Page 19 of Of Love and Treason
“Here. Sit and tell me about your day.”
As she recounted the day’s events and the market gossip, Quintus poured two cups of wine and added water to Iris’s.
“Cyrus nearly drowned yesterday.” Iris’s eyes drifted somewhere far to the right. “His nephew ran the fishing boat into the reef. It sank and now Cyrus has nothing.”
Quintus was glad Iris couldn’t see his face. Cyrus supplied the carcer with lobster for the prisoners’ fare and better fish for the guards—and at a good price too. He didn’t want to take on finding a new supplier just now, nor did he wish to bargain with Tribune Braccus to increase the ration allotment. The wars in the north were expensive. Priorities did not include allocating extra monies for fish to feed prisoners and citadel guards living in safety. And worse, Quintuscouldn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask. Because the tribune would do anything so long as Quintus gave him Iris. He would rather starve them both.
“Pater?”
“Yes?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes. How unfortunate about Cyrus.”
Her dark brows puckered. “I asked how your day fared. I heard there was rioting yesterday and this morning, but the Forum is quiet now.” Wisps of deep-brown hair slid across her cheek where it had come free from the thick braids twisted and pinned to the back of her head.
He stared at Iris, seeing her not as his little girl, scampering about the jail, challenging the guards to sparring matches so she could laugh at their exaggerated expressions while they pretended to die at her hands. The beautiful woman reclining in his chair like a queen was not his little child any longer, nor did he have many years left to care for her. Yet he couldn’t make his mouth repeat Tribune Braccus’s offer.
“My day was fine. The Praetorians made quick work of the riots, as you can imagine. The back cell’s full but they’ll be released tomorrow. What did you bring for dinner? I’m famished.”
“Bread and meat pies.”
He noticed dark scabs on her knuckles as she handed him a pie. “What happened to your hand?”
She ran one hand over the other. “I tripped yesterday morning. Did you put all the gods on the floor?”
Quintus took a bite of his pie and pulled a long black hair from his mouth before answering. “Is that what you tripped over? I’m sorry.” He shook his head. He couldn’t even protect his own daughter in their own home. “I...” He couldn’t think of a way to tell her about the seer and her strange message, and just as well, because Iris wasn’t listening.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you...” Iris twisted her fingers in her lap, her dinner untouched. “The day before yesterday, when I got home, I went onto the balcony to water the plants and all of a sudden—just for a moment—I could see.”
Quintus choked and dropped his cup on the desk. “You what?” His eyes watered—from the emotion or the food lodged in his throat, he wasn’t sure. He pounded his chest.
Iris gave a giddy laugh and nodded. “I saw my feet, the floor, the shadow of a bird flying overhead.”
“A bird?” Hope surged through him. “That is a good omen, I think. We should buy a meeting with the augurs. Perhaps they can interpret what this means. Do you know what kind of bird you saw?”
She shook her head. “It was just a shadow. When I blinked, it was all gone.” Iris reached out and he gripped her hands. “I’d forgotten how badly I want to see until that moment. Butoh.” She sighed, face glowing. “It was glorious!”
Quintus silently cursed as he calculated. The flash of sight had happened prior to his decluttering of the shrine. What if his actions had displeased the gods again? “We will keep praying and offering incense.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “And I will bribe a meeting with the augurs as soon as I can. Perhaps they can interpret the sign of the bird.”
Iris nodded. “I think I interrupted you before all that. What were you going to tell me?”
“Nothing.” He released her hands before she felt how damp his palms had suddenly become. “It isn’t important.”
VI
THE COUPLE SAT BEFORE HIM,pale and pleading.
“Hector, Lillith, I’m sorry.” Valens kept his voice low and glanced at the desks around him. The Hall of Notarii was a grand name for the desk-cluttered back room in the far corner of the Basilica Julia. Slaves in short gray tunics traded rolls of fresh parchment for completed contracts ready to be delivered. The other notarii were too engaged in their own meetings and scribbles to notice his.
“No one is exempt from the edict. There’s nothing I can do for you until it is revoked.”
The woman, seated across from Valens, pressed trembling lips together and sent a questioning look at the man beside her before producing a wooden tile from her purse. Her fingers shook as she slid it toward Valens. It appeared to be a ticket to a play at the Theatre of Marcellus. A very old ticket.
“Bribing me won’t change the law.” According to the faded ink, the play had staged nearly thirty years ago. Confusion puckered his forehead.
Lillith pushed the tile closer. “Just look at it.”
