Page 69 of Of Love and Treason
Was this what it meant to be loved by God? How foreign. How...wonderful.
Iris and Pater didn’t speak as they walked home later. The sky turned silvery violet and the peace they’d both felt at the gathering lingered still. The silence wrapped around them, warm and sacred, and neither seemed inclined to break it.
When they stepped into the apartment, Iris picked up a message that had been slipped beneath the door.
Pater lit the lamp and scanned it. “I’m needed at the prison.”
“Valentine?”
He shook his head. “Will you pack some food? I may not be home tomorrow.” He ducked behind the curtain hiding his sleeping area. Clothes rustled as he changed into his uniform.
Iris gathered a sparse bag of hard bread, cheese, olives, and dates.
“Could I go tomorrow and help at the insula?” she called over her shoulder.
“Shouldn’t you be at the bakery?” Her father emerged, buckling his sporran belt over his blue tunic. The polished metal studs glinted as the leather straps swung.
“I could bring them bread, after my shift.” Something inside thrilled at the idea thatshecould be the one to help for once.
Quintus nodded distractedly. “As long as you’re home long before dark.”
Iris trussed the food sack and handed it over. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know.”
XXIX
THE CELL DOOR PROTESTEDwith a groan as it swung wide, a blinding lantern thrust through the opening. Valens winced and squinted.
“Valentine, you’ve been summoned.” Quintus spoke in a low, grim voice.
Hobnails screeched on the stairs. Valens blinked against the light as Quintus released him from the ankle chain and turned him over to two other men dressed in the uniform of doormen, not guards. As he followed them out of the cell, a sick feeling gnawed at his stomach.God, give me strength.His hands were bound behind him.In life or death, let me bring You glory.
The doormen took his arms, one suppressing a gag as they yanked him out of the carcer and into the street. Night had fallen. A strange time for a release—or a trial. Quintus didn’t speak but clutched a scrap of papyrus and watched him leave with a tense look of apology.
The doormen were not gentle escorts. Two other uniformed doormen waited at the bottom of the stairs and the four surrounded him. As one of the doormen tied a rope around his neck, Valens noticed the black raven embroidered on the shoulder of his white tunic. Understanding and irritation struck him in tandem. It all made sense now. He allowed the doormen to truss him up as he stood compliant, anger rising. Quintus had hinted at being given orders to have him arrested, butthis? The two men in front held the rope secured around his neck and the two behind held the one that bound his hands.Considering the length of their journey, the precautions they took to secure their prisoner were laughable.
Valens kept his head down as they walked. The smooth flagstones beneath his feet rose and curved as they climbed and circled Capitoline Hill crowned with the temple of Jupiter.God, give me wisdom.They stopped at the base of the hill before an iron-barred door. The emblem of an augur’s curvedlituusrod adorned both sides of the gate in a mosaic of colored glass and marble. The doormen stopped, pulled him through the gate, and locked it behind them before loosening his bonds.
Two of the doormen remained at the gate while the other two, who looked as though they begrudged the job, escorted Valens into the white three-storied villa built into the base of Capitoline Hill. The narrow garden between the wall and the villa, empty and silent at this time of night, smelled of fowl.
The doormen paused as they stepped into a foyer lit by several lamps on spindly stands and decorated with a collection of Etruscan antiques. The sight of a large urn set upon a rather delicate table conjured the unwelcome memory of knocking over an urn and table of similar proportions. His palms began to sweat. That was the last time he’d been here.
“Wait here.” The doormen disappeared, leaving him alone for only a moment before one of them reappeared and cleared his throat, beckoning Valens to follow. The doorman motioned him into the triclinium, lavishly decorated with plush red-and-gold rugs, blue-cushioned couches, frescoed walls covered by more shelves, and stands and tables cluttered with well-dusted antiques. A peacock dozed on a perch in the corner, and the air held a lingering smell of boiled fish and bird droppings. The doorman left him alone, and Valens allowed his eyes to sweep the room before settling on the blackened crescents of his fingernails.
The air stirred as an old man entered, robed in white linen edged in purple, red, and gold.
He stopped short and stared. Valens felt his lips tilt in a sheepish smile.
“Hello, Grandfather.”
Chief augur Gaius Favius Diastema stared at his grandson with a look of shock, pity, and... remorse? He swayed on his feet and his neck did a tiny jerking motion as if struggling to hide a gag. Valens must have looked as if he’d bathed in a chamber pot. He certainly smelled like it, but it was also his grandfather’s fault.
“Go bathe. We will talk afterward.”
Valens raised a brow. As eager as he was for a bath, it didn’t seem fair to deprive Grandfather of the consequences of his actions. “Are you certain? We can talk now.”
“We will talk when you’re comfortable.”
