Page 4

L ucretia muttered a curse as she gazed down at the two letters that had come for her.

She was in her study at home, where she sometimes attended to matters in the morning before heading to her office in the Square of the Guilds.

Since the room opened onto the sunlit atrium, her study at home had better light than her office, though it too was packed with boxes of records and correspondence.

Felix had been busy in the few days since she had refused his proposal. One of her investors now requested to liquidate his shares, and another had informed her he was selling his holdings in her business to another individual.

She had no doubt about who that other individual might be.

Felix was trying to pick off her investors one by one, either buying their shares outright or convincing them to liquidate. Luckily, these two held only minor stakes, so it wouldn’t cause an immediate problem. But if it continued, things became far less certain.

Her fists clenched at his audacity. He was trying to destabilize her, to steal her business out from beneath her very feet.

She needed to get ahead of him.

Her largest investor, a friend of her husband’s named Publius Calpurnius Lentulus, held nearly a one-third stake in her business. If Felix got to Lentulus, that would create serious problems. She needed to make sure that didn’t happen.

Lucretia donned a palla to cover her hair, then made her way into the streets.

She walked the few blocks to Lentulus’s house, where she was swiftly admitted into the atrium.

Helvetia, Lentulus’s wife, collected antique pottery and proudly displayed her most ostentatious pieces on plinths around the atrium.

As Lucretia waited, she surveyed the closest one, a large water jug featuring a trio of libidinous satyrs.

Helvetia greeted her a few moments later. “Lucretia! How lovely to see you.” Helvetia kissed her on both cheeks. She was a kind woman about ten years older than Lucretia’s thirty-four years, with warm brown eyes and the beginnings of smile lines around her mouth.

Lucretia returned the greeting. “I hoped I might find Lentulus at home?”

“He is.” Helvetia raised her voice to a pitch that made Lucretia wince. “Husband!”

The man poked his head out from the doorway to his study, a room off the atrium.

“What is it? Oh, Lucretia.” He emerged fully, joining them in the atrium.

Lentulus was about fifty, a few years older than Cornelius had been, and his dark hair was now streaked with gray.

He bent to kiss Lucretia’s cheek. “Were we expecting you?”

“No,” Lucretia said. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I merely had a quick business matter to discuss.”

Helvetia bowed her head with a smile. “Sounds extremely dull, so I will leave you to it.” She left the atrium.

Lentulus conducted her to his study, where Lucretia sat opposite his desk.

“How is young Marcus these days?” Lentulus asked. “Is his Greek improving? I could recommend a good tutor.”

Lucretia summoned a relaxed smile. “He is applying himself to his studies with diligence.” Lentulus didn’t need to know about Marcus’s current unsavory habits.

“Good, good. Now, what can I do for you?”

Lucretia leaned forward. “We’ve spoken of Lucius Avitus Felix before—his efforts to consolidate trade in Ostia under his own influence.”

Lentulus nodded. “He was forever a pebble in Cornelius’s sandal.”

“Lately, he has taken a more…specific interest in my holdings,” Lucretia continued. “I’ve been made aware that he is approaching my shareholders, trying to convince them either to sell their shares to him, or liquidate them entirely.”

“Ah.” Lentulus’s brows drew together. “I see how that would be concerning.”

“So far, he has only managed to sway two of my smallest investors. Which brings me to the reason for my visit today. I have to assume he will soon approach you.” She met Lentulus’s steady gaze.

“I hope you know how much I value both our friendship and our partnership. You were Cornelius’s closest friend, and I’ve been honored that you’ve transferred your trust in him to me. I hope, that if Felix should—”

Lentulus waved a hand, cutting her off. “I’m sorry you’ve taken the trouble for a visit, Lucretia.”

Lucretia took a breath, worry pooling in her stomach. Had she misjudged Lentulus? Was it possible that Felix had already gotten to him? Was he going to pull his support and leave her scrambling?

“There’s no need for this,” Lentulus continued.

“If and when Lucius Avitus Felix approaches me, he will know in no uncertain terms that my loyalty remains with you. Even if I had never known Cornelius, and even if I didn’t hold you in such great esteem, I understand that giving one enterprise sole control over commerce in Ostia can only have disastrous effects. ”

Lucretia released her breath in a relieved sigh. “Thank you. Your support is much appreciated.” She could now reassure her other investors that Lentulus would stand by her, and no doubt that would help bolster their confidence in her.

Lentulus pushed back from his desk and stood. “Now, may I convince you to stay for a bite to eat? Helvetia will insist.”

Lucretia smiled and rose to her feet, feeling lighter than she had in days. “Of course.” Now, she only had to worry about what Felix would try next.

Felix left his office with a bounce in his step.

The sun was shining, he’d just eaten a delicious lunch of flatbread stuffed with cheese and olives, and he was on his way to meet with Lucretia’s largest investor.

Swaying Publius Calpurnius Lentulus could be the crack in Lucretia’s foundation that would send her enterprise crashing to the ground.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the portico that surrounded the Square of the Guilds, and Felix stopped short.

He frowned. “Marcus?”

Lucretia’s son ambled up to him. “You said your name was Lucius Avitus Felix, right?” It had been a few days since the fighting incident, and the minor scrapes and bruises the boy sustained seemed to be gone.

Felix nodded, still frowning. “How long have you been waiting outside?”

Marcus deftly ignored the question. “I hear you box a lot at the gymnasium. You’re supposed to be pretty good.”

Felix liked to think he was more than “pretty good,” but he didn’t need to court the admiration of a fourteen year old. “What’s this about?”

“I want you to teach me,” Marcus declared.

“No,” Felix said immediately. Despite his refusal, a stab of sympathy panged him.

Usually, a boy’s father or brother would teach him how to fight.

Felix’s ex-army stepfather, Maximus, had undertaken that duty, as Felix’s father died when he was only nine.

But Marcus had neither father, brother, nor stepfather to teach him.

Regardless, it wasn’t Felix’s place to educate the boy. Especially given that Marcus was the son of the woman whose business Felix was trying to dismantle.

Felix started walking down the street, hoping Marcus would take the hint and run off.

But Marcus followed, jogging every few steps to keep pace with Felix’s longer, brisk stride. “Why not?” A slight whine entered his voice.

“Because if you’re regularly getting beaten up in three-on-one fights, knowing how to box isn’t going to help you. Boxing is inherently a fair fight, relatively speaking. You’d be better off training your legs so you can outrun them. Do some laps at the running track.”

Marcus glowered at him as Felix made a sharp turn onto another street. “Is that what you did? Run away?”

Felix now regretted admitting to Marcus that he had once been the prey of bullies.

“No, my mother hired a private tutor.” He increased his pace, but Marcus kept up.

“I’m surprised your mother hasn’t done the same.

” Lucretia had never struck him as a neglectful parent, not that he had much occasion to think of her as a mother instead of a business rival or object of his unwilling desire.

“Can’t tell her,” Marcus said. “So you didn’t learn to fight in school? Were you in the army?”

“No.” Growing up, Felix wanted to follow in his late father’s footsteps and become a statesman, which would have required at least ten years of military service.

But at the age of seventeen, his mother finally told him the truth about his father’s death: he’d been poisoned while governing one of the Gallic provinces, rather than dying of an illness as Felix had believed until then.

This revelation had thrown his plans into disarray. Suddenly, his dreams of becoming a praetor or governor or consul seemed pointless. Why serve the same system that had murdered his father?

So he’d turned to trade instead, investing in ship financing before slowly building his own fleet.

He wasn’t satisfied to be a simple merchant.

Felix had spent his whole childhood and adolescence dreaming of greatness, of honoring his father’s legacy, so if he was going to pursue something, he’d be the best at it.

He’d still attain greatness, still honor his father, just in a different way than he’d originally planned.

One day, he could hold the entire Roman economy in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t need to be a consul or governor or even a princeps like Caesar Augustus to do it.

Felix fixed Marcus with a stern look. “And I didn’t learn to fight .

Boxing is an art. It’s as different from a brawl in the streets as wine is from vinegar.

Why were those boys attacking you, anyway?

” Given how annoying Marcus was being at this very moment, it was distinctly possible he’d deserved the beating.

“We made a bet on the races,” Marcus said.

“I won—of course—and they wouldn’t give me my winnings.

They said I must have cheated, which is stupid, and I told them that any idiot would have known better than to bet on the Blues for that race, as they’ve got a new driver who hasn’t learned the horses yet. That was when the punching started.”

“I see.” Felix had found himself in similar situations as a boy—always wanting to be right , to demonstrate his intelligence and superiority even when it got him thrashed.

Marcus jogged a few steps and planted himself in front of Felix, blocking his path. For a moment, the expression of unyielding stubbornness on the boy’s face looked very like his mother—though Lucretia carried herself with a dignity that her son lacked. “I still want to learn.”

Felix attempted to sidestep him, but Marcus matched the movement. Felix glared at him. “Get out of my way.”

“Or what? You’ll punch me?” Marcus put up his fists in such an amateurish manner that Felix almost groaned. It was no wonder the boy had become an easy target for bullies.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to give Marcus a few pointers. Just so he wouldn’t get himself killed in his next scuffle. Felix swept out a hand to push Marcus’s elbow down. “Someone can break your ribs if you keep your elbows up like that. And don’t put your thumbs inside your fists.”

Marcus adjusted his fists. He threw a wobbly punch and almost fell over.

Felix caught him by the shoulder. “Your feet are as important as your fists.” He demonstrated a typical boxing stance with his right foot a step behind, knees slightly bent.

Marcus copied it. Felix gave him a light push to the shoulder, and the boy toppled, catching himself on his hands and knees.

“Practice that until someone can shove you without you falling over,” Felix said. “Then you can come back. Now, I have a meeting.”

“I’ll practice!” Marcus shouted after him as Felix stepped swiftly around him. “I’ll be back!”