Antonia nodded, her blue eyes wide with surprise. This was a side of her husband she had never seen, and she was suddenly afraid. Quintus had always been so indulgent of her. Now, it would seem, he was putting their son ahead of her.
He smiled down at her. "I am pleased with you, Antonia. It has been a terrible time for you, but you have been brave. You are a fit mother for my children."
He left her bedchamber and made his way to his library. The house was quiet now, without his stepsons running about. In a way, it was sad, but in a few years' time the villa would ring again with the laughter and shouts of children. His children. A single lamp burned upon the table as he entered his private sanctuary, shutting the door firmly behind him. Only the gravest emergency would cause anyone to disturb him once that door was closed. He had quickly trained the servants after his marriage to Antonia that this room was his sanctum sanctorum. No one came in but at his invitation.
"You did very well," he told the two men who now stepped from the shadows within the room.
"It was easy, master," the taller of the two answered him. "Those two nursemaids was easy pickin's. A little drugged wine, a little fucking, a little more wine, a little more-"
"Yes, yes!" Quintus Drusus said impatiently. "The picture you paint is quite clear. Tell me of the boys. They gave you no trouble? They did not cry out? I want no witnesses coming forward later on."
"We throttled them in their beds as they slept, master. Then we placed their bodies in the atrium pond. No one saw us, I guarantee you. It was the middle of the night, and all slept. We made that pretty tableau for everyone to find before we done the children. Quite a wicked pair, those girls looked," the tall man continued. He sniggered lewdly.
"You promised us our freedom," the other man said to Quintus Drusus. "When will you give us our freedom? We have done as you bid us."
"I told you that there were two tasks you must perform for me," Quintus Drusus answered him. "This was but the first."
"What is the second? We want our freedom!" the tall man declared.
"You are impatient, Cato," Quintus Drusus said, noting his look of distaste. It amused Quintus Drusus to give his slaves dignified, elegant-sounding identities. "In nine days' time," he continued, "my son will be formally named, and a ceremony of purification will be performed. It is a family event to be celebrated within the home. My father-in-law will come from Corinium; my cousin Gaius and his family from their nearby villa. It is my cousin and his family that I want you to study well.
"There is a Celtic festival in May. I remember it from last year. Gaius Drusus allows his slaves their freedom that night from sunset until the following dawn. I intend to pursue the same custom. On that night you will eliminate my cousin and his family. As an extra incentive, you may steal my cousin's gold from a certain hiding place I shall reveal to you when the time comes. In the ensuing uproar it will take several days for me to discover that those two new slaves from Gaul that I recently purchased are gone. Do you understand me?" He stared coldly at the pair, wondering if there was a way he could eliminate them as well and save himself the possibility of ever being discovered. No. He would have to rely on these two. If he was any judge of men, they would flee as fast as they could back across the sea to Gaul.
"Beltane," Cato said.
"Beltane?" Quintus Drusus looked puzzled.
"The Celtic festival you mentioned. It is celebrated the first day of May, master. There is no other spring festival of note."
"How appropriate," Quintus Drusus said with a brief smile. "I married my wife on the Kalends of June. Our son was born on the Kalends of March. Now on the Kalends of May I shall achieve the beginnings of my destiny. I do believe that the number one is a lucky one for me." He looked at the two Gauls. "I will dim the lamp a moment. Go out by the garden exit, and behave yourselves. Both of you! You must have easy access to the house when my cousin and his family are here. If you have been causing difficulties, the majordomo will send you to the fields. You are of no use to me in the fields."
In the morning, Quintus Drusus sent messengers to his father-in-law in Corinium, bidding him come, and to his cousin Gaius, inviting him and his family to the new Drusus's name day and purification. It was not until they arrived for the celebration that Gaius Drusus Corinium and his family learned of the deaths of Antonia's two older sons.
"Ohh, my dear," Kyna said, kissing the young woman on both cheeks, "I am so terribly sorry. Why did you not send for me? My mother and I would have come. Cailin too. It is not good for a woman to be by herself in a time of such great sorrow."
"There was no need," Antonia said softly. "My little ones are safe with the gods. Quintus has assured me of it. There is nothing I can do for them. I must think of the baby. Quintus will not have a slave woman nursing him. I cannot distress myself lest my milk cease. That would displease Quintus very much, and he is so good to me."
"She is mesmerized by him," Cailin said in disgust.
"She is in love with him," Kyna answered.
"I think it very convenient that Sextus Scipio's two sons are now gone," Cailin noted quietly.
Kyna was truly shocked. "Cailin! What are you saying? Surely you are not accusing Quintus Drusus of some unnatural act? He loved those two little boys and was a good stepfather to them both."
"I accuse no one of anything, Mother," Cailin said. "I have merely observed the convenient departure of Antonia's little boys. You must admit that it can but suit Quintus that only his own child is left alive to inherit one day all he has gained."
"Why, when you speak of Quintus," Kyna asked her daughter, "are your thoughts always so dark, Cailin?"
The girl shook her head. "I do not know," she answered honestly. "My voice within warns me against him, calls to me of some nameless danger, yet I know not what. I thought when he married Antonia, these feelings would evaporate, but they have not. If anything, they have grown stronger each time I am in Quintus's presence."
"Are you jealous, perhaps, of Quintus's marriage?" Kyna probed. "Is it possible that you regret your decision not to wed him?"
"Are you mad, Mother?" The look of distaste on Cailin's beautiful face told Kyna that she was definitely on the wrong track.
"I only asked," Kyna said apologetically. "Sometimes we regret what we have refused, or thrown away."
They were called into the atrium, where the family altar was set up. Proudly, Quintus Drusus bestowed his own praenomen, or first name, upon his son. Gently he hung a beautiful carved gold bulla about the baby's neck. The locket, held together by a wide spring, contained a powerful charm within the two halves that would protect its wearer until he became a man. With the dignity befitting the patriarch of a great family, Quintus Drusus intoned prayers to the gods, and to Mars in particular, for this was the month of Mars. He prayed that Quintus Drusus, the younger, would live a long and happy life. Then he sacrificed a lamb, newborn on the same day as his son, and two snow-white doves to honor the gods so that his prayers would be favorably received.
Once the religious ceremony was over, the celebration and feasting began. Each member of the Gaius Drusus family had brought the baby a crepundia. Crepundia were tiny toys made of gold or silver in the shapes of animals, fish, miniature swords, flowers, or tools, which were strung together upon a chain and hung about the little one's neck to amuse him with their rattling and jingling. They were the traditional gifts brought to an infant's purification and name day.
Quintus Drusus was expansive in his good humor. Sharing wine with his cousins Titus and Flavius, he teased them, "I hear it said that there is a certain slave girl at your father's villa who ripens like a summer melon. Which one of you is responsible, eh?" He poked a playful finger in their direction and chuckled.