He often walked home, climbing the hills that stretched from the fortress to his villa, but tonight he rode one of his white stallions. Bruise-colored clouds were piled one on top of another and low thunder had begun to rumble by the time he reached his own stables. Always, he tended his own animals as any career legionary worth his salt would. Yet tonight he turned Trajan over to the care of a stable slave. “Have a care,” he warned. “Trajan bites and the approaching storm will make him restless.” As he had ridden, the very rhythm of Trajan’s hooves had drummed out Diana, Diana, Diana. When he entered the atrium, he curbed his impatience that it was not she who greeted him. Kell bowed his head. “I hope you had a productive day, General.” “Yes, it was most fruitful.” Kell kept a straight face as Marcus said, “I’ll bathe in the villa tonight. The storm will break any minute.” Kell often disagreed with the master, simply on principle. “I believe it will build slowly, then climax with a bang.”
