Page 6 of Brother at Arms

“Help with what?” I asked with caution.

Lucius let out a sigh. “That is a long tale.”

I scraped the extra stool from the wall and sat firmly on it. “There is time. It is only the seventh hour.”

Lucius assessed me, then placed his now-empty wine cup on the table. “If you wet my throat a little more, Cassia, I will tell you.”

“Manius and I were born in a little village in Etruria, near Florentia.” Lucius had moved his stool so he could lean against the wall near the window, legs stretched out as he began. “Nobody’s ever heard of the village, and I’ve forgotten its name, myself. A track with a few pigs wandering through. Manius and I were slave born, and we worked for a farmer there, as far back as I remember. Our parents were sold, or died—we were never told which—so we never knew them.”

He paused for a sip of wine, his lips trembling slightly. The faint scratch of Cassia’s stylus filled the silence.

“When we grew older and sturdier, we were sold,” Lucius continued. “Manius, who was always very strong, went to another farmer with a larger landholding south of Florentia. Since I’d proved to be clever with counting and numbers, I was purchased by a silk merchant in Florentia called Julius Herminius.”

Lucius lifted a fold of his cloak, displaying the sumptuous fabric under the serviceable wool.

“In the beginning, I helped with what you’d expect a slave to do—carrying bundles about the warehouse, loading wagons, keeping the weavers supplied with fibers or whatever they needed. Eventually, I learned how to mend and then build the weaving frames.

“Herminius began taking me on his journeys to where he acquired his silk, at first across the sea to Illyricum, then further, to Athens and Pergamum, and as I proved my worth, all the way to Antioch. There, he’d meet with men who came from a long way east and exchange money and goods for the cloth. When he realized I was good at bargaining, he let me help him with that, too. Herminius would play the solemn merchant, while I’d be the clever slave, making the other merchants laugh to soften the mood. I gained the man quite a bit of money.”

Lucius paused once more, this time to look smug. Cassia exchanged a glance with me but said nothing, bending to her writing again.

“As years passed my master sent me to these exchanges on my own, trusting me to deliver the goods. I made certain to never fail him. I brought him exactly what he’d ordered, and a few extra trinkets besides, which I could convince the cloth traders to throw in from time to time. Herminius then wished to send me further east, on my own, to see what riches I might bring him.”

“Why on your own?” I asked. Men who dealt with money and goods were very careful, I’d observed.

“Herminius didn’t like to travel. The moaning I put up with all the way to Antioch was excruciating.” Lucius rolled his eyes. “He hated the dust of the roads and sleeping in a tent in foul weather and longed for his plush villa outside Florentia. As I seemed to revel in the journeys, he decided he’d send me in his stead. I went first to Palmyra and then into Parthia, along the Euphrates, all the way to Ctesiphon.

“Because he needed me to go far without him, he decided to free me. A slave traveling alone could be arrested, stolen, killed—all number of things—and Herminius would be out the price of me. So, I became a freedman and head merchant of his eastern branch of the business. As you see me.”

Lucius spread his hands, light flashing on a thin gold armlet that his cloak had hidden.

“What went wrong?” I asked.

A flash of anger lit Lucius’s eyes before he tried to hide it. “Why do you suppose something went wrong?”

“Because you are here in Rome searching for Xerxes instead of in Ctesiphon becoming richer,” I pointed out.

“The very perceptive Leonidas. Of course it went wrong. The gods become annoyed when a cocksure slave becomes a cocksure freedman and begins to reap rewards. I sent every sestertius I made for Herminius back to him, keeping only my commission and fees. But oh, Leonidas, Cassia, what joys I’ve experienced! A well-respected merchant in my own right, traveling the roads of the eastern realms. What sights I’ve seen.”

He pressed his hand to his chest, like an overweening actor. Cassia and I exchanged another glance, this one exasperated.

Lucius exhaled sharply. “But, of course, when a slave is freed and made a trusted partner in a lucrative business, jealousies will abound. Herminius had a manager for his eastern business, one Drusus Fulvius, but the man had grown lazy and hedonistic, enjoying his luxuries instead of working to make Herminius richer still. I made more connections, more trades, more money than Fulvius, and so displaced him. Resentment built.”

All traces of cheerfulness deserted him, and Lucius’s expression became haunted.

“Fulvius and his cronies decided to form a conspiracy against me. They accused me of methodically stealing from Herminius over the years, and Hades take them, they compiled all sorts of evidence. Faked, of course, but I was useless to prove it.

“Herminius believed the reports and told his guards—vicious ruffians—to find me. The pack of them tried very hard to kill me, and I knew I’d better take to my heels. I can move quickly when I’m alone, and I came here to Rome, to find Xerxes to help me. How fortunate, I thought, when one is beset by enemies, to have a gladiator for a brother. But then …”

Lucius trailed off, becoming an ordinary person who’d been met with the stunning news of his brother’s death.

“Why not return to Herminius and explain?” Cassia asked, her quiet voice breaking the silence. “If you have been sending Herminius all the money he is owed, you can show him your records.”

Lucius grimaced. “As to that, Fulvius had been skimming money from Herminius himself, and he fiddled with accounts to make it look as though I’d done it. I didn’t keep books of my own, trusting Herminius’s scribe to do that. Unluckily for me, the scribe was in the pay of Fulvius and was happy to throw me to the wolves.”

Cassia raised her head in shock, which I knew was at the fact that Lucius hadn’t kept records.

“What did you expect Xerxes to do?” I asked. “He was a good fighter but committed to the ludus and owned by Aemil.”