LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Four

      The dogs signaled his arrival at his home. He heard them start their clamor when he was at the front of the villa.

      His mother cleverly drugged the dogs on the nights he planned to bring home an exposed baby.

      But at all other times, the dogs were loud and seemingly aggressive, though not really. They barked but then almost broke their backs wagging their tails and licking whoever walked through the front entrance.

      Marcus looked over the tiled rectangular pool with its myriad fountains straight through to the tablinium, his father’s formal office and reception room. Framed on either side by marble columns, the peristyle garden formed its background. The impressive office was built by his grandfather during the reign of Augustus and was the place where clients came to speak with his father each morning.

      Some came to borrow money, others came to lend, and some simply came to socialize. They sat in the long marble benches on either side of the impluvium, often lulled to sleep by the tinkling of the water as it trickled from the roof and flowed through the many fountains.

      Marcus strode over the blue-and-white floor mosaic tiles and straight in to see his father.

      “Ah, Marcus,” his father said, beaming when he saw him, rising from his massive ebony desk with its mother-of-pearl inlays and coming forward to embrace his son. “I will be glad when you can allow yourself to fully retire from the service,” he said.

      “I would hardly consider being the head guard of the night watchmen service,” Marcus said.

      “But you chose this profession,” his father responded.

      “If there is ever anything I can help you with here...” Marcus started to say.

      But his father held his hand up to stop his words. “No, no, my son. All of this I have under control. You choose your own life. Do not feel burdened by the obligations here. As of yet, there are none. I am hale and hearty and easily manage.”

      And it was true. His father, Petronius Sergius, at fifty-seven years, managed very well on his own. His hair was white, but his body was in perfect shape. He exercised daily at the baths and was proud of his physique.

      “Here,” his father said, “sit.” He pointed to one of the folding stools, and Marcus unfolded it and placed it in front of his father’s massive desk.

      He sat and enjoyed the view of the brightly colored painting on the wall beside his father. The painting reached across the entire wall and featured a woman playing a lyre with her little boy looking over her shoulder.

      “Your mother would like to have you home more, but I say build your own life. Any word of the new position?”

      “I’ve heard nothing yet,” Marcus answered. “I’m starting to ask for favors from a few men who I think might be able to put in a good word with the emperor.”

      “Be wary of those from whom you ask help,” his father said. “Remember, you will be in their debt.”

      Marcus studied his father. Had word traveled back so quickly, then?

      “I’ve enlisted the help of one Galerius Janius.”

      “I’ve heard of the man,” his father said. “Cousin to the emperor through his new wife. Divorced his first wife on charges of adultery. What did he ask of you in return?”

      Marcus looked down. How could he tell his father the truth? What had sounded like an easy deal at the time now seemed somehow corrupt.

      “He asked that I take the baby born to his first wife to be exposed.”

      His father tried to mask his shock. “And you agreed?” he asked, gripping the sides of his desk.

      “I brought her here. It seemed harmless,” Marcus said. “If I exposed the baby, I knew the baby would live. If someone else did it, the baby would die.” He felt the blood rise to his face.

      “And indeed, in a sense, it was harmless. But do you understand that your harmless idea may have endangered every woman and child in this house? Do you understand that a man like Galerius Janius trusts no one, as he himself is not trustworthy?”

      “I’m sorry, Father. I had not considered the risk,” Marcus said. How could he have been so thoughtless?

      “Were you followed?”

      “No, not home,” he said. Had he been followed? He was certain he had not. Possibly to Gamus’s shop, but nowhere else.

      “You are an experienced soldier. I trust that you know when you are being followed. I trust you to protect this house.”

      “Yes, Father. I am sorry,” Marcus said.

      “We will hope that there will be no repercussions on this particular escapade,” his father said. “We will speak of it no more.”

      “Thank you, Father.” His

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