Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two by Nick Morris Page A

words.”
    “It’s what he doesn’t say that matters,” Neo reassured him.
    Clodian paused a moment, seeming to consider his reply carefully.
    “There is strength in Belua that I admire. More than just his physical strength. I had hoped that in time we might become friends. But, I know now that he regards such a relationship as ill-chosen, and I accept that.”
    “Belua does not make friends easily,” responded Neo. “He is a hard man with a shell of iron. Life has dealt with him cruelly but he is a man of great resolve. After long years of working together, I regard him as the most steadfast of friends. I would trust him with my life.”
    “I was unaware that his past was…so painful.”
    “His family was tragically taken from him,” said Neo.
    “Pray how?” asked Clodian, the angst clearly written on his young face.
    “That is up to Belua to share,” said Neo looking thoughtful. “When you know him better, you might ask him?”
    “Wouldn’t he resent it?”
    “Possibly? But grief should not be closeted away in some dark place. Like the scab over an infected wound it will slowly eat away at the host. It would do Belua only good to talk about his loss…if he so chooses. Then, perhaps he might bite your head off?” Neo smiled glibly, adding, “Or maybe not.”
    “I understand,” said Clodian, the words sincere. “I also believe that family is very important in life.”
    “Yes, it is,” agreed Neo, before enquiring. “And how fares your father? Have you encouraged him to drink plenty of water as I advised?”
    “He has followed your advice and there has been some improvement,” said Clodian looking worried. “But, he has lost so much weight and looks dreadful.”
    “Is he eating at all?”
    “Very little, and then only his favourite foods.”
    “As long as he tries to eat small amounts regularly – to build his strength,” suggested Neo.
    “I will pass on your advice, which is always welcome.”
    “I am happy to come and see him if you wish,” Neo offered, sensing that Clodian was more concerned than he portrayed.
    “My gratitude, but my step-mother would not hear of it, and my father seems to support her every decision.”
    “I see,” said Neo, somewhat puzzled by the domina ’s intransigence. “Still, the offer stands if your father changes his mind.”
    “Again, my thanks,”said Clodian
    “Now, I have some supplies to purchase,” said Neo. “So, until–”
    “Tomorrow at the ludus, at the same hour,”proposed Clodian, his expression lighter.
    “Until tomorrow,” confirmed Neo, risking another smile.
    Placing a battered straw hat on his head, stepped out into the sun.
    The city was quiet, residents closeted behind doors. It was the hottest time of the day. A trickle of customers was entering the Baths, its towering red brick entrance dominating the street. They were mainly patricians, shaded by slaves carrying gaily coloured parasols. Neo liked it quiet and he kept to the shade as he headed for Han the apothecary’s shop. He went over the list of items he’d made in his head.
    Stepping onto the gently chamfered stone of the road he immediately felt the sun’s heat on his shoulders through his cotton tunic. He quickened his pace and his mind revisited his discussion with Clodian and the talk of family.
    He pictured his father sat in their family villa, and Placidia’s sweet face. He let his thoughts drift to the small property in Stabia. He hadn’t visited the villa for almost a year, using the excuse that his work would not permit him the luxury of a holiday. In truth, the residence evoked too many painful memories: memories of Diocles, his father and mentor, and the gentle, sad Placidia. Despite his absence, there were times when he’d almost persuaded himself that a few days of recuperation at the villa would revitalise him. He’d paid a small sum to a local wine merchant, a boy-hood friend of his father, to watch over the villa in his absence. The merchant had