“Mater or Felicia?”
Cassia looked up and translated. “Felicia met a man. Mater’s gone out.”
“It’s the blade seller we meet every week to sharpen the kitchen knives,” Oppia blurted with a giggle.
Felicia growled, “Shush your mouth, you little squawking pigeon.”
“You get the knives sharpenedevery week?” Felix ran a hand over his face. That seemed excessive. How much was that costing them?
Oppia ducked Felicia’s mad swing and laughed. “We have to. Felicia scrapes them on the edge of the fountain—ow! Felix, make her stop!”
Felix wrestled the girls apart. “Oppia, I thinkyouneed to stop.”
Felicia’s face flushed. “She’s the reason I’m fifteen and not married—andI never will be!” She crossed her arms. “She told him I was bald and pasted my eyebrows on!”
Oppia jutted out her chin. “And that only made him stare at you more.You’re welcome.”
Felix bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh that Felicia saw coming anyway. She huffed and stalked into the shared bedroom, curtain billowing in her wake.
Oppia hopped to her feet and tucked her hand into his with a satisfied smile. “You always say we stay together no matter what. You’re lucky I listen. No one’s taking our sisters on my watch.”
“Telling people Felicia’s bald is not exactly what I had in mind.” No one who saw Felicia would believe that anyway. “Where’s Mater? It’s getting dark.”
“Upstairs. Helping a friend of hers.”
“Again?” He moved to the table and pinched up a crumb of Cassia’s bread. “How many needy friends does she have?”
“Mater is generous. Word gets around.”
He popped the crumb in his mouth. “Yes, well, word also gets around that we don’t have money to be generous with. And I told you to keep the doors bolted while I’m gone.”
“The creditor was already here this morning.” Oppia leaned on the table. “Mater turned him away.”
Felix ran a hand over his face. “What did he say?”
Cassia rested the newly sharpened knife on the edge of the table and looked up. “The same. That Pater owes him money and we must pay it back or—” She glanced at Oppia before turning worried eyes on Felix. “They’re getting growly.”
“I know.” The tension that had left earlier crept back into his shoulders, coiled and laced with anger. Since leaving the family business at the Ludus Gallicus five years ago, Pater had tried and failed a dozen ventures. This latest was worse than any of the others combined. He’dgone into plumbing. Borrowed a year’s wages to commission drainage tiles for a building project and then promptly disappeared. Mater had theories—all of them hinging on Pater’s innocence—but she had nothing Felix would count as substantial proof. A letter speaking vaguely of trouble and a trip to the south of Gaul, but nothing since. Felix would have hired a man to hunt Pater down, if the creditors hadn’t insisted on visiting and laying claim to every coin they had.
Felix pushed away from the table. “Where’s my box?”
Cassia turned and dug it out from the bottom shelf of kitchen things. She slid it toward him, refusing to meet his gaze.
Felix slipped the latch and flipped open the lid, angling the box to allow the lamplight to fall on a clutter of objects. Generations of the Cassianus family had found their livelihood in gladiator ludi. Training, managing, and—according to family lore and the roll of crumbling emancipation papers in the bottom of the box—fighting. Felix had spent ten years in Alexandria training under the best physicians in the empire, intending all the while to return to Rome and the ludus. But all had changed one day when he’d paused to hear a Coptic monk in the city forum. And after listening to the man’s preaching, seeing his passion and compassion, he couldn’t help but be further drawn by a God of love, mercy, and justice. He’d written home to tell his father that he’d not be joining the family business after all, and Pater had responded in relief. Felix learned his parents had converted some months before and his father had already left the ludus—and not on happy terms. His uncle Jovan had remained as solelanista—manager of the Ludus Gallicus—and the brothers hadn’t spoken since.
Felix picked up several bronze medallions, awards from his education in Alexandria. Best in Theory, Best in Practice, Best in Oratory. Worthless things, as it turned out. He’d dreamed of returning to Rome armed with knowledge and hope that he’d make a fine living working as a medicus among the upper classes. Instead, he’d returned to findhis family disgraced and his pater missing with a large sum of money. Felix had tried to find respectable work, but as the weeks leaned toward a month, and creditors hounded his mater, Felix had found himself petitioning the only place available to him. God forgive him, but he’d returned to the Ludus Gallicus.
He set the medallions aside, noting the tiny smattering of coins scattered across the bottom of the box. He tipped them into his hand, gut sinking.
“Where did you say Mater went?”
Cassia shifted. “Her friend was so distraught and—”
Felix growled and slammed the coins back into the box. “This money is for the creditors, not beggars! We can’t keep giving everything away.” He raked his fingers through his hair and laced them at the back of his neck. Did no one in his family have a pinch of sense? Dulling knives to have an excuse to hire a blade sharpener, giving money away to anyone who asked, investing in the stupidest business plans... He heaved a frustrated sigh.
Oppia poked him. “You have blood on your tunic.”
He dropped his hands and twisted to look. “It’s from work. A gladiatrix took a sword to the arm.”
