Crispina summoned a smile and held out a hand to him. “Dinner should be ready by now. And I believe we owe you some honeyed dates?”
“You ain’t throwing me out, then?”
“Aren’t. And no.”At least, not tonight.“Are you hungry?”
He nodded eagerly and grasped her hand.
Chapter 19
Aelius stared at the dinner laid out before him on Catullus’s dining table. He hadn’t known where else to go but Catullus’s house, and his friend had welcomed him immediately.
Catullus listened with the appropriate shock at the story of what Crispina had done. Aelius rubbed his temples when he finished the tale. What was she thinking, bringing that boy home? It was inconceivable. The child could rob them all blind. He’d already destroyed one expensive vase.
“What do I do?” Aelius asked, a question for himself as much as for Catullus.
Catullus delicately picked a fish bone from the filet before him. “Either the child stays, or he leaves. If he leaves, Crispina made it clear she would leave as well. And I don’t think you want to risk that sort of scandal.”
“Having the child stay attracts gossip on its own,” Aelius countered.
“You keep claiming that is the reason why you are so averse to the child, but I wonder…” Catullus gave him an intense, searching stare. “I have never known you to become this perturbed by something.”
Aelius glanced away. Catullus’s gaze was like a too-scratchy tunic. He wanted to shrug it off and escape from it.
“I think you are jealous of the boy,” Catullus murmured into his wine cup.
Aelius barked a laugh. “Jealous! How do you figure?”
“Firstly, I imagine there is some jealousy at the attentions of your wife. Crispina has put someone else over you, after all. She threatens to leave you if you do not let the boy stay.”
Her ultimatum had rankled, it was true, especially as they had just started to grow close to each other. But Aelius kept silent, unwilling to admit there might be a seed of truth in what Catullus said.
“Secondly, I presume, based on your history, you would envy a young boy who has been plucked from hardship and disadvantage, carried into a life of privilege and luxury. A life that could erase his humble origins. Why him and not you?”
Aelius took a sharp breath. His hand went to his silver wristband. Suddenly, the unreasonable frustration that filled him when he looked at Max made sense.
“So was I right?” Catullus asked.
“Maybe,” Aelius muttered. This was one of those uncanny insights that must make Catullus such a good poet. Regret filled him at the harsh words he’d spewed at his wife. “I suppose I should go apologize to Crispina.”
“Grovel a bit,” Catullus advised. “You know she appreciates a good grovel.”
Aelius groaned and rose to his feet. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Good luck. If she’s barred the door, you can sleep here.”
Aelius grimaced and left.
He returned home before full darkness had fallen and went to the dining room first. It was empty but for Cassandra clearing away the dinner plates. Her belly was now clearly round with child. She nodded to him when he poked his head into the room. “Good evening, sir.”
“Have they gone to bed?”
“I believe they are putting the boy to bed in one of the spare bedrooms, sir.” Her nose wrinkled. The whole household must be wondering what their mistress was thinking, bringing home a child off the streets.
“Thank you.” He left. At the other end of the hall, light spilled from a door left ajar, and his mother’s voice sounded from within. Aelius approached. He lurked outside, not sure if his intrusion would be welcomed. The sliver of open door revealed the boy sitting in bed, pillows mounded behind his head. Gaia fussed over him, straightening the blankets and plumping the pillows. A shadow moved beyond his view, which must be Crispina, standing off to the side.
“Now, are you comfortable?” Gaia asked.
Max nodded, then yawned. Gaia smiled, patting his hair. “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you? Good night, my dear.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
