Page 25 of Brother at Arms

Xerxes had acknowledged Aemil’s authority, but he’d loved to skirt the bounds of what Aemil would tolerate. He’d take himself to his cell when Aemil caught him at whatever transgression, putting on a mock mournful expression when Aemil locked him in for the night. Then he’d either cheerfully use the time to catch up on sleep or bait any who walked close to his cell.

I’d been sixteen and very green when I’d first met Xerxes, not to mention struggling between relief at release from prison and fear of what I’d gotten myself into.

Xerxes had watched me appraisingly the first day I’d stood in the practice ground, awkwardly holding a wooden sword, then he’d stepped in to show me how best to grip it.

You have to seem like you barely remember you have a weapon, he’d advised. Then, when they think you’re not paying attention, you strike.

He’d had the sword from my hand and me on the ground in a trice, then Xerxes had held up the rudis and laughed down at me. I’d sprung up and attacked him, and we’d wrestled each other across the yard while Aemil bellowed at us to cease.

We’d both been confined for fighting, but Xerxes had called encouragement to me down the line of cells, and from that incident we’d struck up a friendship.

Xerxes had taken me fully under his wing. I’d never understood why, but he’d defended me against the ludus’s bullies until he knew I could hold my own.

For nearly seven years, we’d been inseparable. I’d watched Xerxes fall in love with Marcella and met his children as each came along. I’d seen him win almost every bout and lose the only one I’d not been able to witness.

In all that time, he’d never once mentioned his brother Lucius.

“Why does everyone seek Xerxes now?” I asked.

From the blank faces of Aemil and Marcianus, they had no idea.

“It is curious, is it not?” Marcianus said. “What does Cassia say about it?”

“She knows Lucius is not telling us the entire truth. She knew the men hunting for Xerxes were Parthians, but she isn’t certain why they want him. I sent her to stay with Sextus Livius.”

Aemil’s expression went sour, but Marcianus nodded. “A wise choice. I hear he has a well-stocked library.” His voice turned wistful.

“She has probably read half of it by now,” I said.

“I look forward to discussing it with her,” Marcianus said. “Do keep her safe, Leonidas.”

“Explain to this silk merchant Herminius that Xerxes is dead,” Aemil commanded. “And tell him and his toughs to stay far from my ludus.”

He and Marcianus were both certain I was still the obedient gladiator, willing to be guided. In this instance, though, what they wanted exactly matched my purpose.

“I intend to,” I said, then left them.

I made my way from the Aventine past the Circus Maximus and back around to the Vicus Tuscus and the building beyond where I’d spoken to Cassius Tatius.

The same hard-faced guard protected the entrance. His eyes flickered in recognition when I approached, but he did not stand aside.

“Cassius Tatius is not here,” he stated.

“I’m not looking for him,” I answered as flatly. “I seek Julius Herminius.”

“Julius Herminius sees no one.”

“I have information about a man he’s looking for,” I said.

We regarded each other, one stubborn fighter to another.

The silk trade was one of the most lucrative in Rome, but I’d already realized that no one stored silk in this building. There hadn’t been much room in Tatius’s cubicle for large boxes of gold coins either. I wondered what was so valuable inside that they’d hired a former legionnaire to keep people out.

We might have stared at each other until the sun set, but two of the ruffians who’d ambushed me in the baths strode out from an inner archway.

They stopped short when they saw me. One looked worried, but the second, the one I’d turned the knife on, glowered.

“What do you want?” he demanded.