Call to Juno (A Tale of Ancient Rome #3) (36 page)

Tanchvil rose. “I can only counsel you, my lord. But the Fatales Rites should not be dismissed so swiftly.”

Caecilia thought how complicated Etruscan religion was with its layers of authority. Yet she didn’t wish to discount the priestess’s counsel. “Please, Vel. Consider what she’s saying.”

He clenched one hand into a fist on the table. “I recognize your concern, Lady Tanchvil, but, frankly, I can’t see how Rome can conquer Veii. Appeasing the gods of Latium will not help Camillus break down our walls nor scale the heights of our citadel. And you seem to have forgotten Artile foretold Veii was only vulnerable if it failed to punish the traitor among us. Justice was served when King Kurvenas was killed.”

“Hubris has been the downfall of many a lucumo, my lord. This city came close to surrendering not so very long ago. Catastrophe may yet be rained down upon us if we ignore divine warnings. You might be brave enough to flout the gods, but I don’t see why your people should suffer because of your impiety.”

Mastarna eased back in his chair, staring at the hatrencu, one hand still clenched. Caecilia reached across and placed her own
over his. His fingers relaxed. She murmured, “Do this for our people, Vel.”

Tarchon leaned forward. “Father, surely there’s no harm in seeking a celestial guarantee.”

The king’s gaze traversed between queen, prince, and priestess. “Very well, let’s show our enemy that our pantheon is greater than theirs. I will honor Queen Uni. I will placate her. And then, tomorrow, I will beseech the Veiled Ones to convince Tinia.”

Caecilia squeezed his hand in gratitude. Her relief at his acquiescence was tempered with apprehension, though. So much was at stake. Vel would need to be his most persuasive to achieve their desire to destroy their greatest foe.

F
IFTY
-O
NE

Pinna, Outside Veii, Summer, 396 BC

The ram, boar, and bull were garlanded with laurel, a sign divine Mars would bring peace through war. The truculent beasts were tamed by potions, their horns and tusks proving no danger. Having made the circuit of the camp’s perimeter, Artile led the sacrificial beasts through the gate to the ritual space next to the general’s headquarters.

To the west, the sun was sinking, a great half circle of orange-purple clouds cushioning its fall. Tomorrow the solstice would usher in the narrowing of days—and the demise of a people.

A warm breeze played on Pinna’s skin, offering no relief from a day of heat and humidity. She watched the ceremony from in front of the command tent, brazen in her witness of blood sacrifice.

Holding his curved staff, Artile’s kohl-rimmed eyes were trancelike, the pupils dilated. His teeth were flecked with shreds of the bay leaves he was chewing. His serenity was unnerving, his prophetic talent emanating from him, a prince among priests.

The bull was led forward, its horns gripped by two soldiers. Pinna thought it sad to see such an animal made drunken but knew that, should it bellow and try to break free, it would be an ill omen. Nearby, the boar grunted, but the ram was silent.

The priest was practiced in holy slaughter. Calling for Apollo to assist him, he sprinkled flour and wine over the beast’s horns and head. His hammer blow struck the skull squarely. The bull crumpled onto its knees, stunned and helpless. The animal was then hefted onto the killing table by soldiers. Artile slit its throat with the sacrificial knife. Blood gushed into the runnels, draining into the sacred pit below. Then the haruspex carved the victim’s belly open. The reek of the entrails assaulted Pinna’s nostrils as they slithered in a sinuous tangle onto the altar. Hands and sleeves bloodied, the haruspex placed the liver in a patera dish and began his inspection.

Camillus and his officers and centurions clustered around Artile. He took his time, turning the dark, viscous organ over and over in his hands. Anticipation deepened. Then he raised his head and smiled at the general. “The veins are thickest in the quadrant where Queen Uni resides. It’s a sign of greatest good fortune.”

Camillus peered at the liver. “I thought an imperfection was a bad portent.”

“The surface reflects the sixteen sectors of the heavens where each deity is located. It’s not a simple case of blood clots and deformities.”

“You say Uni favors Rome’s cause?”

“Yes. The protectress of Veii must be angry with her people. I suggest you call to her. She may desert Veii if your case is persuasive. After all, Rome has righted its transgressions and is now purified.”

Camillus was incredulous. “You suggest I perform an evocatio?” He scanned the citadel on the precipice beyond. The pink light of twilight bathed the Great Temple. Pinna thought it inconceivable that tomorrow she would stand next to it. Yet could her Wolf convince the goddess to leave such splendor? To deny succor to the people who had long revered her above all others?

“Tomorrow there will be nothing to hold her,” said Artile. “So woo her to transfer her power and influence from the weak to the strong. Why would she stay in Veii when it is Rome who will rule supreme? If she unites with her incarnation as Juno there, she will be all powerful.”

Once again, the dictator surveyed the temple in the fading light of day. Shadows were creeping across the edifice, a grim foreboding of doom. “I’ll offer to build her a fine house if she heeds the call. Rome will also worship her as a queen. Juno Regina. Holy and mighty.”

Pinna scanned the assembled officers. Genucius appeared pensive as he considered the enormity of the act. Marcus seemed stunned. Farther back, she caught sight of Drusus among the decurions. He was smiling.

Artile pointed to the bull. “Don’t forget to thank Apollo, Furius Camillus. The god of prophecy also must be acknowledged.”

Camillus stood square on to the Great Temple. He raised his arms, his voice loud and bold. “Pythian Apollo, inspired by your holy breath, I go forward to the destruction of Veii, and I vow to you one-tenth part of the spoils. Queen Uni, I pray that you might leave the city where you now dwell. Forsake the Veientanes who have angered you. And in the wake of our victory, I ask that you follow me to Rome where I vow to build you a temple worthy of your greatness as Juno Regina.”

There was no divine response. No rumble of thunder or flash of lightning. The earth did not tremble or the wind rise in force. The plea winged its way across the valley as the sun sank, plunging the city of Veii into darkness.

Camillus lowered his arms and closed his eyes, meditating for a moment, as though saying a personal prayer to also canvas divine favor. When he opened his eyes, they were fervid. “Commanders of the cavalry and infantry! Howsoever many of you are present to see this favorable omen, carry forth this message. The goddess of Veii has been called to abandon its walls. And I will ensure both Wolf and Boar Legions will share the spoils. Victory will be ours!”

Genucius’s face split into a grin, but Marcus frowned at Camillus’s announcement. Yet Pinna was pleased her Wolf had granted her wish to reward his warriors without waiting for the Senate’s advice.

She gazed at the citadel. The moon was rising, and the star of Venus twinkled in the encroaching blue of the evening. On the arx, the lights of braziers and torches now sprinkled the darkness. Suddenly she was overcome with melancholy to think the people within were unaware their most famous haruspex had foretold their doom. Worse still, their protectoress had been wooed to perform the most terrible of betrayals. For Uni may even now be casting her eyes toward Rome, seduced by promises of a new home and greater reverence and power.

She shivered, thinking of how Marcus’s soldiers would creep through the tunnel to undermine the impregnable fortress at dawn. Rapine and slaughter awaited. A destruction wrought by the man she loved.

F
IFTY
-T
WO

Caecilia, Veii, Summer, 396 BC

Caecilia woke to the touch of Vel’s hand resting on her bare hip. Roused from dreamless slumber, there was a fraction of confusion when traveling to the conscious world.

In the pitch black, the warmth of his fingers and the scent of sandalwood defined him as much as lamplight.

His breath tickled, his lips soft on the nape of her neck as he spooned against her. “It’s time to wake, Bellatrix. We must be ready before dawn.”

She welcomed the sound of his voice each morning. She would never tire of it; its timbre and cadence had seduced her even before she knew she loved him. She turned and laid her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on the soft, satiny grain of his scar. She did not want to rise. She wanted to forget about duty. All she wanted was to hold him in the hushed darkness, cocooned together.

Danger lay ahead of them today. They risked failing to convince the gods. Both of them needed to lustrate themselves before seeking Uni’s forgiveness. Only then could they exhort the favor of the divine king and queen. Twenty white bulls would be sacrificed to the goddess in her citadel sanctuary in the morning. Twenty black ones to Tinia at his temple in the northern forum in the afternoon. There would be no rationing when it came to seeking heavenly approval. And at noon, her husband would beseech the Veiled Ones to convince Tinia to throw his thunderbolt. And if his plea was heard, Rome would fall.

Vel was also reluctant to rise. He stroked her arm from shoulder to wrist. “Hard to believe we’ve been married for eleven years.”

She smiled, remembering how she’d trembled under the orange veil, peering through its coarse weave to see the husband Rome had chosen for her. An eighteen-year-old virgin wed to a man nearly twice her age. And then in Veii, they’d stood beneath a gossamer veil together. A symbol of union in life and death. One day their wedding shroud would cover them for eternity. “Eleven years married. It was a lifetime ago.”

His fingers caressed her hair, then lingered on her throat. As always, he aroused her senses and desire.

“Perhaps I should never have given you the choice to return to me,” he said, voice catching. “You would be safe in Rome if not for me.”

A lump formed in her throat. “How can you say that? What kind of life would I have led there? Trapped in a loveless marriage to Drusus or exiled to a country villa by Aemilius? I don’t regret returning to you. I thank Nortia for sending you to me in the first place and then for you rescuing me.”

He cupped her chin. “What if Tinia doesn’t answer my call? I have been impious. Arrogant.”

“Stop it, Vel. There’s no point in torturing yourself with misgivings. You’re a just and wise ruler. You possess courage and daring. Tinia will heed you.”

Rolling her onto her back, he lay on her, flesh against flesh, heat matching heat. Her Atlenta pendant was a hard shape against their chests. “I need you. You are stronger than I am.”

She wrapped her legs around him. “Don’t forget,” she whispered, “that we are lions.”

Their sleep was that of childhood. Lips rosy and slightly parted, the curve of cheek against the pillow, loose limbed. Caecilia raised the lamp so she could study them. Larce lay on his side, while Arnth was on his back, arms above his head as though in surrender. Caecilia smiled, thinking her youngest son was the least likely of her children to yield.

Night still held sway. Dawn an hour away. The golden thread spun through her mantle shimmered in the torchlight as she bent to kiss her sons. She would not see them again until the morrow. The rites of Uni would last all day and late into the night.

Bleary eyed and bare footed, Semni padded from the anteroom toward her. “Do you want me to dress them, mistress? I didn’t think you wanted them at the ceremony.”

“Go back to bed. I just wished to kiss them before I left.”

Arnth did not stir at her touch, but Larce opened his eyes at her caress. “Sleep,” she murmured, pressing her lips firmly on his cheek. “Sleep.”

When she entered Tas’s room, she noticed he was awake. He sat up straight when he saw her. “Ati, there were many wolves this time in the cave. They surrounded the bull. And Queen Uni stood with her lightning bolt raised.”

Goose bumps pimpled her arms. Then she chided herself. Was it any wonder the boy dreamed of such animals? He was surrounded by the bull symbol of the House of Mastarna. And she often referred to Camillus and the generals of Rome as wolves. She placed the lamp on the side table and sat beside him, encircling him with her arms. “Ssh, it’s just a nightmare. You will grow out of them soon.”

He clung to her. “So you don’t have bad dreams anymore, Ati?”

She nodded. “That’s right, the night demon doesn’t visit me anymore.”

He shuffled down under the sheet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my love,” she said, kissing his head.

Hathli appeared in the doorway holding Thia, who was fussing. “I can’t settle her, my lady. She has only slept for an hour or so. I’ve fed her but she won’t go to sleep.”

Caecilia grabbed her from the wet nurse, placing her palm against Thia’s forehead. “Is she feverish?”

“Yes. She is running a temperature.”

There was a spot of high color on one of Thia’s cheeks. For a moment, Caecilia panicked, thinking the scourge had returned, but the redness was not a rash but concentrated in one place.

Rocking the child, Caecilia cooed, holding her against her shoulder. The little girl calmed at her touch.

“She’s probably just teething, mistress,” said Cytheris, joining them.

Caecilia pried opened her daughter’s mouth. The lower gum was red and swollen. “But what if it’s more?”

Cytheris shook her head. “You worry too much.”

The mother was not prepared to fob off concern. “I nearly lost Larce and Arnth. I don’t want to leave a sick child.”

“Then take her with you, mistress. I’ll hold her during the rituals. Now you must hurry to join the king. I’ll bring Thia to the temple myself.”

Moonset was tarrying. The thin sliver lingered as the sun broke free of the horizon to swathe the temple grounds with pale, clear light.

The royal party entered through the gates of the sanctuary. The rites dictated that only the king, queen, and prince should enter the temple to conduct the lustration. However, Tarchon had convinced his father to allow Sethre to accompany him, insisting that regal blood also flowed through his pupil’s veins.

The royal family was clad in purple. Vel’s crown was burnished and gleaming. He carried the eagle scepter in one hand.

Caecilia straightened her own coronet with its dozens of tiny beaten gold leaves. She knew it would give her a headache by the end of the day. Earrings shaped as bunched grapes dangled beside her cheeks, a symbol of her devotion to the wine god. And to show that she also honored Uni, a peacock brooch was fastened at her shoulder. Her thick brown hair was held by a netted snood. Cytheris had no time to curl it. Lovemaking and kissing children had eaten into the hours.

Cepens were busy preparing for the purification ceremony. Some scoured the stone killing table. Others stacked pitch-laced timber in the fire pits. Iron spits were erected, ready to roast the meat. Vats were being filled with wine.

As Caecilia passed through the precinct, she noticed the air was thick with a musky bovine scent. Not yet drugged, the white bulls snorted and shifted in the corral. Acolytes were threading bells onto ribbons, ready to decorate the beasts once the victims were tamed. The sacred geese waddled at liberty, honking in indignation when attendants chivied them out of the way.

Twelve black-clad lictors stationed themselves along the portico. Arruns had been left to organize his remaining men to ensure security throughout the parade to the northern forum. There General Lusinies would greet the king and queen at the end of the royal couple’s journey to greet all their subjects on this special day.

Tanchvil greeted the party at the doorway to Uni’s cell. A silver diadem crowned her loose, long gray hair. Her cloak was scarlet, painted with figures of Uni and Tinia. The dusting of kohl on her eyelashes gave a mystical quality to her gaze.

Cytheris ascended the steps with Thia. The princess was dressed in purple as befitting her station. The girl was asleep at last, worn out by her crying. Vel raised one eyebrow when he saw her. “Why is my little princess here?”

“She has a fever,” said Caecilia. “I don’t want to leave her out of my sight.”

He frowned. “This is no place for a child.”

“Uni is a mother goddess. I’m sure she would not be displeased we seek her protection for our daughter.”

He gave a small smile and stroked Thia’s hair.

Dawn’s light had not yet fully infiltrated Uni’s chamber. The cell was dim, the torches on the wall sconces still burning, although a slanted shaft of light streamed through the doorway, capturing dust motes. The room was cool but the air already hinted of another hot summer’s day.

As Caecilia crossed the threshold, she saw the eagle on its perch. The bird lifted his wings, shuffling on the pole to adjust its grip. He was unhooded, his stare unblinking. She stepped back in alarm, noticing he was unrestrained.

“Don’t fear, my lady,” said Tanchvil. “Antar is obedient when untethered. I only sheath his eyes when there is a crowd.” The priestess fed the bird a morsel from a pouch tied around her waist. Vel’s entreaty would ride on the raptor’s wings at noon.

The bronze-sheathed altar table was covered with the paraphernalia of worship: sacrificial knives and paterae of wine, milk, and flour. Two exquisite amber votives of Tinia and Uni were placed beside them. One page of a linen book lay unfolded. Tanchvil was ready to consult the Book of Fate.

High on its pedestal, the statue of Uni loomed above all, her head nearly touching the rafter. The deity was clad in a new goatskin cloak, and her pleated chiton was freshly painted. She, too, wore a crown of gold. In the gloom, Caecilia thought the maternal softness so evident in the divinity’s expression had hardened. She was more warrioress than mother today, brandishing her lightning bolt like a spear. Caecilia felt apprehensive, remembering how dangerous Uni could be.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Aricia through the open doorway to the workroom and beckoned to Cytheris. “Go and speak to your daughter before the ceremony begins.”

“Thank you, mistress.” The handmaid hastened to greet the girl. However, the visit was cut short when Tanchvil rapped out an order. Aricia squeezed her mother’s hand and limped back into the workshop. Disappointed, Cytheris took her place at the side of the chamber, rocking the princess.

“Come. It’s time to purify yourself,” said Tanchvil, pouring water into a salver and directing the king to wash his hands. “Remember, the preparatory prayers must be accurate, my lord.”

Caecilia knew there would be a grueling litany of perfected sentences. She hoped her husband would curb his impatience with reciting them. He needed to show as much reverence to Uni and Tinia as he did with Fufluns.

The shaft of sun had expanded to fill the entire sanctum. Caecilia was already perspiring with the humidity. Tarchon and Sethre took their places at the far side of the statue. She smiled to see how fine they looked together. Two noblemen, two warriors, two lovers.