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but Valerius brushed it off and ordered the guards to stand back. “Why are you here, then?” My eyes darted away and he asked, “Did they hurt you?”
    I glanced at Crispus, who looked genuinely concerned, and I wondered about his life, so different from my reality. I’d never met someone of his status who cared about anyone of mine. Maybe all patricians weren’t the same.
    I wasn’t injured, but Valerius lifted my head with both hands anyway, which I hated. When he turned me for further inspection, he noticed the tear in my tunic. “What happened there?” he asked.
    “It’s only a scratch,” I mumbled. Why couldn’t they go away already?
    He pushed a finger through the rip to examine the scratch, and then drew in a breath. Once he did, he whispered, “Crispus, come see this.”
    His son obeyed, gasped, and then asked, “What is that?”
    A scratch , I wanted to say. The senator and his son were thin-skinned people who probably considered dressing themselves as a form of physical labor. I’d received plenty of scratches before, and this wouldn’t be my last. Perhaps such strange concepts as bruises, cuts, and scratches were entirely unknown to soft patricians like them.
    Valerius started to question me, but I cast my eyes away, instinctively not wanting to talk about it. It wouldn’t take much to guess that Caela had given me the scratch, and then they might start asking why. The bulla against my hip felt warmer than it had before, almost like a warning against me letting those secrets be discovered.
    Before he completed his sentence, however, another senator walked up behind them, dressed in the same white-and-purple toga. He was a round sort of man. Round eyes, round nose, and a round belly that probably consumed more cakes in a day than I had seen in a lifetime. Valerius greeted him as Senator Horatio, then quickly faced me forward again. He placed a hand over my torn tunic, covering the scratch. It sparked when he pressed down on the wound, and I winced, but with his other hand, he squeezed my arm, warning me to stop moving.
    “How much is it to buy this boy?” Valerius asked the guards. “Who is his owner?”
    “You wouldn’t want him,” Senator Horatio said, speaking of me. “This boy is filthy. Show us your teeth.”
    I’d heard how slaves were treated at auction, and this small taste of it was bitter in my mouth. They didn’t even bother talking to me, and spoke about me as if I wasn’t right in front of them, hearing every word they said. I clamped my mouth closed and tried to turn away, but Valerius’s hand was still covering the scratch on my shoulder and he pulled me back. I wished he wasn’t holding me so tight — the sting in the scratch was getting worse — but he wasn’t giving me any room to squirm free.
    One of the guards stepped forward. “He belongs in the mines south of this lake. We must bring him there for punishment.”
    Senator Horatio’s only interest was in punishing me now. “Show me your teeth!” he demanded.
    “Show me yours,” I muttered. Once we returned to the mines, Sal could give me whatever punishment he wanted. It would be a pleasure compared to any service of this gasbag ructuose pig.
    Despite both Valerius and Crispus persuading him to move on, Senator Horatio was becoming angrier. “I am the presiding magistrate of the Roman Senate,” he said. “You will obey me!”
    “He isn’t worth your trouble,” Crispus said dismissively. “If this boy was obedient, he wouldn’t be here right now.”
    That caused Horatio to pause, and privately, I rejoiced. If my lack of obedience caused him to leave me alone, then it had just become my finest trait.
    Without another glance at me, Horatio arched his neck. “Senator Valerius, this entire day has been a waste of our time. Those rumors of a discovery of Caesar’s treasure were clearly false. I will return to Rome at once.”
    “Of course.” Valerius gave him a curt bow but still did not release me.