“Every time it has mattered, I have failed.”
“No.” Titus smiled in spite of the anticipation sparking to life within him. “Who but God can know how many dangers were avoided because of your presence? You can be blamed for none of the sorrows that have befallen her, Phillip. The important thing is that we get her back. Once she is my wife, there will be nothing my father can do. All of Rome will know I have wed her, and they will not be able to turn a blind eye to his doings.”
Phillip measured him evenly. “You know what they do with women at the arenas, do you not?”
Titus’s felt his eyes harden into the way they had been most of his life. “I know better than most how harshly a whore is treated, yes, and I know my father would have sent her there to fill that description. But if you are implying that I may change my mind about marrying her because of what she is likely to have been through in these two nights, you are mistaken. If anyone is to be punished for this, it will be my father, not Abigail.”
“What will you do?”
“The only thing I can with a clear conscience. Absolutely nothing. Never again will I step in his house, exchange a word with him, or acknowledge his existence. He has made his choice. I am no longer his son.”
Phillip nodded. They walked quickly in silence for a moment before he asked, “And what of the officials at the arena? What will you do about them?”
Titus’s grin felt edged with danger. “Well, my friend, that depends entirely upon how cooperative they prove to be.”
Phillip’s lips tugged up to match Titus’s. It seemed he, too, was looking forward to the prospect of a confrontation. Sometimes only a hint of indulgence could tame the savage in a man’s soul.
*
Mannas had a hard time believing it was chance that led him past the entrance gates at the very moment that Titus Asinius charged up the steps. If it was fortune, it was decidedly bad. He would rather be anywhere else. As it was, he stepped aside and hoped that the furious man would not even see him.
Such luck was not destined for him that day. As he strode by, Titus grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him forward with him, not even sparing him a glance. “Volusius,” he demanded in a stony voice. “Take me to him.”
Mannas nodded, but he had a feeling it did not occur to Asinius that he would do anything but agree. It was not an unsafe assumption. Mannas darted a look at the second man, recognizing him as the bodyguard that he heard had gotten away. He hoped fervently the man would not recognize him. He suspected Asinius would not object to the eunuch breaking a few bones in vengeance.
“This way.” Mannas indicating a narrow, steep set of steps. He chanced another look at the young Asinius. At the moment, he had the same look of impenetrableness that his father was famous for, along with an extra touch of ferocity for good measure. Mannas decided to be glad it was Volusius, and not he, that would feel the brunt of this one’s anger. Maybe he could even secure a little extra leniency for himself. “I heard that you just returned recently from Jerusalem, Lord. I served there myself, many years ago, alongside Cleopas Visibullis.”
The hand on his shoulder tightened. “You are an idiot. You just admitted to me that you know who I am, and hence why I am here, which means you know for whom I come. And if you know of Abigail, it is because you have seen her. And tell me, my fellow legioner, how is it that you looked upon my betrothed without offering her your assistance?”
Mannas forced down a swallow. “I. . . did not know she was your betrothed, Lord, only that she–”
“Enough.” Titus punctuating the command with a shake. “Where is Volusius?”
Having reached the top of the steps, Mannas indicated the appropriate chamber. He hoped to be released, but Titus apparently decided it would be a more impressive entrance if he barged in with the man’s own guard in hand.
No, it was not a day of fortune for Mannas.
*
When Titus flung the door open, Volusius looked up in surprise. The man stood, outrage on his face.
Titus released the guard and charged the man. “Where is she?”
Volusius scurried behind a large piece of furniture. “I know not of whom you speak or why you are here. Please, I am a busy man, and I have much to do. If you have business with me, we can make an appointment.”
Titus’s answer was to kick the table between them out of the way and walk through the void it created so that he could grab Volusius by his tunic and lift him a few inches off the ground. “Abigail Visibullis,” he said with exaggerated patience. “My father had her delivered to you the day before yesterday. Where is she?”
“I–I do not know that name.” Volusius clutched at Titus’s arm.