Furies Read Free

us.”
    “Come then,” Titiana said firmly, breaking away from Aculeo. Too soon, too soon. Atellus put his head down and went to her at last. She took the boy by the hand and led him down the hallway, past the stacks of boxes and furnishings towards the gates and then into the hired wagon. They’re leaving, Aculeo thought, they’re actually leaving. He followed them.
    “You come too, Poppa?” Atellus asked as Aculeo tried to step into the wagon.
    Titiana held up her hand. “No. You shouldn’t show your face in public yet,” she said. “It’s too soon.” She looked towards Xanthias. “You’re to take care of him.”
    “Yes, Mistress,” the old slave said, tears running down his deeply lined cheeks.
    “Why Poppa and Xanfas not come?” the boy asked, sensing something was amiss.
    “You’re taking a special trip to Rome just with your Mamma, remember?”Aculeo said, forcing a smile, though his eyes were burning. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”
    Titiana paused before handing him a small packet wrapped in linen. “What’s this?” he asked. She said nothing. He looked at her for a moment, then reluctantly unwrapped the bundle. It was her emerald necklace with the matching earrings – his wedding present to her. They suddenly felt heavy as a millstone in his hands. “Titiana, no …”
    “They’ll only get stolen when we get onboard,” she said.
    “Oh, of course,” he said at last. “I’ll … I’ll keep them here for you then.”
    “Aculeo …”
    “I’ll keep them safe for you. I’ll come for you once I’ve found my feet again. By summer at the latest. My oath.”
    Titiana held his gaze for just a moment, unsmiling now, unreachable. “If you truly love us you’ll let us be,” she said. She nodded to the driver and the wagon rattled off along the creamy paving-stone street towards the city, the winter breeze cold and damp off the Egyptian Sea.
    “I should stop them,” Aculeo said hoarsely. “I… I should do something.”
    Xanthias shook his head. “No, Master. The mistress is right. Let them go.”
    Gnaeus appeared next to him in the doorway, scratching at his beard. “When are you leaving?”
    “The agreement was midnight,” Xanthias snapped.
    “The auction’s first thing in the morning. Gurculio’s orders …”
    “Oh shove Gurculio’s orders and let the man be!” The freedman scowled but slumped away. Xanthias turned to Aculeo and said gently, “How about some wine, Master? There’s an amphora of aged Tameotic I’ve been holding back. An excellent vintage. Or so I’m told.”
    “No, nothing,” Aculeo said, and wandered back through the villa. It had been so full of life only a moment ago. Now it was just the echoes of his sandals slapping against the stone, the empty chatter of the slaves as they packed everything up. The back wall had been removed last summer to reveal an extraordinary view of the city down below, the vast gridwork of red clay tile roofs and bone-white buildings, temples and palaces that lay beyond. To the north, ships bobbed in the Great Harbour of the wine-dark Egyptian Sea. There in the harbour the great Pharos soared, dove grey in the early morning light, a billowing trail of smoke and glint of yellow firelight spilling forth from the lighthouse mouth, and Rome itself a lifetime away.
    Aculeo thought he heard the sound of distant horns and drums, a joyous festival in the city, and realized it was the first day of Januarius. Already? He watched a flock of brown and grey birds pass overhead from left to right before they turned as one and wheeled out to the darkening sea.
    He couldn’t recall if the omen was good or bad.

 

     
    Aculeo awoke to the sounds of the street below and squinted about his little bedroom, which was hardly big enough to hold his simple, narrow pallet. Rays of morning light scratched across the cracked plaster ceiling. The crumbling walls were etched with graffiti from previous occupants, stained with soot and sweat and