Rufus raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m saying you should be grateful to be alive, and turn your focus to the future, rather than the past.”
She clenched her fists. “Lucius is my future, and he deserves justice for his father’s death. Please, Father, you have influence. You can bring these charges before the consuls, and they’ll listen to you. Won’t you help me?”
His gaze shifted away from her, guilt flashing briefly. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, my dear. You see, I plan to mount another campaign for consul in the next election.”
“Another consulship? Are you sure that’s wise, in times like these?”
He waved a hand. “The civil war could take years to resolve. Octavius's army still has to take Sicily from Sextus Pompeius. While they are slaughtering each other, someone needs to do the real work of governing. And if I want another consulship, I can’t go around accusing legionary commanders of murder, based on nothing but scribbles.”
Volusia took a sharp breath. “So you’re choosing your political ambitions over your daughter. I don’t know why I expected anything less.” Rufus had always been ambitious to a fault, but she’d thought that in this, of all things, he would side with her.
She meant her words to rile him, but he remained calm, the only disturbance a flush of red rising to his pale cheeks. “I am choosing to extend the influence and reputation of our family. Not tear it down by bringing what will be seen as baseless accusations against a powerful man.” He rose to his feet and clasped her shoulders. “My dear, you’ve been through a great deal in the past few weeks, more than any young woman should suffer. Just take a while to let it settle. Soon, you’ll be able to put it all behind you.” He kissed her forehead.
She allowed the gesture, but her body hummed with frustration. If her own stepfather wouldn’t support her, how was she to bring Petronax to justice? Maybe she should take his advice. Pretend Avitus really had died of an illness and move on. Focus on Lucius, his future.
No, she decided. Avitus deserved justice, and Petronax couldn’t be allowed to continually bleed the province dry. She would find a way, whether she could convince Rufus to help her or not.
The day after his return, Max visited the markets just outside the city walls where horse dealers did their business. He kept an eagle eye out for flashes of dappled gray among the clusters of chestnut, black, and white horses, but he knew there was little chance Elephant was still here.
He approached every dealer he came across and asked if they’d seen an elegant gray mare pass through the markets in the last few days. Some hadn’t seen any horse matching that description. Others had seen a gray mare, but didn’t recall where or to whom she’d been sold.
Finally, as the sun rose to its midday height, he found someone who not only had seen Elephant, but remembered the name of the dealer who’d sold her, a man called Burrus.
Excitement quickened his pace as he followed the directions given. He found a balding man leaning against a fence post, supervising a paddock containing three horses. Max gave them a cursory scan, but Elephant was not among them.
Max raised a hand in greeting. “Are you Burrus?”
The man glanced over him, gaze lingering on the purse of coin hanging from Max’s belt. “I am. You’re in search of a horse? I have three beauties here.” He waved an expansive hand at the horses in the paddock.
“I am in search of a horse, but not one of those.” Max stepped closer. “Someone told me you sold a gray mare a few days back. I want to know who bought her.”
Burrus frowned. “Yes, I remember the mare.”
“So, where is she?” Max pressed.
The man raised his chin. “I’m not in the habit of giving out my clients’ personal information. Besides, why do you want to know?”
“That horse is stolen property,” Max said. “She was stolen from me and sold unlawfully. You bought her from a centurion, didn’t you?”
Burrus’s eyes narrowed. “Not my problem. I paid honest money for her.”
“It will be your problem if you get a reputation for selling stolen horses,” Max growled. “Isn’t any good dealer responsible for ensuring the legality of his sales?”
“What are you, a lawyer?” Burrus snapped.
Max was the furthest thing from a lawyer, but before setting out this morning, Aelius had given him some pointers on laws surrounding stolen property. But in any case, threatening Burrus with legal trouble likely wasn’t going to get him the result he wanted at this moment. He took a deep breath and tried another angle. “All I need is a name and a location, and I’ll trouble you no further.” He dipped a hand into his purse and withdrew a bronze coin.
Burrus took the coin, considered for a moment, and pocketed it. “She went to an estate east of the city. Near Tibur. I did business with an agent of the landowner, not the man himself. Don’t remember the landowner’s name. His agent paid six hundred sestertii for her.”
Tibur was only a few hours’ ride away. He could be there and back by dusk.
Max handed Burrus another coin for good measure, thanked him, and left. He fetched one of the horses he and Volusia had ridden to Rome on, obtained more money from the coffers at home, and set off on the eastern road. He pushed the horse as fast as he dared, but the gelding didn’t have Elephant’s graceful, exhilarating speed.
He passed through miles of rolling vineyards and farmland. Soon, sprawling villas dotted the landscape, each grander than the last and surrounded by fields, vineyards, and orchards. He paused several times to ask slaves working the fields if any of their masters had purchased a gray horse recently.
At the fourth estate, someone said yes. “A pretty one, too,” the young man said, leaning on his scythe.
Hope sparked in Max’s chest. He smiled and handed the laborer a coin. “Yes, she is. Where are the stables?”
