Retribution

Retribution
Marcus

I’m sitting at the dining room table with Felix at my heel, waiting for Fiona, when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I stand out of respect when she enters the room, but when I see her—fresh from the bath, hair braided, wearing a clean tunic—I can’t take my eyes off her.

I step toward her and help her into her chair. “You look radiant tonight,” I say.

“Thank you,” she replies, settling into the seat across from mine, a place rarely filled.

As I walk back around to my side of the table, I find myself thinking about how nice it is to have a guest—and how fortunate I am that this particular guest is both intriguing and beautiful.

I take my seat just as Aurelia enters with a tray holding my best bottle of wine, two glasses, and two plates of food.

“Thank you, Aurelia,” I say.

“Yes, thank you so much,” Fiona adds.

Aurelia bows her head and leaves us to our meal.

I pour the wine and set the bottle aside before looking up at Fiona. “I saw you helping Aurelia carrying water from the well earlier.”

A flush rises in her cheeks. “You saw that?”

“I did. I would’ve helped you both, but I was getting a thorn out of Felix’s paw. Although, Fiona, I was curious, why were you helping with that? You’re my guest—you don’t need to assist the servants.”

Fiona shrugs her shoulders. “If I can help someone, I will. It doesn’t matter who they are or what the task is.”

I take in the meaning of her words and find myself even more intrigued than I was before. She isn’t just stunningly beautiful; she is also kind and thoughtful. She thinks about the servants and even the wild animals as though they are just as deserving of protection, help, or comfort as anyone else, and even though I agree with her, I realize I have never truly thought about things in that way. I find myself wondering who this woman is that I have had the pleasure of meeting, the one who is turning my views upside down, or perhaps right side up.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, why did you suggest letting the cook choose the meal?”

“I thought she would choose something fairly simple,” Fiona says. “I hoped she’d choose a dish that was easy to make and easy to clean up afterward.”

Her answer makes me more certain of what I already see in her—that she is not just kind occasionally, but consistently so, in a way that changes how she sees the world around her.

I pull off a piece of quail and feed it to Felix under the table. He swallows it whole. Looking back at Fiona, I ask, “Would you still like to accompany me to the festival after dinner? I completely understand if you’re tired and would like to stay and rest, but I would love to have you be my guest this evening.”

“Of course, Marcus. I would love to go,” she replies. She sets her fork down and looks at me with a more serious expression. “Although, I do need to tell you something important…and it’s going to sound odd.”

“You can tell me anything,” I say. “I’d love to know more about you.”

She starts to speak, but there’s a knock on the door.

I glance toward it, then back to her. “Will you excuse me one moment?”

I stand to answer the door and, as I walk, I’m wondering who it could be at this hour when most people are already at the festival. My thoughts go to Quintus before I can stop them and to the possibility that something has gone wrong at the forum. I’ve been home while something I could have prevented was happening.

I open the door and find a boy—no more than twelve—standing there with a terrified look on his face. “It’s your brother! It’s Lucius! Come quick!”

Before I can answer him, I hear Fiona behind me, rushing over. We follow the boy as he turns and runs down the street.

As we run, I think about Fiona behind me. This isn’t something she should be caught up in, and I wish she had stayed behind, but I already know enough about her to realize she isn’t the kind of woman who hears someone is in trouble and turns away.

“What happened?” I yell to the boy. 

“Lucius owes gambling debts! They came for him!”

“What are they doing to him?” I call out as we run.

“They’re beating him,” the boy says, breathless as he keeps going. “They said if he doesn’t pay, they’re going to tie him to the back of a horse and drag him through the festival parade tonight. Said everyone will see what happens when you don’t pay.”

I hear shouting, and I know we’re close. Rage rips through me, and I fear Fiona is about to see me at my worst. 

When we reach the alley where the thugs have my brother cornered, I look at Fiona and the boy. “Both of you, keep running,” I order. “Get to the forum and find Quintus—he’ll be near where the parade is being set up at the temple steps. Tell him to bring men and come here now.”

They don’t argue. The boy nods, taking off again, and Fiona follows him. 

I sprint down the alley to see Lucius pinned against the wall again, a man driving blow after blow into his stomach.

My knife is in my hand before I reach them. One of the men turns as I close the distance, his sword coming up too late. I drive into him hard, cutting into his ribs and twisting through the motion until he drops against the wall and slides down it. Lucius is still trapped between the others.

Someone swings at me, and I sidestep his blade, but it’s close enough to feel the movement of it past me. I bury my knife into his stomach. He folds forward with a sharp gasp and stumbles back, collapsing. 

Another lets go of Lucius, reaching for his sword, but I grab him by the front of his tunic and slam him into the wall so hard his head snaps back. Before he can recover, I drive my knife into his shoulder. 

Shouting behind me grows louder, footsteps flooding the alley. I glance back to see Quintus and the men he could round up on their way here. 

I drive my knife into the side of another man, spinning him to the ground, when I feel Quintus right beside me. Our friends take down more attackers as the alley explodes with chaos. 

I duck under a wild swing and land a strike with my knife to the thigh, pushing the man back into the wall. He screams, and before he can recover, one of our men steps in, knocking him down with a fist to the gut. 

When another man charges at me, I sidestep and grab him by the throat, slamming him against the wall hard. I sink my knife into his throat, and he goes limp, collapsing in a heap.

As I catch my breath, Quintus and our friends cut through the remaining attackers. When they're all either dead or have run away, I glance over at Lucius. Fiona is cradling his head in one arm, applying pressure to a chest wound with her other hand. She looks up at me. “We need to get him home. Fast.”

I look at Fiona while wiping the blood off my knife before slipping it back into its sheath and manage a small smile before I lock eyes with Quintus. “I owe you.”

Quintus gives a quick nod. “That’s what friends are for. Don’t worry about the festival tonight—I’ve got it under control. Just go take care of your brother. We’ll clean this mess up.” 

I nod again. “I will. Thank you, Quintus.”

Fiona and I help Lucius to his feet. He’s shaky, but he can walk. We lead him out of the alley and into the street. 

I see the boy who came to find me, his eyes filled with horror. We stop in front of him. “What’s your name, puer?”

“Decimus, Dominus,” he answers, his voice trembling.

I look at Decimus. “You were very brave and did the right thing,” I say. “You helped when it mattered most.”

Fiona nods in agreement. “It took a lot of courage. You should be proud of yourself.”

Decimus nods, a little more confident now, but his eyes still carry the significance of the moment.

“Follow us, Decimus,” I say, my curiosity piqued. “How did you know where to find me?”

He walks next to us. “Everyone knows where you live, Dominus.”

I’m a little surprised by his answer. “I didn’t think anyone kept track of that,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

We walk slowly down the street, Lucius leaning heavily on both Fiona and me. Each movement is painful for him, and the weight of his body makes every step a struggle. Decimus follows behind us. 

When my house finally comes into view, the sight of it brings a small sense of relief, though I know this night is far from over. Lucius is barely conscious and he needs help—right away.

We reach the door, and I push it open. “Aurelia!” I call out, the urgency sharp in my voice.

Felix hears the door open and immediately trots over to greet me. His tail wags as he approaches, but when he sees Lucius leaning on us, barely standing, his demeanor shifts. Felix’s ears prick up, and his wagging slows to a stop. He sniffs the air and takes a step back, sensing the danger of the situation. 

“Aurelia!” I call again.

She appears quickly, her eyes filling with concern and dismay when she sees Lucius, bleeding and injured, struggling to stay on his feet. “What happened?” she asks, her voice tight with concern.

“He’s been badly beaten again,” I say, my voice clipped. “I’m putting him in my bed, Aurelia. We need to tend to him.”

Fiona and I help Lucius down the hall, his body heavy against mine as we move him toward my room. Once inside, I guide him to the bed and help him lie down. 

Aurelia returns a moment later with clean cloths, salves, and bandages in hand, ready to help. She steps to Lucius’s side, her eyes scanning his injuries. “We need to clean him up first,” she murmurs, using a damp cloth to carefully wipe blood from his face.

Fiona kneels beside him, pressing another cloth to his chest. “We’ll need to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. Aurelia, do you have any yarrow?” she asks, looking at the wound.

Aurelia nods and hurries out of the room. She returns moments later with a bundle of dried herbs, handing them to Fiona.

Fiona presses the yarrow into Lucius’s wound, and after a few moments, the bleeding begins to slow. She looks up. “It’s stopping.”

I watch the women work, and I think about Fiona and how courageous it was for her to follow me into that alley, not knowing what she was getting herself into. I see now that she’s knowledgeable, able to handle what’s needed in tough situations, and she’s the most selfless person I’ve ever met.

After a few moments, I step away, needing air. I move toward the front door and open it. Outside, I see Decimus sitting on the steps, Felix resting his head in his lap. The boy is stroking the dog’s fur, and for a moment, the peaceful scene nearly makes me forget about tonight’s trouble. Decimus reminds me of Lucius at that age, and I feel a lump in my throat, thinking about how much I love my younger brother.

“Decimus,” I say, and the boy looks up at me. “Thank you for your help tonight, puer.”

“Of course, Dominus.” 

“If you ever need anything—anything at all—come and find me.”

“I will, Dominus,” he replies. 

“I’ll arrange for a chaperone to take you home in my carriage. Does that sound good to you?” I ask the boy.

He looks up at me, nodding gratefully. “Thank you, Dominus.”

I give him a nod before stepping back inside the house. I find Aurelia in the hallway, carrying a few more cloths.

“Aurelia,” I say, taking the cloths from her. “Please find Titus and have him take the boy waiting outside home in the carriage.”

She nods and hurries off. I walk toward the room to check on Lucius. Inside the room, I move to the bed, setting the clean cloths next to him on the table. The bleeding has stopped, and Fiona and Aurelia have done well to clean Lucius up, but my heart aches at the sight of my younger brother in such pain.

“Marcus,” Fiona says. “Don’t worry. He’s going to make it.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, “for all your help tonight.”

“Of course,” she says, rising and walking over to me. “Are you hurt?” She looks me over. 

“No, I just have a few scratches and perhaps a bruise or two, but I’m fine,” I reply. 

She stands in front of me, and I look into her sapphire eyes while holding back the urge to stroke her face. She seems to feel what’s building between us, too, because her cheeks turn a deep pink. 

“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry, Fiona. I know how you feel about violence.” I take a deep breath and look away. 

She lifts a hand and gently presses her finger to my lips. “That wasn’t violence,” she says. “That was retribution.”