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desperately wanted to honor the memory of his parents while also proving himself worthy of his master’s trust.

    Loukon had come to the difficult decision that if Theophilus again raised the matter of his becoming an adopted son, even in just a symbolic way, he was going to decline. As much as he respected the man and appreciated the sentiment, he had the deep feeling that he would be dishonoring his own father to accede to the request.

    Anyway, his dream was to one day be considered a colleague of Theophilus. And that would never happen if he was forever seen as a son. Would turning down such an overture cause a breach in the relationship? He couldn’t risk that. Loukon would count on the innate goodness of the man, his Stoicism. There was no way he could survive in the world without the man’s patronage.

    “I am still a slave, sir. And while I may have gone soft without manual labor for so long, I am happy to move myself in. And I have so little that it will give me time to help get the main house in order for you too.”

    “You are determined to remain a slave, aren’t you?”

    In fact, Loukon was deeply troubled. He had done the right thing, he knew. But in his heart of hearts, he’d rather the master had forbade it.

     
     
    IN THE PREDAWN DARKNESS Loukon loaded his stuff onto the wagon he knew Diabolos would be driving, then helped pack assorted items from the house. When it came time to pull out, slaves crowding every available inch of the wagons, Loukon climbed up next to Diabolos.

    “Big day ahead,” he said.

    “Are you going to be jabbering the whole way? This is the middle of my night.”

    “Sorry.”

    “What are you doing here anyway? I would have thought you would have been awarded a purple robe and allowed to accompany the master himself. Fall out of his good graces? Don’t tell me he has relegated you back to slave quarters and slave status!”

    “That has always been the case.”

    “Oh, spare me! You have been found out! You proved slothful or sassy, didn’t you?”

    Loukon fought to stay silent and to not even shake his head. Lowering himself to gain back some respect or trust was clearly not going to work with someone like Diabolos.

    “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been eliminated from the inner circle.” Diabolos threw an arm around Loukon’s shoulder and roughly pulled him close. “Well, don’t cry over it, man! I’ll show you the ropes! It’ll all come back to you. Did you get assigned my wagon? Because you know the driver is the overseer for the day, so you’ll have to do what I say when I say it.”

    “Well, first I have to get moved in. And then I thought I would—”

    “No, no. You’ll move in last. Your quarters won’t be going anywhere, will they? And then you don’t decide what you’ll do. I’ll let you know.”

    “But I told the master I would help with the main house . . .”

    “The main house has plenty of men assigned. I’ll use you where you will be of the most help.”

    Maybe this returning to slave status wasn’t such a good idea after all. Part of Loukon wanted to take advantage of his relationship with the master and simply tell Diabolos off and do what he pleased. But no. He would serve the hurting man. And if that didn’t soften him, that was not Loukon’s problem.

    When finally the caravan rumbled through the gates of the newly built estate at Daphne, the drivers asnd woman and a boy and a girl toiling in the gardens.

    No one spoke, but slowly they climbed down from the wagons and approached, staring, gasping, whistling. It was clear this was the perfect gift from the master.

    “This is where the memorial will be held tomorr—”

    But Diabolos grabbed Loukon. “Tell me and I’ll tell them. You are not in charge here.”

    “The memorial service will be conducted here at dawn tomorrow. The master will eulogize the dead.”

    Diabolos grandly announced it to the rest of the slaves. “Now, let’s get to