The Raven and the Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

head.  
    She waved the servant back, and he bowed his way out of the room.  
    They made small talk for a little while longer, until Larthia grew impatient and said, “Grandfather, why are you here? If you’ve come to put forward another candidate for my remarriage, I’ll say again that I am not interested.” Larthia took great satisfaction in resisting him as much as she could. He would make sure she paid for it if she did anything scandalous that disgraced his name, but he couldn’t legally force her to marry again.
    At least Sejanus had left her that much.
    Casca shook his head. “No. I have no energy to spend on debating with you now.”
    Larthia suspected she knew the reason. He was too busy plotting against Caesar to waste his time scrambling for influence through marital intrigues. That had been his occupation in former, more settled times.
    “Well, then, what is it?”
    “I have purchased a bodyguard for you.”
    Larthia stared at him. “A what?”
    “You heard me.”
    “Grandfather, that’s absurd. I have hundreds of slaves, several of them always accompany me when I go out, why do I need a bodyguard? Who would wish to do me harm?”
    Casca rose and began to pace; he looked worried and it crossed Larthia’s mind for the first time that maybe the old man really did care about her.  
    “Do I have to instruct you about the current situation? Do you spend all of your time inspecting fabrics from Persia and grooming your hair with Jerusalem aloes? Rome is split into factions! I am not popular with some of them! They might take their differences with me out on you.”
    “Why don’t you say what you mean? You’re opposing the ruling faction, led by Caesar.”
    “Caesar is nothing less than a dictator. I want the Republic back,” Casca said.
    You hypocrite, Larthia thought. He wanted his power back, and Hades take the Republic. Casca was jealous of Caesar and always had been.
    “Caesar doesn’t want to be a king. He thrice refused the crown proffered by Mark Antony at the festival of the Lupercal,” Larthia said reasonably.
    “Caesar already is a king, he doesn’t need a crown to prove it,” Casca replied darkly.
    Larthia sighed. “So your solution to this internal strife is to buy some slave to follow me around the shops and watch me buying oysters from the fishmongers? Really, grandfather, I fear that you have lost your mind.”
    “Not just some slave, Larthia. Verrix, a prince of the Arverni.”
    “The who?”
    “The Arverni, the Celtic tribe which led the Gallic rebellion against Rome eight years ago. This man was captured near Vienne on the Rhone River when their leader, Vercingetorix, was defeated. Verrix escaped soon after by killing the officer guarding the captives and was at large until last autumn, when the centurion who had first captured him recognized him working on a construction gang in the Quirinal. He was taken into custody and condemned to death, but escaped again only to find himself betrayed to the authorities by a companion. He was scheduled for crucifixion when I found him.”
    “Why did you buy him? He sounds like a criminal,” Larthia said with distaste.
    “I bought him because he’s obviously tough and smart and nothing is more important to him than his freedom.”
    “How much did you pay for him?” Larthia asked, playing along with the game.
    “Five hundred denarii.”
    Larthia stared at him. He had paid a fortune for a condemned man. He really MUST be losing his mind.
    “And what do you imagine will keep him from bolting again?” Larthia asked logically.
    “The promise of his freedom.”
    “I think he must know the value of Roman promises by now,” Larthia said cynically.
    “I have already drawn up the papers and filed them with the Vestals.”
    Larthia looked at him.
    “It’s true,” he said. “They specify that if he guards you for three years, and you are alive and well at that end of that time, he is to be freed. The emancipation papers will