But then she saw him again, after she and Helva had walked over to the spice markets. Aula had wanted to look over the selection, in case there was anything new or unusual to pass along to her cook. And there he was again, about the same distance away, still watching her.
And then again, another block over, while she was sampling olive oil blends from a Ligurian merchant.
Three times was too many. She had Haelix and Pacco with her as bodyguards, of course; Aula rarely ventured forth without a cordon to announce that she was a protected patrician lady, unlike Latona, who had developed the habit of slipping around the city with only Merula at her side. She wasn’t afraid for her physical safety in this moment. ‘But why on Tellus’s green earth would someone be following me?’
Stomach fluttering, she caught Helva’s elbow. “Helva, turn slowly and look at the tall, dark man over by the garum stall.”
Under the pretense of tucking the fabric of Aula’s gown more firmly into the belt, Helva negotiated herself so that the stranger was within her sight. Her eyes flicked up only briefly as she fluffed Aula’s mantle. “He is familiar, Domina. Give me a moment.” Her brow creased, and Aula knew she was shuffling through her immense mental catalog of every name and face she had ever known.
‘What must it be like, to have a mind with so many library niches, to pull information out of and slot it back in at will?’
Helva smoothed her kerchief back, glanced once more in the man’s direction, and said, “Vatinius Obir, of the Esquiline Collegium. Formerly of Mauretania. Veteran of the Numidian Wars. Granted citizenship for his service. Client to Sempronius Tarren.”
At that, Aula’s posture softened. “Oh! Well, that’s all right, then.” No client of Sempronius’s would mean her harm. She jerked her head in Obir’s direction. “Go and tell him to stop skulking.” Helva arched a thin eyebrow, but she turned away, returning a moment later with Obir in tow. A broad grin indicated he was evidently unworried to have been caught out in his stalking. Aula cocked her head at the man, her hands settling on her hips. “Hail and well met, Vatinius Obir of the Esquiline,” she said, her words a bit clipped. “Do explain why you were following me.”
Pressing a hand to his chest—which, Aula could not help but notice, was rather impressively muscular beneath the goldenrod-yellow tunic and loose green cloak he wore—Obir gave her a respectful little bow. “Honored lady,” he said, his consonants tapped with the accent of his homeland. “I am sorry if I alarmed you. And, with the greatest respect, I must confess that, lovely though you are to gaze upon, you were not, in truth, my target.”
Aula threaded the edge of her mantle through her fingers. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I must explain much.” His warm brown eyes darted around. “And this is, perhaps, not the best place? May I accompany you to your next destination?”
Aula found herself smiling. “Well, I do adore an intrigue. By all means, let us walk. I suddenly fancy a stroll in the shade.” Behind a nearby temple, they found a broad and open walk, shaded by sycamores. Haelix and Pacco could follow close behind, but so long as Aula and Obir didn’t shout, they were unlikely to be overheard by anyone else.
“I am, as your woman told me you know, client to Praetor Sempronius Tarren,” Obir began his confession. “I served under him in Numidia towards the end of my years as an auxiliary.”
“And you didn’t want to sign on again to join him in Iberia?” Aula teased.
He laughed. “No, no, I have had enough of warfare for one lifetime. War gave me opportunities, true, but now, I am an Aventan businessman, and I am happy with the life I have built here.” He grinned sideways at her, with a familiarity that a prissier patrician lady might have taken as an insult. “Besides, an old fellow like me, to go tramping through the Iberian Mountains?”
‘Old?’ Obir could not have seen forty years, from the look of him, and he did not appear to have gone to seed in the decade since the Numidian Wars had ended. Aula bit back the unladylike commentary, and instead offered, “I can hardly blame you for preferring a life of comfort to the hardships of the legions.”
“Indeed, indeed. And here I am relied upon, a figure of stability in my neighborhood. So, my friend the praetor marched off to war, with all those young men following him, their blood afire, and I stayed behind. But he asked me a favor, before he went.” Aula quirked an eyebrow; he was coming to it, but there was a hitch in his amiable bluntness before he continued. “Praetor Sempronius, he . . . has a great regard for your sister, Lady.”
Aula blinked a few times, but his statement only caught her off-guard for a moment before triumph replaced bewilderment. ‘So the good praetor has set a watch over my sister, has he? Now what in Juno’s grace might have prompted that?’ A question for Latona, as soon as Aula could ask it.
“He asked that I would keep my eyes and ears alert for danger to her,” Obir continued.
“Danger?” Aula’s laugh was not quite as unconcerned as she might have wished. A beautiful mage from a prominent family, Latona presented many temptations to the unscrupulous, as they had all learned during Ocella’s reign. “Whatever trouble she might find herself in, I can’t see how it would be enough to warrant monitoring from the leader of a crossroads collegium.” Aula arched an eyebrow pointedly. “Surely you have a great many demands on your time, no matter what favor your patron might ask.”
Obir chuckled softly. “No, Lady, I confess it is not often I doing the watching. The collegium has a great many young lads who need occupation, and they do what I tell them. Good lads, all,” he hastened to add, “have no fear of that. They would run to me, quick as lightning, were there any threat to the lady. I only happened to see you in the market today, and as it is known that copper and gold often walk out together . . .” He shrugged expressively. “My legs were in need of exercise, in any case. I thought I might keep watch a bit, see if the Lady Latona joined you.”
“Reasonable,” Aula murmured. “Does Latona know you and your boys are shadowing her?”
“Ah—no, Lady.” Obir looked only mildly sheepish. “We thought it best to keep a distance.”
“Well, you might do yourself a favor and warn her—or allow me to do so. Otherwise her girl might shove a dagger into someone’s valuable territory if they get too close. Honestly, it’s a marvel Merula hasn’t gutted anyone already.”
Obir laughed. “Yes, I have seen the little Amazon. Your advice is as wise as you are lovely, Lady Aula.” He winked. “I shall give her no reason to use me for target practice.”
Something about that wink put a flush on Aula’s cheeks. Obir reminded her a bit of Autronius Felix, always an audacious flirt, but at least the Autroniae were of the senatorial class. They might not be accepted in the stodgier houses, thanks to their plebeian background and generations-distant slave ancestry, but they were a usual component of the Vitellian social circle. A man of a crossroads collegium, on the other hand—well, there was a social gulf between them, and no mistake, yet he spoke as warmly and freely as though they were good friends. ‘Sempronius’s influence, perhaps.’ He was known to be quite friendly with his clients, whatever their origins, and perhaps that had worn off on such an amiable creature as this Vatinius Obir seemed to be. ‘And it isn’t as though he’s been disrespectful, for all his forwardness.’ Many patrician women, of course, would have considered his so much as looking her in the eye to be an unforgivable presumption—but Aula didn’t see what harm could come from it, and she certainly intended to fill her gaze with a well-built man in return.