“You mustn’t remain out of duty to me, Iulius,” she said, though the thought of losing him saddened her. She relied on him in so many ways. She trusted him completely and couldn’t imagine completing all she needed to do each day without his assistance. And he was a good companion.
Iulius’ knuckles whitened. How had a woman of forty-six remained so naive? How could she not be aware that he loved her? Sometimes he was sure she must know how he felt, and then she would say something like this that proclaimed she didn’t have the slightest notion of his need to be near her. He would far rather be a slave at her side than a freeman away from her.
“As a slave, I am bound to you and free to serve in whatever way you need,” he said. “As a freeman, I’d have to leave your household.”
“I’d never ask you to leave.”
“If I remained, you’d no longer be looked upon as a woman of unquestioned virtue.”
She frowned for a moment, and then, as she comprehended his meaning, she blushed. “People would never think. . . .”
“Ah yes, they would. You’ve lived in the world, my lady, but you’ve never really been part of it. You’ve no conception whatsoever of the evil that’s in man’s mind.”
“I’m not a fool, Iulius. I know evil is loose in the world. And that’s all the more reason we must strive for good. We must help these people.”
“You can’t help them all.”
“I’m not trying to do the impossible. The women I help had husbands who worked for Decimus or Marcus. I can’t turn my back on them when they’re in need.”
“What of Pilia and Candace? What of Vernasia and Epaphra? Did their husbands work for Lord Decimus or your son?”
“There are exceptions,” she conceded. “I heard of their difficulties from the others.”
“You can’t take care of the whole world.”
“I’m not trying to take care of the whole world!” she said, taxed. Why must he plague her today when her physical resources were so weakened? She wasn’t merely tired, she was drained. Utterly. And there was so much to do, so many to see, and so little time.
Iulius held his silence.
Phoebe glanced up at him after a long moment and saw his stony expression. He was exasperated with her. She smiled tenderly. “You used to fuss over Decimus the same way you now fuss over me.”
It was not the same at all. “It is not in my nature to bow and scrape.”
“I’ve never asked it of you.”
“No, my lady.”
“I’m not a child, Iulius.”
He said nothing.
“Don’t be annoyed with me, Iulius. Please. I wish you could understand. . . .”
“I do understand, my lady,” he said more gently. “You spend every waking moment serving others so you’ll have no time left to think about—”
“Don’t say it.”
He winced inwardly at the pain he heard in her soft voice. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
“I can’t change some things, Iulius,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Here, I can.”
Two little girls sat in a doorway across the street, playing with a dirty rag. One saw her. “Lady Phoebe!” The girls ran across the street to her, faces beaming with bright, elfin smiles.
“Hello, Hera,” Phoebe said, laughing in delight at their warm greeting.
The little girl held her doll up so Phoebe could see it. “My mama made it for me,” the girl boasted. “She said you gave her a new tunic and so she made me this baby from her old one. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She’s a very pretty baby, Hera,” Phoebe said, still struggling against the tears that had come far too quickly at Iulius’ words. Was he right? Did she drive herself from morning to night so she could forget Decimus was gone and that her own children were lost to her as well. “What’s her name?”
“Phoebe,” the child said with a grin. “I named her after you, my lady.”
“I am very honored.”
“Good morning, Lady Phoebe,” someone called from above.
Phoebe glanced up and waved. “Good morning, Olympia. I saw your son a few minutes ago. He looks very well now.”
“Yes,” Olympia laughed. “The medicine you brought worked wonders. He and his friends have been playing legionnaires all morning.”
Phoebe pushed Iulius’ words from her mind and entered the tenement. She’d come to visit a widow whose husband had been lost at sea. The woman had three small children. Phoebe saw her own problems were paltry in comparison; hers were matters of the heart, not survival.