Silk and Steel (Siren Publishing Classic) Read Online Free Page B

Cato was sure he had said enough. He prepared to take his leave as swiftly as possible, anticipating a satisfactory resolution to the Decimus problem.
     
    * * * *
     
    Numb, Corinna wandered out into the small garden. She began to water the herbs and dead-head the roses, her fingers working nimbly enough even as her mind replayed the recent scene in the ante-room, over and over.
    The holy man is dead. Joseph, son of Peter, is dead. But I wanted to tell him I am happy.
    She was appalled at her own selfishness. She tried to think of Joseph: his eyes, his smile, the sound of his voice. Decimus filled her thoughts, instead.
    'Pray for him, then,' she told herself, under her breath, but she could not remember the words. Yesterday, when she had been busy in the kitchen, learning how to bake bread, Decimus, her lord, the man she loved to call master, had been executing Christians. Decimus had killed Joseph.
    I do not believe it. I cannot.
     
    * * * *
     
    Decimus found her crouching by the pots of rosemary and lavender. He took her gently by the shoulders and raised her. 'What is it?' His voice roughened. 'Do you miss your old master?'
    The ridiculousness of that idea almost made Corinna laugh. 'Never!' she said.
    'So why—' He waved his arms, inviting her to continue.
    'What happened in the arena yesterday?' Corinna forced herself to take a step back, away from his shielding warmth and comfort. She had to try to keep her wits about her, and that was impossible when she and Decimus were close.
    He stared down at her, folding his arms across his chest. 'Why do you ask? You've never questioned me before.'
    'I know you do not like to speak of it.'
    'True.' He sighed. 'It is enough to live it once, and survive it.'
    'So you wonder why I am curious now.' Staring at the cracks in the paving stones, Corinna wet her dry lips with her tongue. 'This is hard,' she admitted.
    'Come into the shade, take wine with me, and tell.'
     
    * * * *
     
    Sharing a cup of sweet wine with him, Corinna began to speak. She was hesitant, but as Decimus listened and did not interrupt, she explained more. About meeting Joseph in the winter, when she had been ordered by her first master Piso to go out into the sleeting rain to entice customers into his bath house. Her feet had been aching and the smallest finger of her right hand crooked and swollen, because a customer had dislocated it for a bet. Joseph had healed her hand and offered to wash her feet.
    'I was astonished and suspicious,' Corinna went on. 'I cursed him. Joseph simply shook his head. The next day he came to the baths and paid for my time. He talked to me. He didn't want anything else.'
    'Was he blind?' Decimus grunted.
    'He said he was married, and faithful to his wife. He talked. We talked. After a month, he—'
    '—told you he was a Christian,' Decimus finished for her. 'Or a priest of Isis. Not of Mithras—they don't admit women.' He grinned, draining the rest of the wine. 'That wasn't so astonishing, Corinna, such men target slaves for converts. One or two have spoken to me.'
    'And what about yesterday?' Corinna asked sharply. 'Amongst those executed for the pleasure of the crowd was there a small, thin man, missing his right ear?'
    Decimus grimaced. 'There was such a man. They said he was a criminal.'
    Without asking who 'They' were, Corinna said bitterly, 'We Christians are always suspected as criminals in Rome, ever since the great fire.'
    'Not by me.'
    'But did you kill him?'
    Her master's face grew grim. 'The executioners were short-handed yesterday. I went into the arena without my usual helmet or armor, so none recognized me. Better me, and a swift, clean death, than him being left for another to finish off. I made a show so the mob would be fooled but he went quickly. That fool Julius Tertellus would not have been as efficient.'
    Efficient! The word sickened her.
    Decimus rose to his feet. 'I must go practice. If I fail, I die. You might remember that, in your righteous