Esther squeezed Matti’s hand to reassure him as they followed Tiberius out of the domus. He untied two mules, which had been tied to a post.
She had so many questions for Tiberius: how he’d found them, why he’d concocted such an elaborate ruse to get them, where he was taking them, and what would happen now. She waited for him to speak first. His eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her shudder.
“Are you…all right?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
She nodded, waiting for him to say more. But his lips were set in an angry line, and he seemed in a hurry to get them away as soon as possible. He helped her and Matti mount one of the mules, and he rode the other. The streets were crowded with people and carts; the clatter of the mules’ hooves and the creaking of the large wooden wheels on the stone road made it impossible to talk.
After a while, the sounds of the city faded away, but Tiberius was still silent. He led them up the gentle slope of the wide, paved Alta Semita. Lush gardens peeked from behind the exterior walls of the houses. The understated aura of the neighborhood spoke loudly. This was where the very rich must live. She knew that few people could afford this kind of quiet. Even the air seemed different: fresher and cooler. Matti looked around, wide-eyed.
They turned into a clean side street, and then into another street wide enough for two litters to pass. They stopped in front of a house with high wooden double doors. She and Matti exchanged glances. A doorman opened the doors, and they entered a tall, light-filled vestibule with a black-and-white mosaic floor. The cedar planks of the raftered roof infused the air with a sweet woody fragrance.
Tiberius strode into an atrium that opened to the sky. Esther stared at the dwarf trees with small orange buds, and rows of roses and junipers. Birds hopped between a painted marble statue of entwined nymphs and a running fountain. A stream wound through a row of tall oleander and laurel shrubs.
Colorful doors opened to other rooms. She looked around in wonder.
“A bankrupt senator with an old Republican name needed money,” Tiberius said with a shrug. “I bought it a year ago. It’s fine for now, but I won’t stay in Rome forever. I have a villa in Campania; that’s where I want to be.”
It looked more than “fine for now,” but Esther didn’t say anything.
Servants scurried about, casting curious glances in her direction. They didn’t look like the slaves in Proculus’s house. Tiberius gave his cloak to a short bald man who nodded and asked if he should prepare lunch. There was a tattoo on his neck, but he didn’t have a slave’s demeanor. He even smiled when he walked away. When Tiberius’s back was turned, Matti pulled on Esther’s arm and whispered, “I’m hungry.” Tiberius spun around and called the servant back. “Give the boy something to eat.”
Matti looked to Esther for permission. She nodded, and Matti left, without a backward glance. Tiberius told Esther to wait in the atrium; he wanted to send the bill of sale over to Proculus as soon as possible. Her stomach growled. She was hungry too, but had been too embarrassed to say so.
She hadn’t expected to feel so awkward around Tiberius. She’d expected him to talk more, to tell her what he’d been doing, and ask about her. But he’d spoken few words. When Tiberius returned, he said Matti had eaten and fallen asleep. She followed Tiberius into a large dining room, where plates were laid out on the table—plates of bread, olives, fruit, stuffed pheasant, and boiled vegetables arranged to resemble a hare. Couches, with small three-legged tables in front of each one, faced each other. Tiberius sat down. Esther assumed he must have been expecting company. Uncertain, she stood, waiting for him to tell her where to go. When he didn’t, she went to the corner and squatted.
He slammed his fist on the table, then stood up and walked toward her, his eyes blazing. “What have they done to you, my proud Aster?” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up.
She cowered and shielded her face with her arm. He seemed surprised by her reaction and quickly let her go, stepping away. He motioned for her to sit on one of the couches. Esther lowered herself stiffly, bracing herself with both hands. Reddening, she squirmed under his intense gaze. She couldn’t remember when she’d last sat on a chair with cushions. She hadn’t reclined on a couch in a dining room since those long-ago Passover seders in Jerusalem.
A different servant set down a platter piled high with grapes, quince, and pomegranates. Her mouth watered.
“Eat,” Tiberius commanded.
Esther didn’t know what to eat first. She grabbed a cluster of grapes and began stuffing them into her mouth. She could hardly chew. She wanted to swallow faster, so she could put more into her mouth. The sweet juice of the grapes burst in her mouth and tickled her tongue.
She stopped abruptly and grabbed her side. A pain shot through her stomach.
He smiled. Was he laughing at her?
Esther rearranged her face in a slave-mask and stopped chewing.
Tiberius said, “Go on. Eat your fill,” and she did.
“Come, you must be exhausted,” Tiberius said after the meal. She followed him through the house. He opened a door. “This is your room.”
There was a dresser and an empty bed. “Where’s Matti?”
“In that room,” he said, pointing to a closed door at the end of the hallway.
When Tiberius left, she went to Matti’s room.
She had to lie on her side to fit into Matti’s narrow bed. She’d never slept on a cloud before; even the mattresses at home had been filled with straw or wool, not feathers. She rested her head against Matti and put her hand on his back. She needed to touch him, to tether herself to something familiar, to reassure herself that this—all of this—was real, reassure herself that they wouldn’t wake up and be back on the hard, cold floor in Proculus’s kitchen. She knew they were safe with Tiberius, but something felt wrong; he seemed different. Besides, the papers weren’t signed yet. Maybe Proculus would change his mind; she couldn’t sink into the clouds just yet.