Page 4 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)

A elius glanced over the wax tablet Crispina had sent in reply to his letter. The tablet itself was not a promising sign; she didn’t want to waste her papyrus on him. And she’d made him wait two days, but at least he had a response.

Crispina to Aelius Herminius:

Thank you for your apology. I would have appreciated more groveling. If you would like to grovel in person, you can find me at the Salonius house next Thursday night. I trust your poet friend can get you in.

A curt reply, but altogether not as bad as he’d hoped. She was willing to see him again, which was encouraging. He dashed off a quick note to Catullus to tell him about the party and ask if he could snag an invite for them both.

His plan now seemed to have a reasonable chance of success, which sent a strange flutter of optimism mixed with trepidation through him.

It’s just marriage, he reassured himself as he paced in his study, thinking over what he would say to Crispina the next time he saw her. People get married all the time. I was going to have to marry anyway. Might as well get something out of it .

“Aelius?” His mother opened the door to his study. “Dinner is being served. You must have worked up an appetite with all that pacing.”

He flushed. “I didn’t realize you could hear.”

“Is something bothering you? I hope you’re not still distressed about the election. You did everything you could.”

“It’s not about the election—well, it is, but not the last one. The next one.” He took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any to tell her what he was planning. “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you, Mama. Er, to tell you.”

She clasped her hands together. “Should I be worried?”

“No. At least, I hope not.” He shifted from foot to foot, trying to feel more like a grown man and less like a boy confessing to stealing figs from their master’s kitchen. “I plan to marry.”

“Oh!” She flung her arms around him and pulled him into a crushing hug. For such a slight woman, her hugs always seemed strong enough to crack a marble column.

She pulled back and kissed him on the forehead. “Who is the bride? Is she from a good family? Why haven’t I met her yet?”

“Well, it’s because she hasn’t agreed,” Aelius said. “I know you want me to settle down and take a wife, but this isn’t quite what you think.”

Gaia frowned. “I hope you haven’t gotten some poor girl in trouble. Haven’t I warned you, it’s all well and good to have your fun, but the worst thing you could do is to—"

“No!” He waved a hand to cut her off. She had always been frank with him about the realities of life for women, which made him approach his infrequent encounters with reasonably priced courtesans with caution and respect. But that had nothing to do with his current situation. “It’s about the election. Marrying is the easiest way to forge the alliances I need. Catullus has introduced me to a senator’s daughter who might be open to a match.”

Her frown deepened. “Patricians do not marry freedmen.”

“Not usually, but this one might.” He explained briefly about Crispina’s divorce. “She doesn’t know about my…well, upbringing, but I will tell her soon.”

Gaia did not look reassured. “Even if this girl does agree to marry you, do you really think it wise to base a marriage on nothing but political gain? And she can’t even give you children. You must continue our line.”

Crispina’s infertility did complicate his plan, but a solution rose quickly to his mind. “We’ll be married for a fixed term, perhaps through the election and six months into my term as a tribune, if I win. Then, we’ll quietly divorce, and I’ll marry someone else who can give you as many grandchildren as you desire.”

Gaia met his gaze. “I know you feel this is what you have to do, and I won’t stand in your way, but I don’t like this side of you, Aelius. What of the young woman you plan to cast aside?”

His mother’s misgivings sent a stab of uncertainty through him, but he pushed it aside. This marriage scheme was his best chance at gaining enough votes to win the tribune election, which in turn was essential to winning a consulship in the future. And gaining political influence was the only way to enact true change.

“If she consents, I will make the parameters of our relationship perfectly clear to Crispina,” Aelius said. “She’ll be under no illusions. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nothing more.”

Gaia folded her arms across her chest. “It still seems rather mercenary, but I trust you to do what you think is right.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”

Aelius was once again grateful for Catullus’s friendship, as the poet easily obtained an invitation to the dinner party Crispina had mentioned and brought Aelius along with him. Guests milled around the atrium at the beginning of the party, served by slaves bearing trays of appetizers.

Aelius scanned the crowd. He spotted Crispina’s parents, but she wasn’t with them.

Catullus nudged him. “There she is.”

Crispina stood in the shadow of a column on the far side of the atrium. She wore a green palla this time, covering her from the top of her head to her ankles over a burgundy dress. The deep emerald color set off her glossy hair and dark eyes. She looked beautiful—despite the fact that her face was pulled tight in an angry frown. She was glaring at someone.

Aelius followed her gaze, which seemed to be directed at a cluster of four people standing a few feet away: a middle-aged man, a young woman, and a couple who seemed to be the young woman’s parents. “Who are they?”

Catullus squinted at the people. “That’s Memmius, Crispina’s ex-husband. I believe he’s courting the young lady, and those are her parents.”

That explained why Crispina was glaring at the man so hotly his toga should be charred. “I see.”

“It was insensitive of the host to invite them both,” Catullus murmured.

“She will welcome a distraction, then.” Aelius took a deep breath and crossed the atrium to approach her. Luckily they were a good distance from the pool, so he hoped to avoid another soaking.

He nodded to her. “Good evening, Crispina.”

She tore her gaze away from her ex-husband and nodded to him. “Aelius.”

“Are you enjoying the party?”

“No.”

Her straightforwardness gave him a strange thrill of delight. Especially in the world of politics, people rarely said what they meant. “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me again. We got off to a poor start the other night. Let me apologize again, as I never meant to cause offense.”

“I have been told I take offense too easily. I probably shouldn’t have splashed you.”

“Oh, I found it most refreshing. Saved me from paying for a trip to the baths.”

His quip was rewarded with a twitch of her lips that might have been a smile. “You did succeed in piquing my curiosity,” she said. “I have always been too curious for my own good. Tell me why you proposed.”

Given her frankness, he didn’t bother with flowery promises or words of affection, but laid out his case in clear, forthright terms. “I’m running for tribune of the plebs in the next election. I need to win this election if I want to stand for the consulship in ten years.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “How ambitious.”

“I need to spend the next decade building as much influence as I can. Your father is well-connected. If we were to marry, I imagine he would want his son-in-law to be successful, and I’d be able to utilize his network to influence the votes I need.”

Crispina folded her arms over her chest. An emerald bracelet flashed on her wrist. “But why marry me? You’re handsome enough, surely an up-and-coming politician, even a plebeian, can find himself a better match than a barren divorcée.”

Handsome enough . A flush crept over his cheeks. He knew women generally found him attractive, but hearing it from Crispina felt especially gratifying for some reason.

But her words led him to what he was most nervous to share. “There is…something else.” He’d practiced this, but it was hard to look into her eyes and say the words. “I’m a…I was…”

She waited patiently for him to spit it out, her gaze never leaving his face.

“I’m a freedman,” he finally said. “I was born a slave, and freed after my master’s death, when I was fourteen.”

Shock rippled across her face. Her gaze flicked up and down his body, as if looking for some sort of visual marker to confirm what he was saying.

He gave it to her. Gritting his teeth, he removed his armband and showed her the brand on his wrist.

She stared at it for a long moment, her face inscrutable. Finally, she spoke. “Freedmen can’t run for political office.”

“My mother married after we were freed, and my stepfather adopted me. Legally, I am no different from a freeborn citizen.” He replaced the armband, feeling exposed and vulnerable without it.

She let out a long, slow breath. “I knew there had to be something,” she muttered.

Aelius waited for her to turn away, to tell him never to speak to her again.

But she didn’t. Instead, she met his gaze. “Now I understand why you want me. So tell me, why should I want to marry you?”

Relief flooded him: she was giving him a chance. He opened his mouth, and the words rose easily to his tongue. “It must be galling to be returned to your father’s control when you were once mistress of your own household. So I offer you freedom.” He hoped he had correctly assessed that this was what she most desired, based on Catullus’s comments about her parents and his observations of their evident disdain for her.

“Marry me and you can do as you like, go where you like, conduct your life as it pleases you. And…” He glanced toward Memmius. “You won’t have to face your ex-husband and his young bride alone at a party ever again.”

Her gaze returned to her ex-husband, then flicked back to him. “I see. You know I cannot give you children.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but a shadow lurked behind her eyes.

He nodded. “I will need an heir eventually, so I propose a temporary arrangement. Marriage through the election at least, and a few months into my term if I win. Then we may go our separate ways.”

“I have no desire to be twice-divorced. Once was quite enough.”

Dis, why hadn’t he thought of that? His mind raced to find a solution he could offer. She wanted freedom. What could he use to negotiate?

An idea struck him. “In the event of our divorce, I’ll gift you a property of your choosing, anywhere in Italy. You will have the freedom you desire, both during our marriage and after it.” The inheritance from his stepfather would be enough to cover a purchase like that.

She considered. “You offer me freedom, yet you must know a woman is always beholden to her husband. I find it difficult to agree to shackle myself, even temporarily, to someone I’ve only spoken to twice.”

He nodded. “We barely know each other. Will you allow me to call on you a few times?”

She shook her head. “My parents would not permit that. But…” She thought for a moment. “I’ll be at the games next Thursday. My parents will be distracted. I’ll save you a seat in our section.”

His heart leaped. He was one step closer to winning her. “I look forward to it.” Though gladiatorial combat was not exactly the most romantic setting, he reminded himself this was a courtship in name only, and their marriage would be the same.