FeroxwatchedasJasonlifted a large decorated jug and inspected it from all angles.
“Careful,” the shopkeeper snapped. “You break it, you buy it.” The man cast a suspicious glance at Ferox, who’d already had a near miss with a vase placed too close to the door. Only his quick reflexes had saved it from toppling to the ground.
Jason ignored the man’s warning. “This is beautiful work,” he murmured.
Ferox exhaled in relief.Finally.
During their break for the midday meal, Ferox had taken Jason to shop for a new pitcher for Velia. The errand had excited Jason, though he’d been critical about Ferox’s choice of gift.
“Ladies usually prefer jewels, in my experience,” Jason had said as they left the ludus. “And you certainly have the coin to get her something nice. Sapphires, maybe? They’d look good with her complexion.”
“It has to be a pitcher.”
“Why?”
“Hers broke.” Ferox did not divulge the circumstances through which the jug had shattered. Thinking of yesterday still made rage heat his skin. Thankfully, this morning Velia had seemedcloser to her normal cheerful self, and Ferox hoped she’d soon be able to put the incident behind her.
Jason let out a dissatisfied grunt. “If you insist.”
They’d already visited two shops but left empty-handed. Jason had offended both artisans by pointing out inconsistencies in the decoration and irregularities in the shaping of the pottery. Ferox couldn’t see any of what Jason noticed, and he’d thought all the vessels presented to them looked perfectly fine, but Jason wouldn’t let him touch a single one.
Finally, they seemed to have found something that met Jason’s approval. His dark eyes glowed with delight as he surveyed the big, round jug on the table before them. It depicted some sort of battle scene. The figures were molded onto the red surface of the jug in low-relief, each detail crisp and the surface polished to a bright gleam.
“This one is perfect,” Jason pronounced. “Look at the composition! The details! The movement!” He turned to the shopkeeper. “We’ll take it.”
“Wait.” Ferox held up a hand. “Jason, this is far too large. She won’t be able to lift it when it’s full.” He suspected this piece was the sort of vessel meant for display, not usage, but Velia needed something practical.
Jason scowled.
The shopkeeper stepped forward. “It’s for a lady? Perhaps you’d find this more fitting.” He pointed behind them, and Ferox turned to see another jug resting on a shelf against the wall.
This one was a much more reasonable size, with an elegant curve to the body that tapered to a slender neck and flared spout. It featured intricate pattern work molded along the topand bottom. In the middle, three women danced, their dresses fluttering around them. Ferox leaned closer. The central woman carried a staff wrapped in ivy leaves and tipped with a pinecone—a thyrsus, borne by maenads during their worship of Bacchus.
Ferox didn’t have Jason’s artistic eye, but even he could appreciate the fineness of the work. The maenads’ bodies were sensual and feminine, but they moved with a wild ferocity. The combination of beauty and fierceness reminded him of Velia. “I like it.”
Jason inspected the pitcher, running a finger along the raised surface of the figures. Ferox held his breath, waiting for Jason to point out a flaw.
“It’s beautiful,” Jason finally admitted. “How much?”
Jason proceeded to engage in ruthless haggling with the shopkeeper, but the man would only agree to come down by fifty sestertii.
“Don’t you know who that is?” Jason, exasperated, gesticulated at Ferox. “He’s the emperor’s favorite gladiator! Trust me, you want him to be talking up the beauty of your wares.”
Ferox glared at Jason.
The shopkeeper cast a critical eye over Ferox. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Gaius Caesar himself could walk in here and I’d charge him the same.”
Ferox pulled out the bag of money he’d brought. “The price is fair.” He counted out the agreed-upon sum and handed the coins to the shopkeeper.
“Let me box this up for you.” The man retreated to his back room for a moment, returning with a crate and a bundle of raw wool. He set the jug into the crate and carefully packed the woolaround it. Then, he closed the crate and secured it with tightly wrapped cord.
Ferox thanked the man, tucked the box under his arm, and left the shop with Jason.
“We must have found the one person in the city who doesn’t know who you are,” Jason grumbled as they turned back toward the ludus.
Ferox gave a dry snort.
They walked in silence for the next block until Jason spoke again. “Is this a goodbye present?”
