Triumphus Plebis

By Fredric Meek

Gaius Gabinus wants revenge. Returning from the Samnite War in 290 B.C.E, Gaius finds his family bankrupt and his father murdered. Milo Plotius, the moneylender, is responsible. But Plotius, a rich and powerful senator, is protected by law. Gaius looks for help from the Tribunes of the Plebs. Only one offers any hope, and that tribune has his own agenda.
Forced to make his family his first priority, Gaius and his new slave, Silvanus, form an uneasy truce that, ultimately, will grow into friendship. They learn that Silvanus’s wife is being held hostage in Sicily, and only she knows where a hidden family fortune can be found. The lure of treasure convinces Gaius to undertake the rescue of his slave’s family.
Fame and wealth leads to tension between Gaius and Silvanus. As the helpful tribune draws Gaius deeper and deeper into Roman politics, events compel Gaius to choose between duty, friendship, and justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fredric Meek
• Release date: Jun 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370186136

Fredric Meek

Fredric W. Meek was born in Chicago and grew up in the western suburbs. He majored in history for his B.A. and received his J.D. from DePaul College of Law. His first novel, THE COLLEGE, published in 2013, was a story about the Vatican and a most unlikely pope. Fred's interest in the ancient world and the foundations of western civilization, led to a series of historical novels of the Roman republic: FINIS REPUBLICAE, INCEPTUM FINIS, and TRIUMPHUS PLEBIS. The common themes of all his books are family and friendship. Fred is widower and lives with Bartleby, his cat. He says, "Ginny and I raised two kids who became remarkable adults. Theresa and Emmett are my proudest achievement." A pipe smoker, much to the consternation of his cardiologist, Fred invites you to visit his website: http://www.whitefieldwriting.com, and post a comment on his blog.

Book preview

CHAPTER I

NOVEMBER CCXX ALC

(290 BCE)

Inflicting pain didn’t bother Gaius Gabinus, not any more. He cinched the thongs tightly around the slave’s wrists and ankles. The man groaned. Gaius secured him with a stout leash to the largest tree in the little glade. If there was a time when he might have been more gentle, he did not remember it.

How the slave glared at him. He makes no effort to hide his hatred. He’ll kill me if I give him a chance. Gaius double-checked the leather bonds and tested the leash. Satisfied, he returned to the campfire, added some wood, wrapped himself in his cloak and blanket, and hoped for much-needed sleep. Silvanus, the slave, at a distance from the fire, curled himself up to conserve body heat. Gaius’s mule brayed softly and his two horses shied at the noise.

Gaius squirmed on his blanket, trying to find comfort. It eluded him. His eyes stayed open and focused on Silvanus. I should never have bought him. What was I thinking? The horses and the mule were a good investment, purchased with his booty from the sacking of the Samnite city of Aquilonia. The slave had been purchased on a whim. The man had appeared healthy and strong, but defeated and subservient. That proved not to be the case. The thought annoyed Gaius, but he could not bring himself to close his eyes. I’m afraid of him. I’m all alone with a man who wants to kill me. Gaius knew that fear was justified. The slave was taller and broader in the shoulders and had tried to escape earlier that day. It had been all Gaius could do to subdue the bound man.

He regretted his request for special leave from the army. His commander should not have given it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so persuasive? If I hadn’t been the first over the wall....

Gaius heard the soft lapping of the water of the stream. Hints of fog swirled at the limit of the firelight. The trees around them offered some protection from the wind, but a chill draft ran along the ground and twisted the tendrils of rising mist.

The rings of his chain mail dug into his side. His tunic was shifted and straining his hips. His feet were cold. As weariness overcame him, his eyes drooped closed. Gaius’s mind wandered. Thoughts of his father came unbidden. He recalled a sunlit autumn day in their farm’s pasture eight years ago, when he was thirteen. He and his father were herding the sheep to their pen. His father’s laughter echoed in his memory as they struggled with a recalcitrant ram.

Gaius’s mind eased with that memory. The war was over. He could return to those moments with his parents and his siblings, to the simple, predictable life of a farmer. All could be as it was before. Sleep was only a few heartbeats away.

What’s that noise? Gods, that is annoying. What is it? His eyes snapped open. Gaius sensed no danger, but the sound, a rapid clicking of sorts, was bothersome. He levered himself up to get a better view of the campsite. The clicking came from the slave. The man shivered and his teeth chattered. Gaius sighed. I can’t sleep with that racket.

Gaius ripped off his blanket, put on his shoes, and clambered to his feet. What’s your name, again?

Silvanus, the slave said, his voice breaking. Gaius stood over him, watching the man’s jaw vibrate. He thought that Silvanus, though scruffy looking, actually seemed rather handsome, with deep-set eyes and dark, arched brows. He needed a shave and a good combing. Not as well-groomed as when I bought him, though.

Well, Silvanus, you’re no use to me if you get sick. I’ll never be able to sell you. Gaius opened one of the mule packs and rummaged out two more blankets, old ones. He left the new ones that were part of his soldier’s booty in the pack.

He stepped carefully to Silvanus and, keeping his distance, threw the blankets onto the shaking man. Silvanus was constrained by his bonds, but he managed to cover himself. Gaius watched and, when satisfied, returned to his own bed.

Thank you, said Silvanus.

A quick glance told Gaius that the man regretted having spoken. His anger was written in his eyes and the set of his lips.

Are you mad at me or at yourself, slave?

Both.

I know you hate me. I suppose you hate all Romans. You didn’t mean to be at all gracious, did you?

No, I didn’t. It slipped out. Force of habit. The sullen expression returned.

Force of habit?

It’s how I was raised. My parents insisted that I observe common courtesies.

Gaius was awake now. He watched Silvanus snuggle more closely in his covers. The man’s eyes never left him. What’s your family name, Silvanus? He tried to keep his voice cold and formal, but Gaius feared that his own loneliness might have been revealed.

Caudini.

Raising his eyebrows, Gaius said, Really? One of the noble families of Samnium?

Yes. Silvanus looked away.

Do you think that will matter now? Do you think that I, or any Roman, will care about your birthright? Pleased with his taunt, Gaius sat on his blankets and took off his shoes, rubbing his feet in an attempt to warm them.

As Silvanus glowered, Gaius asked, Where are your parents now, slave?

Both dead. They took their own lives rather than submit to Roman trash like you. Then, speaking as if to himself, he softly added, I should have done the same, but I didn’t have the courage.

Trash, are we? Well, the trash was the victor. The Samnites are done now, Gaius smirked. The slave fell silent and stared at the fire.

Gaius added, Couldn’t bring yourself to fall on your sword?

Silvanus abruptly looked away and Gaius knew the taunt stung.

Perhaps you were wiser, said Gaius, feeling more generous. A useful slave is often treated as an asset among the Romans. Faithful service is usually rewarded, sometimes with freedom.

Service in the mines? In the smelters? On the galleys? Oh yes, there is freedom there, the freedom of death after pain and exhaustion.

Both men were silent for several moments, staring at each other. Gaius was about to lie down when Silvanus asked, Is it true that Roman slaves can own property?

Yes, yes it is. Some, not many, but some accumulate enough to buy their freedom. Is that not true among the Samnites?

No, slaves have no rights.

Well, they have precious few in Rome. I suppose it’s as the Gaul’s general said, ‘Woe to the vanquished.’ Gaius shook his head. What am I doing? Am I that lonely that I need a conversation like this? He tossed another branch onto the fire, and crawled beneath his blanket.

What of your family? asked Silvanus.

Is he trying a new tactic? Does he want me to lower my guard? Or is he lonely and frightened, too?

Gaius carefully answered. My parents farm is fifty iugera near the village of Tiburum, near the border with the Aequi, eighteen miles or so, from Rome. That’s where we’re heading. We’ll be there by this time tomorrow.

I suppose they will be very proud of you. You bring them treasure from the sack of Aquilonia and return from war in one piece.

I hope so, but I am worried. I haven’t heard from them in two months. We wrote to each other regularly over the past two years, at least one letter every month. I haven’t heard from them since Sextilis.

I heard there was a plague in Rome. There was a cruel edge to Silvanus’s voice.

Gaius tensed. Go to sleep, Slave.

* * *

Silvanus sat his horse proudly. It was difficult with his hands secured behind his back, but he managed it. Despite his weariness from the day’s ride, he held himself like an aristocrat. He was accustomed to being on horseback and he wanted his captor to remember that. The countryside of central Italy rolled before him and behind. Fields of stubble, interspersed with stacks of hay, were on either side of the track. To the west, the red sun neared the horizon.

Is that the best tactic, though? He wondered if he should not portray himself as defeated and despondent. That had worked at the slave auction. It had saved him from being sold as a galley slave or consigned to the mines. He had seen proud, defiant comrades auctioned cheaply to spend short, brutal lives at the oars, or underground. Subservient Samnites were being purchased as field hands.

I fetched a good price, didn’t I? An amusing thought that brought him little joy. If I can get this Roman pig to relax his watch....

Gabinus, are we nearly there?

Gaius rode slightly ahead of and to the left of Silvanus. Twisting in his saddle, he said, Less than a mile to go. The farm is just over the next rise. This path will take us to the house.

Do they live in the city?

No. Tiburum is still three miles away. My parents live on the farm.

Is it a big farm? We’ve seen some large holdings along the way.

Gaius appeared quizzical, and Silvanus wondered, Does he suspect what I’m up to? Not likely. He’s a dumb farm boy. He rethought that observation, noting that Gabinus was not really a boy. Younger than my twenty-six years, though. Shorter than I am, he thought, but strong for his size. Homely, like all Romans with their big noses and curly black hair. He needs a haircut, his eyes are too wide for his face, he’s missing most of his right ear.

Why all the questions, Silvanus?

The slave shrugged. I am curious to know what my future holds. I’ve done some farming. My parents owned several tracts. I’m no stranger to livestock and crops.

Then my father might decide to keep you. Otherwise, I’ll take you to the slave market in Tiburum and sell you.

Not to Rome?

No, I think the market there is too flush with Samnite slaves. I’d get a better price locally.

Silvanus was silent, his posture slumped and his head low. He hoped that Gaius saw.

They crested the rise shortly thereafter. Silvanus thought the farmhouse and outbuildings were absurdly small, certainly in comparison with the properties in Samnium. Wheel ruts diverged from the road that went on past the farmstead, presumably to the city. Gaius and Silvanus followed the ruts and their long shadows to the house.

Gaius muttered, Something’s different. Where are Janus and Gabina? They’d usually be playing in the yard. Where is Publius? He shouted, Father, Mother, I’m home. It’s me, Gaius.

A slave emerged from an outbuilding Silvanus assumed was the slave quarters. Gaius saw him. Heracles, where is my father? Where are the children?

Heracles helped Gaius dismount. He frowned and wrung his hands, shuffling his feet in the dirt. Gaius, Master, I have bad news. I’m so sorry to have to tell you.

Out with it! What’s happened?

Your family has been forced out. We have a new master. Publius, Decima, and the children are gone.

What? That can’t be. Who would force them out? Have Aequians revolted again?

Silvanus struggled down from his mount, but kept his feet. Gaius grabbed Heracles’s tunic and tried to shake him, but the slave was the stronger man. Nonetheless, he appeared genuinely distressed. I am so sorry, Gaius, so sorry.

The house door opened. A tall, dark-skinned man emerged, a dagger in his hand. Here now! Leave my slave alone. Who are you? What do you want?

Gaius threw back his cloak, revealing his mail shirt. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it. He advanced on the taller man. Who are you? What are you doing in my parents’ house?

The man lowered his weapon as Gaius approached him. Your parents? he said, his tone less aggressive. I don’t know your parents.

I am Gaius Gabinus, son of Publius Gabinus. This is his house, his farm, and his slave. What are you doing here? Where is my family?

Ah, I see. You haven’t heard. You’ve been away with the army, eh? Well, I’m afraid I have hard news for you. My name is Titus Pulcher. I am the tenant of Milo Plotius, who is now the owner of the property. Your family was put off, what is it now, two months ago?

Put off?

Evicted. Put off. Plotius took the property for debt. Your father defaulted on his loans. No one stood his surety. Plotius took the property and leases it to me now. It is all quite legal. All the documents are in order.

Gaius staggered, shaking his head. Silvanus could almost feel sorry for him. What will this mean for me, though?

A woman in a long tunic emerged from the doorway. Titus, what is going on?

It’s all right, Clodia. Other slaves had come out of their shack and, keeping close to those quarters, watched the events unfold. Silvanus took it all in. Titus was perhaps thirty years old. Clodia was the same age. Their faces were weathered, their hair long and lifeless, though clean. Their tunics were worn but not threadbare, patched in places. He judged that Titus was used to being in charge, but Clodia had kind eyes.

As I said, Titus spoke, your family is gone. I don’t know where. They were gone a month before I got here. Maybe the slaves know something. Heracles, do you know? Where did the Gabinus family go?

I think to Rome, Domine. I thought I heard Publius say they would go to Rome and contest the eviction. That’s all I know.

Well then, Gaius, that’s the best I can do for you. As I said, I’m sorry. Titus turned and made for the house.

Clodia stopped him. Are you going to leave these men in the yard? You can’t do that, Titus. Where are your manners? Let them spend the night at least. They can set off for Rome in the morning.

But one of them is a slave.

He can spend the night with the others. Gaius, is that your name? Gaius, you can sleep in the house. There’s no bed for you, but you’re a soldier. You can make do on the floor, no?

Gaius, who had stood silent and confused during the exchange, gathered enough of his wits to say, Thank you. Silvanus watched him stumble toward the house. The fiber holding him together is unraveled. I know how he feels.

Silvanus did not want to empathize, but he couldn’t help it. He’s my enemy, he told himself. He wanted to be angry, but could not. He understood Gaius’s confusion. My mother was braver than I. I deserve to be a slave. I have no honor. His shoulders sagged, his arms limp. At last some anger surfaced, but it was self-directed. Why did I tell him about my failure? That was stupid.

Heracles took Silvanus’s arm and led him to the slave’s shack. Once inside, he undid the bonds. Silvanus flexed his hands, suffering without showing the pain of rushing blood in his fingers. His mood shifted. There was still hope—one hope in particular that would justify his resistance.

Silvanus examined the interior of the slave’s quarters. The space was cramped, with crude beds stacked three high along the walls. An old brazier in the center of the room provided some warmth. The flames flickered in the drafts seeping through crevices in the slatted walls. There were no locks, no bars, no chains. He checked out Heracles, who must be in his forties. The man was thin, wiry, but apparently healthy. I could overcome him and get out of here, easily.

If you’re thinking about escape, said Heracles, think again. We will not allow it. The other slaves, men and women, perhaps fifteen of them, gathered around, grim menace in their faces. Whether you succeed or not, we will be punished if you try to get away. We will not abide that.

Silvanus saw the futility. He accepted it, and, as he had all day, tried to keep his dignity, though that, too, seemed increasingly pointless. He was a slave. His life was no longer his own. This was the price he paid for his failures as a soldier and as a man.

Come, said Heracles, eat something. You’ve got a long ride tomorrow.

* * *

Come morning, the eastern sky was gray and sunless. A heavy overcast blurred the first light. Gaius had risen slowly from a good night’s sleep, the first he had enjoyed for the past four days since leaving Samnium with Silvanus in tow. Titus Pulcher and his family were up and about, finishing breakfast and preparing for the day’s work. Five children, ranging from early teens to toddlers, bustled around the hearth.

The domus had no atrium, no garden, and very little adornment. It was a utilitarian structure with only one bedroom where the entire family slept. A single large room provided space for cooking, dining, and gathering. The furniture was basic but well made—tables, benches, and one cushioned chair for the paterfamilias. The wear on the plank floor showed the traffic patterns from the doorway to the hearth, from the hearth to the table, from the table to the bedroom. In one corner was a small altar to the household gods, the Lares.

Gaius felt a knot in his stomach. The house was unchanged, almost exactly as it was when he left.

Pulcher’s wife offered Gaius salted flat bread and porridge, apologizing for the simple meal. It’s better than anything we ate in the army, Domina, said Gaius.

He donned his mail, strapped on his sword and dagger, and fastened his cloak. In the yard before the house, he found Titus giving instructions to Heracles for the slaves. Silvanus stood alone by their horses and mule. The animals were ready for travel.

Let me pay you something for the lodging and meals, Pulcher. You have been very kind.

Not necessary, young man. I think you have enough troubles. I should not profit by them. Besides, it was enjoyable to have guests. Do you really think the war with the Samnites is over?

Yes, I do, said Gaius, glancing at Silvanus. This time they are utterly beaten. They will never love Romans, or any Latins for that matter, but they will not go to war again. As an afterthought, he said, Perhaps you’d like to purchase my slave. I’ll give you very good price.

Pulcher considered, eyeing Silvanus closely. He is a strapping fellow, isn’t he? But look at how he stands. He’s proud and angry. He’s not ready to be a slave. Not yet. No, Gaius Gabinus, I don’t think I’d accept him even as a gift. He’s apt to be trouble. Shaking his head, Titus added, I wish you well. Have a safe journey. The road to Rome is passable. The weather has been dry, so you should have no trouble. You should reach the city by nightfall.

The Pulchers went about their chores and labors. Gaius pulled out the leather thongs to bind Silvanus. Gabinus, I know you do not trust me, said Silvanus, but bind my hands in front, not behind my back. It will easier for us to travel.

After a moment’s thought, Gaius lashed Silvanus’s hands in front of him, but secured his wrists to his belt. Silvanus asked, May I have a cloak, too? The morning is chill.

Gaius pulled a wool blanket from the mule’s pack and threw it over Silvanus’s shoulders. He tied the corners under the slave’s chin.

Thank you, said Silvanus.

Force of habit, again?

No, gratitude.

Gaius gave him a skeptical look, then said, Is there anything else I can do for you?

Silvanus laughed, Set me free.

Gaius snorted, then mounted his horse. Silvanus kicked a low stool next to his mount and struggled onto the horse’s back. With a wave and expressions of gratitude, Gaius and Silvanus left the farm, rode a little north across the fields, and found the road that ran between Tiburum and Rome.

They rode the first hour in silence. Gaius was lost in thought, wondering how his family had come to such a pass and hoping that there was a remedy for their problems.

Traffic was very light; only two groups shared the roadway with them and they were going toward Tiburum. The road itself was in reasonably good shape. Comprised of hard-packed earth and gravel, it was only deeply rutted in the low places where water had stood. Nonetheless, it meandered between the hills.

Silvanus broke the silence. Fewer and fewer fields and pastures. More forest and shrubbery. It’s more like the country around my home.

Listen, Slave, said Gaius. I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. I fell for your docile and submissive act on the auction block. I won’t do it again. Silvanus shrugged.

By late morning the wind had shifted to the west and the darkening sky threatened rain. A few drops fell, then a few more. A mile or so before them, the horizon disappeared behind a wall of black. They hurried up a slight rise to a stand of oak and pine that bracketed the road. Heavy drops began to pelt them. The path became slick. The mule balked. Their cloaks went from streaked to sopping wet in moments.

Gaius tethered the horses and the mule to the lower branch of a tall pine that spread above the animals. He led Silvanus a few paces away to the trunk of an ancient oak beneath a broad canopy. The space was dry, and they sat with their backs to the tree. Soon, drops found their way through the foliage and dribbled onto them. The rain grew heavier. The trees across the road were difficult to see through the deluge. This can’t last long, said Gaius.

Two hours later, the rain continued to fall as heavily as it had when they arrived. We’ll never make Rome by nightfall, now, said Silvanus. What do you plan to do?

Wait for the rain to stop, obviously.

No, I meant, what do you plan to do when you get to Rome? How will you find your family? There must be a hundred thousand people in that city.

More like two hundred thousand, and I don’t know how I’ll find them.

It’s hard to lose family. Silvanus sounded pensive.

He does have feelings other than rage, thought Gaius. That statement was unguarded.

I think my mother had a cousin who lived in Rome. Rosa? Was that her name, Rosa Gabina? I suppose my parents would have tried to find her.

It’s a place for you to start, but the trail is cold.

Gaius gave the slave a sharp look. Silvanus said, I meant no disrespect. I have no love for you or any Roman, but I understand your pain. Samnites love their families too, you know.

Another hour passed and the rain finally abated. To the west, they could see an edge to the clouds and hopeful sunlight. Gaius and Silvanus resumed the journey, but the condition of the road made it slow going. The slick and muddy road was nearly impassable in the low spots. By late afternoon they were only two-thirds of the way to Rome.

We should come to a crossroad soon, said Gaius. We can take that road northwest, maybe two miles to Fidenae, on the Tiber. We’ll find an inn and spend the night there.

Shortly thereafter, as they rounded a bend, they saw the other road. The intersection was marked by slats on a post, arrows directing travelers to Rome, Tiburum, and Fidenae.

The sun had nearly set as they rode northwest. Gaius reined up abruptly. Three men emerged from tall shrubs by the road immediately in front of them. Two held cudgels and one had a dagger in his hand. A fourth man advanced on them from behind with his hands high and smile on his face.

Hail, travelers he greeted with a friendly voice. We’re the keepers of the roadway. Pay our toll and you’ll be on your way.

How much is the toll? asked Gaius, as he twisted on his saddle.

As all four men rushed them, the leader answered in the same gleeful voice, Everything you have.

CHAPTER II

NOVEMBER CCXX ALC

Milo Plotius felt the corners of his mouth twitch with each stroke of the whip. He felt a delicious joy he dared not show. Marcus Gardius was under the lash, and each time the knotted barbs ripped his back, Plotius reveled. He retreated one step to avoid the splatter of blood. The gathering of men in the corner of the Field of Mars grunted their approval in unison.

That’s fifteen, said the carnifex. He coiled the braided leather thongs and released the bonds that held Gardius to the short pillar.

Plotius tossed a sesterce to the executioner.

Fifteen were too many, Plotius, said Stertorius, the slave trader.

The small crowd did not seem to agree and mumbled their disappointment.

Plotius ignored the trader and approached the sobbing victim. Bending low and speaking softly, he said, Do you remember me? Do you remember the little boy you beat so long ago in the Subura? Probably not. You bullied so many then.

As he straightened, Stertorius grabbed his elbow. I won’t get much for him now, Plotius. Fifteen was too many, I say.

Get what you can. You can say he’s been conditioned to be subservient. Again, he suppressed a smile. Take your commission and send the rest to my account.

Feeling pleased with his self-restraint, he made for the Flaminia Gate through the Servian Wall, back into the city proper.

Stertorius tagged along amid Plotius’s entourage of clerks and bodyguards. He worked his way forward and again touched Plotius’s elbow. You confound, me, Plotius, he said. The man owed you money. I could have gotten enough for him on the block to satisfy your debt. Now, he’s next to worthless.

Plotius said nothing and continued his march, his eyes straight ahead. He had no need to explain himself. Keeping his own counsel was his hallmark. How Stertorius might feel about his decision made no difference to Plotius. The slave trader’s confusion or anger at lost income never entered his mind.

His silence was intimidating and he knew it.

* * *

Gaius was enraged, another obstacle to his search. He drew his sword and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. The leader’s smile disappeared as Gaius charged and took half his face with a stroke. The other three ran at him, weapons raised. He slashed at one as he continued his charge, but another grabbed his billowing cloak and hauled him off the back of the chestnut horse.

Gaius landed hard on his left side, then rolled into the feet of an attacker. The man fell on top of him. The other two tried to join the fray. Gaius’s horse reared and fought the air with muddy hooves. The two scrambled away until the frightened animal sprinted off.

Amid thrashing arms and legs, Gaius got his feet under him. His sword bit deep into the thug’s arm. As he drew back to finish him off, the others struck his shoulders with their bludgeons. Gaius fell, thinking, They’ll kill me now.

Lips drawn back in ferocious rage, one of the thieves raised his club to strike again, then suddenly lurched forward. Silvanus had ridden up and kicked the man from behind.

Gaius rose and stabbed the kicked thief in the neck.

The last robber dragged Silvanus off his mount. Gaius’s slave was on his back, his hands still bound, kicking viciously at his attacker. Gaius slapped the haunch of Silvanus’s horse to move it as the thief dropped his bludgeon and drew a knife. He did not get a chance to use it. Gaius ran his sword, almost to the hilt, into the man’s back.

The horses cantered back to the mule, standing placidly where they first beheld the bandits. Gaius helped Silvanus to his feet. The slave winced as he took a limping step. Both men were breathing deeply. They stared at each other. Neither spoke.

The two wounded bandits moaned. Without a word, Gaius went to each of them and slit their throats. Silvanus nodded. Walking back to the horses, both men scanned the darkness for other threats. None emerged.

As they mounted, Gaius broke the silence. I am surprised you came to my aid. It was a perfect chance for your freedom.

Silvanus growled. My ancestors would never forgive me if I took up with common thieves. He sat proud in his saddle, and added, You have no skill to fight on horseback.

I was an infantryman. You must have been cavalry.

I commanded a troop of horse. No use for them during a siege, though.

I suppose not. In any case, thank you for saving me.

Silvanus smiled. Force of habit?

No, gratitude, said Gaius, also grinning. Your leg is hurt?

No, my hip. I landed badly. It will be all right. Your property isn’t permanently damaged. The humor had gone out of his voice.

Night had fallen completely when, finally, they saw the lights of Fidenae. Gaius had been thinking. What would have happened had he been alone or if Silvanus had bolted? He knew full well. He would be dead in the ditch.

How do I repay him? Am I obliged to? What would papa do? His father’s calm face appeared in his mind’s eye. Publius Gabinus always knew what course to follow. At least that was how Gaius saw it, but he could recall no wise remarks that helped him now. He could, however, remember the peaceful life of his youth, and his father’s generous treatment of the field slaves. What, then, to do about Silvanus?

After all, he’s just a slave now. Oh, but he’s more than that. He’s a noble. Apparently the real thing, not just a rich man, but a real son of noble fathers. He’s waiting for a chance to run. I know that. But he has standards. Can I trust him?

Some way before they reached the gates, Gaius halted. Silvanus Caudini.

At the formal use of his name, the slave reined up.

Gaius continued. "Silvanus Caudini. I have a proposition for you. We have saved each other’s