A Charioteer’s Promise

Chapter 1

May 4, 207 AD

Years of invisibility had taught Dulcia patience. No one paid attention to the quiet girl standing at the back of the queue with her eyes down. She was used to waiting while others pushed in front and would say nothing when they shouted over the top of her.

‘And a dozen pears,’ she said to the merchant, pointing to the fruit at the far end of the stall.

He nodded and loaded them into her basket two at a time. When he was done, he grabbed a handful of dried figs and threw those in also.

‘For the walk home,’ he said, winking as he handed her the basket.

It was around her sixteenth birthday when everything changed. About the time her hips widened and her breasts finally arrived.

Dulcia smiled at the man. He could afford to be generous with his wife absent. It was the middle of the afternoon, and she was likely at home with the children.

She dropped the coins into his hand. ‘Thank you. That is very kind.’

He kept hold of the basket. ‘It’s heavy. Will you be all right with it?’

She had been carrying baskets to and from the market since she was five years old. Did he really think in her nineteenth year it would suddenly be too heavy for her? ‘I will be absolutely fine, thank you.’ She gave the basket a gentle tug, pulling it from his grasp.

Turning away from the stall, she searched for her older sister amid the busy crowd, spotting her a few stalls down. Mila gave her a tired smile. She was the same vision of strength and beauty Dulcia had admired her whole life.

‘Done?’ Mila called over the noise.

Dulcia nodded and wandered over to where her niece stood scolding the twins running in circles around her. Giving up on words, Asha blocked Caius with her hip while Mila caught Atilius by the arm.

‘I need cinnamon,’ Dulcia said, bending to kiss the top of her nephew’s head, ‘but I figured you might know a spice man.’ She tried to take Caius’s hand, but he wriggled free of her grip. Three was a busy age.

Mila handed her basket to Asha and caught Caius with the expert grip of a mother. ‘If you come by the apartment, you can take what you need.’

Dulcia reached for the figs in the basket and held them up so the boys could see them. They froze, eyes fixed on the dried fruit in her hand.

‘Careful, they will tackle you to the ground,’ Mila said, a smile in her tone.

‘No they will not. They will hug me appreciatively, or I will hand them all to Asha to eat.’

Her niece giggled, enjoying being a part of the joke.

Two sets of arms wrapped her thighs, squeezing so tightly she almost lost her balance. ‘Much better.’ She dropped her basket to the ground so she could hug the chubby little boys, then handed out the fruit.

Mila ran her fingers through Caius’s hair as he chewed, cheeks bulging. ‘I hope Germana did not need those for a recipe.’

Dulcia rose and picked up her basket. ‘They were a gift from the merchant.’

‘Oh really?’ Her tone was coy.

‘The married merchant.’

Mila ushered the children towards the street. ‘Best stay away from the married ones.’ She looked both ways before stepping out. ‘What happened to the apprentice brazier who was following you about the city a few months back?’

‘Slight exaggeration.’

‘Mother told me he waited outside the house for you.’

‘Once. He did that one time.’

Mila glanced sideways at her sister. ‘What was the matter with him?’

Dulcia shrugged and swapped the basket to the other hand. ‘He had an odd smell about him.’

Mila rolled her eyes. ‘I met him, and he smelled just fine.’

‘Sometimes he spat when he spoke.’

Mila laughed. ‘And the one before that?’

‘Too old.’

‘Too old?’

‘He was a widower.’

‘A very young widower, according to my sources.’

Dulcia pressed her lips together. ‘I would have been better suited to a life of celibacy.’

‘I do not doubt it, but you are not destined to be a vestal virgin, despite the company you keep.’ Mila was referring to the priestess Licinia. The pair had formed an unlikely friendship over the years. ‘Pity a priestess cannot come from a slave mother. I am certain Rufus would have volunteered you.’ Mila called out to the boys to slow down as they darted between passers-by. ‘Of course, I am secretly relieved. The vestals are nothing but scapegoats living in constant fear.’

Dulcia stepped out of the way of a group of women caught up in their conversation. ‘Here it comes—’

‘Independent and wealthy. No need of a husband.’

‘I feel as though we have had this conversation—many times.’

‘And yet they are at the mercy of the very men who grant them their independence.’

Before Dulcia could argue, she spotted Felix and Albaus coming towards them. A giant and a dwarf stood out in any crowd. She found herself looking past them, but Nero was not there. A bad feeling enveloped her.

The twins ran ahead, and Albaus bent down, catching one in each arm.

‘Good catch,’ Mila said once they had caught up.

‘Is Nero at the stables?’ It was the first question from Dulcia’s lips, and she knew immediately by their shared expression that he was not. Looking between them, she waited for a response.

‘Not quite,’ Felix finally replied, wearing a guilty look Dulcia had come to recognise.

She drew a calming breath. ‘Fighting, then?’

Silence.

‘Why does he continue to fight? Did Nerva not give him a job that pays for everything he needs?’ It was one of the perks of having a half-brother with money and influence; they could occasionally ask for favours. She focused again on her sister. ‘You should put a stop to it.’

Mila laughed. ‘You want me to stop him? I helped train him.’ She took one of her wriggling sons from Albaus and handed him the basket. ‘He is a grown man. He stopped listening to me some time ago.’

Felix began backing away from the group, and Dulcia’s eyes narrowed on him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I have business in Caelimontium.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I am coming with you.’

‘Nero will not like you being there,’ Mila called.

‘Well, I too have grown up.’

‘Yes, but you still listen to me some of the time.’

Felix did not move. He was looking at Mila, as though waiting for her approval.

‘I do not need my sister’s permission,’ Dulcia said, grabbing his arm. ‘Let us go.’

Mila waved her off. ‘Fine, but take Albaus with you. You will need someone to carry you home when you faint.’

‘You offend me,’ Felix said, looking down at his diminutive but muscled frame. ‘I have carried many swooning women in my lifetime.’ He paused. ‘Well, some of the larger ones I dragged along the ground until help arrived.’ Sighing, he looked up at Dulcia. ‘He really does prefer you to stay away from the arena.’

‘Funny that. I have made the same request of him, many times. Let us go so I might remind him of the fact.’

‘It will not do any good,’ Mila called to her back, taking her other son from Albaus.

But Dulcia was no longer listening.

***

The small arena was located a few blocks from Ludus Matutinus. It was predominantly used for the execution of criminals, but Gallus Minidius sponsored various types of games, his wealth generated predominantly from the men who gambled on the fights.

Dulcia knew they were close when the smell hit her, a smell that would only get worse as the weather heated up. She covered her mouth as she followed Felix and Albaus towards the pit, stepping between men who shouted all kinds of profanities.

Beyond them she could hear the scrape and clash of wood and steel that was all too familiar to her. It was the sound of her youth, the sound of Mila and Nerva sparring while she hid away in the kitchen, humming to block out the noise.

‘Stay close,’ Felix called over his shoulder, looking far too at home.

She winced at the sound of someone hitting the ground. Cheers erupted around her as she slipped through the small gap to see who it was. She spotted Nero standing over his opponent, panting. His bare chest glistened with sweat, blood painting one arm. Blood. She held on to Albaus for a moment to steady herself.

Felix glanced at her. ‘Do not faint.’

‘I am fine,’ she shouted over the noise of the crowd. It was too late to stop Nero, so she had no choice but to watch instead.

Nero could not have possibly heard her, yet his head snapped in her direction, as though sensing her arrival. His grey eyes locked on hers, then widened slightly. The muscles in his jaw ticked, the way they did when he was angry. Taking advantage of the distraction, his opponent swung a leg out, taking Nero’s feet from under him. The crowd erupted as Nero landed on his back, the shield falling from his hand on impact. The other man was back on his feet in his next breath, towering over Nero, who failed to raise his sword in time. A shield came crashing down on his arm.

Dulcia knew it hurt him by the way his face contorted. He was holding in a scream. She turned her head, a hand instinctively going over her eyes.

A few moments passed. Slowly. She held her breath. Finally there was applause mixed with some disappointed grumbles, depending on which way the men had bet.

‘It is over,’ Felix said, patting her arm.

She lowered her hand and turned in time to watch Nero push himself up into a seated position. A drizzle of blood ran down his left eye, and he wiped it with his hand. As soon as people began to move, she went to him, crouching down, looking him over. She struggled to contain the panic. There was a small cut above his eye, and she instinctively reached for it, ignoring the dizziness that accompanied the action.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, pulling back from her hand.

She exhaled. ‘You are bleeding.’

He rested his arms on his knees, looking at her. ‘What are you doing here?’

Dulcia spotted Felix talking with Gallus Minidius, chatting away while Nero bled out on the dirt. ‘I was hoping to change your mind.’

He wiped at the blood again. ‘I was about to win.’

She swallowed. ‘Should you lie down for a bit?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Felix called, finally joining them. ‘He has embarrassed himself quite enough for one day. Up you get.’ He gave Nero’s leg a kick, and Dulcia turned to glare at him.

Men were exchanging coin around them, Nero seemingly invisible now that the fight was over. Gods, she hated the sport.

‘Let me help you up,’ Dulcia said.

He looked down at the hand she was offering, one corner of his mouth lifting. ‘You don’t actually think you could lift me, do you?’

She withdrew her arm and stood, watching as he sprang to his feet as though nothing had happened. He bent to collect the sword and shield, then straightened to face Felix. ‘You shouldn’t have brought her here.’

‘Who am I to stop a determined young woman?’

Nero touched his forehead and winced, then looked at Dulcia. ‘You hate this place. Why did you come?’

‘I already told you. We were hoping to talk some sense into you.’

A man walked over and dropped a few denarii into Felix’s extended hand. The dwarf counted the coins before pocketing them. When he looked up, everyone was staring at him.

‘You bet on the fight?’ Dulcia asked, unable to keep the disapproval from her tone.

Nero threw his hands up. ‘You bet against me?’

Felix shrugged. ‘I bet to win, not boost your ego.’

Dulcia cleared her throat. ‘I take back my earlier remark. It seems we had very different reasons for coming here.’ She saw a smile flicker on Nero’s face as she instinctively reached for the cut once more. ‘You might need stitches.’

Nero gently pushed her hand down ‘Let me clean up a bit. Then I’ll walk you home.’

‘I am quite capable of walking myself home.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll walk you.’

Nero gestured for her to start moving, but before she had a chance, Albaus arrived with a bag of Nero’s clothes. The others looked at each other, wondering where he had disappeared to that whole time. The man was the most social mute in Rome.

Dulcia found herself averting her gaze as Nero slipped his tunic on. It felt inappropriate to watch his muscles shift as he lifted his arms. She never used to notice, but his growing physique naturally drew the eye. Though as she looked around at the others, she realised it might just be her eye.

She stared down at her feet as he slipped on his sandals and belted his tunic. Once dressed, he stuffed his swords into the bag. Displaying them on the street would only invite trouble.

He turned to Felix. ‘I’ll meet you at the tavern.’

Felix clapped him on the back. ‘Always the gentleman.’

***

They strolled through the streets of Rome, Nero enjoying the slower pace that was typical of that time of day. Shopfronts were closing, their occupants standing outside, making dinner plans and exchanging gossip.

Dulcia walked beside Nero, her bare arm occasionally brushing his. He was still sweating after the fight, but she did not seem bothered by the state of him. She had even insisted on washing the cut above his eye, despite her aversion to blood.

His height and broad shoulders protected her from the harsh western sun. It was a long walk, and he could tell from her dry lips that she was thirsty. He found a juice cart near the forum, and they stood in the shade for a moment, watching people come and go.

‘Better?’ he asked, taking her empty cup.

‘Better.’

He handed the cups to the merchant and gestured for her to go ahead of him.

As they were leaving, a soldier came towards them, his gaze sweeping the full length of Dulcia as he approached.

‘Good day, Dulcia.’

Probably one of Nerva’s friends. Eyes up, Nero wanted to say.

‘Good day, Commander,’ she replied.

Her reply was so quiet that Nero doubted the commander had even heard her response. She had come a long way from the shy girl he had befriended upon his return to Rome, but she still had a tendency to shut down with most people.

Nero could not help a glance over his shoulder at the uniformed man, and found him turned, leering at Dulcia. When he realised he had been caught staring, he faced forwards.

‘Friend of yours?’ Nero asked, keeping his tone casual.

‘Third legion.’ She looked up at him. ‘Why do you ask?’

He shook his head. ‘No reason.’

Three years he had been back in the city, and he found himself growing more protective of her with each passing day. Of course, their friendship had been inevitable. Aside from the easy company they provided one another, they were practically family. Mila was like a sister to him, so it was only natural that he should form a strong bond with her younger sibling.

‘You are very quiet this afternoon.’ Her arm brushed his once more as she moved closer to talk. ‘Are you mad that I ruined your fight?’

He touched a hand to her back, guiding her around a group of old men stopped in the middle of the street. ‘I’m not mad. Though I could’ve done with the coin.’

‘Is Nerva not paying you?’

Her sarcasm was always delivered with such sweetness that most people missed it. Not him. ‘He’s paying me.’

She shook her head.

‘What?’

‘Men.’

‘Men?’

She stepped around a puddle of water, bumping him lightly. ‘You are always chasing more. Why not be happy with what you have?’

‘Because more is better, and every sensible man knows you should have a second source of income, a backup plan.’

She brushed hair from her eye. ‘It is called family. That is your backup plan.’

‘Rely on others’ generosity? That’s your advice?’ He checked behind them, then the windows above.

‘Stop,’ she said.

‘Stop what?’

‘Waiting for the sky to fall on us.’ She nudged him. ‘Enjoy the walk instead of preparing for certain death.’

She was right. He was waiting for the heavens to come down on them. It was a habit formed in his early years when he lived on the streets, when the only name he went by was Rat. There was always someone coming for him in those days—usually because he had stolen something.

They reached the bottom of the hill that led to the Papias house. Dulcia lived there with her mother and her father’s legitimate family. The two sisters were the worst-kept secret in Rome. Even the lady of the house, Aquila Papias, had given up trying to deny their blood relation. Rufus’s ongoing affair with Dulcia’s mother was the second worst-kept secret in Rome.

The pair climbed the hill in silence, stopping a few doors down. He turned to look at her properly. She was staring at the bloodstain on his tunic. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he forced her gaze up.

‘If you faint, I’ll have to leave you on the doorstep, because they won’t let me inside.’

Her eyes creased at the corners. ‘I had better not give them another reason to be rid of me.’

His hand fell away. ‘What do you mean another reason?’

She focused on the blood spot once more, twisting the bronze band on her middle finger, the one he had won in a fight two years earlier and gifted her.

‘I heard Aquila telling my mother it was time I married.’

His eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Aquila wishes you married?’

‘She wishes me out of the house. Marriage solves that problem, I suppose.’ She pressed her lips together before continuing. ‘There is no reason for me to remain unmarried. Even Licinia has pointed out the fact a number of times.’

He rested his free hand on his hip to stop it from balling into a fist. In his other was her basket. ‘You’re taking marriage advice from a priestess?’

‘She serves Vesta. What better person is there to take advice from?’

He shrugged, his gaze sweeping the street once more. ‘A person who knows you.’

She laughed, putting all her brilliant teeth on display. ‘Like you?’ A hand went to her stomach. ‘Why did I not think of that?’

‘My advice—’

‘Do tell.’

‘Is wait. There’s no rush.’

She let out a noisy breath. ‘I cannot share a room with my mother forever.’ Her eyes searched his, still light from laughter.

‘You also can’t marry the first man who asks.’

She tilted her head. ‘But he will not be the first.’ The light vanished. ‘He will be the third.’

His hand slipped from his hip as he stared at her, waiting for her to tell him she was joking. ‘The third?’ Another long pause. ‘Why have you never mentioned this before?’

She looked away. ‘You want to hear about a man I am not going to marry?’

‘Two men.’

‘Both of whom I am not going to marry.’ There was a hint of exasperation in her tone.

He felt something that could only be jealousy based on how hard it hit his gut. ‘So… you just told them no?’

‘Rufus told them no.’ She was watching his face carefully. ‘The decision is his.’

‘Thank the gods he saw sense.’

‘He seems to think I can do better.’

‘He’s right.’

There was amusement in her eyes. ‘You never even met them.’

‘And yet I already know you can do better.’ He searched the streets again. What in heaven’s name was he looking for? Potential suitors preparing to leap out and ask for Dulcia’s hand, perhaps.

He took a step back from her and ran a finger down his nose. ‘You should go inside.’

She nodded but did not move. ‘Thank you for walking me home.’

He met her gaze once more. ‘I don’t have a choice. You’re easy prey.’

There was that hint of a smile again. She closed the distance between them, her hand going to his forehead and her brow creasing with worry. Gentle fingers brushed either side of the wound. He did not push her away that time.

‘It’s just a scratch,’ he reassured her. He was waiting for her to turn and rush up the steps, like she always did.

She took the basket from him. ‘Will you be at the Trigarium tomorrow? I could visit there after I pray.’

He looked past her to the house. ‘By yourself?’

She suppressed another smile. ‘Yes, as is my right as a freed person.’

He shook his head, realising he was not going to win that argument. His first instinct was to say no, because the charioteers and grooms had a tendency to look at her like she was a prime cut of pork. But she enjoyed seeing the horses, and if he said no, he would not see her at all. ‘We can go down to the river when I’m done.’

The light returned to her eyes. ‘We are too old to climb trees.’

‘That’s something an old married woman would say.’

She could not stop the smile that time. ‘I trust you will behave yourself tonight. No fighting.’

‘No time. A quick drink at the tavern, and then it’s home to work on my poetry.’

Her gaze fell to his grin, then away. His dislike of poetry, and her love of it, was a constant source of amusement between them.

‘Good day, Nero.’

He watched her leave, the basket swinging in her hand. ‘Good day.’