the other side of the room. “He was mischievous, yes, always getting into trouble. Little things, like stealing snacks from the kitchen or dousing another child in the atrium pool. He was smart enough to avoid getting in serious trouble. He knew there was always a chance we could be separated.” Gaia spoke of her past calmly, with no shame or anger.
Crispina’s stomach tightened. “I’m sorry for all you’ve suffered.”
Gaia cast her a glance. “Everyone has their own suffering. Even someone like you, born into privilege and luxury. You have known hardship and pain, if I’m not mistaken.”
Gaia was being too generous in comparing her past to Crispina’s. Crispina said nothing, watching Max complete another lap. His pace was flagging, and when he reached the spot where they stood, he stumbled to a halt and threw himself to the ground, lying on his back and breathing hard. “Three,” he gasped. “You owe me three dates.”
Gaia smiled. “Well done. You’ll have them at dinner.”
A noise sounded from the entrance: the front door opening. Crispina flinched. Aelius was home. She cast Gaia a panicked glance, but Gaia looked as calm as ever.
Aelius entered the atrium. “Good evening—” His words broke off when he saw Max, lying on the flagstones.
The boy scrambled to his feet and fixed Aelius with a wary glare.
Aelius glanced from Max to Crispina to Gaia. “Why is there a strange child in my house?”
Crispina stepped forward. “I, er…” Her tongue was tied in knots. Lying to his face was harder than she imagined. She decided to skip the lie. “His name is Max. Or at least, that’s what we’ve agreed to call him. He has nowhere to go. I thought perhaps we could take him in for a while.”
Aelius frowned. “Is he some relation of yours?”
Crispina shook her head. “No. I, er, I encountered him in the city today. He was lost, abandoned. Hungry. I brought him home. I didn’t know what else to do.” She let out a breath. None of her words were technically false.
His frown deepened, his face acquiring a look of stern bewilderment. “So you brought a street rat into our house?”
Gaia cleared her throat. “There’s no need for rudeness.” She nudged Max on the shoulder. “Why don’t you take another lap around the room?”
Max huffed and broke into a jog.
Aelius’s expression hadn’t lightened. “There are thousands of hungry, homeless children in Rome. Please tell me you have a better reason for bringing this one home.”
“It was the right thing to do.” Crispina met his gaze, refusing to quail before him though she knew she had overstepped. As master of the house, he had ultimate authority over everyone and everything under this roof. Now, tall and glowering, he looked every inch the threatening paterfamilias. But she would make him see that she was right.
Aelius turned to his mother. “And you are in favor of this?”
Gaia opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Max rounded the corner nearest to them. He overshot the turn and careened into a pedestal holding a painted vase on the edge of the room. The pedestal rocked. The vase toppled.
