down my spoon and wiped my mouth on the napkin she’d provided. “I had a friend called Xerxes. I never had a brother, but it was like that. He was killed in the games.”
Cassia looked up, lips parted. “Oh.”
“It was very hard to live after that,” I finished.
“Yes.” The word was soft. “My life changed when my father died. I never realized how much he protected me.”
“They sold you?”
Cassia’s eyes flickered. “My mistress did. She had me brought to the slave market here in Rome. Hesiodos purchased me. I thought I would be working for him, assisting him in his scribal duties, but then he said I’d suit you. I still don’t understand why.”
I imagined Cassia, afraid and alone, standing in the slave market, a sign around her neck proclaiming what she did. They might have let her wear a stolla, or she might have been only in a loincloth, or naked, so those who shopped for a new servant would have a look at what they were getting.
My anger stirred at her former mistress, at the slave traders, and even at her father for dying and leaving her alone.
I drained my wine cup, lifted the flask, and poured more. I filled Cassia’s cup as well. I steadied my voice as I answered her, “I don’t understand why either.”
Cassia lifted her cup, the humiliation of her ordeal fading from her eyes. She was with me now, and safe.
“We will simply have to find out,” she said.
I slept heavily that night, oblivious to the noise in the streets as wagons and carts delivered goods, including wine to the merchant downstairs. My dreams, what there were of them, flitted through my head like ghosts. Xerxes appeared in one, laughing at me from the Elysium fields and raising his wine glass to me as Cassia had done at supper.
A poke in my side made Xerxes dissolve, his grin fading.
I pried open my eyes to see Cassia at the end of a slim stick. She was learning.
Her thick tail of hair tumbled over her shoulder, a black streak on her pale stolla. Her eyes were wide with worry.
“Hesiodos is here,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “He says he’s come to take you to the Palatine. Nero has asked to see you.”
Chapter 10
Hesiodos waited on the street. He gave me an impatient glare when we emerged—I’d had to rise and dress, with no time to run to the barber for a shave.
Cassia was neatly coiffed, sandals tied, her palla expertly draped over her spotless stolla. Hesiodos had made clear, she’d said, that the summons included her.
It wasn’t rare for a princeps of Rome to command a gladiator to appear before him. Nero took great interest in gladiatorial games and chariot racing, even more so than many ordinary citizens. I’d performed exhibitions with other gladiators in Nero’s vast gardens in the past. I hoped he would not ask me to perform this morning, but if he did, I’d have no choice but to obey.
Cassia hid her worry, but it was there. Nero could order her to do anything at all, and she’d have less choice than I. Why Hesiodos insisted Cassia accompany us, I didn’t know. Hesiodos gave me a flat stare when I asked and turned his back to lead us onward.
We strode down the Argiletum past the Curia to the Forum Romanum. Here, Hesiodos turned to skirt the long, elegant Basilica Aemilia, the shops under its porticos doing brisk business while people streamed into and out of the halls inside. Past the Temple of the Vestals, we left the Sacra Via and made our way up the steep ramp to the Palatine.
I was struck by the quiet on the hill. We left behind the shouts and stench of the Roman streets to emerge into open spaces and green gardens.
Since the reign of Augustus, none but the princeps could build on the Palatine, and so it had become a vast complex for the ultimate rulers of Rome.
Nero currently occupied the domii begun by Tiberius and expanded by Gaius during his brief reign, but Nero had begun construction on a building that would join all the palaces together, with walkways and large rooms full of light and air. Part of the hill had been leveled for the terrace on which the house would be built. Domus Transitoria, Marcianus had told me it was called.
Men labored there, some hoisting blocks with cranes similar to the ones we’d seen in Ostia. Others built wooden frameworks that would