The Patrician Read Online Free PDF Page B

times.”
    Jared nodded and watched until Damon had slipped through the doorway. Gideon watched also, a smug look of triumph on his face. Jared spoke without turning his head. “That was unnecessary and rude, Uncle. Damon deserves respect.” He raised his hand when his uncle would protest. “if for no other reason than he is my friend.”
    Gideon sniffed in well-practiced affront. “He is not of the same social class as you and well you know it. I fear his influence has been less than beneficial. Neta should never have encouraged your association with a slave .”
    The scorn in his uncle’s voice brought an image of venom dripping from a viper’s fang. “He is no longer a slave and I choose my own friends,” Jared replied. He set his jaw, bracing for wounded words.
    Gideon did not disappoint. Dabbing imaginary tears from his eyes, he sniffed loudly. “I only want what is best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Gideon didn’t have to say the rest out loud— Ever since that dreadful night when we risked our own lives for my dear sister’s only child.
    Jared massaged his left temple, tried to forestall the headache that always accompanied these confrontations. Why must everything lead to that night? Fatigue laced his voice and he recited the standard reply. “I have not forgotten, Uncle, and I will always be grateful.”
    Elizabeth stroked Gideon’s plump arm. “Of course, you have been as a father to the both of us.”
    Gideon tugged at the corners of his robe, straightening the blue corded tassels that devout Hebrews wore on their cloaks, a constant reminder of Yahweh’s commandments. His uncle’s tassels were as large as any worn by the temple priests, less an article of devotion than an advertisement of piety.
    Jared rubbed his temple harder against the penetrating pain building beneath the thick ridged scar left there by Rome. What difference to him if Gideon worshipped a God that Jared knew did not exist? A God who demanded devotion from a thirteen year old boy. Jehovah, Yahweh, the great I Am had refused to save his mother, and so Jared refused to believe in him. Another point of contention between them.
    Placated, for the moment, Gideon motioned one of his slaves forward with papyrus and stylus. “I will send a note to the Prefect.”
    “No, Uncle,” he snapped, ignoring Gideon’s affronted look. “Do not alert the authorities.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. Rome and its government had ruined his life. It was more than a challenge to deal with them in trade. He wanted nothing to do with their justice.
    “You have a lead on the criminals?” asked Gideon peevishly.
    Gods, he did not want to have this conversation. “No, not yet. They leave few clues aside from dead guards.” He gave a mirthless laugh and picked up a shard of pottery. “I might as well visit one of the oracles the Greeks favor, for all the progress I’m making.”
    “Would...would that help, sir?”
    Jared and Gideon turned together at the stammered question.
    “You there.” Gideon pointed to the back of the group. The slaves shuffled apart and a young boy, his hair cropped short, the lobe of his left ear cleanly split, a symbol of his lowly status, stepped forward. He held his hands clutched in front of him, a vain attempt to still the trembling that shook his body.
    “What did you say?” Jared asked.
    The boy risked a look up and then cast his eyes back to his feet. “An oracle, sir. Would that help you find the thieves?”
    “You dare to waste our time?” Gideon raised his hand. The boy flinched, his eyes leaping from sad and tired to fearful.
    Jared blocked his uncle’s arm before it fell and shot him a warning look. Gideon glowered back but lowered his hand.
    Jared turned toward the boy, gentling his voice. “What oracle?”
    “I know of an oracle, sir. A slave girl owned by Coeus, the taverna keeper. It is said she can see things mortals cannot. Why, Ife, the housemaid, swears she helped her locate a ring