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The Legacy (Light in the Empire)

By Carol Ashby

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Chapter 1: Almost Content

Rome, AD 114

Saying goodbye was always hard. When it was your youngest daughter, that punched a hole in a father’s heart.
Aristarchus stood in the doorway, watching Penelope chat with her maid under the grape arbor. His lips tightened as his mouth drooped. His last child was about to leave Rome for good. A lovely young woman of sixteen, ready to marry and discover the joy of having children of her own. She was ready, but he would never be.
Philip walked up behind him. “Don’t worry about Penelope, Father. I’ve found three young men who would be good husbands for her. They’re all strong in the faith, and every one of them would cherish her and care for her well. She’ll get to know them over the next few months so we can wisely choose the one God intends for her.”
Aristarchus’s gaze swung to his youngest son before he sighed. “I am sure you have done as well as I could myself, but I will miss having her here close to me.”
Philip’s hand rested on his father’s shoulder. “You and Mother will just have to come to Perinthus more often. I’d like that as much as Penelope.”
“I plan to.”
Aristarchus rubbed his chin. “You have found good men for Penelope, but when are you going to find a good woman for yourself? It is time you married and started a family. At twenty-five, I already had Nicanor and Leander.”
Philip shrugged. “As Solomon wrote, ‘For everything, there is a season.’” His gaze shifted to the floor, then back to his father. “But not for me. Not yet. I can marry anytime I want. If I let it be known that I’m looking for a wife, fathers as far away as Byzantium will line up to offer their daughters to the merchant prince of Perinthus.” His lips twitched up, then straightened. “But I don’t want someone who only wants to marry me because I’m rich.”
“Any woman would grow to love you deeply, no matter why she first married you. Phoebe was too young and foolish to see your true worth as a husband.”
“I don’t want to force some woman to marry a man she could only stand to look at on a moonless night. Phoebe only said what any woman would think. She was right to be honest about how she felt. I’m glad she found a man she can love even when her eyes are open.”
Aristarchus’s brows dipped before he shook his head. “You are wrong, son. Women do not just care how a man looks. I was never a handsome man, but the best and prettiest woman on earth was happy to marry me and not for my fortune. Your mother has blessed my life in so many ways that I could never tell you all of them. I want that for you, too.”
Philip’s eye focused on distant nothing before he turned it back on his father. “It’s your love for me that keeps you from seeing the truth, Father. Phoebe made the way women truly feel very clear. If it’s God’s will for me to marry, then I’ll marry, but I haven’t seen any sign that it is. He allowed the burns and scars. I’ve just learned to be content with the results. Most of the time, anyway.”
Aristarchus saw the wistful look flit across Philip’s face, and then it was gone. “Never underestimate the power of God or His desire to give you what is best for you, son.”
“I never do.” The shrug that accompanied Philip’s weak smile signaled his eagerness to change the subject.
“Mother has some things she wants me to take to Ariadne, so I’m planning to land briefly in Thessalonica. Did you have anything for her or Nicanor?”
Aristarchus switched to the new topic for Philip’s sake. He didn’t like to see any of his children in pain, and the memory of Phoebe’s rejection seven years earlier was still a poorly healed wound in Philip’s heart, no matter what he might say to the contrary. Only the love of the right woman would let it finally heal.
But first, Philip had to be willing to risk being hurt again to find that love. He would be praying for that kind of courage for the best of his sons.

Chapter 2: What a Girl Wants

Publius Drusus leaned back in his chair and arched his back. He’d been sitting too long, but the new history on the conquest of Dacia had enthralled him.
The music of Claudia’s laughter and her maid Graecia’s response reached his ears before his daughter swept into the library and came to the desk to give him a kiss.
“It was lovely at the baths today, Father. Portia and Lucretia and Fabia were all there. Fabia had the most exciting news.”
Her head tipped as a teasing gleam brightened her brown eyes. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me what it is?”
Publius set the scroll aside. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he turned to look up at her. “Could I keep you from telling me, even if I wanted to?”
“No.” She picked up a stylus and rolled it between her fingers. “I have two things, actually. Lucretia’s betrothed is coming home from Britannia. He’ll have a posting in Rome, and their marriage will be the first auspicious day after he returns.”
Publius tipped his head to acknowledge her first report. “And the second?”
“Portia is now betrothed to Quintus Palma.”
Publius nodded. “I’m sure her parents are ecstatic about that. I’ve met young Quintus. I wasn’t impressed, but his father is very wealthy and a leader in the Senate. He has the emperor’s ear as well. That will open better opportunities for Portius’s sons if their sister’s father-in-law decides to promote their careers.” He shook his head. “Not the best reason for arranging a marriage. But maybe his sons want the political life. I never did.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, Father. I’d miss you terribly if you were off leading a legion in some frontier province. It’s bad enough that Titus has been tribune in Thracia these past four years.”
She placed the stylus back on the desk. “Portia’s happy with the choice, but I wouldn’t be. He’s so...dull. I’ve never heard him talk about music or philosophy or poetry. It’s always which faction won the most at the races that week and how much he won gambling.” A short giggle brightened her eyes. “He never says how much he lost.”
She held out her arms and twirled one circle. “I know what I want in a husband.”
Publius was hard pressed not to laugh. “What is that?
Her eyes turned dreamy. “Someone as handsome as Titus, as big and strong as a German warrior, and as brilliant and kind as you.”
The laugh escaped. “That’s a challenging list. Just where do you think I’ll find someone like that?”
“I know one already. Guess if you can. You should be able to. You’ve known him for years.”
Publius’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I can’t think of a single young man who is all that.”
“Of course you can. It’s Decimus Lentulus.”
Publius smiled as he shook his head. “No, I don’t think he’d suit you. Decimus is all that, except maybe the kind part, but you couldn’t find a man more driven by political ambition. He’ll need a wife from a family with great political influence, and ours is exactly the opposite. Even if we were what he needs, would you want to be a political wife with your husband always focused on something other than you and your children?”
Claudia shrugged. “Well, maybe not. I’d rather be a scholar’s wife so we could talk about the things I love.” Her eyes clouded. “I’d never do what my mother did. I’ll be the best wife and mother a man could ever want.”
As her smile faded, Publius stood and took her in his arms.
“I know you will. I just need to find the right man for you.” He stepped back and rested his hand on her cheek. “I’ll keep your list in mind as I look for him.”
She flashed him a fresh smile and strolled into the atrium.
Publius sighed. His little girl was a woman now. As much as he hated the thought, it was time for her to marry and start her own family. But how was he ever going to find a husband who would protect and care for her like he had?

Chapter 3: Time for a Change

It isn’t fair. Fathers shouldn’t live as long as mine has.
Lucius Drusus placed another bite of peacock in red wine sauce on his tongue. It had been a superb banquet so far, but he wasn’t enjoying it.
His closest friend, Marcus, was celebrating becoming head of the Corvinus family and inheriting its fortune with an extravagant banquet for only his most trusted friends. Celebrating his father’s demise would be considered shameful, were it generally known. Under the Roman law of paterfamilias, the father owned all the property and could dictate everything his sons could do, no matter how old they might be. Only a father’s death gave true independence to a son.
Lucius flipped his frown into a smile when Gaius Barbatus strolled towards him. Barbatus was no friend. He’d always resented the great wealth of the Drusus family. He took perverse delight in taunting Lucius since his father, Publius, put an end to his orgies of drinking and womanizing three years earlier.
“Lucius, I saw your father in the Forum last week with his philosopher friends. He looks almost as young as you. Should be a long time before you give a banquet to mourn his death.”
Lucius’s fake smile masked his fury at the snide laugh that followed Barbatus’s prediction before he sauntered away. It was best if no one knew what he was thinking at that moment.
He glanced around the room at his friends. Many were now masters of their own lives. He was tired of living on an allowance and being subject to his father's will. He was thirty-three and ready to be in control. He’d begun planning for that years ago.
Father always thought the death of his older brother had been a fluke accident when the wheel came off his chariot during a friendly race between brothers. He thought it was grief that made Lucius kill the slave who was supposed to care for the chariots. The corner of Lucius’s mouth twitched up. He’d promised that slave freedom if he tampered with the wheel so it would come off in a sharp turn. He kept his promise. He freed him with a sword thrust to his heart.
That had been almost ten years ago. It wasn’t fair that he was still under his father’s thumb. Father was almost fifty, but he was as vigorous as many men only two-thirds his age. He could easily last another ten or twenty years. Lucius didn’t want to wait.
Money wasn’t the problem. His allowance earned the envy of his friends since the Drusus fortune was more than five million denarii. He lived with his wife and children at the villa east of Rome that was better than the ones his friends had inherited. The problem was his father.
Father hadn’t cared how he spent his allowance. His friends all enjoyed wild living, and their parties often lasted past dawn. He’d already produced three boys as future heirs, so he no longer felt he had to waste his evenings with the high-born woman he’d married.
Then Father became a God-fearer and followed the Jewish rules for living. The things Lucius enjoyed were condemned by the Jewish god, and Father cut off his spending on the long nights of too much wine and loose women. He’d been told to restrict his activities to that plain, passionless woman he’d married and to at least try to stay sober at banquets.
He’d obeyed, but it convinced him it was time for him to replace his father as head of the Claudius Drusus family. The problem was how to do that without being executed for killing his own father. Rome was a city where almost anything goes, but patricide was one thing that still remained beyond the pale.

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