Read Online Rome: The Emperor's Spy: Rome 1 by M. C. Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. C. Scott
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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eyebrows seemed drawn with charcoal. Even so, he had looked a little like the sun god, brought back from midwinter to give light to the world.
‘I am told I should give these to the mother of my future apprentice boy,’ he had said in formal tones, ‘as payment for the use of her son for the next nine years. But since he has no mother, I would ask Caradoc of the Osismi, father to Math of the Osismi, to do me the honour of accepting.’
Something had already been said, obviously; Math could see it in the way Ajax’s eyes met his father’s, in the silent communication that took place over his head. It was not the first time; Ajax and Caradoc had got along uncommonly well from the start, which was good, but also meant Math had two of them trying to change who he was.
His father had said, ‘Math? Do you still want to be a race-driver? The work will be hard.’
But not harder than working the docks. Math hadn’t said that, only thought it, but he saw his father read his face and was sorry for it. He was always sorry for the hurt he caused his father, but then almost everything he had done since his mother’s death seemed to bring it on, which was stupid, and made him cross.
And he did not want to be indebted to Ajax. Looking away, he had said, ‘I have work. I bring in enough for us both. I don’t need more.’
He felt their eyes meet again over his head. His father had wanted to answer. Ajax had forestalled him by standing up, saying, ‘Of course. I apologize for insulting you. We don’t have to speak of it again.’
He had shaken Caradoc’s hand. To Math he had said, ‘You have made the horses well. They’ll miss you.’
He had gone then, taking the mistletoe, but leaving the herring. Two nights later, Math had been passing the horse barns and found Ajax trying to use a straw wisp to bring out the shine in Brass’s coat. The horse had a ticklish stomach; there was a certain way to wisp him that worked and Ajax didn’t know it.
Taking the pad of woven straw from his hand, Math had shown him how. Ajax had been leaving when the boy had said, ‘I won’t stop working the docks.’
Ajax had gone as far as the door at the barn’s end before he turned round; far enough for Math to feel real fear that he had lost his chance.
‘I won’t ask you to,’ Ajax had said. ‘Just know that work for me comes first, before anything else. If you leave things undone, you’ll be out of a job. To save me having to watch you, do you give me your word to put race work before everything else? That’s all I ask.’
Nobody had ever asked him for his word. Alarmed and flattered at once, Math had spat on his hand to seal the oath, knowing full well that Ajax planned to work him to exhaustion, so that he wouldn’t have time to go down to the docks.
That had been over half a year ago, at the winter solstice, and now it was nearly the equinox and Ajax had become distracted by the need to win the emperor’s race. It was not his idea – anyone could tell he would rather have spent another half year getting to know his horses – but he had promised to race, and to win, too, spitting on his palm and swearing by his Greek bear-gods, for Gordianus, and for the shade of Math’s mother, just as Hannah had said.
So he had been more than usually busy of late and Math had taken the opportunity to go back to the docks again, and had found himself free there and happy. Until today, when Pantera, the Leopard, had stepped from a boat and Math had followed him up the hill and by the time he came down again his life had changed and he had failed in the eyes of a man he did not even know.
C HAPTER F IVE
H annah the healer, known in Coriallum for the calm she brought others, lay alone on her straw pallet staring up at the sky, seeking ways to find peace for herself.
The night was warm, not yet sharpened by autumn frosts. The roof of the healer’s booth was of sewn goatskin, with gaps at the ends of the ridge poles that let her see
‘I am told I should give these to the mother of my future apprentice boy,’ he had said in formal tones, ‘as payment for the use of her son for the next nine years. But since he has no mother, I would ask Caradoc of the Osismi, father to Math of the Osismi, to do me the honour of accepting.’
Something had already been said, obviously; Math could see it in the way Ajax’s eyes met his father’s, in the silent communication that took place over his head. It was not the first time; Ajax and Caradoc had got along uncommonly well from the start, which was good, but also meant Math had two of them trying to change who he was.
His father had said, ‘Math? Do you still want to be a race-driver? The work will be hard.’
But not harder than working the docks. Math hadn’t said that, only thought it, but he saw his father read his face and was sorry for it. He was always sorry for the hurt he caused his father, but then almost everything he had done since his mother’s death seemed to bring it on, which was stupid, and made him cross.
And he did not want to be indebted to Ajax. Looking away, he had said, ‘I have work. I bring in enough for us both. I don’t need more.’
He felt their eyes meet again over his head. His father had wanted to answer. Ajax had forestalled him by standing up, saying, ‘Of course. I apologize for insulting you. We don’t have to speak of it again.’
He had shaken Caradoc’s hand. To Math he had said, ‘You have made the horses well. They’ll miss you.’
He had gone then, taking the mistletoe, but leaving the herring. Two nights later, Math had been passing the horse barns and found Ajax trying to use a straw wisp to bring out the shine in Brass’s coat. The horse had a ticklish stomach; there was a certain way to wisp him that worked and Ajax didn’t know it.
Taking the pad of woven straw from his hand, Math had shown him how. Ajax had been leaving when the boy had said, ‘I won’t stop working the docks.’
Ajax had gone as far as the door at the barn’s end before he turned round; far enough for Math to feel real fear that he had lost his chance.
‘I won’t ask you to,’ Ajax had said. ‘Just know that work for me comes first, before anything else. If you leave things undone, you’ll be out of a job. To save me having to watch you, do you give me your word to put race work before everything else? That’s all I ask.’
Nobody had ever asked him for his word. Alarmed and flattered at once, Math had spat on his hand to seal the oath, knowing full well that Ajax planned to work him to exhaustion, so that he wouldn’t have time to go down to the docks.
That had been over half a year ago, at the winter solstice, and now it was nearly the equinox and Ajax had become distracted by the need to win the emperor’s race. It was not his idea – anyone could tell he would rather have spent another half year getting to know his horses – but he had promised to race, and to win, too, spitting on his palm and swearing by his Greek bear-gods, for Gordianus, and for the shade of Math’s mother, just as Hannah had said.
So he had been more than usually busy of late and Math had taken the opportunity to go back to the docks again, and had found himself free there and happy. Until today, when Pantera, the Leopard, had stepped from a boat and Math had followed him up the hill and by the time he came down again his life had changed and he had failed in the eyes of a man he did not even know.
C HAPTER F IVE
H annah the healer, known in Coriallum for the calm she brought others, lay alone on her straw pallet staring up at the sky, seeking ways to find peace for herself.
The night was warm, not yet sharpened by autumn frosts. The roof of the healer’s booth was of sewn goatskin, with gaps at the ends of the ridge poles that let her see
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