“You were in Alexandria a long time, Felix. When you left Rome I had a steady job—a prestigious job, I might add—managing the Ludus Gallicus. Our family was well-known, well established, never wanted for anything. But when I became a Christian, I could not stay there. It wasn’t an easy decision. You know that, especially since you wrote and said the same thing when you converted.”
Felix nodded, remembering. And yet, when things had gotten difficult, he’d gone back. And justified it. His conscience needled him as Pater kept talking.
“Managing gladiators was all I’d ever known, and I admit, I was afraid when I walked out of the ludus. How was I going to support my family? The girls had never known want. So I went from managing gladiators tomanaging the yellow chariot team, and I felt just as uneasy in that position. I stayed long enough to learn what I could about horses and decided to use that knowledge to trade horses.”
“And then the horses died,” Felix supplied. He’d heard this part before.
“A sad business. Near broke my heart.”
“And then you went into waste management—”
“Well, I had to find someone to dispose of the horses, so it made sense to pursue that.”
“Naturally.”
“And one job led to another, and then to plumbing.” Pater sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. “What I’m trying to say is—I’m trying to do the right thing, Felix. I really am. And it isn’t easy for me either. When I think about how good things were before I left the ludus, and how difficult they’ve been since, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice.” Pater’s voice had gone quiet. Contemplative.
Felix said nothing as they exited the stairwell and crossed the courtyard. What could he say? He’d known the whole of Pater’s employment struggles and yet, hearing him speak of them now had set unease within him. Or was it conviction? Pater had left the ludus because of his beliefs, and he’d held to them and his faith through all the difficulties. And Felix? He’d endured a little of the difficulties and then when the pressure had gone beyond what he could withstand, he’d gone back to the ludus, armed with frustration and justification.
Pater opened the door to the street, and held it as Felix passed. He smiled as if he hadn’t just upended the whole of Felix’s convictions in the space of four flights of stairs. “Will you be home for dinner?”
Felix nodded, hesitating as Pater emerged, tugging the door closed behind him. “Thank you for... for telling me.”
Pater held his gaze a moment and then gave a nod when Felix didn’t say anything else. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
The Markets of Trajan had fallen into disrepair over the last century, and especially in the last year since Emperor Honorius had moved his palace and government to the city of Ravenna. Rome and its economy were disintegrating in more ways than one. Pater’s plumbing business had been proof enough of that. Thinking of that morning’s conversation sent another bout of wrestling through his chest. He’d made an easy decision, returning to the ludus. Justified it by setting boundaries on where he was willing to work, when perhaps he should have persevered like Pater had. Steering clear of the place. And yet, because he hadn’t stayed away—or, perhaps it was in spite of his return—he’d been able to save the Gaul. Put plans in place to rescue others. Did that make it right? Or only prove that God could bring good out of his failings?
Pater hadn’t asked why he’d gone back to the ludi. Perhaps he understood Felix’s justifications and was content to let it rest between him and God. If he’d asked, Felix might have told him about Telemachus. About the Gaul and Jovan’s demands, but he hadn’t asked and Felix hadn’t volunteered. Still, the air between them felt as though it had shifted. Eased.
Felix veered off the Via Biberatica and dropped down a cool stairwell into the lower level of the shopping complex. Here the walkways were nearly as empty as the shop fronts. Some were boarded up altogether. Upper stories cracked and crumbled, while clumps of weeds sprouted along the edge of the street and the shops. All manner of ruffians slunk through the aisles, pretending to peruse more than the purses of shoppers.
His normal blade sharpener had gone to Ostia for a wedding, even though winter was an inauspicious time for such a thing. But no matter—he knew of another he’d been anxiously dreading to meet for himself.
The blade seller had set up his grindstone at the edge of the aisle in front of a boarded-over shop whose peeling sign announced somethingabout perfume. The man couldn’t possibly last much longer down here. Felix shifted the clinking bundle under his arm and called out a greeting. The man looked up, his face scrawny and strangely familiar.
He set the bundle on the man’s table with a dull thud. “I’ve got medici blades for you.”
The young man gave a single nod and flipped open the bundle, his expression at once cursory and unimpressed. He pulled a scalpel free and held it up, squinting at its edge.
Felix shifted. “What is your price?”
“Depends.”
“On...” Felix felt his brows drawing together.
The man didn’t answer, only dragged the wooden stand topped with a whetstone between his knees and began to sharpen the scalpel. Felix winced at the sound and took a half step back, pressing his tongue to his teeth. Yet he didn’t dare leave and risk his blades going up for sale the moment his back was turned. It seemed the man wasn’t going to give an answer to his question. At least not yet.
“Greetings, Ilias!” A female voice called out from a gaggle of young women. Giggles erupted from the group whose faces were smeared in rouge and kohl in an attempt at maturity, or beauty, or... something that still eluded them.
The blade seller’s neck reddened and he kept his head bent over his work instead of replying. Two men leaning against the front of a discount oil and vinegar shop watched the women pass with too much interest. Felix made a mental note to try again to forbid his sisters from coming here alone. Perhaps Pater could persuade them, if he could not. And yet—Ilias. The name rang in Felix’s ears as vaguely familiar. Because of Felicia, or—
“You came to the Ludus Gallicus once.”
“You don’t have to wait,” Ilias muttered. “I can deliver them.”
Not particularly good with customers. Felix had a hard time believingFelicia would find interest in such an opposing personality. No, he was definitely not the right one.
“How is business in this part of the market?”
