Page 35 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)
Ten years later
O n the steps of the temple of Jupiter, Crispina stood with Max and Gaia on either side of her. A huge crowd gathered at their back. In front of them, Aelius stood beneath the temple portico with a group of priests, his co-consul beside him. An acolyte grasped the lead of a brilliant white ox, its horns gilded and its neck wreathed in flowers.
Crispina could hardly believe this day had arrived. Ten years had passed since the tribune election, and now Aelius had achieved his ultimate dream: becoming Rome’s first freedman consul.
His co-consul was none other than Rufus. They had been rivals in nearly every election over the past decade, but had learned to work as allies during their terms. Now, they would serve in Rome’s highest position together for a year, each with the power to veto the other. A freedman and a baker’s son, effectively ruling the Republic. The patricians might take back power next year, but until then, Rome was in the hands of plebeians.
Like Rufus, Aelius wore the consular toga of white striped with rich purple, a mark of his new status. Rufus’s arms gleamed with his usual array of gold bracelets and rings, but Aelius’s arms were both bare. That morning, he had taken off the silver wristband that covered his brand. “I have nothing to hide anymore,” he’d said, and tossed the wristband into a chest, locking it away.
As she watched him, standing tall and proud before the city, pride swelled and fluttered in her chest like a baby bird breaking out of its shell. Once, his freedman status had been a bane, a shadow that would never stop following him. But since becoming tribune, he’d used his newfound prominence to benefit all freedmen and women. He’d created a network of former slaves who met for dinner once a month, building alliances and supporting each other. Their household purchased flour only from freedman-owned mills, and Crispina wore jewelry crafted by freedmen artisans. As Aelius’s power grew with each successive election he won, he hired freedmen to work in his offices as clerks and scribes.
She glanced over at Gaia, whose eyes shone with tears as she watched the priests prepare the sacrifice to bless Aelius’s term. Crispina clasped her hand. “He did it,” she murmured.
Gaia nodded, speechless.
Crispina looked to her other side, where Max stood. He’d grown into a gangly seventeen-year-old who now loomed over her. His attention was not rapt on the ceremony, but instead he grinned foolishly at a pretty young woman on the other side of the steps, standing next to Rufus’s wife. The young woman acknowledged him with a shy smile, then returned her attention to the proceedings.
Crispina elbowed him. “Pay attention,” she hissed. “And stop mooning over Rufus’s stepdaughter.” The young woman was beautiful, with rosy skin and hair the color of dark honey. Rufus had married the girl’s mother, a widow, shortly after the tribunal election. His wife seemed to have a good influence on him, as he’d later apologized to Crispina for the way he’d treated her. But he still regarded Max with nothing but disdain, and Crispina knew he’d never let Max within an arm’s length of his precious stepdaughter.
Max let out a sullen sigh, but directed his gaze back to the ceremony. Crispina allowed her gaze to rest on him for a moment longer. He had grown into a fine young man. True, his Greek was atrocious, he hadn’t abandoned his penchant for foul language, and he was prone to sneaking out of the house at night to gamble and carouse with his friends, but he’d avoided getting into any real trouble. Max was good-hearted and gregarious, and he had a knack for horsemanship. He planned to join a cavalry unit in the army next year, once Aelius’s term was finished. It pained Crispina to think of Max leaving, but military discipline would benefit him, and he’d bring honor upon himself. Maybe one day he’d command a legion.
The crowd quieted as Aelius and Rufus stepped forward. The priest raised his hands to the sky and intoned a chant to Jupiter, asking for divine blessing on the new consuls. Then, in a clear, strong voice, Aelius spoke the oath of consular office, swearing to protect Rome from foreign enemies and allow no man to become king. Rufus did the same.
Another invocation followed. Aelius and Rufus bowed their heads as the priest produced a shining knife. In a quick, clean strike, the priest flashed the knife across the throat of the ox. It bellowed and sank to its knees, blood gushing into a deep bowl held by the acolyte.
The crowd roared. Aelius and Rufus clasped arms formally. They might never be the best of friends, but at least they were no longer brawling in the Forum.
Men stationed on the tops of the neighboring buildings let fall a cascade of red and white petals which shimmered in the air before blanketing everyone’s heads and shoulders. Crispina plucked several out of her hair, not envying whoever had to clean up after this.
With the ceremony concluded, the crowds began to dissipate. Several acolytes dragged the body of the ox into the temple. It would be cooked and served at a banquet that evening.
Two dozen burly, toga-clad men emerged from the temple and split to surround Aelius and Rufus, twelve each, escorting them down the temple steps toward their families. These were the lictors who would accompany each consul wherever he went for the next year, responsible for protection. Their constant presence would no doubt be an annoyance, but every consul had enemies, and Aelius’s safety was well worth the inconvenience.
Aelius, smiling, waved away the lictors as he reached Crispina, Gaia, and Max. The twelve men retreated a few paces, standing at attention. Their gazes flicked around the dispersing crowd, already searching for hidden threats.
Gaia stepped forward to fling her arms around Aelius, her cheeks wet with tears. “Oh, my love, I never imagined I would see this day.”
Aelius grinned. “You had such little faith in me, Mama?”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and shot him a good-natured scowl. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Aelius turned to Max, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Max dodged, batting away Aelius’s arm, but allowed himself to be embraced. His face bore a distinctly mournful look as he looked at his adoptive father. Crispina poked him on the shoulder. “Can’t you summon a smile on the happiest day of our lives?”
Max grimaced. “ Your life, maybe. I have a feeling being a consul’s son is going to be as boring as a eunuch at an orgy.”
“Max!” Gaia smacked him. “That’s no sort of language for a consul’s son.”
Max gave Crispina a significant look. “See what I mean?”
Crispina rolled her eyes.
“Remember our bargain?” Aelius said. “Spotless behavior for one more year, then you can ride off to join the army and wreak as much havoc as you want in Gaul or Germania or wherever you end up.”
“Right,” Max said unenthusiastically.
Aelius chuckled at his son, then turned to Crispina. Their gazes met, and in his hazel eyes Crispina saw a reflection of the past ten years: their triumphs, their struggles, and the love that had endured through it all.
It hadn’t all been easy. Though Aelius had legislated a tax break for landowners who employed free laborers instead of slaves, it was later reversed by a future vote. He did, however, succeed in introducing a hefty tax on the sale of female slaves who were visibly pregnant or who had birthed a child in their master’s home, meant to deter the separation of families.
His bill to create a state-funded school had also failed. But with Horatia’s help, Crispina had secured a slew of donations from wealthy families, enabling her to hire a group of tutors and hold a rotation of free classes in her home.
With the proper investment and continued donations, Crispina hoped the school would eventually be self-sustaining. She had her eye on a vacant lot, the site of a collapsed apartment building, that she wanted to buy to build a permanent school as her group of students grew.
Her earliest students were already flourishing. Aelius had hired Sextus, one of her pupils from the Aventine, to work as his secretary, and her other pupil Silus had become a mathematics tutor at the school.
Aelius wrapped Crispina in his arms, squeezing her so tightly her feet lifted from the ground.
“Congratulations, my love,” she whispered in his ear.
“For a moment, when I was standing up there, I thought it was all a dream, or a mistake,” he said. “I was waiting for someone to come drag me away. But then I saw you and Max and Mama, and I realized if my life with you is real, then the consulship has to be. Because nothing could be more of a dream than the fact that I get to wake up beside you every day.”
His face blurred before her, and she blinked away tears. “It’s going to be a busy year,” was all she could manage.
His mouth curved in a grin. “The busiest.” He swept her into a kiss.
She kissed him back, lifting a hand to caress his cheek, as Max made vomiting noises next to them. It would be a busy year, a stressful year, maybe even a dangerous year. But they would face it together, and their love would endure.
THE END