to help round them up once they fled you. My head guardsman had the presence of mind to walk away with the casket while soldiers arrested the pirates. I hear the princeps ordered the pirates executed immediately. He’s being praised for it, for keeping the waters that much safer for the rest of us.”
Livius’s neutral expression gave me no indication about what he thought of Nero’s deed. But I saw satisfaction that he had saved his natural father along with Priscus’s coin.
“It was good of you,” I said.
“I had no use for the money.” Livius brushed his generosity aside. We studied each other a moment, then Livius drew a breath. “I will detain you no more. Good day, Leonidas the Spartan.”
I gave him a nod in farewell.
Livius turned to depart but paused at the top of the stairs. “If you need a friend, do call on me. I am indebted to you for saving my father’s life, and that of his son.”
He glanced at our shrine to the departed as though reflecting on the irony that he’d saved the family he could never acknowledge. Then he squared his shoulders and strode out.
We heard his even tramp on the stairs and his barked order to his guards. I moved to the balcony to watch the four walk away, Livius always surrounded. Crowds parted for them like water from a prow.
Cassia joined me on the balcony, and I sent her an accusing look. “How did you know?”
“Celnus and Kephalos.” Cassia kept her voice low, though the shouts and calls of people on the street would prevent any from hearing our conversation. “As I said, they told me about the freed boy. When I spoke to them last evening, they said they knew the boy had been adopted by a very wealthy landholder, though not who. But a wealthy landholder decided to purchase a building that belonged to Priscus, one this landholder likely couldn’t sell for much, yet he pays a premium price for it. I thought it was obvious.”
She shook her head, her pitying exasperation with her informants clear.
“Do Celnus and Kephalos know Livius is his son?”
“No, indeed. They have all the pieces, but cannot put them together.”
Again, the pity. I’d met few men with minds as quick as Cassia’s.
I moved inside, out of the sun. “I didn’t bring bread. I’ll fetch it.”
“No.” Cassia forestalled me. “I will. The walk will do me good, and you won’t know what to ask for. The baker is tricky.”
“Tricky?” I yawned, my long night weighing heavily upon me.
“Sly, I should say. It is best I deal with him. I’ll return soon. Why don’t you nap until I do, and we’ll have lunch.”
I could barely keep to my feet. I did not like to send Cassia out alone, but I knew she would talk rings around this baker, as she likely did every day. I’d rest and look for her if she remained out too long.
Cassia waited until I’d fallen to my pallet. I felt her lay a blanket over my prone body, and loosen and remove the shoes from my feet. I would doze and be ready for her return. Later, I’d go find a carpenter who could do something about our flimsy door.
I swore I only blinked my eyes before Cassia was removing her palla and straightening her hair. The smell of baked bread filled the small room.
“Excellent. You are awake.” Cassia set the bread on the table and poured out wine, as though she and I had slept peacefully all night, no adventures at all. Cassia, I was coming to know, was resilient.
“I spoke to the baker,” Cassia said as I rose and shambled to the table. I smelled fusty—I’d make for the baths after this. “He is awaiting some shipments of goods from Ostia, and he would be pleased to pay us to guard them from there to Rome. I told him we would take the job. I managed to win a good price.” She sat down, pleased with herself.
“Then I suppose we are to Ostia once more.” I broke apart my bread, dunked it in my wine, and shoved it into my mouth. The bread was yeasty and soft—this baker made decent enough loaves. “Will you let me go to the baths first?”
“Of course.” Cassia sent me a smile. “We won’t leave for a few days. You’ll have plenty of time to bathe and rest.”
I grunted something and returned to my meal, but a warmth eased through me, relaxing me in