Page 77 of Of Love and Treason
Winter days had seemed long before, but now, with the gatherings to look forward to each week, the hours dragged. Quintus had never known such a hunger for learning, nor such fullness at the same time. Iris felt the same; he could tell by the raptured way she hung on Valentine’s every word. The gatherings were almost enough to distract Quintus from the ever-encroaching ending of his and Iris’s freedom. He’d not heard from the chief augur and, despite sending athird message this morning, had yet to receive payment for his part in Valentine’s imprisonment.
Quintus looked up. A disturbance outside pulled him from his thoughts. Faint shouts, jeering. He swung his feet down. They were coming closer. He set the missive on his desk as the door opened.
Markos poked his head inside. “Urbans coming. They’ve got prisoners.”
Quintus stood as Markos resumed his post outside. He straightened his tunic, brushed the crumbs off the front, and tucked his baton into his belt. He had just enough time to resume his seat before Markos opened the door once more and six Urban Guards shoved five men, three women, and a handful of children inside.
“Aren’t there cells at the Ludus?” Quintus pushed to his feet. “I don’t have space to hold all these people! Why are there children?”
The leader of the troop of Urbans stepped forward and tossed a scroll on the desk. “These have been arrested as per the new edict that those who refuse to offer sacrifice, incense, or libation to the gods of Rome be imprisoned and tried for treason and atheism. Prisoners convicted of treason are always brought here.”
Quintus took the scroll and scanned it, a thread of fear twisting through him. Romans had always been religious, gods and politics as tightly bound as brick and mortar. Without the two of them in tandem, the whole would crumble. Policies like this had been enforced in the past. Emperors intermittently declared monotheism illegal; some enforced cruel punishments, while others turned a blind eye.
Quintus glanced at the prisoners, calm defiance on the faces of the adults, fear and confusion on the children’s. All appeared wealthy—not unexpected. According to the Severan policies, anyone who brought a successful lawsuit against a Christian would acquire all goods and possessions of the accused. Wealthy Christians were popular targets, but they were not usually rounded up in droves. At least, not since he’d been jailor.
“Very well.” Quintus dropped the scroll to the pile on his desk and reached for the record book, hoping the Urbans did not noticethe slight tremor in his hands. He flipped it open. “Names, ages, occupation, and living address, please.”
He wrote the information carefully, listing the adult prisoners one by one, and when he got to the children, he just wrote,six children.
Entry paperwork completed, Quintus unlocked the door to the main holding cell Valens had occupied. Today it held two men accused of murder. With an apologetic look, Quintus chained the adults and children as far from the murderers as possible.
“There’s already a buyer for the adults. Someone from the Theatre of Marcellus should be in contact soon.” The Urban leader leaned a shoulder in the doorway of the cell. “There’s a new acting troupe putting onHercules and the Lion. I hear the lions are especially vicious. Should be a good show.”
Quintus nodded, hoping the churning in his stomach did not show on his face. “And the children?” he asked as they climbed the stairs. Behind them, one of the children started to cry.
“Slave market most likely.” The Urban gave a careless shrug.
Quintus shut the door, cringing that he had not been quick enough to keep the children from hearing the Urban’s answer. He forced himself to nod in response. If the authorities made the consequences of lawbreaking painful enough, mass obedience would follow. Pax Romana.
He’d never been so sickened by the thought.
The Urbans left. Quintus dropped into the chair. He’d hauled out the household gods with the rubbish that morning. They’d sat neglected in the lararium for weeks before he’d remembered them. Perhaps he’d been too hasty. What if someone had seen him? Money troubles aside, he and Iris might find themselves in deeper trouble than before. Perhaps it was lucky they were not wealthy targets. Quintus rubbed his temples. He had one week before the tribune called in his debt. If the chief augur did not fulfill his obligation, what was he going to do?
The wine amphora called to him from the shelf. Quintus lifted the missive he’d yet to finish and fought the urge to numb himself. He’d not felt the need to drink these past weeks. Spending his freeevenings at the Calogarus house learning from Valens had kept him out of the taverns, and while he’d been surprised at the amount of money retained in his box at home, it wasn’t nearly enough to get both Iris and him out of the city.
He forced his thoughts away from the debts—getting harder to do by the day—and focused on the missive.Stricter prisoner visitation.His eyes went to the shelf, the amphora cork visible over the top of a stack of tablets. He hooked a foot around the leg of his chair.No food for the prisoners unless brought by family.He just needed a drink. Just one. He stood and went to the shelf, a rush of anticipation running through him as his fingers closed over the neck of the amphora.
The door opened and Quintus spun around, more surprised by the sudden flush of guilt he felt than at the appearance of an old man. He shuffled inside, and Quintus’s eye caught on the black crow embroidered on the man’s shoulder. Quintus bowed, feeling the weight fly from his chest. The chief augur would finally make good on his promise.
“Welcome.” Quintus straightened. “You’re here with the payment?”
“The deal is off.”
“It can’t be.” Despair prickled the edges of his vision. “I held up my end. I did exactly as I was told.”
“Unsuccessfully, from what I understand.” The old man crossed his bony arms. “Valentine didn’t recant.”
“Recanting was never part of the bargain,” Quintus argued. “The orders were to hold him, scare him, then release him to the chief augur.”
The servant merely lifted his shoulders. “Will you argue with the spokesman of Jupiter, Best and Greatest?”
“This isn’t what I agreed upon!” Panic rose in his voice as Quintus’s mind began to race. He and Iris couldn’t leave the city on foot, not with his leg the way it was. They could try to hide within the city, but there was little chance of hiding when the tribune had dozens of speculatores at his disposal. “I risked my position—everythingfor this. The chief augur will hold up his end of the bargain. Hemust.”
The servant shrugged again, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Or what?” He shuffled toward the door. “Who are you going to tell?”
Quintus shot out a hand to steady himself on the shelf as the steward left. Paying off the tribune was out of the question now. Running was the only option, but one needed money to travel and survive in the far reaches of the empire. Money he did not have and never would. He turned, arm flailing as he reached for the amphora. Time had run out.
XXXIV
