Valley of Decision by Lynne Gentry Page A

actor . . . ?” She snapped her fingers as if to jar her memory. “What’s his name?”
    â€œCato,” Aeliana whispered.
    Hortensia cast a glare at her daughter. “What do you know of the theater?”
    Aeliana became suddenly very interested in her shoes, dainty silk affairs adorned with expensive seed pearls. “No more than you, Mother.”
    Hortensia would never lower herself by attending the theater, but Maximus guessed his mother-in-law’s sudden interest in the impressive stage artist meant she already knew what he’d been up to. “Well, does it, Maximus?”
    â€œNo,” he proclaimed boldly, though the lie twisted his tongue and his chest felt as if he still supported a garden paver.
    â€œYou were never a good liar, son-in-law.” Hortensia turned to her daughter. “Which could be a good thing for you, Aeliana. Unlikeme, you shall know when your husband decides to take his physical comfort in the bed of a harlot.”
    Maximus hated how his beautiful, pregnant wife always melded into the draperies rather than stand up to her mother. “Surely you have not come to my quarters simply to check on my fidelity to your daughter.” He hadn’t meant for his gaze to sweep the ceiling, but it had. And before he could take the motion back, Hortensia had caught a glimpse of his disapproval of her constant intrusion.
    A slow smile spread across his mother-in-law’s lips. Then, like a buzzard circling carrion, she swooped in and began to peck him apart. “For someone who comes from such a noble bloodline, you are a scrawny, insignificant disappointment.” Her razor-sharp gaze scraped the stunted length of his body. “Fortunately, you are not stupid. If you were, I would have nothing to work with.” She produced a folded piece of parchment sealed with a wax stamp bearing the emblem of royalty. “It has taken me all morning to arrange this opportunity.” She handed him the missive and tapped it with a claw-like nail. “Read it.”
    Maximus looked to Aeliana for a clue. His wife’s quickly lowered eyes told him the letter did not contain good news. He slid a quivering finger along the seal.
    Galerius Maximus is hereby appointed
    Proconsul of Carthage.
    Appointment effective immediately.
    Terms of service shall include but not exceed one year.
    Report to the first available ship sailing for Africa.
    Restore the favor of the gods in the province of Tunisia.
    Execute anyone who refuses to worship at the sacred temples.
    Stop the plague by eliminating the Christians who spread it.
    By order of Publius Licinius Valerianus Augustus, Emperor of Rome.
    MAXIMUS’S HEART hammered his chest. “What have you done, mother-in-law?”
    â€œI have put an end to your ridiculous pursuit of the theater.” Hortensia’s nostrils flared. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your bawdy theater actor and your secret training sessions in my stables? Servants talk.” Her eyes were hard as paver stones. “A son-in-law with a reputation of prancing naked about the stage is not what I purchased with my daughter’s very generous dowry.”
    â€œI will not do it, Hortensia.” Maximus wadded the parchment and threw it across the room. “Africa resides in the bowels of Hades.”
    She leaned in close enough for him to catch the clayish scent of the henna she used to smother the gray sprouting from her head like the snakes of Medusa. “Listen to me, you wormy slug, you will go. Or I shall make certain you never return to see your child.”
    His eyes darted to Aeliana, but she knew better than to meet his gaze. “You can’t keep us apart.”
    Hortensia laughed in the face of his belligerence. “There’s no end to what I can and will do. Your future is already arranged. I’m counting on the southern sun of Africa to burn color into those pasty cheeks and add