Fortune Favors

Prologue

Rome, 33 BC

His mother's wedding feast had been going on for what seemed like hours, with more food of more different varieties than Sam had ever seen, and he had never been impoverished back home in Gaul. Thrush and pheasant, oysters and fish, grapes and pomegranates and many delicacies that young Sam could not name. His mother Jacquetta lounged at the high table with the man that had just become her third husband, and her golden hair had been fashioned into an elaborate Roman nodus hairstyle, pushed up and curled around her face. She wore a veil that draped over her shoulders but had been pushed back to reveal her face post-ceremony. Sam had heard many of the guests remark on her stunning beauty, and many of them said they understood why Eolus would marry a Northern barbarian. Her eyes, they said, reflected the sky.

As she spoke to the various patricians who wished her well, she smiled and laughed and appeared to be a happy bride. Sam, on the other hand, knew his mother better than anyone and knew that the laughter and joy she projected was a facade that threatened to crumble at any moment. In her eyes, he saw coldness and anger. If he had been older, he would have killed her husband to protect her, and perhaps someday he would, but for the moment he knew he had to bide his time.

Unlike his mother, Sam wasn't good at pretending all was well so he was grateful when his mother and the slaves she had charged with looking after him all lost sight of him. The boy seized this chance and slipped away, through the cramped alleyways and back into the grand Domus that had recently become his home. He had nowhere else to go, though he would have run all the way home to Gaul if he could have.

He made his way past the winemaking shop that rented space in the front of the house, through the ornate main door, and back to the courtyard where he crawled under a table and hid. He thought only slaves would be at the house, and with his patrician clothing, even the ones to whom he had not yet been introduced knew to let him be. Yet, he soon realized he was not the only patrician who had skipped out of the feast.

A group of well-dressed men came into the courtyard, and they began playing at dice. Sam watched as they laughed, placed bets, and called for wine. In the group, one young man stood out as the leader.

Sam didn't think there was anything particularly special about this mysterious young man's appearance. He was of average stature, handsome and appeared every way a Roman, though his hair was light enough to suggest some northerner in his bloodline. He did, however, carry himself with the chilling authority of a schoolmaster.

Not only did the others treat him with deference, but Sam also observed that this young man was the only one of the group placing bets based on mathematics as opposed to arrogance or optimism.

"Marcus Laberius, this was a splendid idea," said the young man to the youngest member of his group. "They'll hardly miss us at the feast."

"I'm always glad to serve you, Consul," replied the young Marcus as they played their game.

Sam realized that the older man had to be Gaius Octavian, heir to Julius Caesar and one of the rulers of Rome.

Sam watched for a long while, not making a sound. Finally, Octavian turned to his companions.

"I have need of privacy," he said abruptly. "You must all leave, except you Marcus. Wait for me in the atrium."

All the young men obeyed, without question or hesitation, although some of them gave puzzled glances to each other as they hurried out of the courtyard.

Marcus couldn't have been more than two or three years older than Sam, but he was already taller than Octavian, and he stood there awkwardly Octavian strode over to the table beneath which Sam hid.

"You may come out now," he said.

Sam crawled out from under the table and stood up. He greeted Octavian formally, in Latin, in a manner that befitted Octavian's station. He explained that his Gallic name had been Latinized, but that everyone close to him called him Sam.

Octavian gave him a gracious nod in reply. "That is what I enjoy seeing. A Roman boy raised in the provinces who knows how to behave like a Roman." As he spoke, his stared at Sam with what appeared to be a mixture of delight and fascination.

"Thank you, sir," replied Sam. "I've patrician Roman blood in my veins through my grandfather, Lucius Sabinus, and my mother is a Gaulish princess."

"He's my nephew," said Marcus to Octavian. "My brother just adopted him."

"That means I'll expect you to look after him, Marcus," replied Octavian. "Will you do that?"

Marcus stared at Sam, and Sam saw that he, like Sam, had eyes like the sky. Sam wondered if that meant he could trust Marcus. He wasn't sure.

"I'll keep him out of trouble," said Marcus, who then smiled in a way that indicated that he was not telling the truth.

Octavian rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you should go join the others."

"Yes, sir," said Marcus, who ran off but not before winking at Sam.

"It's probably you who will have to look after Marcus," said Octavian gravely. "The boy enjoys life far too much for his own good."

"I will, sir," replied Sam. "I've never had an uncle. At least, not one that I've known. I was raised in Gaul."

Octavian nodded in acknowledgment, "I've seen your mother, and I know well why your new father was so captivated. Moreover, you speak Latin as well as any of us. No wonder Eolus agreed to your mother's price and adopted you. I hope you aren't insulted that I skipped out on the feast."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not there, either, sir."

Octavian looked Sam in the eyes, and he smiled just slightly. "I'll bet you understand better than anyone why I chose not to attend. Just don't tell Eolus I was here. I told him I had pressing business. I didn't tell him betting tablets were the business."

Sam smiled softly. "I won't tell, sir."

"Good lad," replied Octavian. "Now, tell me, did you enjoy watching the dice game? We would have allowed you to join had you asked."

Sam tried to keep his face neutral, but his lips curled into a smile.

"What amuses you, boy?" asked Octavian.

Sam looked up at Octavian, and he decided it was best to tell him the truth whatever the consequences. "I wouldn't play dice against you, sir. The others were playing as though it was a game based on luck. Your bets indicated you calculating possibilities in your head. No matter how fate threw the dice, your method would see to it that you won."

Octavian appeared impressed. "You observed that from under this table?"

Sam nodded. "It's not cheating, sir. You're just playing the game the way a wise man would."

Octavian shook his head. "I know it's not cheating, but...well, never mind that. Perhaps you would like to put that keen mind to work for me, but it would have to be our secret. Can I trust you?"

Sam looked up at Octavian. Sam's true father's father may have been a Roman, but Sam looked like Northern Barbarian and his true father had died fighting against the Romans. That Octavian trusted him meant a great deal to Sam.

"Of course, sir," replied Sam.

"Good," said Octavian, who reached into his purse and pulled out a wax tablet with an emblem on it. "Write me your observations of your new family on this. I will send a man to fetch it in two weeks' time. Your report will be quite helpful, but tell no one and see to it that no one discovers what you are doing."

Sam took the wax tablet and tucked it in his own purse. "You can trust me, Consul."

Octavian squinted slightly, and he nodded. "Now," said Octavian, "I think we should cease worrying about weddings and other such matters and enjoy this afternoon. In fact, I insist on it. Have you been to the Circus Maximus?"

Sam shook his head. "No, sir."

"Well, then," said Octavian as he turned toward the Atrium. "We shall remedy that immediately."

Sam followed Octavian out of the courtyard, no longer feeling alone, but also feeling like he had just placed a very risky bet.