Page 27 of Of Love and Treason
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered, afraid if she spoke any louder, she would cry again. “Thank you for coming when you did.”
“I was on my way to a meeting,” he said. “But I had the strangest feeling I needed to come here first. Thank the gods I did.”
“Yes.” Her voice went soft as she turned her face toward the shrine. “But which one?”
VIII
TITUS LEFT THE APARTMENTmuch later than he’d anticipated, waiting until Quintus staggered in, too drunk to hold a proper conversation or comprehend what had happened. Anger flooded him at Quintus’s carelessness. In his current state, Quintus would be no match for anyone, but Titus knew Tribune Braccus wouldn’t be back. Not tonight, at least.
After crossing the Tiber into the slums where men hawked greasy cakes by day and their daughters by night, he looked for the prearranged tavern. Curfew fell with the rumble of delivery carts. The crier announced the third watch and Titus hurried. He hoped he wasn’t too late. He brushed his hand over the sword strapped discreetly beneath his tunic under his left arm, but his mind was on Iris and not his mission. The image of her battered face and shaking body sent his own hot with anger. He could have torn Braccus limb from limb right then and there. Part of him wished he had.
Titus turned down another street and the smell of tallow, sour beer, and suspicious seafood told him he was close. He had to calm himself. It would not do for him to be riled and distracted. He needed a clear head.
He reached the tavern and judged it to be the right one based on the advertisements and lurid graffiti painted outside. That, and he recognized two of his men planted across the street watching the building. He went in without acknowledging them.
“Wine,” he told the busty slave girl who approached him. He seated himself at a grimy table near the counter and waited for his blood to cool. His feelings for Iris could shift from platonic to something much deeper with little encouragement, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow himself the temptation of those thoughts. The life of a Praetorianspeculatorewas neither safe nor especially long and therefore among the ranks prohibited from marriage. He would gladly see Iris happily married to another man, but to be reduced to the state of a common prostitute? Over his dead body.
Titus thrummed his fingers on the tabletop and cursed when he hit a drop of something sticky. He wiped his fingers on his faded-green civilian tunic, gaze flicking around the room. Situated on the edge of the Tiber near the docks, the tavern attracted all manner of river rats. Most of them were low-ranking sailors, although Titus noticed a few of higher rank gambling at the corner table. None of them matched the description of the captain he sought. But if Titus’s men still waited outside, the target hadn’t left.
A slave girl clad in a shade of shocking green set two amphoras before him. She poured him a cup of wine and slid the amphora of water in his direction so he could mix it to his liking. He let his eyes linger over her as she leaned farther than necessary to pass him the cup.
“Anything else?” She twirled a strand of dingy hair around one finger, her voice low and suggestive.
He answered with a half smile, his eyes shifting toward the stairs and back to her. “Maybe.”
He tossed back the cup and smothered a curse, pressing his fist against his mouth. This place didn’t attract its patrons for the wine, that was certain. She took his hand and tugged him out of the chair, leading him toward the stairs. No one seemed to notice except for the other slave, who heaved a sigh at having to cover more tables.
“I’m Artemis.” She sent a practiced shy look over her shoulder.
“I’m sure you are.” He scanned the dark landing above and counted three doors. Two had light coming through the cracks. He glanced behind. The steepness of the stairs blocked them from view of the tavern below. As Artemis reached the landing, Titus snaked anarm around her neck and pulled her tight against him, lowering his mouth to her ear.
“Move or make a sound and I’ll cut your throat,” he hissed. She squeaked and went limp, shaking. A flash of guilt went through him. He’d been ready to tear the tribune apart for terrifying Iris—was he so different? He shook his head to clear it. This was about his job, not his pleasure.
“Where is Petrius Convus?”
A burst of laughter erupted below. Artemis didn’t move.
“I know he’s here because his men are downstairs.” Titus kept his voice low and fought the urge to gag at her overpowering perfume. “You point out his room and I won’t hurt you.”
She started to lift an arm but hesitated when he added, “Point me wrong and you’ll feel my dagger first.” He pressed the tip of his thumb into her ribs. She gasped and flinched away.
“Well?”
Her hand shook as she pointed to the door on the right, the one without the light. Keeping one arm around Artemis, he nabbed a lamp out of an empty room. Balancing the girl in one hand and the lamp in the other, he got his footing and kicked down the second door of the night. Petrius Convus bolted out of the bed and Titus simultaneously shoved Artemis at him and dropped the lamp on the table, drawing his sword. The tip was at Convus’s throat before the man fully pulled his dagger.
“Captain Petrius Convus?”
“Who wants to know?” The man was dressed in the tunic and loose trousers of a seaman. His sunbrowned and unshaven face betrayed him as a man who’d recently arrived in Rome.
Artemis scrambled against the wall, her eyes wide and darting toward the door. Titus sent her a warning look.
“I have orders to kill you.” Titus turned his gaze back to the captain.
“For what?”
“Treason.” He watched the man’s face for confirmation of the rumors he’d heard. “I’m told you plan to side with Zenobia and cut off trade to Rome.”
The eastern edge of the empire had fallen out of ClaudiusII’s control and into the hands of a determined and shrewd woman who called herself Queen Zenobia. They’d received snatches of rumors that she planned to march on Egypt next. If she was successful, the grain ships coming into Rome from Egypt would stop.
