Chapter 73: The Governor’s Daughter

February 20, 221 AD, Massilia, Gallia Narbonensis.

Under the shroud of midnight, Valeria, the daughter of Governor Gratus, hurried through the alleyways of the harbor district. She was far from the cages of her father’s palace. Beside her walked Sabina, a courtesan who had taken pity on the girl earlier that evening.

Valeria’s objective was singular: she was fleeing her arranged marriage to Senator Claudius. She was risking crucifixion to secure passage up the Rhone River, driven by a desire to reach the northern valleys and lay eyes on the warlord known as the Forge Master.

Navigating the piers, the two women stopped before a galley bobbing in the water...

Sprawled across the deck was a man. A jug of wine rested against his leg, and a ledger was draped over his face to block out the lanterns.

Sabina did not bother with a greeting. She stepped onto the gangplank, marched up to the sailor, and delivered a kick to his shin.

"Wake up, you drunken ox!" Sabina hissed.

The man jolted awake with a grunt. The ledger smacked against the deck as he scrambled to sit up, his hand dropping to the dagger at his belt. He blinked through his haze, his eyes focusing on the woman standing over him.

"Sabina?" he groaned, rubbing his shin. "By Neptune’s salty ass, what is wrong with you? It is the middle of the night."

The captain, a smuggler named Titus, climbed to his feet. As he dusted off his tunic, his eyes drifted past his sister and landed on Valeria. Even shrouded in a cloak, Valeria’s posture was impossible to hide. A grin spread across Titus’s face.

"Well, well," Titus purred, leaning against the tiller.

"I see your clientele has improved, sister. Usually, you don’t bring the new girls to the docks until—"

Sabina stepped forward and slapped him across the chest.

"Keep your filthy thoughts behind your teeth," Sabina snapped. "She isn’t a stray for you to ogle. She is a woman of high birth seeking passage up the Rhone, and you are going to show her respect."

Titus’s grin vanished. He cleared his throat, offering a bow.

"My apologies, Domina," Titus muttered. "My sister keeps rough company. I made a foolish assumption."

Valeria offered a nod, remembering Sabina’s instructions. She was clutching a basket to her chest, inside of which her peacock, Argus, was hooded and silent.

Titus rubbed his chin, his instincts screaming that this was a terrible idea. "The Rhone river? That is a dangerous row right now. The legions are marching, and the northern valleys are a warzone. Why would a noblewoman want to hire a river-runner like me to take her into the Forge Master’s territory without an armed escort? Just what kind of rot have you dragged onto my deck, Sabina?"

Sabina crossed her arms, standing between the patrician and her brother.

She knew Titus was a coward when it came to politics, so she fed him a half-truth.

"She is from a minor equestrian family," Sabina lied. "Her father is trying to sell her to a Senator in Rome to settle his gambling debts. She is running away. If you have any brains in that thick skull, you will take her coin and keep your mouth shut."

Titus let out a laugh. "Minor nobility? Right. And I am the Emperor of Carthage."

Valeria, sensing the captain’s hesitation, knew it was time to play her card.

Her hands trembling, she reached beneath her cloak and withdrew a gold arm-cuff. It was forged, inlaid with three pearls.

"I... I do not possess minted silver," Valeria said. "But I can offer you this. Is it enough for my passage?"

Titus stared at the jewelry. The moonlight caught the luster of the pearls, and the smuggler’s greed eclipsed his paranoia. That piece of gold was worth more than his galley!

He looked at his sister, then back to the girl, a frown settling on his face. "A minor equestrian family does not own pearls of that size," he muttered. "There is a bounty on your head, isn’t there?"

Valeria’s breath hitched, her eyes flashing with desperation.

She looked at Sabina, pleading for the older woman to intervene.

Titus let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. The value of the arm-cuff was too much to walk away from...

"Fine," Titus grumbled, snatching the cuff and shoving it into his pouch. "I will take you. I was sailing north tomorrow anyway. The rumors say the warlord in Gaul pays silver for sulfur shipments, and I intend to find out if it’s true. Get below deck. You can take the cabin. I will sleep with the oarsmen until we reach the capital."

"Thank you," Valeria gasped, a wave of relief washing over her.

Before stepping toward the hatch, Valeria turned and threw her arms around Sabina, hugging the courtesan.

"Thank you, Sabina," Valeria whispered. "I swear by the gods, I will never forget what you sacrificed to help me tonight. You have given me a future."

Sabina stiffened, unused to such affection from anyone. A flush crept up her neck as she pushed the girl away.

"Just survive, girl," Sabina deflected. "Get in the cabin and lock the door. Do not come out until you reach the capital. Sailors are scum, my brother included."

Valeria offered a smile, gripping her basket, and disappeared down the steps into the belly of the galley.

The moment the hatch clicked shut, Titus rounded on his sister, his eyes blazing with suspicion.

He grabbed Sabina by the elbow, dragging her toward the bow of the ship where their voices wouldn’t carry.

"Who is she?" Titus hissed. "What kind of nightmare have you dumped in my lap?"

"I told you," Sabina deflected, pulling her arm free. "She is a minor—"

"Do not lie to me!" Titus snarled, cutting her off. "I move stolen goods for a living! That arm-cuff bears the crest of the Governor! You expect me to believe a minor equestrian has access to Gratus’s treasury? Tell me who is sleeping in my cabin, Sabina, or I swear I will throw her into the bay right now!"

Sabina glared at him for a moment before exhaling a breath.

"She is Valeria," Sabina confessed. "Governor Gratus’s youngest daughter. And she is trying to escape her betrothal to Senator Claudius. You have to protect her, Titus! Just until you reach the Forge Master’s territory."

Titus’s face drained of color. He backed away from his sister as if she had handed him a viper.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Titus whisper-shouted, clutching his head in panic. "The Governor’s daughter?! Do you have any idea what Gratus will do to us? When he realizes she is missing, he will lock down the harbor! If the Praetorians catch me with her, they won’t kill me. They will nail me to a cross and leave me for the gulls!"

Sabina crossed her arms, her jaw set in defiance. "She doesn’t know how the world works, Titus. She heard rumors about the Forge Master in the north, and she thinks he is some philosopher-king who will offer her sanctuary. She has never met the man!"

Titus groaned, pacing the deck like a trapped animal. "You want me to smuggle the most valuable hostage in Gaul into a warzone, because she has a fantasy about a warlord?" He stopped, glaring at his sister. "Why, Sabina? Why would you risk your life for an aristocrat?"

Sabina looked away, staring out at the waves of the Mediterranean. Her exterior fractured a fraction, revealing the woman beneath.

"Because I know what it feels like to be sold by men who claim to own you," Sabina whispered. "Just once... I wanted to see a woman escape the meat-grinder. I wanted to see a girl not get screwed over by her own blood. Is that so hard to understand?"

Titus fell silent. The anger bled out of him, replaced by a guilt.

He knew why Sabina worked the docks... He knew the debts their father had left behind, and he knew he had done nothing to stop her from paying them with her body.

He stared at his sister for a moment, the weight of his failures settling on his shoulders.

"Fine," Titus breathed, running a hand over his face. "I will take her up the Rhone. She has my protection until we reach the capital. But the second she steps off this deck, she is on her own."

Sabina let out a breath, a smile breaking across her face. "Thank you, Titus."

"Don’t thank me," Titus grunted, turning toward the rigging. "Get off my ship. And get out of Massilia tonight. Go to Hispania, or sail for Carthage, but do not be here when the sun comes up. Gratus will tear this city down to the bedrock looking for her, and she left a trail to your tavern."

Sabina nodded, pulling her cloak tight against the breeze. S

he gave her brother one last look before hurrying down the gangplank and disappearing into the fog.

Titus stood alone on the deck, listening to the water lap against the hull.

He was thirty-five years old, a survivor of the Roman underworld, and he had made the most dangerous decision of his life out of a sense of guilt.

"The gods despise me," Titus muttered, shaking his head.

He moved swiftly, kicking the oarsmen awake and barking orders. He had to cast off. By the time Governor Gratus woke up and realized his asset had vanished, the galley would be miles up the Rhone River.

As the ship slipped out of the harbor, Valeria sat in the cabin, unaware of the war she was sailing toward.

She was free from the Senate’s grasp, racing toward a man she believed was a savior...