The Protector (21 page)

“D
omina
,” Felix said, “The lady, Gaia, is here.”

Adiona set down her glass of orange nectar. “Welcome her in.”

When Octavia’s friend entered the courtyard, Adiona stood and left the breakfast table to greet her with a kiss on each cheek.

“How good of you to come. I feared you hadn’t received my invitation.”

“I’ve been visiting friends outside the city this week. I didn’t know you wished to see me until I returned last night.”

“No matter, you’re here now. All is well.” Adiona swept her hand toward the table, laden with her favorite cinnamon rolls, orange juice and dates. “Have you eaten this morning? Do you care to join me?”

“I ate earlier,” Gaia said, “But I’m parched. A glass of water would do well for me.”

“Of course.” She led Gaia to the table. “Sit here. There’s a charcoal pot on the floor to warm your feet.” When the older woman was comfortably seated, Adiona went to the door and called for Felix to fetch a glass.

Adiona returned to her chair and took a drink of juice.
Her mouth puckered at the extreme tartness, but after eating honey on the rolls, she expected as much. “I’ve wanted to speak with you since Octavia’s funeral,” she said. “I was sorry to leave Neopolis in such haste without thanking you, but the situation was unavoidable. Octavia was a dear friend to me. I feared Drusus wouldn’t do her justice, so your guidance with the rites was most appreciated.”

“It was no trouble. Octavia was a friend to all. It was she who first welcomed me to Neopolis when I moved there two months ago.”

Adiona swallowed a bite of cinnamon roll. She said nothing, but it surprised her to learn the shortness of Gaia’s acquaintance with Octavia. After seeing Gaia and Drusus at the funeral, she’d thought them longtime friends.

She took another drink of juice and angled the top of her sandaled foot near the warmth of the coal pot. “Yes, Octavia was the best woman I’ve ever met. Have you been in Rome long?”

“No,” Gaia replied, “I arrived midweek last. I’m preparing for my wedding.”

“Your wedding?” Adiona smiled politely. “Much happiness and blessings to you.”

“Thank you. My husband died almost a month ago—”

“My condolences,” Adiona said, careful not to show her distaste at Gaia’s rush to remarry.

“Condolences aren’t necessary. As far as I’m concerned, his death was well-deserved.”

Taken aback by the woman’s candor, Adiona hid her surprise behind another sip of juice.

Gaia sat back in her chair, as amiable as if the topic were the arrival of spring. “My husband planned to
divorce me for a younger, wealthier woman. He’d done the same to his first wife when he married me two years ago, so I recognized the signs. I should have known better than to wed him, but I believed his lies when he said he loved me. After he wasted most of the money my first husband left to me, he thought to move on to someone else.” Her voice took on a flinty tone. “What galls me is that his paramour didn’t care that I was an excellent wife or that he was even married. She’s a spoiled seductress who thinks her money can buy her whatever she desires. I plan to enlighten her soon.”

Gaia’s contempt made Adiona fear for the younger woman’s safety. “I don’t mean to add to your pain, but men are quite duplicitous when they choose to be. Perhaps your husband didn’t tell her he was married.”

“No,” Gaia said stonily. “She knew.”

“Then shame be upon them both. I hope your new husband will be worthy of you.”

Gaia sipped her water and seemed to rein in her anger. “He’s sure to please me. My new betrothed is a malleable man and heir to a large fortune.” She smiled. “I expect to be quite content.”

“If one
must
marry,” Adiona said in response to Gaia’s prosaic attitude, “those are commendable traits in a husband.”

Gaia nodded. “The best. I find honor is wasted on men because the sight of any young beauty will challenge their wedding vows.”

Adiona chose a slice of fig and ate the sweet fruit, trying to ignore the bitterness behind the woman’s smile. “I agree, most men prove themselves worthless. However, of late I’ve learned a very few are worth their weight in gold.”

“Surely a woman like you is the object of a great many men’s affections.”

Adiona smirked. “My wealth is.”

Gaia cocked her head as though considering Adiona in a new light. “You don’t mind a man desiring you for your coin?”

“Certainly I do.” Adiona sipped her juice. “My intolerance for men is well-known. Especially those with lucrative intentions.”

“I hadn’t heard that.” Gaia drank her water. Her hand shook slightly. “Most wealthy women will buy love if they can’t find it for free.”

“Many do, but I’m not one of them.” Uncomfortable with the course of the conversation, Adiona changed the subject. “When will you marry?”

“A few weeks at most,” Gaia said. “My betrothed’s benefactress is on her death bed. I don’t want to be accused of poor taste by marrying too quickly after she leaves us.”

“That’s wise.” Adiona shivered at the coldness of Gaia’s calculations. Claudia was a poisonous spider, but Gaia could teach the Roman matron a thing or two. “Will you be living in Rome? I think you’ll blend in well with the society here.”

“I’m not certain. My former husband loved Rome and spent most of his time here wooing his new lover,” she said bitterly. “But my betrothed prefers Neopolis.”

“Does he know my heir, Drusus?”

“Yes, they’re well-acquainted.” Gaia circled the rim of her glass with her fingertip. A slight smile turned her lips. “Drusus prides himself on knowing everyone of importance in Neopolis. Of course, he only considers the men important. The way he treated Octavia was disgraceful.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Adiona agreed. She finished her juice.

Gaia smiled at the empty glass Adiona set on the table. “I’d like to tell you a story. It’s important. I hope you’ll indulge me.”

Perplexed by her heightened sense of danger, Adiona decided to listen before making an excuse to send the woman on her way as soon as possible. “All right.”

“Six months ago, my husband and I moved to Neopolis. He was a business acquaintance of your heir, so naturally he attended a party Drusus invited him to. I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed home. As it turned out, my husband met the woman who was to become his mistress. She lives here in Rome, but happened to be visiting Octavia at the time.

“When I learned of the affair, I befriended Octavia and told her I was a widow. I planned to learn all I could in order to rid my husband of his latest…interest.”

Adiona continued to listen in rapt silence. Gaia took another drink of water. “I decided to do myself and the city a favor by doing away with such an unscrupulous she-dog.”

“Why punish the woman and not your husband? He’s the one who owed you loyalty.”

“Yes, I had plans for him, as well. Not what he de served because I preferred to put an end to both of them, but I’m no longer the beauty I once was and my husband squandered most of my fortune, leaving me unable to attract a new spouse with my money or buy the protection an unmarried woman needs to survive.

“When Octavia became ill all those weeks ago, it occurred to me that if she were gone I’d have the perfect solution to all my problems.”

The hairs on the back of Adiona’s neck stood to
attention. Her heart began to pound rapidly and her gums tingled. “You evil cow! What did you do?”

“With the help of some hemlock I aided her journey to Elysium, but not before I hired thugs to dispatch my husband’s mistress.”

“Felix!” Adiona shouted, jumping to her feet. “Felix!”

“Don’t excite yourself. Your steward can’t hear you. My men have trussed him up in the kitchen with the rest of your household slaves. They’re waiting by the doors if you think to run.” She studied her fingernails. “Besides, I’m not finished with my story.”

Deciding it was better to listen to the lunatic while she considered her options, Adiona sank back into her seat. The coal pot scraped the tiles beneath the table. She’d been enthralled enough by Gaia’s story not to feel the hot pot when she bumped it.

“That’s better.” Gaia smiled. “Once Octavia was gone, I thought all was going according to my plans. Octavia was no longer an impediment between Drusus and me. He proved easy enough to seduce. You were supposed to have died in the street, providing Drusus with his inheritance. Salonius was my last concern. I was debating whether to divorce him or have him dispatched like he deserved.”

“Salonius?” Adiona began to tremble. She ran her tongue over her teeth and gums. Numbness was creeping over her. “I never had anything to do with Salonius.”

“Don’t! Everyone from Rome to Neopolis knew of your affair.”

“Because your husband propagated the lie. I rejected his interest and advances more times than I can count. I told him to go back to his wife—to you!”

“I don’t believe you. With his charm and hand some
ness, Salonius could have had any woman he wanted. I knew he married me for my money, but until you, he’d never attempted to leave me.”

“You’re insane.”

“No,” she said, her voice flat. “I’ve been used, robbed and scorned. I won’t be abused any longer.”

“I never wanted your husband. I’m in love with someone else!”

“A woman like you is incapable of love. When you arrived at Octavia’s funeral, I realized my plans were in shambles.”

As the horror of the situation compounded, Adiona blanched at Gaia’s evil. “
You
put the viper in my bed.”

“My servant did.”

“It’s the same thing.”

Gaia shrugged. “When you escaped again, I realized I’d have to end your life myself because everyone else proved inept at the task.”

Adiona gripped the arms of her chair until her fingers turned white. Perspiration broke out on her brow.

“After you and your watchdog disappeared from the funeral, I needed you to expose yourself. When Caros Viriathos traveled to Neopolis and threatened Drusus, I knew Salonius could be made to look guilty for your attack with some well-placed evidence. My plan succeeded beyond my expectations. My fool husband did me the favor of trying to escape jail and dying in the process. The situation made his guilt in your attempted murder unquestioned. Within a short time you did as I anticipated and returned to Rome.”

“What do you plan to do to me?”

Gaia smiled. “I’ve already done it.” She picked up Adiona’s empty cup and studied the residual rings of orange nectar on the glass. “Didn’t the hemlock taste
sour to you? I added it when you left to order my water. I worried you might notice when you returned.”

Adiona felt the blood leach from her face. Her heart kicked. To survive in Rome, one had to have a basic knowledge of poisons. Its use was so common most wealthy households kept a food taster. Hemlock was slow-acting, starting in the extremities and closing down the body as it worked its way to the lungs. Perfect for killing, especially if a murderer had a story to tell before her victim died.

Adiona bolted from her chair. Unable to feel her feet, she stumbled the few steps to the garden’s nearest flowerpot where she stuck her finger down her throat and forced herself to retch.

“That won’t help you. I can see you’re already having trouble walking.”

Adiona eyed the knife on the table. There was no way to reach it before Gaia did. Her hatred of the other woman was almost as intense as her love for Quintus.

“I’ll be going,” Gaia said, her voice warm with the satisfaction of a woman whose fondest plans were fulfilled. “Considering Octavia’s goodness, it’s unlikely you’ll see her in the afterlife, but if you do, please apologize for me. Her death is my only regret. Unfortunately, it was necessary.”

Adiona didn’t try to stop her. As much as she wanted retribution, she wanted to live more. Hemlock had no antidote that Adiona knew of, but it was important she stay calm. The more excitable she became the quicker the poison saturated her blood.

Using the peristyle’s columns, then the corridor walls for support, she worked her way to the kitchen. Gaia’s men were gone. Her own people were bound and gagged. Despite the roaring cook fire, she was so cold she was
shivering. She found a knife and cut the ropes from her steward’s wrists.

Felix ripped the cloth off his mouth. “
Domina,
we tried to fight them. What’s happened?”

She quickly related the details as he cut the other slaves free. “Please, Felix. Go to the
ludus.
Tell Caros and Pelonia I need them. Someone else fetch a physician.”

On his way out the door, Felix ordered one of the house slaves to carry Adiona to her bedchamber. A brawny slave placed her on her sleeping couch. Her maid, Nidia, covered her with furs to fight the insidious chill.

Shaking, her teeth chattering, Adiona began to pray. She thanked the Lord for Caros and Pelonia. She asked for blessings on their baby and long lives filled with joy. She asked that He give special care to the orphans and wished she’d had time to change her will to include them.

Mostly she prayed for Quintus. Her heart swelled with love for him. She thanked the Lord that Quintus existed, that she’d been allowed to know him. She regretted the shortness of their time together, aware that even a thousand years wouldn’t be long enough for her to love him.

Her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. For most of her life she’d been alone. To know the Lord was with her at the end brought her peace.

S
urrounded by the smells of hay and leather, Quintus led his horse from the stable. Caros and Pelonia waited in the
ludus’
s courtyard.

“You look exceptional today, Quintus.” Pelonia grinned up at him, her warm, friendly expression contrasting with the day’s sharp cold. “A shave and a good night’s rest did wonders for you. Adiona will think you’re the handsomest of men.”

He frowned. “You’re certain you don’t want to tell me about what I’ll find this morning?”

“Oh, no. You’ll have to discover it for yourself. You’d best hurry.”

“You’re sure you have the correct directions?” Caros asked.

“You can always ask someone if you get lost,” Pelonia said, stroking the gelding’s smooth black neck.

The two men exchanged a dubious glance at the suggestion.

Pelonia laughed. “Of course, I know you won’t.”

“I’ll find it,” Quintus assured them. Saying goodbye to his friends, he gathered the reins and turned his horse toward the school’s iron gates. “Until later, then.”

Inside Rome’s city walls, he turned his horse onto the road leading to the Palatine Hill where Adiona’s palatial villa overlooked the Forum. Lined by thick foliage and numerous trees, the road wound up a steep incline. At the top of the hill, he followed the road past the villas of Rome’s most exalted and wealthiest families.

At the end of a wide thoroughfare, he found the palace Caros described as belonging to Adiona. To Quintus, the lavish three-story structure with its marble Corinthian columns and precisely arranged statuary looked more like a public building than a home. Its marble facade was as cold and self-contained as a tomb, exuding none of the vitality his lioness possessed in abundance.

Taking the mountain of steps two at a time, he reached the columned portico and knocked on the front door. No one answered. He knocked again, listening for any indication of life. When the silence stretched, he turned to leave, disappointed and chagrined by his impatience to see Adiona when she wasn’t even home.

He was halfway down the first flight of steps when he heard the door open behind him.

“Wait! Are you the physician?” a woman’s voice called. “My lady Leonia is dying.
Please
help us!”

Dying?
Hammered by fear, Quintus raced back up the steps. “What happened?” he demanded of the maid. “Where is she?”

“This way.” The maid’s shorter stride frustrated Quintus as she led him to Adiona down a long-corridor. “A woman named Gaia visited this morning,” the girl panted, her breathing labored as she worked to keep up with his driving pace.

Growing sicker to his stomach with each word of the maid’s explanation, he began to pray, begging for Adiona’s life. His anger burned toward Gaia. He blamed
himself for not recognizing her malevolence. He rejected the possibility that Adiona might not recover. That would be the same as his own heart dying and he cherished the hope of a lifetime with her. Every drop of faith inside him cried out to the Lord for mercy.

“Where is the steward of the house?”

“Felix went to the
Ludus Maximus
to fetch the
lanista
and his wife.”

“When did he leave?”

“Almost an hour ago. He should return soon.”

Quintus clawed his fingers through his hair. He must have missed the steward by moments. At least Caros and Pelonia’s arrival was imminent. He needed their prayers.

“Who went for the physician?”

“I thought you—”

“No.”

The maid stopped midstride. “Then who…?”

He grabbed the girl’s wrist and towed her along, ignoring her protests. “I’m no one to concern yourself with. Who went for the physician?”

Overrun by distress, the maid stopped struggling against his hold. “It was Pulus. He left the same time as Felix. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

At the end of the long corridor, the maid pushed open a heavy door. Barely registering the vibrant colors and rare Eastern textiles, Quintus raced across the room to the slender bump reclining on the large sleeping couch.

“Adiona?” He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her cold knuckles. Breathing in her scent of cinnamon, he tested the inside of her wrist and felt the weak pulse. He pressed his lips to the faint tick beneath her translucent skin and web of delicate blue veins. Molding her fingers to the curve of his cheek, he squeezed his eyes
shut, silently begging God to heal her. After Fabius’s death, he’d go mad if he lost Adiona, too.

Unexpectedly, Adiona’s fingers curled, one catching his ear. His eyes flew open. He rejoiced to see her amber gaze riveted to his face.

“Have I…died?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“No, you’re going to live, my love. I won’t let you leave me.”

Her eyes slid closed. A hint of a smile curved her lips. “You came back.”

“Open your eyes, Adiona.” His voice broke. “Stay with me. The physician is coming soon. You
have
to stay with me.”

She was so cold she felt like snow. Quintus ordered more pelts. He was covering her with a blanket of mink when her eyes slipped opened again.

“You…certain I haven’t died?”

“No, I’m here. We’re in Rome.”

She nodded imperceptibly. “If I die, don’t worry—”

“Don’t speak of your death. I won’t hear it. I don’t accept it.”

“Shh…come.” Her index finger tapped the place beside her.

He sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m listening.”

“If I die. I’ll see you in…in heaven.”

“Heaven? Not Elysium?”

“No. I prayed—”

“You’re a Christian?” he asked, trying to speak for her, to help her conserve her strength. “Yes.”

His throat tightened. Joy competed with his terror. God had heard his prayers for her soul and answered.
Surely, He wouldn’t give with one hand and take her from him with the other?

“I love you,” he said, kissing her palm. “I love you.”

Her eyes slid open and her pulse quickened beneath his fingers. “You…love me?”

“Yes. I’ve missed you every moment I was gone. You’ve been in my thoughts and prayers every day since I left. I will wait for you as long as it takes to win your heart and your consent to be my wife. And if you never agree to be mine, I will love you forever anyway, whether it’s in this life or the next.”

Her eyes slid closed.

“Adiona,
please
don’t go.”

A commotion in the corridor signaled the physician’s arrival. “Where is the patient?”

“She’s here,” Quintus called, waving the newcomer into the room and over to the bed.

“Are you the lady’s husband?”

“I will be.”

The physician, a stocky older man with dark curly hair and pockmarked cheeks, motioned toward the clutch of slaves in the hallway. “The boy said she was given hemlock. There’s no cure, you know.”

“There must be something we can do,” Quintus said with steely determination.

“Nothing certain. The idea is to stir the heart. I’ve seen a few victims survive by eating certain fruits and nuts, but I can’t promise it will work.”

“What do we feed her?” Quintus asked, desperate.

“Pomegranates, hazelnuts, crushed mustard seeds, cinnamon—”

“Fetch them all,” Quintus ordered the maid. “Bring a mortar and pestle. Hurry!”

Pelonia arrived, her face etched with anxiety. “Caros,
Felix and several of the gladiators have gone to search for Gaia,” she told Quintus. “Felix had her followed before. He knows where she’s staying. I’ve sent word to Annia and several of my other Christian friends. I thought the more prayers, the better.”

The maid returned with the fruit, mortar and pestle. Quintus reached for them instantly, wasting no time in grinding the spices together. Next he cut open a pomegranate and crushed the seeds into a juicy, gritty broth. He took the mixture to Adiona.

With Pelonia, Annia and several other ladies praying quietly across the chamber, Quintus sat next to Adiona on the couch. He held her against his side, one arm propping her head. With his free hand, he coaxed her to drink the spicy concoction. She made a face. “Drink it, lioness,” he said. “Drink it all. Then I’m going to get you some more.”

She drank slowly, but eventually got the first dosage down. While Adiona drank, the maid prepared more of the liquid. Quintus forced Adiona to drink it and more. When they began to run out of the ingredients, Quintus sent one of the maids to the Forum. “Get enough to feed an army.”

Quintus held Adiona for hours, never tiring in his task. “Drink some more,” he said, willing to bully her if necessary.

“No, no, I can’t.” Her head rocked against his shoulder. “I’m going to be sick.”

“That’s a good way to get the poison out of you.”

“I made myself retch as soon as that evil cow told me what she’d done.”

Quintus smiled. Adiona was getting stronger. She no longer stuttered with weakness. Some of her usual fire had reignited in her eyes.

The sun was setting by the time Adiona needed privacy. Pelonia and her friends forced Quintus from the room, leaving Adiona with the physician and her maid. Quintus paced up and down the long hallway like a threatening storm cloud until the maid called him back in the room at Adiona’s insistence.

Inside the chamber, Quintus froze. Adiona was sitting up. She wore a fresh white tunic and bright red
palla,
her black hair was brushed and draped over her left shoulder. She looked exhausted with dark purple smudges beneath her amber eyes and pale chapped lips, but she was more beautiful than any woman had a right to be, especially one who’d spent the day fighting poison.

He looked to the physician. “Is she well?”

“Seems to be. I’ve told her to keep drinking the juice you made. I don’t know if helped, but I doubt it will hurt. I’m going to recommend it for other patients in the future.”

Once the physician left, Quintus went back to Adiona. “What?” she asked when he drew near.

“Nothing.” Relief pouring through him, he knelt by the edge of the sleeping couch and ran the pad of his thumb over the dark circle beneath her right eye. “Do you feel recovered?”

“For the most part. I can feel my toes and the tips of my fingers again. I had a burn on my foot the physician treated.”

“A burn? From what?”

“When the poison set in, I lost feeling in my foot. There was a charcoal pot beneath the table. I didn’t realize I was touching it.”

“My poor lioness. Anything else?”

“The cold plagues me despite all these furs. And my
vision is a mite blurry. The physician said all should be well within a few days.”

“Praise the Lord.” Quintus kissed her palm, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Do you remember anything of what I told you today?”

She smiled, surprising him with uncharacteristic shyness. “You told me you love me.”

He stroked a ribbon of her hair between his thumb and index finger. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes to the mink covering her. “You never lie.”

“Do you know I’ll never hurt you, that I’ll cherish you until my dying day?”

She tossed her hair playfully. “I don’t recall you saying that. However, I do remember something about you waiting an eternity if that’s how long it takes to win me.”

He trapped her gaze with his. “I’ll wait five eternities if necessary. Ten. Twenty.”

She glanced toward the other ladies talking across the chamber. “Kiss me before the ladies come over here,” she whispered.

He brushed his lips across hers, leaving her heart to ache for more of him. “You don’t have to wait,” she said. “I love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you—even before I knew what true love was. I’ll marry you today, if possible.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted. He kissed her again, this time sealing the promises between them. “You know,” he said, “I left my heart here with you when I left for Amiternum.”

“But you took mine,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back. I think I would have hunted you down.”

“A lioness for certain.” He laughed. “You were never
in any danger of me not coming back. I didn’t want to leave you in the first place.”

“You needed to care for Fabius. Did all go well?”

“It did. I’ll tell you the whole story once your full health is restored.”

Hours after dark that same night, Caros, Pelonia, Quintus and Adiona sat on couches in one of Adiona’s main salons. Adiona continued to suffer from the cold, but Quintus kept her buried in furs and tucked against the heat of his side. Caros and Pelonia were sitting in a similar fashion across from them.

“I must know what happened with Gaia,” Adiona said, aware that everyone was treating her like a breakable piece of glass. “If not, I’ll worry she’s out there somewhere plotting against me.”

Caros glanced toward his wife before he spoke. “Felix led my men and me to the
tabernae
where she was staying. We almost missed her. I’m convinced the Lord allowed us to arrive in time. When she saw us, she sought refuge on the top floor. When we informed her the plot she planned against you had failed and that we intended to take her to the authorities, she—”

“She jumped, didn’t she?” said Adiona, cringing.

Caros nodded. “She didn’t survive the fall.”

Adiona shuddered and burrowed tighter against Quintus. “I’m sorry about her.”

“The whole situation is terribly sad,” Pelonia added.

“Yes. I can see much of myself in Gaia. Without good friends to show me to the Lord and a wonderful man to bring my heart to life, I may have ended up bitter and angry like she did. I was certainly on that road.”

Quintus frowned against Adiona’s hair. “I saw nothing of her in you.”

Caros chuckled. “I did.”

Adiona arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

“You both could be shrewish and opinionated, overly independent—”

Adiona threw a pillow at Caros’s head. Laughing, he ducked, the weak toss missing him by a mile.

“Adiona is none of those things,” Quintus declared. “She’s sweet, kind, loving, generous to a fault—”

Caros chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely a man in love.”

Pelonia elbowed her husband in the ribs. “Be kind, Caros. Quintus is right. Look at Adiona’s interest in the orphans, and don’t forget what she did to help you and me.”