“You know it will be dangerous now that Eridus is out of mourning,” she reminded him breathlessly, her cheeks flushed. “Though I wish for nothing more.”
“Well, then I will just have to make sure our dear master is thoroughly drunk tonight,” Davius decided, grinning.
Gaia laughed. “Lucky for you, that will not be too hard a feat to accomplish.”
The back door suddenly burst open, revealing the bulky shape of Eridus behind it. They decoupled just in time.
“So, Gaia has informed you of our plans?” Eridus asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “Come, you will need fresh sandals and a tunic that actually fits.” He put an arm around his shoulders, leading him away.
Gaia waved delicate fingers at him before turning back to the main residence.
In a whirlwind, he was dressed and prepared for the expedition. They mounted two of Eridus’s best horses, a pair of majestic Arabians Davius had grown fond of over the years. Behind them trotted a collection of Eridus’s personal guards, only a few of whom Davius knew by name. An excited apprehension gripped him as the city edged closer into view, the steady hum of faraway voices elevating in volume as they approached.
Rome was overwhelmingly crowded for the afternoon hour, the revered event causing many to brave the scorching temperatures of the midday sun. Citizens were dressed sparingly, carrying water in utres strapped to their waists. Eridus led them through the throng of bodies and slave drawn litters, several patricians nodding to him respectfully while the plebeians merely stared. The winemaker had wasted no effort in his appearance, the copious number of jewels adorning his attire dripping pomposity. For a moment, Davius considered what it would be like to be wealthy and respected, his thoughts drifting to the purse of gold coins that was nestled under his sleeping cot. He doubted the reality of such a prospect, but soon enough, at least he would be free.
Their entourage reached the grandiose Circus Maximus, which swarmed with spectators like ants on the hive. They clustered the entrance and lined the front booths, where citizens placed bets on the chariot they were sure would win. Children ran about in hats made from cheap bronze, fashioned to imitate the elaborate headdresses worn by the charioteers. They laughed as they chased after each other, darting around the legs of their conversing parents. Eridus led them to the stables where a man helped them dismount before taking their reins. Eridus exchanged a few words with him, placing a hefty coin purse in his hand. The man nodded gratefully, and called for their horses to be well cared for.
Eridus leaned in towards Davius. “He best honor his word. It would be an insult to both me and their caretaker.”
Davius beamed in spite of himself as Eridus gestured him inside the arena.
The Circus was shaped like a giant horseshoe, the best seats in the arena closest to the end of each spina, or row, where each of the four chariots grabbed their markers before doubling back towards the starting line. Eridus wove through the crowd towards them, assured their seats were reserved.
“Eridus!” a man called as they found their places.
“Marcus! How good to see you!” The men embraced. “Davius, this is Marcus Barraceus Similus. He is part of the Senate, and a dear friend of mine. We were educated by the same tutor long ago.”
Davius bowed his head respectfully.
“This is Davius, one of my best and most trusted slaves,” Eridus explained to his friend.
The man was short, with brown eyes and hair frosted by gray. He was neatly groomed, his hair tightly clipped to his head and a clean pressed toga decorated in the colors of his charioteer. “Good to meet you. Where is Gaia on this fine day?”
“Oh, she detests these sorts of things. She is currently playing steward to the winery in my absence. Have you heard the news?” He turned away from Davius, as the two men engaged in private conversation.
Davius sat down on the stone benches, taking in his surroundings. He watched the event hosts below rush back and forth, barking orders as they paused only to wipe the sweat from their frantic faces. A few slaves swept away any rogue sand out of the spinas, which were each lavishly ornamented with sculptures, water basins, and fountains, all decorated in the color of their team. Their flags rippled in the arid wind, like a sea made of red, white, blue, and green.
He suddenly thought of Gaia, smiling at the memory of their encounter. He imagined convincing her to join him at the races, sitting together on one of the upper benches as they wrangled their brood of strawberry blonde children, all waving their flags in excitement.
A bellowing voice pulled him from his daydream. His eyes scanned the crowd until he found the owner, a man seated several rows back with wiry hair and a large, crooked nose that did little to distract from his prognathous jaw. He was shouting at the woman seated next to him, whose fine dress did little to mask her malnourishment and exhaustion. Her mournful eyes were cast downwards as she nodded, rising weakly to her feet before heading towards the refreshment tent. A giggling young girl with a mess of curly brown hair was seated at his other side, oblivious to the plight of the slave girl. The man turned his attention towards her to share in the laughter, his open admiration revealing the girl was his child. Although the scene before him projected a tender moment between father and daughter, the icy edge to their snickering sent a chill along his skin.
“That is Nirus Octarius,” Eridus informed him, appearing from behind. He seated himself next to Davius, handing him the metal cup of chilled wine he had been served as he spoke to his friend. Davius sipped it, gratefully. “He was once an integral part of Caesar's army, one of the greatest but bloodiest war heroes of all time. Caesar kept him nearby during every battle.”
Once more, Davius felt ill at the mention of Caesar’s name. He understood the nature of conquest and was aware of the tendency for betrayal between Celtic clans, especially for those hungry for political advancement, but he would never be comfortable with Caesar's growing power. Yet he made sure his face showed no change in emotion. “He seems upset,” he commented neutrally, referring to the war general.
Eridus nodded with an air of indifference. “He only bore one child through a slave woman, a daughter, who he kept and spoiled. He banished the mistress when he realized she would bear him no sons. He tries with a new mistress every so often, but has never again bore a child. It is rumored that he abuses his slave girls, but I am no gossip,” he sniffed. “I have sold him wayward slaves of mine in the past and he does not harm them. He is simply strict where I am not.”
Davius tried not to appear troubled by his words, reminded of the reality of his position. Eridus might have been kinder than most, but he was still a slave owner, Davius just a slave. He had power over them, regardless of their peaceable interactions.
“Ah, the games are about to begin.”
Davius shifted his attention back towards the arena as the chariots were released into their starting boxes. The crowd roared with excitement, waving their colored flags wildly against the pale blue sky. The charioteers took off, steering their horses with careful precision, lest they tip over to their deaths. Davius fed off the energy of the spectators, finding himself cheering for the sportsman he had no real preference for prior. He was drawn towards the red team, watching as they spun like tornados of gold, gaining speed. After a few close calls, they flew past the finish line, nearly colliding into the crowd as they pummeled back into its starting box. The Circus erupted in a swarm of crimson.
The crowd settled as the intermission began. Davius noticed Julius Caesar sitting several rows below him, surrounded by members of the Senate. Eridus did as well. “If you will excuse me, boy, I am going to take this opportunity to talk with some members of the Senate. Caesar himself has requested several barrels of our wine—and doing business with him means I can easily work my way up to a seat in the Senate. Between that and my marriage to Gaia, I cannot believe what good fortune is descending upon our household.”
Davius felt the blood drain from his face. “Your marriage to whom?”
Eridus blinked, then laughed, clapping him on the back. “How could I have forgotten? I suppose in the excitement I forgot—but on this very evening, upon the moment of our return, I will be asking for Gaia’s hand in marriage. She has been a loyal slave of mine for many years and she can run the household like no other. I trust her completely, and it is high time I increase her status in Roman society.”
Davius couldn’t speak, the clamor around him starting to spin at a nauseating tempo. Sweat beaded his forehead as he fought the urge to faint.
“Are you well, boy?” Eridus squinted at him, perplexed. “The sun is quite harsh today. I would imagine even more so for those with non-Roman pallor. Perhaps you should visit the refreshment tent while I speak with the Senators?”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir...” Davius managed, fighting his way out of the spectators’ seats as black spots threatened his vision.
He barely made it to the refreshment area before he retched, drawing several disgusted glances but thankfully no further attention. He spat, his chest struggling for enough breath to calm his growing hysteria.
His Gaia, his wife.
What was he going to do?
The brisk evening air proved inadequate to comfort him as he maneuvered through the darkened streets of Rome. He was grateful to be released from Eridus’s company, the slave owner sending him home with one of his guards, assuming he suffered from heat stroke.
He hadn’t looked for Gaia, quietly gathering his things before escaping out his bedroom window and heading towards Lucius’s home. His stomach was still sick with sorrow, his mind a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. He knew the meager earnings amassed from Lucius would not be enough to purchase their freedom, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Gaia dressed in bridal robes, her bare feet crushing the customary rose petals as she walked down the temple aisle to meet Eridus at the altar. Although he knew the man couldn’t consummate the marriage traditionally, nausea churned in his stomach when he envisioned Eridus’s meaty hands lovingly caressing her skin, his alcohol ripened mouth grazing lips that had been forcibly pledged to him.
He tried to rid himself of the loathsome images, sullenly entering Lucius’s home. His friend didn’t notice his temperament, greeting him with a joyous grin. “Davius, welcome! Your feast awaits.” He was wrapped in dark, ornate robes, trimmed with delicate patterns of gold that matched his eyes. The tiny flickers of candlelight revealed they were an aubergine shade so deep they appeared black. His equally dark hair blanketed his shoulders in thick curls, his aurous eyes gleaming with anticipation.
