Serah: The Daughter of Rebekah and Lucius

By Barry Connolly

Serah Corvinius is a young Christian girl who is coming of age in the shadow of the Emperor Claudiuss Rome. The daughter of a Roman centurion and a Jewish artisan, Serah lives an idyllic life on her fathers equestrian estate. There, magnificent horses are trained for fierce competition in the races at the Circus Maximus. When a powerful and vindictive Roman senator threatens her familys welfare and her own life, Serah is compelled to flee to her mothers homeland in Judea. In Jerusalem, she will experience for the first time the prejudice and danger facing the followers of Jesus Christ. It is an adventure that will test her beliefs, challenge her courage, open her heart, and change her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532046711

Barry Connolly

Barry Connolly worked as a writer, editor and media relations manager for an international computer corporation before starting his own marketing communications business. A succession of bible study classes inspired him to write his first Christian historical novel, “The Good Thief.” His second novel, “On the Road to Damascus,” continues the story. He and his wife, Muriel, reside in Bethel, Connecticut. You can visit their website at www.connollyco.com.

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Copyright © 2018 Barry Connolly.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-4670-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4671-1 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 05/03/2018

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Prologue

A ntonios was not a tall man, but what he lacked in stature he more than made up for in strength. His stocky frame was weathered and tanned; the deep brown eyes of his angular face crowned with a curly shock of black hair. The well-developed muscles of his arms and legs had been hard earned over many years of service as a trainer of exceptional horses on a fine ranch and estate outside Rome.

As a boy of 13, Antonios had escaped an abusive home, taking with him two loaves of dark wheat bread, a skin of wine and the clothes on his back. He had made his way from his village in Messene to the busy port near Nicopolis on the southwestern coast of Greece. There he convinced the sympathetic captain of a battered merchant trading ship to take him on as a deck hand. The vessel plied the coastal waters surrounding Italia with shipments of grain, wine and pottery—often anchoring in Ostia, within 15 miles of Rome, and the palace of Emperor Caesar Augustus.

It was on one such occasion that Antonios jumped ship, disappeared into the confusion of men unloading a cargo of wine, and slipped past the stacked amphorae into the maze of narrow streets that surrounded the harbor. Days later, traveling east, he found himself on the outskirts of a great estate. Here, on a ranch more beautiful than Antonios had imagined possible, magnificent horses roamed behind sparkling white fences while others raced around a great oval track. He decided on the spot that his destiny must be here. The estate foreman, taken by the lad’s eagerness and strength, brought him before his master, Sagitus Marcellus Corvinius. The horse farm’s owner also was impressed by the young man and agreed he should be hired. Antonios found more than work that fortunate day. He also found a home.

Now, many years later, Antonios had become chief trainer and foreman on the estate. The four major racing stables in Rome that competed at the Circus Maximus prized the exceptional horses raised and trained in the compound. Corvinius stallions and mares had led many a charioteer, and their sponsors, to victory, honor and riches. Antonios was well paid for his skills and was treated more like a member of the Corvinius family than the trusted servant he was proud to be.

On this particular morning, the veteran trainer waited at the smallest of three practice tracks for the arrival of the new master’s wife and her young daughter. The child, Serah, had only recently entered her third summer. But already it was apparent for all with eyes to see that the girl had inherited not only the family’s love of horses but also a natural talent for riding.

The gentle mare, whose reins Antonios gripped, turned her head and snorted impatiently. Antonios whispered reassuringly and stroked the horse’s neck. "Soon, little Maus," he said softly in Greek. The horse had been given the name at birth, so named because the foal’s coloring so closely matched that of a litter of dusty brown field mice born the same night in the mare’s stable. Antonios tugged again gently on the saddle straps, making sure the bindings were cinched tight. Toward the front of the child’s saddle, a leather grip had been fitted to the pommel to help steady the young rider.

Though it was early in the morning, and the sun still low in a cloudless blue sky, it was already growing quite warm. Hundreds of acres of low rolling hills surrounded the estate and its many buildings. A light breeze carried the pungent scent of fresh grass and wildflowers. The high-pitched sound of a million chittering insects rose and fell. Antonios adjusted his cloth cap and wiped the sleeve of his tunic across a thin band of perspiration on his forehead. He glanced back at the glittering white stone main house, its orange tiled roof glowing with the first rays of sunlight. He saw a figure, the lady Rebekah, entering the courtyard with her young daughter in tow.

As they drew nearer, following the path past the corrals and paddocks, a sudden gust of wind stirred a small cloud of dust. Rebekah turned and covered her eyes. Serah seized the moment to break away from her mother’s hand and ran eagerly toward Antonios and the mare. The girl’s face broke into a wide grin. Antonios opened his arms and Serah ran into them, her long black hair flying. In one motion Antonios swept her up over his head and sat her down in the saddle.

He smiled reassuringly. Now hold fast, little one, he said, placing Serah’s small hands on the makeshift leather grip. Then he proceeded to wrap a soft leather belt fastened to the saddle around the girl’s waist. He pulled it snug. There, he cautioned, Sit up straight. He placed his hand on her back to show Serah what he meant. Then he took the reins and made ready to lead her around the track.

Good morning, Antonios! Rebekah called out, somewhat breathless as she caught up. She brushed a few strands of hair, the same color as her daughter’s, away from her face. Antonios returned the greeting with a respectful nod. He turned his attention to Serah—who was looking very serious now and somewhat impatient.

Shall I proceed with the lesson, my lady?

Yes, of course, Rebekah replied. She smiled and touched her daughter’s leg. Serah glanced down at hearing her mother’s voice, and then just as quickly looked away, eyes focused on the oval track ahead.

Listen to what Antonios tells you, Serah, and soon you will ride as well as your Aunt Naomi.

Antonios checked the girl’s saddle and bindings a final time, holding the reins loosely in his free hand. He was about to lead Maus around the track when Serah turned abruptly toward Antonios with a disapproving frown.

I do myself, she said in a small voice and kicked her sandaled foot against the horse’s flank. Antonios was caught by surprise. The reins were pulled from his hand and in a matter of seconds Serah was off down the track on her own, the horse trotting along at a spirited pace.

Antonios was horrified! He started to run after the girl, but Rebekah caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him back. Let her go, she said. The trainer looked confused.

"Maus is a gentle horse, is she not? And Serah has ridden her many times before. Rebekah looked resigned to her daughter’s willfulness. She moved her hands to her hips and shook her head disapprovingly. I will speak to her about this later."

I should have acted more quickly, my lady, Antonios apologized, taking the blame upon himself. But the little mistress is fearless and strong willed.

Rebekah folded her arms and watched as Maus and Serah entered the far turn. She loved her daughter fiercely but had seen this rebellious streak in her before. She turned toward Antonios, shook her head again and sighed.

I fear, she said, this may only be the beginning.

Chapter 1

L ucius Marcellus Corvinius paced impatiently, the click of his hard leather boots on the bare tile floor echoing off the marble walls of the room. When he reached the far end he turned and retraced his steps, hands clasped behind his back. It was a motion he had been repeating off and on for some time now.

Tall for a Roman, Lucius was ruggedly handsome and clean-shaven with close-cropped dark brown hair. For a man in his early 50’s, he was in excellent physical condition. This was due not only to the demanding work required on the sprawling horse farm he and his family owned, but also to the training and discipline acquired during years of service in Rome’s army.

Lucius and his foreman, Antonios, had been confined to an anteroom outside the office of Senator Crispus Balbinus. The two men had been waiting now for over an hour. While Lucius continued to pace, Antonios had finally surrendered to a nearby chair.

The senator’s country estate, or domus, was immense—a massive and impressive rectangular structure of polished sandstone crowned with a terra cotta roof. A network of hallways connected the home’s public and private rooms, a large kitchen, and the slaves’ quarters. At the center of the home was a huge open atrium, often used for entertaining. It was paved with thousands of brightly colored ceramic tiles. Heated private baths—one for the senator and the other for his wife—were located adjacent to the couple’s separate sleeping quarters. A bath and a lavatorium for guests were located off the expansive courtyard.

To reach the estate, Lucius and Antonios had followed a long, winding drive flanked by cypress trees and statuary that led to an open circular reception area. There, a great stone arch and an ornate iron gate opened onto a wide tiled path that led to the villa itself.

A servant had greeted them and taken charge of their horses. Another had shown them to the waiting area inside the villa, just off the main entrance. Late morning sun spilled into the room through wide arches open to the outside.

As Lucius paced back and forth within the confines of the waiting room, he pondered the circumstances that had brought him here.

He and Antonios had been invited—no, summoned would be more accurate—to the senator’s stately home. A messenger—he had said his name was Kyros—had arrived the evening before at Lucius’ own estate. The senator, he had been informed, had an urgent matter that needed to be discussed. He would expect Lucius the following morning with your chief trainer, he was told. The messenger made it clear that there could be no acceptable excuse for not keeping the appointment.

Lucius had not been pleased. As a man of action, a former centurion, he was not given to suffer fools—or in this case arrogant and corrupt Roman senators—lightly. His first thought had been to spin the messenger about and send him back to his master without an answer. But his wife Rebekah, a wise and talented woman of Jewish heritage, knew her husband’s temperament well. Recognizing his ire rising and his patience ebbing, she had taken him by the arm and led him aside.

Calm, my love, she had whispered. It is only a meeting. You have met with the senator many times before. Your father accepted him as a client years ago. He is an influential man and could cause us harm if he wished. Do not give him a reason over such a small matter as a meeting.

Lucius had known Rebekah was right, and in the few seconds she spoke with him his initial flush of anger had already begun to fade. He drew a deep breath and let the messenger go without incident.

Tell your master I will call on him tomorrow, and my chief trainer, Antonios, will accompany me, he had finally replied.

Rebekah was right, Lucius admitted, Balbinus had been a major client of the house of Corvinius for many years. His father, Sagitus, had dealt with the man when Balbinus was a rising politician. As a Roman senator, a man of growing wealth and influence, Balbinus had purchased many a fine horse from the Corvinius estate for the Red Team—the racing club in Rome that the senator sponsored.

While many of the aristocracy held racing in disdain, considering it an uncivilized diversion fit only for the masses, Balbinus believed otherwise. He understood there was much money to be made in wagering on the popular competitions. Why even the current emperor, Claudius, was a fanatical supporter. Did the palace not directly overlook the great oval track in the Circus? And did Claudius himself not often attend the races, cheering as loudly as his citizens, personally awarding prizes to the winners?

But as happens to so many men, the great wealth accumulated by Balbinus had led not only to great power but even greater corruption—coupled with an appetite for cruelty. And, as Rebekah had reminded Lucius, it was not wise to intentionally make an enemy of such a man without sufficient reason.

Lucius interrupted his train of thought and turned to Antonios. From his youth, the man had been a faithful servant to Lucius’ father, and now for some 15 years to Lucius and his family.

"I know we spoke of this before, Antonios, but can you think of anything in our recent dealings with the senator that could be the cause for this meeting?"

The room was warm and Antonios had been resting his eyes. He opened them and turned toward Lucius. "Our only business has been his recent purchase of several of our stock at last month’s auction, including the young stallion, Neptune. We accommodated the senator’s trainer, as always, when the man wished to examine the horses in advance. The bidding process was open and fair. Representatives from each of the racing stables—Red, White, Blue and Green—were there. The selling price was determined by what buyers were willing to pay. I have heard nothing since then, my lord."

Lucius shrugged. Well, we will just have to wait, then, to see what the senator has on his mind.

Lucius was about to begin pacing again when a servant materialized from one of the corridors. It was Kyros. The man bowed respectfully. The senator sends his apologies for keeping you waiting. He is in the midst of concluding another matter. Please, help yourself to refreshments. He set down a tray of wine and food on an artfully carved wooden table. Then he turned and disappeared as quietly as he had arrived.

Lucius glanced at the ornate table. The servant had left a large pitcher of wine along with two amber glass goblets. The cups were cast in the shape of open-mouthed fish, their tails turned upward and fashioned into handles. There was a copper bowl of grapes, a wedge of dark yellow cheese on a round blue tile, and a small bone-handled knife. It had been mid-morning when he and Antonios arrived. Soon it would be noon. Already, midday shadows huddled close to the base of the cypress trees he could see outside the room.

The refreshments had appeal. Lucius stooped and broke off a stem of grapes. He gestured to Antonios, who declined the offer. Then Lucius poured some of the wine, filling his cup just half way. He wanted to be sure to be clear-headed when they at last spoke with Balbinus.

With no cooling breeze in the offing and the sun beating down on the room’s tiled roof, the heat was increasingly uncomfortable. His old trainer, now in his late 60s, had already succumbed. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the back of the chair. Lucius left him in peace and began again to pace the room.

Lucius’ daughter Serah was entered in a riding contest that was to take place later that day. This delay in their meeting with the senator was particularly irksome. He had promised his wife Rebekah that he would make every effort to be there in time to watch Serah compete.

It was not the custom for young Roman girls, or even women, to participate in riding sports. But Serah was the daughter of an equestrian household and an exceptionally good athlete. He was proud of her talent. She had demonstrated a passion for riding since she was barely three years of age. At her last birthday she had turned 14 and in a few months would be 15. She was clearly becoming a young woman as lovely—and independent—as her mother. Like any father he worried about his daughter and her welfare, especially knowing there were men like Balbinus in the world.

Lucius again let his thoughts wander as he walked the floor. He had been in the senator’s home on more than one occasion, but had never felt welcome or comfortable. To be sure, the furnishings were opulent and the frescoed walls and tiled floors beautiful. Colorful images in the hallways depicted scenes of nature and Roman gods. The floors were finished in brilliant tiles and polished stone.

Some years ago, when Lucius was first introduced to the senator, he and several other businessmen had been taken on a tour of the home. Balbinus had shown them what he referred to as his entertainment rooms. He proudly showed them quarters in the house where guests at his many parties were encouraged to pursue unrestricted passions and desires. Each of the three rooms he showed them contained a large bed and comfortable furnishings. Each was decorated more garishly than the next, the frescoes rude and depraved in the scenes and acts they depicted. Balbinus had mentioned slyly that some rooms might even contain disguised openings in the walls where one could observe those inside without their knowledge. Then Balbinus moved on. They passed other rooms, as the tour continued, some nothing more than cells. These were constructed of rough dark stone and sealed by heavy wooden doors. Cut into the walls outside each cell, and arranged at eye level, were a series of conspicuous observation ports. These chambers were sparsely furnished. Some had restraints fastened to a bed frame or to the walls and floor. When asked about them, the senator had dismissed the question, saying only that the rooms were used to enforce discipline. He had not elaborated.

Lucius was sickened by it all and had left the group, returning to the main hall to wait for his host and the others. The senator was displeased and had chided him. Lucius ignored the comments, which only further annoyed Balbinus. Fortunately, the senator had indulged in too much wine and seemed not to remember the details of the incident the next time the two men met. But Lucius did. It had served as a confirmation of the senator’s true nature. Balbinus was not only a man of great wealth and power, but also one with a well-earned reputation for immorality and cruelty.

The necessity of dealing with men like Balbinus in the course of his work took great effort on Lucius’ part. He had found it challenging to conduct business honorably in the pagan world of Rome. All the more so since he had accepted his wife’s faith in one God rather than the many gods popular in Rome and Greece. He also shared her devotion to the prophet Jesus—a man both were convinced was truly the Son of God.

Lucius was a principled and stubborn man. If those he dealt with had an issue with his beliefs and it should cost him their business, then so be it. Lucius had spent the better part of his life as a soldier, not a businessman. He had found the transition to this new life difficult. Fifteen years ago he had been stationed in Judea as an officer in the Roman Legion, in temporary service to King Herod. It was through his military duty—and a remarkable series of events—that he had come to know Rebekah, the woman he would later marry.

Persecution over Rebekah’s faith had caused them to flee Judea together and return to his family’s home in Rome. Lucius hoped they had left that danger behind them. But even here in Rome there was increasing friction between the growing followers of Jesus and the entrenched Jewish hierarchy. The conflict did not go unnoticed by Roman authorities. Many saw the escalating competition as a looming threat to peace and stability. There had been tacit religious tolerance so far under the current emperor, Claudius. But Lucius could not help but be concerned that the warring factions within the Jewish community might someday erupt and place his family in jeopardy.

A soft snoring from the direction of Antonios drew Lucius’ attention. The man’s head lay to one side. Let him rest for now, Lucius thought. When the time came, he was confident Antonios would awake alert and prepared for whatever questions Senator Balbinus might have. Lucius smiled when he thought how many men had underestimated Antonios because of the man’s reserved demeanor and advancing years. In all of Rome, no one knew more about the training of horses than Antonios. The bond he could establish between himself and the beloved stallions and mares bred and trained at the Corvinius estate bordered on sorcery. For now, both men had to endure this silly waiting game imposed by Balbinus.

Lucius knew this tactic well: summon a man on a matter of purported urgency, and then make him wait. Confound your quarry and put him off balance. Cloud his mind with wine; let his fears and anxiety build and weaken him. He had witnessed firsthand how the cruel sport was played by one of its masters, Herod Antipas.

King Herod. There was a duplicitous and dangerous man, Lucius thought. Herod the tetrarch had played this manipulative endurance game better than any man he knew. But Herod was gone now. The Emperor Caligula had exiled him to some godforsaken settlement in Gaul with his wife Herodias—if indeed either of them still lived. Rumor had it that Caligula ordered Herod killed shortly after banishing them both.

Lucius had also heard that Pontius Pilate, the corrupt and greedy procurator of Judea, had suffered a similar fate. And even Caiaphas, the high priest of the Jews, who had set soldiers against Rebekah and the others who followed Christ, was no more. How fitting, Lucius thought, that those three powerful men, so complicit in the death of Jesus, had been swept away like worthless grains of sand taken by the wind. Even their judge and prosecutor, Caligula, was dead, murdered by his own guards. The cautious and clever Claudius ruled the empire now.

Yet, through decades of intrigue and political turbulence in Rome, Senator Crispus Balbinus had somehow survived and prospered. For how much longer, Lucius wondered, would the senator’s cunning and ruthlessness serve him?

Before he could consider the question further, the carved oak doors leading to the senator’s meeting room quietly opened. Kyros stepped through.

The senator will see you now, he said.

Chapter 2

"S erah, where are you? Rebekah shouted. We’re going to be late!" There was no reply. Rebekah stood in the middle of the entrance hall of the main house and called in the direction of her daughter’s bedroom.

Silence.

"Galenus has the carriage ready, Serah. Your grandmother is waiting and Andromeda is already tethered to the carriage. Are you coming?"

There was a muffled cry from the back of the house. I’m almost ready, mother. Just a few more minutes…

Rebekah closed her eyes and sighed, her patience nearly exhausted. How can one girl be so amazing and so impossible at the same time, she thought.

Serah had been so much easier when she was younger. Well, perhaps that was not entirely true, Rebekah admitted to herself. But it seemed that once Serah reached 14, a wild spirit had taken over her daughter’s body, a Greek fire that could not be quenched. Serah had always been independent, but now she seemed to test her mother’s patience to the breaking point almost daily. Rebekah turned to her maid, Hestia, who had been standing patiently beside her mistress.

Please, go and see what is keeping my daughter, she asked. If I go to her room it will only escalate matters. Hestia nodded and proceeded to Serah’s room.

Arriving at the girl’s bedroom, Hestia said, I came to see if I could be of some assistance, my lady…

You mean my mother sent you to see what’s keeping me. The girl was in her underclothes, wrestling with a pair of leather riding boots that laced from foot to ankle to just below her knees. The laces were tight and difficult to adjust. Serah’s little white Maltese, Issa, sat on the girl’s bed, its tiny pink tongue sticking out, fascinated by all the drama.

Let me help you, Hestia said. Serah said nothing, but allowed the young Greek servant to gather the stitching, pull the laces through and finally fasten it successfully.

There, my lady, how does that feel?

Good. Then a grudging, Thank you, Hestia. She turned, pulled a short fine linen tunic over her head, then one longer of coarser knit that reached just below her knees. She belted them both. Then she slipped her arms through a leather vest that matched the boots and pushed her long black hair over her tunic, letting it fall away.

I’m ready, I guess. And off she dashed down the hallway with Issa running and yipping behind her.

How do I look, mother? she said when she reached Rebekah. She twirled around once to show off the high boots.

You look…fine… Rebekah said, not altogether convincingly. She pointed at her daughter’s feet. But the high boots, Serah, are you sure? Won’t the other girls be wearing a regular tunic and low riding boots?

The other girls don’t have an Aunt Naomi. She had them made for me. Serah glanced down, admiring the tall soft calfskin boots that protected her legs, then back at her mother. They’re just like hers. And she rides as well as any man does. She told me so herself.

Rebekah had to laugh. She would. Yes, she is a fine rider, but she gave you those for when you ride rough together in the countryside. The competition today is a formal event.

It’s not against the rules, is it?

No, I don’t think it’s against the rules. Then Rebekah added, But it’s not something the other young ladies are likely to wear, either.

Good. Then I’m wearing them. Serah dashed past her mother, stopped briefly to give her horse Andromeda a kiss on the cheek and made sure the horse was securely tied to the carriage. Then she hopped into the front seat next to her grandmother, Lavinia.

Rebekah climbed in and sat across from them, facing the two women and the road ahead. It was less than an hour’s ride from the Corvinius farm to the home of her sister-in-law, Sagiteria, where the competition would be held. She liked Lucius’ sister. She was a sensible woman who had married well. Her husband, Laurentius Lactucinus, was well respected. His father, Valerius, was an experienced statesman, a senator, and had been a close friend of Lucius’ father. Laurentius had served many years now as a senior aide to his father. It was widely assumed that Laurentius would succeed his father in the Senate when the older man retired.

The canvas-topped carriage was a step above a farm cart but only a little more comfortable. It shielded its occupants from the sun and rain, but not from the dust kicked up by the horses. The noise of the wheels on the gravel-strewn road made conversation difficult. Rebekah sat silently across from her daughter and mother-in-law and watched the countryside pass by. She let her thoughts wander as the coach rumbled on.

Laurentius had married Lucius’ sister, Sagiteria, only two months before Rebekah and Lucius escaped from Judea and arrived at the family estate outside Rome. Laurentius and Sagiteria had a daughter, Juliana, and a young son, Junius, who recently turned five.

Serah’s cousin, Juliana, had been born a month before Serah. She delighted in teasing Serah that as the older of the two, she was more mature and should make any important decisions for both of them. Both girls had long black hair and with the exception of their eyes—Serah’s brown and her cousin’s hazel—were so similar in appearance that they were often mistaken for sisters.

The same Greek tutor had taught both Serah and Juliana for the past eight years. Their formal studies were primarily focused on reading and writing and they had become fluent in Greek and Latin. The skills required as wives and homemakers were traditionally the responsibility of their mothers, grandmothers and other women in the family.

Serah and Juliana were both obsessed with horses, although riding was considered more of a man’s sport. Juliana was keenly interested in formal competition. The female entrants were mostly age 12 to 15, the boys a little older. The girls would lead their mounts through an obstacle course demonstrating agility, control and grace.

Rebekah knew that control and grace were of far less interest to her daughter than speed. She believed Serah was well prepared and would comport herself honorably, but nothing engaged the young woman so much as a wild run, galloping through the countryside. There she had no boundaries. She would race through the fields, her long hair whipping in the wind, horse and rider equally exhausted when they returned home.

If she could, Rebekah believed her daughter would rather compete in the more aggressive boys’ event. There, horse and rider raced about obstacles wielding a broadsword whose edge had been dulled. On their way to the finish line, they enthusiastically sliced arms and heads from a field of straw men. If not as dramatic, the girls’ event was nevertheless challenging and Serah could be a formidable competitor when she set her mind to it. Rebekah only hoped Lucius’ meeting with Balbinus would go well and that her husband would not be greatly delayed. She knew how much it would mean to Serah for her father to see her compete.

Rebekah glanced over at her daughter and mother-in-law. She smiled. Lavinia appeared to have nodded off, aided by the rhythmic bouncing of the wagon. Serah had turned to look at the rolling green fields they were passing.

Rebekah pulled a light veil across her face to protect it from the dust kicked up from the dry roadbed. She closed her eyes. The carriage rattled on.

Chapter 3

B albinus’ man, Kyros, stepped aside and pointed toward the open doorway to the senator’s office. Almost immediately, Lucius felt Antonios standing beside him. The two entered.

There, seated behind an immense and elegantly carved cypress wood desk, sat the enormously corpulent senator. He was busying himself with a sheaf of papers that he carefully slid inside a leather document pouch. Today, Balbinus was wearing his signature reddish-brown wig and a huge, loose-fitting white silk toga fringed with gold. Down the center of the toga ran the vertical purple stripe of his senatorial office. His cheeks and lips were excessively, and inappropriately, rouged. It was difficult for Lucius to accept that the ridiculous man before him was the same shrewd politician and ruthless businessman who, according to rumor, delighted in the torture and murder of his enemies.

Balbinus remained seated, his visitors clearly not worth the considerable effort it would have taken for him to stand. He looked up and broke into a practiced and insincere smile.

Behind the man was a long table groaning with trays of half-eaten food and pitchers of wine. A scattering of flies buzzed noisily about it. This must be the major part of the urgent business that delayed their meeting, Lucius thought. He and Antonios were less important than a leg of mutton.

Working her way along the food table, a young female slave unobtrusively waved away the flies and collected the most offensive plates. A greasy dish slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Balbinus turned and glared at her.

Get out, Korinna! he barked. Head down, she grabbed the plate and scurried away like a shore bird evading the incoming tide. The girl disappeared into a nearby alcove.

Corvinius! he boomed, spreading his flabby arms in greeting. My apologies for keeping you waiting. He gestured to the leather document case on his desk, as if the important papers it must contain explained everything. There was no sign of a previous guest, if indeed there had even been someone there before them.

Smiling politely, Lucius stepped forward, leaned over the senator’s desk and clasped the man’s greasy hand in greeting. Then he wiped it discreetly on the side of his tunic. A bit of meat clung to Balbinus’ left cheek and a thin purple wine stain trailed down the front of the man’s toga blurring the stripe of his office.

Senator Balbinus, Lucius replied, careful to inject a note of measured respect. Antonios and I received your message. There is an urgent matter you wish to discuss? Lucius refused to allow the senator to think that the childish tactic of keeping him and Antonios waiting was in any way effective.

Balbinus only smiled, his eyes fixed on Lucius. Then he gestured to a pair of chairs near the desk. Lucius sat first, followed by Antonios. The senator continued to stare at the two men, a half-smile frozen on his face. He said nothing.

More theater, Lucius thought to himself. I’ve seen it all before. Get to the point. The standoff continued for a few more seconds. Finally, the senator tented his hands on the desk and spoke.

"As you well know, Corvinius, along with some other promising animals from your stables, I recently acquired the young stallion, Neptune. I paid two million sesterces for this horse alone—a princely sum, would you not agree?"

So this is what it’s all about, Lucius thought, you are dissatisfied in some way with your last purchase.

"I had great hopes for him in the races this past week, but the horse failed to perform as I had expected. The Blue Team sponsored by the house of Senator Polonus bested my Red Team. It was not only a personal embarrassment for me, but a costly one as well. I had wagered heavily on my team’s…on Neptune’s victory."

With respect, senator, Lucius replied evenly, "Neptune is a fine horse, as are the others your man bid for at our auction." He glanced over at Antonios for support. The old trainer leaned forward.

If I may be so bold as to speak, my lord. Lucius nodded his assent. Then, Antonios directed his comments to Balbinus.

"My lord senator, when your steward examined our stock before the auction, I pointed out that Neptune was not yet three years old and had no formal training for the races. Those that compete at the Circus generally begin their training as part of a team when they are five years old, and have had extensive preparation before entering the arena. Neptune is indeed a fine animal, my lord. However, with such little training he was ill prepared to join a competitive team of horses at the Circus. Did your man not explain this to you?"

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. The thin smile Balbinus had maintained earlier now evaporated. His rouged face might appear ridiculous but the look in his eyes was chilling. He ignored Antonios and directed his reply to Lucius.

I make the decisions about my stable and which animals will race and which will not. Portus, my trainer, so advised me at first. But with my urging, he finally agreed the horse had sufficient stamina and spirit that he should be given an opportunity to race with my team at the Circus. A mistake on my trainer’s part that has been dealt with. He waved his hand in dismissal.

How unfortunate for Portus, Lucius thought, that he did not have the courage of his original conviction. He hoped the man’s death had been swift.

Senator, Lucius added, "I feel I should also mention that the price paid at the auction was quite fair for a stallion of Neptune’s lineage. There are those who might well have offered more, but out of respect for you—more likely fear, Lucius imagined—they did not challenge your agent’s bid."

Balbinus had not expected Lucius to