Page 3 of Brother at Arms

“No. Or where the farm was located. Marcella might know.”

Cassia idly flicked the stylus between her fingers. “Interesting that Xerxes ended up with a woman on a farm, if he didn’t like the work.”

“It was after Xerxes began living with her that he told me about where he’d come from,” I said. “He laughed at the irony, but I think he’d have gone anywhere to be with Marcella.”

“They were very fond of each other.” Cassia’s voice held wistfulness.

“Xerxes joked about that too. Said they were feeble lovers in a bad comedy.”

“His jests were to cover his true feelings,” Cassia said. “Some men are like that.”

“That is true.” I nodded at her. “I never joke.”

Her sudden smile was the reward for my dry comment. Her dark eyes sparkled when she truly smiled.

“We will make a short journey to visit Marcella,” Cassia said decidedly, closing the tablet. “You might have thought you spied Xerxes because you are missing him, and speaking with Marcella will make you feel better. Plus, we can take her some gifts and money for her care of Sergius.” I’d taken a small boy to Marcella about a year ago, when he’d had nowhere else to go.

Cassia lost her smile and regarded me sternly. “After you speak with the banker.”

“Yes, yes.” I rose hastily. “I’ll go now.”

“It might be too late.” Bankers shut down in the afternoon along with everyone else.

“I will hurry.” I strode to the door and wrenched it open, my dejection gone. Cassia’s good sense could always make me feel better.

Her explanation that I’d either conjured Xerxes from my own sadness or had seen a real person who resembled him were likely the right ones. Cassia had no fear of ghosts. If any dared to appear in our apartment, she’d order them to scrape off their boots, stay quiet, and not disturb her.

The clouds and rain had dispersed while I’d spoken with Cassia, and I walked along wet stones under clear skies to the Forum Romanum.

I reached the banker before he departed for the afternoon. He’d set up his bench just inside the Basilica Julia, and the shaded arcade, paved in marble, cooled me from the now strong May sunshine.

The banker, Fabius, had already begun gathering his tablets and money bags, stuffing them into a large sack. A beefy former gladiator hovered nearby, ready to escort Fabius and his coinage home.

Fabius regarded me with impatience as I thrust the small roll of papyrus Cassia had given me at him. I almost thought Fabius would refuse to take it and send me away, but he heaved a sigh and snatched it from my hand.

He opened it and scanned the words she’d written, his sour expression becoming one of interest.

“Your scribe can make this transaction?” Fabius asked me.

I had no idea what Cassia had promised him, but I nodded. “She will do what she says.”

Fabius nodded thoughtfully and slid the scroll into a small bag that he tucked inside his tunic. “Then I will do as she instructs.”

He did not seem worried that the scribe was a woman, but then, he likely dealt with various scribes all the time, male or female. They were learned people who knew the mysteries of writing, reading, and keeping accounts, respected no matter what their status in society.

My errand finished, I returned to the Quirinal. I would have a light repast at home and then make for the baths myself.

When I reached the wine shop beneath our apartment, the wine merchant emerged from behind his counter.

“Man to see you, Leonidas,” he said in his breathy voice. The wine merchant was small in stature, prone to rapid movement. “I didn’t like the look of him and wouldn’t let him upstairs.”

The wine merchant had become very protective of Cassia, for which I was grateful.

“Did he give his name?” I asked, impatient to get to my meal. “Or say who sent him?” Cassia had gained a reputation for solving problems for people, and some would seek her help, for a fee, of course.

“No.” The wine merchant’s mouth puckered. “Comes from foreign parts. His cloak is lined with silk.”

Disapproval radiated from him. While silk was used for garments in Rome, it was expensive, for the decadent, and considered more appropriate for women than men. In other parts of the world, however, it was less frowned upon as a garb for men of all classes.