to.”
“Are you going to speak to your father?”
Seeing his darkening expression, she realized she shouldn’t have spoken.
“What I do is of no concern of yours,” he told her coldly. “I’m leaving Sentinel with you. See that he is fed.”
“Yes, Tribune.”
Cassius saw the pain flash through her eyes and knew that he had hurt her. His own distress had caused him to lash out in anger, and though remorseful, he really didn’t know what to say. Besides, she was a servant and nothing more. Why should he even care what she thought?
“And by the way,” he told her roughly. “The title is now Commander.”
“Yes, Commander.”
He barely heard her softly spoken answer. Shrugging off the feeling that he should somehow remedy her unhappiness, he turned on his heel and left.
❧
Cassius watched the full moon rise above the eternal city. Sitting on a hill not far from the Tiber River, he knew the golden globe would be reflected on its glistening surface. He was smart enough to sit upwind, for the Tiber reeked of the city’s waste that was piped from Rome’s homes.
A cool breeze wafted gently on the night air, lifting Cassius’s dark curls from his forehead. He tensed at the sound of someone approaching.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Trajan’s voice came to him from the darkness, followed by the man himself. Cassius said nothing.
“Do you mind if I have a seat?”
Without looking at the other man, Cassius told him, “As you wish.”
Undaunted by the lack of welcome, Trajan seated himself next to Cassius. Taking a blade of grass, he began to chew it.
“I remember how often you used to come here to think.”
Cassius remained silent.
Sighing impatiently, Trajan dropped the blade of grass. “Has it ever occurred to you, Cassius, that this might be just as big a shock for me as for you?”
Acknowledging that to be so, Cassius relaxed slightly. He asked the question that plagued him the most.
“Did you love my mother?”
Trajan took so long to answer, Cassius turned to him with lifted brow. The older man shrugged.
“I thought so,” he answered quietly.
“You thought so?” Though Cassius hadn’t raised his voice, Trajan flinched at the angry retort.
“I was very young when I met your mother, and full of life and Roman pride. She was very beautiful.” He paused. “But then I found out that she was the wife of General Florian.”
“And you were what? A captain?”
He nodded. “Needless to say, when I found out that Callista was the wife of my superior officer, I left.”
“Would you have done so if you had known about me?”
“I don’t know.” Trajan’s voice was ragged. “I keep asking myself the same thing.”
“You have never struck me as a coward,” Cassius disputed.
“There are differing degrees of cowardice, Cassius,” Trajan disagreed. “I’m not certain what I might have done.”
Cassius remained silent, his questions unasked. Suddenly, he was afraid to know the answers. Indeed, as Trajan had said, there were different degrees of cowardice. He had never considered himself to be afraid of anything, but now. . .
“Where do we go from here?” he asked the older man.
Trajan turned to him, his look direct and unyielding. “Where do you want to go from here?”
Cassius couldn’t hold his gaze. He looked back to the rippling surface of the Tiber reflected by the moon’s bright light.
“I don’t know. To me, Anticus is my father, and always will be.”
“That’s understandable. Perhaps we could go on as we have been.” His voice grew soft. “I have always loved you, Cassius.”
Love. The mere word left Cassius feeling cold. “As you loved my mother?”
Trajan smiled slightly, wrapping both muscular arms around his pulled-up legs. “ ‘If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have
“Are you going to speak to your father?”
Seeing his darkening expression, she realized she shouldn’t have spoken.
“What I do is of no concern of yours,” he told her coldly. “I’m leaving Sentinel with you. See that he is fed.”
“Yes, Tribune.”
Cassius saw the pain flash through her eyes and knew that he had hurt her. His own distress had caused him to lash out in anger, and though remorseful, he really didn’t know what to say. Besides, she was a servant and nothing more. Why should he even care what she thought?
“And by the way,” he told her roughly. “The title is now Commander.”
“Yes, Commander.”
He barely heard her softly spoken answer. Shrugging off the feeling that he should somehow remedy her unhappiness, he turned on his heel and left.
❧
Cassius watched the full moon rise above the eternal city. Sitting on a hill not far from the Tiber River, he knew the golden globe would be reflected on its glistening surface. He was smart enough to sit upwind, for the Tiber reeked of the city’s waste that was piped from Rome’s homes.
A cool breeze wafted gently on the night air, lifting Cassius’s dark curls from his forehead. He tensed at the sound of someone approaching.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Trajan’s voice came to him from the darkness, followed by the man himself. Cassius said nothing.
“Do you mind if I have a seat?”
Without looking at the other man, Cassius told him, “As you wish.”
Undaunted by the lack of welcome, Trajan seated himself next to Cassius. Taking a blade of grass, he began to chew it.
“I remember how often you used to come here to think.”
Cassius remained silent.
Sighing impatiently, Trajan dropped the blade of grass. “Has it ever occurred to you, Cassius, that this might be just as big a shock for me as for you?”
Acknowledging that to be so, Cassius relaxed slightly. He asked the question that plagued him the most.
“Did you love my mother?”
Trajan took so long to answer, Cassius turned to him with lifted brow. The older man shrugged.
“I thought so,” he answered quietly.
“You thought so?” Though Cassius hadn’t raised his voice, Trajan flinched at the angry retort.
“I was very young when I met your mother, and full of life and Roman pride. She was very beautiful.” He paused. “But then I found out that she was the wife of General Florian.”
“And you were what? A captain?”
He nodded. “Needless to say, when I found out that Callista was the wife of my superior officer, I left.”
“Would you have done so if you had known about me?”
“I don’t know.” Trajan’s voice was ragged. “I keep asking myself the same thing.”
“You have never struck me as a coward,” Cassius disputed.
“There are differing degrees of cowardice, Cassius,” Trajan disagreed. “I’m not certain what I might have done.”
Cassius remained silent, his questions unasked. Suddenly, he was afraid to know the answers. Indeed, as Trajan had said, there were different degrees of cowardice. He had never considered himself to be afraid of anything, but now. . .
“Where do we go from here?” he asked the older man.
Trajan turned to him, his look direct and unyielding. “Where do you want to go from here?”
Cassius couldn’t hold his gaze. He looked back to the rippling surface of the Tiber reflected by the moon’s bright light.
“I don’t know. To me, Anticus is my father, and always will be.”
“That’s understandable. Perhaps we could go on as we have been.” His voice grew soft. “I have always loved you, Cassius.”
Love. The mere word left Cassius feeling cold. “As you loved my mother?”
Trajan smiled slightly, wrapping both muscular arms around his pulled-up legs. “ ‘If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have
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