Return to Exile by Lynne Gentry Read Free Book Online

tenements had been one of the reasons for Cyprian’s attempt to remove Aspasius from office. Without a healthy workforce, Carthage would never be restored to the commanding port it had once been. It appeared that Aspasius’s rejection of his proposals to at least repair the aqueducts and restore running water to every home in the city had facilitated an unstoppable spread of a sickness. If the ship that had limped into Curubis was any indication of what was to come, the sickness could destroy more than just Carthage. The entire empire was at risk because of one man’s folly.
    “And Lisbeth?” Her name hung in his throat. “Did she manage to escape Aspasius as well?”
    Magdalena took his hand. “Sit.”
    Something about her tone immediately unsettled him, but Cyprian did as she commanded. “These long months have been almost more than I can bear. Tell me.”
    Magdalena carefully poured a cup of wine for him and another for Pontius. It seemed her effort to seal the crock took longer than necessary. Just when Cyprian thought he could stand her silence no longer, she wiped her hands on her woolen tunic and looked him straight in the eye. “My daughter is free.”
    “Thank God!” Cyprian picked Magdalena up and spun her around.
    Pontius raised his glass. “How did you manage it?”
    “It wasn’t easy,” Magdalena admitted.
    “What matters is my wife’s safety.” Cyprian couldn’t quit grinning. “You took her to Ruth, right? She’ll be a great help to Ruth, I’m sure.”
    “She would be, if she were there . . . but . . .”
    Cyprian set her down. He took a step back, bracing for whatever the year apart had dealt his beloved. “Tell me.”
    “I sent Lisbeth home.”

4
    T HROUGH THE SWIRL OF disbelief, Cyprian could see that time travel had cost Magdalena everything. Stranded for years in his world, she’d made the best of her situation, yet she’d never truly become one of them. She was a foreigner, a stranger held in place by the thin root of a sickly son. The increased stoop in her once proud shoulders indicated that the healer carried wounds deeper than the scars on her face. Lost freedom. A lost marriage. And now, the unbearable loss of a daughter after an all-too-brief reunion. Cyprian had no intention of inflicting more pain, yet the shock of what she’d just told him stung. Rang in his ears.
    His wife was gone. Shipped off to a world he could never reach. Dead to him forever.
    Magdalena would not have dispatched Lisbeth without good reason. He’d watched with great admiration the joy Magdalena took in working to rebuild the years she’d lost with her daughter. At first, Lisbeth had resisted any kind of reconciliation, too angry to forgive her mother’s abandonment. But once Lisbeth learned of Laurentius and understood Magdalena’s reason for staying, mother and daughter quickly became one in purpose. Working together so closely it seemed they’d been chiseled from the same piece of exquisite marble. Same hands. Same strength and determination. Same ability to care for others. He had no doubt thatsending Lisbeth back to the place she’d be safe had cost Magdalena the last piece of her soul.
    Small consolation for his shattered heart.
    “We can’t stay here.” Magdalena touched his hand lightly, apology in her tone. “Aspasius claims the drought is the retribution of the gods, due punishment upon Romans willing to allow the nonsensical belief of the one God to spread and pollute their cities. For the most part, the Roman doctors have abandoned their wealthy charges. Some slaves have begun to flee to the country estates of their masters, taking disease with them.” She gazed at the sputtering oil lamp. “I thought you were someone seeking refuge in an abandoned estate.”
    “Where shall we go?” Pontius’s face flushed with concern.
    Without Lisbeth waiting for him in Carthage, where would Cyprian go? Whatever was left of his estate meant little to him now, and even if his