Mark of the Thief (5 page)

But Crispus nudged his head toward me. “I told you I saw a griffin, and this boy controlled her. You should’ve seen it, Father!”

The guard next to me stepped forward and bowed. “This boy is an escaped slave, and must be punished, Senator … er …”

“Valerius.” He walked closer to me. “Did you run from your master, boy?”

“No.” Not this time.

A guard grabbed my arm again, but Valerius brushed it off and ordered the guards to stand back. “Why are you here, then?” My eyes darted away and he asked, “Did they hurt you?”

I glanced at Crispus, who looked genuinely concerned, and I wondered about his life, so different from my reality. I’d never met someone of his status who cared about anyone of mine. Maybe all patricians weren’t the same.

I wasn’t injured, but Valerius lifted my head with both hands anyway, which I hated. When he turned me for further inspection, he noticed the tear in my tunic. “What happened there?” he asked.

“It’s only a scratch,” I mumbled. Why couldn’t they go away already?

He pushed a finger through the rip to examine the scratch, and then drew in a breath. Once he did, he whispered, “Crispus, come see this.”

His son obeyed, gasped, and then asked, “What is that?”

A scratch
, I wanted to say. The senator and his son were thin-skinned people who probably considered dressing themselves as a form of physical labor. I’d received plenty of scratches before, and this wouldn’t be my last. Perhaps such strange concepts as bruises, cuts, and scratches were entirely unknown to soft patricians like them.

Valerius started to question me, but I cast my eyes away, instinctively not wanting to talk about it. It wouldn’t take much to guess that Caela had given me the scratch, and then they might start asking why. The bulla against my hip felt warmer than it had before, almost like a warning against me letting those secrets be discovered.

Before he completed his sentence, however, another senator walked up behind them, dressed in the same white-and-purple toga. He was a round sort of man. Round eyes, round nose, and a round belly that probably consumed more cakes in a day than I had seen in a lifetime. Valerius greeted him as Senator Horatio, then quickly faced me forward again. He placed a hand over my torn tunic, covering the scratch. It sparked when he pressed down on the wound, and I winced, but with his other hand, he squeezed my arm, warning me to stop moving.

“How much is it to buy this boy?” Valerius asked the guards. “Who is his owner?”

“You wouldn’t want him,” Senator Horatio said, speaking of me. “This boy is filthy. Show us your teeth.”

I’d heard how slaves were treated at auction, and this small taste of it was bitter in my mouth. They didn’t even bother talking to me, and spoke about me as if I wasn’t right in front of them, hearing every word they said. I clamped my mouth closed and tried to turn away, but Valerius’s hand was still covering the scratch on my shoulder and he pulled me back. I wished he wasn’t holding me so tight — the sting in the scratch was getting worse — but he wasn’t giving me any room to squirm free.

One of the guards stepped forward. “He belongs in the mines south of this lake. We must bring him there for punishment.”

Senator Horatio’s only interest was in punishing me now. “Show me your teeth!” he demanded.

“Show me yours,” I muttered. Once we returned to the mines, Sal could give me whatever punishment he wanted. It would be a pleasure compared to any service of this gasbag
ructuose
pig.

Despite both Valerius and Crispus persuading him to move on, Senator Horatio was becoming angrier. “I am the presiding magistrate of the Roman Senate,” he said. “You will obey me!”

“He isn’t worth your trouble,” Crispus said dismissively. “If this boy was obedient, he wouldn’t be here right now.”

That caused Horatio to pause, and privately, I rejoiced. If my lack of obedience caused him to leave me alone, then it had just become my finest trait.

Without another glance at me, Horatio arched his neck. “Senator Valerius, this entire day has been a waste of our time. Those rumors of a discovery of Caesar’s treasure were clearly false. I will return to Rome at once.”

“Of course.” Valerius gave him a curt bow but still did not release me. After Horatio was gone, Valerius then stepped toward the guards. “Perhaps we can arrange a deal. For enough money, you might forget you ever found this boy, or saw me here.”

The guards blinked at one another as if they were considering his offer. Not that I had much choice in the matter, but I was considering my options too. Sal was at the mines. But then, so was Livia.

One of the guards finally brushed the senator’s hand aside. “We’ll return this boy for his punishment, or else we’re the ones to receive it. You can negotiate for him back at the mines.”

“Very well.” Senator Valerius leaned down to me and whispered, “I am your friend, but do not trust that anyone else in Rome will feel the same way. I will try to get to the mines before dark. Until then, understand that the mark on your back is no scratch. It doesn’t matter how you got it, only that there are people who will kill you if they see it.”

Despite the rudeness of looking directly at him, my eyes met his. “Why?” I asked. “What’s there?”

But there was no time for him to answer, for the guards grabbed my arms and pulled me into the wagon. The last thing I saw before we rounded a corner was his son, Crispus, who merely shrugged apologetically at me. Maybe because of Horatio’s rude behavior. Or more likely, because he knew his father had just attempted to buy me in order to save my life. And failed.

A
s we rode back to the mines, the guards joked at the various punishments Sal might give me for running, but I hoped they were only jokes. Sal knew the truth about how I had come to be so far away. Less certain was whether the truth mattered to Sal.

Once we arrived, the guards shouted out for Sal to come, that they had found me. I heard my name being called like an echo around camp, and within minutes, I heard Livia’s voice behind me. I squirmed around until I saw her.

Livia looked like a younger version of our mother, which made it hard to look at her on the days I missed our mother the most. Livia was tall for her age with gentle features and kind eyes. She had a round face with curly golden hair that she usually bunched up in a knot at the base of her neck so it didn’t get in the way of her duties. Just as my mother had done. Despite the hard work and worries of a life in the mines, Livia was uncommonly pretty. I supposed that was its own sort of curse, because it drew Sal’s attention to her, something she hated almost as much as I did.

Tears were running down Livia’s face and they only increased when she saw me. I hated seeing her so upset and wished she could’ve hidden her feelings better. Because unless we escaped, I would die in the mines anyway, and when I did, my last thought would now be the picture of what that would do to my sister.

Sal came from the other direction and the guards pushed me out of the wagon and then set me on my knees. I immediately noticed that Sal was limping and his cheek was badly bruised. I wondered if those injuries had come from Radulf after Sal lost me in Caesar’s cavern.

Sal greeted me with a kick directly to my gut. I had expected something like that and, frankly, was glad he didn’t do worse. I took the kick with my eyes down and tried to recover my breath without falling over. The bulla was as heavy as it had been when I tried to run with it inside the cave, far heavier than gold should be. If I was going to take a beating for the bulla, then I figured that confirmed my right to keep it. So when I sat up, I angled my body to hide it better from him.

Livia was closer to me now. I only saw the edge of her skirt, but her cries rang in my ears. I tried telling her to leave but still didn’t have enough breath for words. All I had to do was explain myself. Things would return to normal.

“So you’re alive?” Sal didn’t sound entirely happy about that fact.

“He was trying to escape,” a guard said. “We found him near the lake.” They didn’t mention our encounter with the senators. Neither would I.

“I was only eating berries!” I looked up now. Sal’s face was bruised worse than I had first thought. No matter my feelings for him, I still wouldn’t have wanted him injured for something I’d done wrong. “When the entrance collapsed, I had to find another way out, and I did. I would’ve come back here.”

“Why would anyone return to this place?” Sal said. “You’re not only an escapee, but a liar too.”

My eyes darted over to Livia, whose face had drained of color. She often told me that if I ever had the chance to escape, I should do it, even without her. I always replied that I wouldn’t leave her behind.

“I belong in these mines,” I said. “This is my life.”

“There’s no life here, Nic! When will you understand that?” He was screaming at me now, but I had to let him do it. Once he calmed down, he’d allow me back in.

I nodded toward the guards. “Have them untie me and I’ll go back to work right now.”

“Are you asking me to forget about your disobedience before? Or your attempted escape?”

Well, no, not asking in words. Though it would’ve been nice.

He continued, “And what happens if I return you with the other slaves, with your story about an exit deep inside the mines, and your belly full of berries? What will they think of that? What will they believe about their own chances to escape?”

I could have promised not to say anything, but he wouldn’t have believed me and besides, the story would get around anyway. Whispers that I had survived the cave’s collapse were probably already floating through the mines.

“Brand his forehead,” the guard behind me said. “Let him be a lesson to any others who think about escaping.”

“No!” I cried. “Please, Sal, don’t do that!” If there was even the smallest chance of my becoming free one day, I could never build any sort of life with my face marked as an escaped slave. Branding my forehead would steal away my last hope. But maybe that was the exact reason why Sal would do it.

Sal brushed a hand over his bruised cheek as he thought it over. Then he crouched near me and parted my hair to reveal my forehead. He tapped the skin and smiled. “We’ll put it right here, in big, black, burned letters.”

“Don’t do it, Sal.” My heart pounded wildly, causing my hands to tremble. “You know I wasn’t trying to escape. If I had intended to go, I would’ve succeeded.”

“I know that.” He removed his hand from my head. “General Radulf was furious when you disappeared. I told him that after everything settled in a few weeks, we could dig out the cave entrance again and get another man to go in. But that wasn’t the reason for his anger. He was upset because
you’d
be dead by the time we got back inside. Tell me, Nic, why does a general of the Roman army care if you’re alive?”

I shook my head, genuinely confused. “I don’t know. I think you misunderstood him.”

“And did you get whatever he wanted you to find in there?”

Letting Sal even touch the bulla was intolerable. He’d stain it with the grease of his hands, and tarnish it with his own corruption. “No, sir,” I said, looking him straight in the face. No matter how wrong it was to lie to a master, I couldn’t give the bulla up to him. Not to anyone.

Sal searched my face for any sign I was lying, and I was certain he would figure me out. I didn’t care. Where I should’ve felt guilt for my lies, I only felt anger that he was forcing me to tell them. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Surely he would sense the tumult of emotions inside me and know the truth.

But he didn’t. And from the darkened expression on his face, I soon realized what a mistake it had been to lie. Because without the bulla, he had no reason to tell Radulf I had escaped from the cave. My life was worth nothing to him.

A wicked grin spread across Sal’s face. “We can’t let the other slaves think there’s a way out of the mines. And if they do, they need to know the consequences of trying to leave. It’s not enough to brand this boy’s forehead. We have to kill him.”

D
espite my struggles, the guards threw me back into the wagon and held me tight. They wouldn’t do it here, in view of the others. Instead, they’d take me back down the hill and leave my body in the weeds for the vultures to find. That terrified me more than anything. To enter the other world without a burial — I’d never be able to rest, not for the eternities.