“How much will you pay me?” he said, scrubbing angry tears out of his eyes with his dirty fingers, doing little more than smearing his face.

Tabbic laughed. “Pay you!” he said, his voice filled with scorn. “Boy, you’ll be learning a trade. You should pay us.”

Octavian spat a stream of oaths and tried to bite Tabbic once again. This time the metalworker cuffed him with the flat of his other hand without looking.

“What if he steals the goods?” he said.

Alexandria could see he was coming round to the idea. That was the problem, of course. If Octavian ran off with silver, or worse, the small store of gold that Tabbic kept locked away, it would hurt them all. She put on her sternest expression and took Octavian’s chin in her hand, turning his face to her.

“If he does,” she said, fixing the little boy with her gaze, “we will have a perfect right to demand he is sold as a slave to pay the debt. His mother too if it comes to it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Octavian said, shocked out of struggling by her words.

“My business is not a charity, lad. We would,” Tabbic replied firmly. Over Octavian’s head, he winked at Alexandria.

“Debts are paid in this city—one way or another,” she agreed.

*                                                      *                                                      *

Winter had arrived quickly and both Tubruk and Brutus were wearing heavy cloaks as they cut the old oak into firewood ready to be carted back to the estate stores. Renius didn’t seem to feel the cold and had left his stump bare to the wind away from the sight of strangers. He had brought a young slave boy from the estate to place the branches steady for him to swing his axe. The boy hadn’t spoken a word since his arrival at Renius’s heels, but he stood well clear when Renius swung, and his wind-reddened face fought to conceal a smile when the blade slipped and sent Renius staggering and swearing under his breath. Brutus knew the old gladiator well enough to wince in silent appreciation of what would follow if Renius saw the child’s amusement. The work was making them all sweat and breathe frosty plumes in the winter air. Brutus watched critically as Renius swung, sending two smaller pieces spinning into the air. He raised his own axe again, looking over at Tubruk.

“What worries me most is the debt to Crassus. Just the quarters alone cost four thousand aurei.” Brutus swung smoothly as he spoke, grunting as the stroke fell cleanly.

“What does he expect in return?” Tubruk said.

Brutus shrugged. “He just says not to worry, which means I can’t sleep for thinking about it. The armorer he hired is turning out more sets than I have men for, even after scouring Rome. On my centurion’s wage, I’d have to work for years just to pay him back for the swords alone.”