Heading to my father’s room, I left Gisela sitting open-mouthed, and Phocas looking grim.
“Hello, Father.”
My greeting had exactly the effect I desired; laying in a filthy bed, unshaven, smelling worse than any German, my father let out a shriek of fear at the sight of me, and when I stepped towards the bed my nose wrinkled at the smell as his bladder lost control, his fresh piss mixing with the stale smell. When Gaia was alive, she at least forced him to bathe at somewhat regular intervals, but now that she was gone, Phocas had neither the inclination nor the energy.
“What….what are you doing here?”
The hatred and fear in his voice was both satisfying and unsettling, yet I was not about to let him see that he had rattled me.
“Father, is that any way to greet a beloved son, your only son?” I asked smoothly. Taking another step towards him, Lucius jerked and fell off the bed, landing in a filthy heap at my feet. I looked down at him with contempt as he scuttled like a crab into the corner, whimpering in naked fear.
“Why are you afraid, Father? What do you think I’m going to do?”
“You’re here to kill me! I know why you’re here! You want all that I have, and you’re here to take it from me by killing me!”
I am not sure how long I laughed, but I was soon gasping for breath and forced to sit on the corner of his bed as he stared at me in gape-mouthed astonishment, unsure if I had gone mad. Catching my breath, I pulled the purse tied to my belt. In it were freshly minted gold denarii, and although it represented perhaps a third of my wealth at that time, just what I carried could have bought my father’s farm and everything on it several times over. Contemptuously, I dropped the purse on the floor in front of him, the sound of the coins clashing together making a heavy, metallic sound.
“Lucius,” I sneered, “I could buy this place, and a dozen like it just in what I carry on my belt. Believe me; you have nothing I want, except one thing.”
A look of naked avarice filled my father’s face as his addled mind tried to calculate how much wine could be bought with what I carried, and in front of my eyes he actually began salivating at the thought, a thin line of drool falling from his chin like the silver thread of a spider’s web. My disgust for him could not have been any higher than it was at that moment, yet I forced myself to remain as businesslike as I could.
“Well, what is it, boy?”
Standing up, I walked closer to him, then squatted so I could look him directly in the eyes, causing him to push himself hard against the wall.
“You know what I want, Lucius. I’m here to buy Phocas’ freedom.”
I was sure that my father could no longer hurt me, and I was right at least physically, but he still could draw blood with a few words. His voice was filled with a malicious glee when he shot back, “Too bad you didn’t come a few months sooner. I'd have made more money selling the both of them.”
Fighting the urge to reach out and strike him, I settled instead for simply saying, “Yes, that would have been nice. More money means you could have drunk yourself to death more quickly. Name a price, old man.”
I had to satisfy myself with the look on his face as I left the room.
I wish I could say that there were no more shocks or surprises waiting for me, but when I returned to the main room, I could tell by the way Gisela and Phocas quickly stopped talking, and the way that Gisela avoided my gaze that more bad news awaited.
Sighing, I sat down and asked Phocas, “What else?”
He gulped a swallow of wine before speaking, deepening my anxiety. “It’s about Livia,” he began, and just the way he said it told me everything.
My throat tightened, and I managed only a strangled, “How? When?”
Looking at me with great sympathy, Phocas put his hand on my shoulder, his grip still strong from years of hard work. “She died in childbirth, Titus. Three months ago.”
I had not thought it possible that I could feel worse just a few moments before, but I was wrong. And I am ashamed to say that almost as quickly as fresh sorrow hit me, it was followed by the thought that the same fate could befall Gisela. Phocas knew me, and he knew my mind, which is why his hand on my shoulder was such a comfort. Looking over at Gisela, I saw she was gazing at me with an expression I had never really seen before.
“How's Cyclops?”
My question caused another hesitation, so I prepared for more bad news, though it was not quite what I expected. “I don’t know,” Phocas replied, “he disappeared just a few days after she died. Nobody has heard from him since.”
I absorbed this, feeling the weight of gloom and guilt settling on me. Phocas decided I needed some good news. “Valeria thrives,” my head came up at this, and seeing my interest, he smiled. “She has two children.”
“Two?” I said in surprise.
I knew about Gaius, her son who would be about eight years old, but I did not know about the second child.
“Yes, she had a girl a while back. I expect the baby is about six months old now. Her name is……..” he searched his memory, looking at the ceiling for a moment, before he brightened, “….Julia, yes that's it. Her name is Julia.”
“Well, I plan on going to see her the day after tomorrow. I suppose there’s no sense in going to Cyclops’ farm.”
Phocas shrugged. Gisela, who was silent the whole time, excused herself from the table to relieve herself.
Once she was gone, Phocas asked quietly, “You really love her, don’t you?”
I was startled by the question; honestly I had never really thought about it much.
“Yes, I do. Very much.”
I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice, but Phocas had known me too long. He grinned and said, “It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”
I could not help but grin back. As usual, he was right; it had sneaked up on me.
We left for Valeria’s farm two days later, shortly before dawn. I finished the transaction with my father giving Phocas his freedom, taking the necessary documents into town after Lucius grudgingly signed them. The look on his toothless face when I contemptuously tossed the agreed amount, contained in a leather bag, into his hands made my stomach turn. He was oblivious to my disgust, licking his lips and peering into the bag, mumbling to himself in glee.
“That should keep you good and drunk for the rest of your life,” I said as I walked out of his room, but he made no retort. The morning we left for Valeria’s, I asked Phocas to come with us, and my father thought to stop him, demanding that he stay to take care of him.
“I'm sorry sir, but I'm no longer your slave,” Phocas told him quietly, and the look on my father’s face as he realized exactly what that meant was worth ten purses of the size I paid. With great dignity, Phocas climbed into the wagon, and we rolled out of the yard of the house, leaving my father spluttering in impotent rage and not a little fear. He never had to take care of himself, ever. Now he was all alone, and I could not have been happier. We laughed about that exchange for at least a third of a watch on the road to my sister’s, until tears streamed from our eyes. I could not remember a time where I felt as good about myself as I did that day, just watching Phocas’ face as the realization that he was truly free finally sunk in. Valeria was as lovely as ever, at least in my eyes. Being a mother agreed with her, and I was quite taken with little Gaius, who followed me everywhere, peppering me with questions about the number of Gauls I had killed.
“He's been completely obsessed by the exploits of his Uncle Titus,” Valeria explained, and I shot a quick glance at her husband, but he did not seem to mind. Valeria caught my glance, and after he left to work in the fields, she assured me that he was not jealous. “He never had dreams of glory the way you did,” she said, and Gisela interrupted with, “He still does,” making Valeria laugh.
Much to my relief, Valeria and Gisela hit it off immediately, and in fact seemed to enter into some sort of silent conspiracy aimed at me, where knowing looks were exchanged between them when I said something. I found it extremely irritating, and it finally forced me to go seek out Valeria’s husband Porcinus outside. However, he was really only interested in talking about his crops and his animals, reminding me of why I was so anxious to get off my farm in the first place. The moment I could extricate myself politely, I went and found Gaius. We sat talking for quite a while, and despite myself, I was amused at the idea that I would find the company of an eight year old more desirable than that of other adults. Yet I was fascinated by the way his mind worked, and despite his age he asked some very intelligent questions.