Free A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers

in surprise. “You utter honorable in the same sentence with politics, Father? You loathe politicians. You’ve never had a single good thing to say about them, and now you suggest Marcus become one? You cannot possibly be serious!”
    Marcus grinned broadly at his young sister’s candid outburst. Leave it to her to say the first thing that came into her mind before considering their patriarch’s good humor, or rather, lack of it. “It would seem, despite Father’s frequent remarks on the dubious legitimacy of most senators, he has held secret aspirations all along to see a Valerian in the Forum.”
    “Oh, but wouldn’t it be wonderful!” Julia said, dark brown eyes alight. “Marcus, I can just see you standing before the senate.” She stood and struck a dramatic pose. Thrusting her lovely chin in the air, she gathered her palus , an elegantly embroidered mantle or overdress, and strolled back and brother and parents, her hand against her chest, an expression of such grave regality on her face that even Decimus smiled.
    “Sit down, imp,” Marcus said, tugging her onto the couch.
    Julia, irrepressible when she was in a gay spirits, took his hand. “You’ll make a most beautiful senator, Marcus.”
    “Beautiful? That is a description better placed upon fair Scorpus,” he said, referring to a wealthy merchant who had come from Ephesus to do business with their father. Julia had been quite impressed with his dark eyes and swarthy skin.
    “Is it true he has a catamite?”
    “Julia!” Phoebe said, shocked to hear her young daughter speak of such things.
    Julia grimaced. “I apologize, Mama.”
    “Where do you hear such things?”
    “Father was telling Marcus he didn’t trust a man with a catamite, and Marcus said—”
    “How long were you standing outside the bibliotheca ?” Marcus broke in quickly, silencing her before she could chatter on. He was irritated, both because she had eavesdropped on his conversation with his father in the library and because she had embarrassed their mother, who was clearly shocked by such free talking. Julia knew more of the world at fourteen than their mother did at forty-four. Perhaps because their mother didn’t want to know.
    “I was just passing by.” Too late, Julia saw the displeasure on her mother’s face. Quickly she changed the subject. “Will you be a senator, Marcus?”
    “No.” He met his father’s look. “If you want to have a hand in politics, assist poor Antigonus.”
    “Antigonus?” Decimus said. “The pup who hawks statuary to the aristocracy?”
    “Works of art, Father, not statuary.”
    Decimus gave a derisive snort.
    Marcus replenished his goblet and handed it to him. “Antigonus told me this afternoon he was ready to open his veins over the cost of the games he sponsored last week. You could have a senator of your own for the bargain price of a few hundred thousand sesterces. He aheady has the ear of the emperor through Vespasian’s son Domitian. He and Antigonus train together as gladiators at the ludus. It’s only a matter of time until Antigonus is sitting in the senate, unless he kills himself first, of course.”
    “I doubt Antigonus would do serious harm to himself,” Decimus said dryly. “Except by accident.”
    “Antigonus admires Seneca, and you know Seneca preached suicide. If Antigonus dies, we will have lost a great advantage,” he said, his voice tinged with cynical amusement.
    Phoebe was dismayed. “I thought Antigonus was your friend, Marcus.”
    “He is, Mama,” he said gently. “A despondent one, at the moment.” He looked at his father. “Political ambition often leads to poverty.”
    Decimus’ mouth tightened. What his son said was true. He knew of more than one senator committing suicide when their fortunes had dissolved under the responsibilities of office. “Courting the mob,” as Marcus put it. It was an apt statement. And the mob was like an expensive and unfaithful mistress. He relented. “Find out