A Noble Captive (2 page)

‘This Roman will be punished, my lady, tribute or no,’ Captain Androceles said. ‘I refuse to allow any man to talk to you like that.’

The guard raised the sword again.

Helena stood frozen in her chariot.

This whole thing was a mistake from start to finish. She longed to fling the mask away and step from the chariot, to go back to being herself, not her aunt’s stand-in. But it was
too late for that. She had to continue. She had to play the part she was born to play. She needed a miracle—fast.

‘I ask for Kybele’s protection. My men are seriously injured after the unprovoked attack,’ the tribune broke in, forcefully. His low-timbred voice cut across her words. ‘They need medical attention, some place sheltered to sleep. They do not need to go back on that stinking hulk. Enough have died already. I ask for your help in this matter, Sibyl. I ask for Kybele who is the Mother Goddess of All’s aid.’

‘Kybele cares about all storm-tossed strangers, Tribune,’ Helena recited automatically, falling back on her learned responses and ignoring his dark intent eyes. ‘She does so now.’

He paused and seemed to search his memory, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

‘My name is Marcus Livius Tullio,’ the tribune said, his voice growing in confidence with every word. ‘And my men would be pleased to have Kybele’s protection. We beg and require Kybele’s protection and assistance in this matter.’

Helena bit her lip. Marcus Livius Tullio had used the exact ritual words. How did this Roman tribune, this Tullio, know the correct ritual? She had no choice now. Was this her miracle? ‘Kybele always gives protection to those who request it.’

‘My lady?’ Captain Androceles said with surprise in his voice.

Helena swallowed hard. She had to keep a clear head. She might yet emerge triumphant.

‘The tribune has invoked the protection of Kybele and I have given it.’ Helena forced her voice to sound strong. ‘There will be no killing here today. Captain, you may continue to load them back on to the ship.’

Androceles stroked his chin and nodded. He signalled and the tribune’s chain mail coat was thrown at his feet. Helena released a breath. He had accepted her explanation. He would
now march the Romans on to the ship to await the tribute. She would leave and the masquerade would be over. She would go back to being Aunt Flavia’s assistant and hopefully next time a pirate ship appeared on the horizon, Aunt Flavia would be healthy again. She flicked the reins.

‘Pardon, my lady,’ Androceles said, bowing low. ‘The temple is the proper place for the Romans to reside.’

‘Why?’ Helena pulled back on the lions. Not another complication. ‘I understood…that is, guests are always kept aboard ship. They can receive medical attention there.’

‘When we attempted to…rescue these guests, we lost a number of men. In view of their threats, I wish them off my ship while we wait in your harbour for the tribute to arrive. I have no wish to lose any more men to these Roman scum. These animals. You have given them protection, therefore they should be housed in your temple.’

A cold shiver passed through Helena as she gazed out at the Roman legionaries, standing at attention despite their injuries. The tribune’s eyes defiant. Not scum. Not her allies either, but they were more than animals. The beginnings of a headache gathered at her forehead. If the Romans were housed at the temple, the risk of Aunt Flavia’s condition being discovered was that much greater.

‘It is something to be taken into consideration—’ she began.

‘The Romans will stay with you until the tribute is received, my Lady.’ Captain Androceles rubbed his hands together. ‘Otherwise how can they be sure of your protection?’

‘Very well, Captain, I will house them at the temple. But if we look after your guests, Captain, I expect compensation. This was not part of the original agreement.’ Helena forced her voice to sound firm. She tilted her head and stared at the captain.

‘As would I…if any die in your care.’ Androceles rear
ranged his cloak and gave a practised smile that failed to reach his bloodshot eyes.

‘Kybele makes no such promises. One never bargains with the goddess.’ Helena gave a quick glance at Tullio’s wound and thought about the different herbs in the garden. After such misplaced bravery in defence of his men, surely the man would live. ‘We can speak of this later should it come to pass.’

‘I will trust in the goddess’s mercy then.’ Tullio’s voice did something to her insides.

Helena ignored the curls clinging to her forehead. Nerves, nothing more. When she returned to the temple, all would be as it always was. She would fall back on routine.

‘When you are ready, Captain, the temple will receive the guests.’ She nodded to her bodyguard and flicked the reins a third time. The lions started slowly forward, moving the chariot at a steady gait as they had been trained to do since they were cubs. Her arms trembled.

‘I thank you for looking after my men, my lady. We Romans do not easily forget an act of friendship.’ Tullio stepped forward and caught her free hand.

He brushed it with his lips. A tremor went up through Helena’s arm, and warmth flooded her body. She jerked her hand away.

‘Not friendship, Tribune. There can never be friendship between our people.’

T
ullio welcomed the coolness of the temple. Every step up the steep rock-strewn hill from the harbour, past the palace and the peasants’ huts interspersed with a few olive trees and fields of vines, had sent ropes of fire along his shoulders, but he refused to show the pirates how much they ached. One blow more and he would have crumpled to the sun-baked earth.

His men walked with firmer steps than when they had first shuffled off the ship. Not quite legionaries, but no longer prisoners. A small boon.

The scent of cinnamon and other incense assaulted his nose as he and his men were escorted into a large antechamber adorned with statues and smaller altars. Tullio frowned, and tried to ignore the slight stab of disappointment.

Instead of the sibyl with her snow-white robes and masked face, a solitary young woman waited to greet them with a tablet in her hands. His eyes roamed up from her rose-coloured gown pleated in the Greek manner, to where a jet black curl of hair peeked from under her cap of red and white ribbons. Her lips were a bit large and her nose a tad small for
the woman to be truly a beauty, Tullio decided, but poets probably wrote odes to her anyway.

‘Welcome to the Temple of Kybele,’ the woman said, her voice sounding anything but welcoming as she tapped a wooden tablet against her hand. ‘I am Helena, the sibyl’s assistant. You are to be housed here, waiting for your passage money to arrive. I pray it will be soon.’

She reminded him of the marble statues in Vesta’s temple in Rome. All beauty, but no heart. An efficient administrator. He doubted if she had one-tenth the passion the sibyl had displayed on the quayside.

‘We all look forward to its arrival,’ Tullio answered smoothly. ‘The sibyl’s kindness is beyond measure, but my men are in need of medicine and food.’

‘The temple has a long and proud tradition of tending storm-tossed strangers in their time of need.’

Looking after strangers by conniving with the pirates?

With a great effort, Tullio bit back the sarcasm. He shifted his weight and the pain from his wound shot through him.

‘Are we to be treated as prisoners or as men?’ he asked.

Helena’s eyes flashed. He noticed with a start that her eyes were the same colour as the sibyl’s. Could she be? He looked towards her right hand, but it was hidden beneath her robes. Within a heartbeat, he dismissed the thought. She had no reason to mask her identity here.

‘The rules of the temple are straightforward. The rules of hospitality must be honoured. You may use the grounds and the public buildings during day, but at night, you and your men must be in your rooms for your own protection.’ She led the way back to the courtyard and gestured towards a complex of austere buildings.

‘As Roman citizens, my men and I shall have no problem
following the dictates of civilised men,’ he said with a smile and a shrug. ‘We have already declined the captain’s offer to swim back to Rome. It is better to keep our armour dry.’

Helena’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Her lips curved up briefly. ‘Your logic is faultless, Tribune.’

‘You should take care, my lady, these are dangerous men,’ the pirate grunted. ‘Captain Androceles suggests—’

‘Pilgrims from all lands have graced this temple.’ The chipped marble voice was back.

‘These are soldiers, Roman soldiers, not pilgrims.’ The pirate’s voice became strident. He slammed his fists together. ‘If you had been on the waterfront, you would not dismiss them so lightly. I was there. They threatened the very existence of this island. Only the personal intervention of my esteemed captain prevented a physical attack on the sibyl.’

Tullio ignored the protest of his muscles and forced his body to the rigid attention of the parade ground and indicated to his men to follow his example. Instantly all obeyed him. This time there would be no breaking ranks.

He focussed his attention on Helena. He had to assume that the sibyl had told her everything. Like Pandora after her box was emptied, all he had left was hope.

‘The sibyl made no mention of this when she returned.’ Helena tapped the tablet against her mouth. She must say nothing to indicate who was at the quayside. After all that, she could not give into her temper. She had to stay calm. ‘No mention at all.’

The sailor with a gold ring in one ear leant forward. His finger twisted a strand of his greasy beard. Helena struggled not to recoil in disgust.

‘These men are dangerous, my lady. You will need extra help,’ he said. ‘See how they seek to defy you. If they could,
they would be beating their swords against their shields to signal the start of battle.’

‘The sibyl would have informed me if she felt in danger,’ she repeated, disliking the man more with each word he uttered. The good Captain Androceles had set a crude trap, one that she had no intention of blundering into. These Roman soldiers were not going to be a pretext for stationing his armed men within the temple. ‘We are not without protection.’

‘I tell the truth, lady,’ the seafarer whined. ‘And as you were not there, will you trust the word of a Roman or the word of your ally?’

‘I trust the sibyl’s judgement. Kybele guides her.’ Helena’s fingers, tightening around the tablet, snapped it in two. The faint crack brought her back to her senses. Any more provocation, she’d start blurting out the whole story.

‘But the captain is only thinking of your welfare.’ Gold Earring continued his protest and the rest of the seafarers echoed his sentiments.

‘The lions roam the grounds at night,’ Helena said as if he had not spoken. ‘We have our guards during the day. Above all, Kybele protects and defends this temple. I doubt the Romans will be foolish enough to abuse our hospitality and risk the wrath of Kybele. Where would they go? All the triremes and boats are guarded. The harbour provides the only way on or off the island.’

Her gaze met Tullio’s steady one.

How dangerous was he? She remembered his fingers on her hand, the way the tingles dashed up her arm. Her whole body seemed to be aware of him in a way she had not felt before. She offered a prayer up to Kybele that her face showed none of her disquiet.

‘The captain’s concern is solely for the temple,’ the pirate said, his hand going to where his sword belt normally hung.

‘The temple thanks you for your concern.’ She crossed her arms and squared her jaw. Perhaps she should be grateful to the Romans for showing her Androceles’s naked ambition. ‘But I shall trust the sibyl’s judgement. You have delivered the guests. You may return to your captain.’

‘Captain Androceles has ordered that we remain as guards, in case the Romans try anything.’ The seafarer planted his feet firmly and rocked back and forth. The other seafarers bristled. ‘I must respectfully request that our swords are returned. We desire to provide the proper protection for the sibyl.’

Helena’s arms started to tremble. Androceles’s stratagem was obvious to any who had spent time with a
latrunculi
board. If his men became guards at the temple, he would try to dictate the sibyl’s pronouncements, destroy her aunt’s carefully built neutrality between rival factions of sailors. All because Helena had made an error.

‘You may thank the good captain from me, but when we need assistance, the sibyl will ask for it.’ Helena increased the volume of her voice so that it echoed throughout the antechamber. She knew her guards in the vestibule would hear and start their final preparations. Captain Zeno had been tricked six months ago, but would Gold Earring be so gullible? Did she dare take the risk of revealing the true extent of the temple’s weakness? ‘The temple is a place of peaceful contemplation. No arms are permitted to sully that. The sibyl refuses to allow the temple to be desecrated.’

‘I am very grateful to the sibyl for providing us with lodging as we wait for the tribute.’ Tullio stepped forward, his metalled sandals ringing out on the mosaic floor.

Helena ignored him. Romans were less a danger than the pirate. He had to leave.

‘Your job has finished. The guests have been delivered
safely. Go.’ Helena used the same intonations her aunt used when she was declaring what the goddess wanted. Forceful, but with no hint of the desperation she was beginning to feel.

Gold Earring took a step towards the gateway, then hesitated. ‘Captain Androceles ordered—’

‘This is not the captain’s ship.’ She moved towards the main altar. In her mind, she recalled the number of times Aunt Flavia impressed on her the need to glide and not run. This man must have no hint of what was to come. If it taught the Roman with his knowing smile a lesson as well, so much the better. ‘Perhaps you will believe after a small demonstration, but I warn you, Kybele protects her own.’

She gave a small clap of her hands and then pulled the curtain cord and allowed the mirrors to show. Instantly temple guards swarmed into the vestibule and stood in line behind Helena, each brandishing a long curved sword. She bit her lip. Hopefully the concealed mirrors and dim light would make Gold Earring think there was twice the number of guards.

‘You called, my lady,’ the lead guard boomed.

‘The seafarer expressed a concern about our ability to look after the temple properly.’

‘We have never had any trouble before, Helena.’

Tullio took pleasure in watching the pirates shift uncomfortably as Helena stood, head held high in front of her troop of guards.

Helena was unexpected. She managed to confront the pirate without flinching. He doubted many women of his acquaintance in Rome would have the courage to do such a thing. Most, like his elder sister and his ex-wife, would have run screaming before they dared speak back to a man like that.

From where he was standing, he could see the trick she had played with the bronze mirrors. It had been the vogue when he
had been a boy and his mother had gone from temple to temple searching in vain for a cure for his younger sister’s illness.

The question was whether or not the pirate would know about the trick or would he simply see the images without questioning and leave?

‘I had no idea the temple had that many guards,’ the pirate said before he brought his sandals together and gave an elaborate bow. ‘Captain Androceles thinks only of your welfare.’

‘Should the temple be in mortal danger, someone who is of pure heart would blow Neptune’s horn and aid would appear.’ She indicated a large bronze trumpet etched with shells and inlaid with precious stones. ‘No doubt the good captain has forgotten the legend.’

‘No doubt.’ Droplets of sweat shone on the pirate’s face.

Tullio allowed a breath to escape from his lips. The pirates would go. His men would be given a bit of dignity back and he could begin to discover why the sibyl had agreed to have him and his men housed here. Given the mirror trick, he doubted the sibyl left anything to chance.

Helena clapped her hands again. The curtains shut, concealing the mirrors once again. All the guards except the two directly behind the woman left.

‘The temple has sufficient protection.’ She waved her hand. ‘I trust Captain Androceles will refrain from making that mistake in the future.’

‘We have no quarrel with the sibyl. Her closeness to Kybele is well known.’ The pirate put his hands together and bowed low.

‘See that it stays that way. Kybele would not look kindly on her sanctuary being violated—by anyone.’ Her eyes blazed green. A force to be reckoned with, truly, but her mouth held a pinched look as if she was not accustomed to defying pirates.

The pirates backed out of the temple, the swagger of earlier
gone. The interview seemed not to have gone as planned. Maybe there was a breach between pirates and temple. Something he could use. Maybe the gods had favoured him after all.

Tullio’s head and neck pounded from the earlier beating as he tried to concentrate on the implications. He had to get this right. The Republic could not afford a mistake.

The vestibule became quiet except for the breathing of his men. He regarded the slender woman standing in front of him. The time had come to start pleading Rome’s cause.

‘Thank you.’ Tullio bowed low. ‘The temple’s hospitality is unparallelled. Rome will be grateful.’

‘You are here as guests, soldier, and welcome on the sibyl’s wishes, not mine.’ Her pearl-drop earrings swayed as she lifted her chin higher. ‘Leave your armour here. To be returned when you depart.’

Tullio heard the low murmur of his men. He refused to repeat the folly of the pirate and anger the woman. But armour held almost sacred significance to his men. Even the pirates had not attempted to take it.

‘We have no weapons. Our armour reminds us of who we are.’

‘Armour offends the goddess. You will do as I request.’

Tullio took off his helmet and placed it at her sandal-shod feet. He motioned to the men. The last one to take off his armour, throwing it down with a loud clang, was Quintus. Tullio glared at him. Although Quintus was an experienced centurion and invaluable in the defence of the trireme, this was the second time he had defied orders in the space of an hour.

‘I believe your guardianship will be more considerate than that of the good captain,’ he said, hoping to draw Helena’s attention away from the belligerent centurion.

‘Captain Androceles and his house are well known to this temple.’

Tullio curled his fingers about his belt, tried to read the woman’s expression and the unspoken meaning in her words. Was she saying that she didn’t trust the pirate captain? He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace as his wounds protested.

‘On my sacred word as a Roman citizen, I promise you that my men and I will behave like guests as long as we are in this place, waiting for the tribute.’

‘Spoken like a true Roman—a promise with conditions.’ Helena crossed her arms. Her expression became more remote, her voice chilled. ‘The price Rome exacts is often great.’

Tullio cursed the pounding in his head. He had behaved like the worst diplomat. Quintus had more finesse.

‘Rome always treats its friends well,’ he said.

‘I have seen how Rome treats its friends. We are extending the same courtesy we would extend to any stranger who requests Kybele’s protection. You used the ritual words, I believe.’