Call to Juno (A Tale of Ancient Rome #3) (5 page)

Tarchon was respectful instead of defiant. “I’ll accept any terms you set, Lord Karcuna. I’m grateful to be considered.” He cast a look over his shoulder to Caecilia, wanting her to share his success. She smiled at him although she was worried. She knew him too well. It would be hard for him to surrender Sethre when the boy reached full manhood. He was in love with the youth.

Mastarna raised his hand, signaling the end of the matter. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” He placed Caecilia’s hand on his forearm to escort her from the chamber.

Lord Karcuna bowed, waiting for the king and queen to walk ahead of him. He deferred to the prince, who followed immediately after the royal couple.

“You surprise me, Vel,” whispered Caecilia. “Defending him like that. I’m pleased.”

His voice was gruff. “Karcuna’s concerns are valid, but I will not have him thinking I condone one of my family being slandered.”

She squeezed his forearm. “But you’ll support Tarchon in this, won’t you? It might just be the making of him.”

To her dismay, he dropped his forearm from under the pressure of her fingers. The snub startled her.

“I hope Karcuna’s final decision is to reject his suit. I doubt Tarchon’s ability to be anyone’s mentor. He drinks heavily and hasn’t stopped chewing Catha leaves to heighten his senses. And he better keep his word to stay away from Sethre until Karcuna makes up his mind. Otherwise there will be trouble.”

Caecilia only took in half his words, still concerned with his rebuff. “Are you still angry at me?”

They had reached the entrance to the banquet hall. The guests inside slid from their dining couches and bowed.

Vel clasped her fingertips, leading her to their kline, not responding but nevertheless giving her his answer.

She pursed her lips, irritated at his mood. He was the one who’d always encouraged her independence. Now he was resentful she’d publically dispelled any lingering doubts that she supported Rome.

Vel stepped up from the footstool onto the deep cushioned mattress and lay down, propping his back against the headboard, careful not to jar his injured arm. Caecilia climbed up to sit next to him, choosing not to recline, and fuming he wouldn’t speak to her.

Mastarna drained the chalice of wine handed to him by a slave boy. Then he called for another cup and downed it just as quickly. She restrained herself from cautioning him not to drink too much, knowing it would only irk him. And she thought him hypocritical to judge his son for overindulging in wine when he would do the same.

The other diners resumed their positions on their couches. Musicians once again plucked lyres and played their flutes, their melodies an accompaniment to laughter and chatter. Caecilia sipped her wine, enjoying the first mouthful, wondering if she should also welcome inebriation to forget war and politics and duty as well as the moroseness of her husband.

F
OUR

Servants were stacking plates on the lower shelves of the repository tables and wheeling them away. A chandelier, its sconces shaped as antlers, was lowered from the ceiling and its many wicks lit. The high ceiling with its supporting single rafter merged into shadow. The feast was over but the drinking continued.

Vel had excused himself from their divan hours ago. Caecilia scanned the chamber. She spied him sitting opposite Lusinies, a gaming table extended across their knees. Mastarna’s face was ashen, fatigue shadowing his features. The long day of ceremony had taken its toll. And she knew his arm would be paining him.

His pile of roundels was low compared to his opponent’s. He was having no luck with his betting tonight. Caecilia considered whether to join him but was reluctant. She was also tired and didn’t have the energy to weather his sullen silence. Losing wagers would do nothing to improve his mood either.

Arruns dogged her steps as she slipped away from the banquet. She gestured for him to remain behind. The Phoenician nodded, but she guessed he would soon be checking she had safely navigated her way to her chamber.

Having only lived a short while in the palace, Caecilia had yet to learn the maze of corridors in the vast building. She soon realized she’d taken a wrong turn when she wandered into an unfamiliar, gloomy hallway. She paused, trying to gain her bearings, when her attention was caught by two figures in a recess between two pillars. Their urgent moans were telltale. She instantly recognized Tarchon’s back as he covered the slave boy, his bare, broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, his kilt hitched up.

Sensing her presence, he pulled back, startled. The servant straightened and turned. Caecilia’s jaw dropped. Sethre Kurvenas bowed his head, face scarlet, as he rearranged his robes.

“Stop gaping, Caecilia,” said Tarchon, clasping her elbow and ushering her into a nearby room lit only by a brazier’s glow. The youth quickly followed.

Anger surged in her. “By the gods, Tarchon. Are you mad? Does your word mean nothing?”

The prince looped his arm around Sethre’s waist in a relaxed manner. She noticed Tarchon’s teeth were stained green. He’d been chewing Catha again, the herb that caused his eyes to glaze and the worries of the world to blur.

“It was to be our last time until Karcuna agrees to appoint me as Sethre’s mentor.” Tarchon placed two fingers under the youth’s chin, then stroked his cheek, not at all embarrassed of caressing him in front of the queen. “Tell her, little chick.”

Sethre was less confident of displaying affection in front of her. “It’s true, my lady,” he mumbled.

Caecilia concentrated on her stepson. “Vel said you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. You’re just proving Karcuna right in doubting you.”

Tarchon shook his head. “The first offer is always rejected before terms are settled.” He smiled at Sethre. “I’m a prince of Veii. Karcuna won’t refuse me.”

Caecilia grabbed his arm. “I wouldn’t be so sure. And what of your own self-respect? I thought you’d matured. Why do you need the Catha?”

“Don’t worry, Caecilia. Supplies are dwindling. It will cure my addiction.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He peeled her fingers away. “Why do you think I want to dull my senses? I can’t touch Sethre after tonight. It causes me anguish.” He gazed at the youth. “I love him.”

The nineteen-year-old regarded the prince with adoration. Caecilia noticed the down of his sideburns and two spots of high color on his cheeks. She crossed her arms, impatient with their mutual admiration. “I don’t understand either of you. I thought Sethre—”

“Hated me. But he’s softened his heart toward me again.”

Sethre reached for his lover’s hand. “My grief blinded me. Father acted dishonorably when he shut the gates. But I was angry and confused after seeing him murdered. And I was wrong to shun Tarchon merely because of the enmity between our Houses. I can’t forget how Father threatened to throw him over the wall during the battle.” Sethre turned back to her. “You showed your love for Veii today, my lady. I’m sorry I doubted your allegiance. I’m also sorry my father treated you unfairly.”

His words surprised her. As did his deference. She was used to his disdain. She uncrossed her arms. “Then I thank you. But I counsel both of you not to meet again if you wish the chance to act as lover and beloved.” She gestured toward the passageway. “I think you should return to the banquet, Sethre. Before someone else finds us.”

He bowed, then cast a look toward Tarchon, holding out his palm. Tarchon smoothed his own across it, until all but their fingertips were touching. And then the tall youth slipped into the darkness.

Caecilia studied the prince in the torchlight as he bid his silent farewell. She’d seen how the pampered daughters of the court giggled and simpered in his presence. For a moment she wished he could enjoy both men and women. It would be easier for him to gain credibility if he could sire children. “Do you actually want to go through with this? Even if Karcuna agrees, your time with Sethre will be short. There’s no way two freeborn nobles can remain as lovers. You’ll both be declared as soft if you continue after Sethre has grown a beard. Do you want that for him? The boy is warrior born. You would condemn him to shame. You escaped such a fate when you spurned Artile. Withdraw your suit and spare yourselves heartache.”

“Don’t lecture me! My love for Artile was flawed. He was obsessive and sick. I know now it was wrong. I was only eleven when he took me to his bed. It’s different with Sethre. I want him to ride into battle with me as much as lie beside me.”

Frustrated, she crossed her arms again. “Then prove to your father and Karcuna you’re worthy to act as a mentor. Stop drinking so much. And gambling. And chewing Catha! And stick to slaves and freedmen in the meantime.”

He snorted. “Next you’ll have me married. Only there’ll be no children. Would that be fair? Don’t you think that would sour relations with my wife’s family?”

Caecilia sighed. “I only want what’s best for you. I don’t want to see you hurt. You know I love you.” She placed her hand on his forearm. “You were the first to make me see the Veientanes as my people. To teach me their language, philosophy, and customs.”

“When I taught you the differences between Rome and Veii, I never thought you would see your birthplace destroyed. You frighten me, Caecilia.”

“You criticize me for seeing the Romans as they truly are? I thought you’d approve.”

“I see your stubbornness emerging. Your black-and-white vision.”

His words reminded her of Vel’s annoyance. She was too tired to discuss it. “I want to go to bed. Show me how to get back to my quarters. These hallways are confusing.”

Tarchon placed his hand over hers. “And what about you and your secrets, Caecilia? You chide me for my indiscretion tonight, but have you told your husband how Artile was slowly poisoning you?”

“Not yet,” she murmured, not prepared to look him in the eye.

“There’s no reason not to speak out now. Artile is gone. Mastarna can’t be punished for killing someone he can’t lay his hands on.”

A sharp pulse throbbed in her temple, the golden tiara now a burden, her head aching. “He has much on his mind. I can never seem to find the right time.”

Tarchon frowned. “Confide in him, Caecilia. Otherwise he may not forgive you for keeping such a secret from him.”

She nodded. “I will, I will.” But her heart was telling her—not yet, not yet.

F
IVE

Caecilia closed her eyes, enjoying the long sweep of the comb from the crown of her head to her waist as Cytheris combed her thick brown hair.

Mastarna’s deep voice startled her. “You may go now, Cytheris.”

Caecilia’s eyes flew open. He was leaning against the doorjamb to their bedchamber. His chin was shadowed with stubble, dark circles under his eyes. Even at a distance, she could smell the wine on him.

She murmured to the Greek woman to leave. The handmaid frowned as she edged past the king.

Caecilia stood and extended her hand to him. “Come, my love. You need to rest.”

He ignored her, trying to shrug off his tebenna, wincing in pain. She helped him to remove the heavy cloak. Then she eased the sling from his neck, revealing the heavy bandage around his upper arm and elbow. He remained silent, mouth clamped into a tight line. She could see how it galled him not to be able to undress himself even though he welcomed such ministrations when they were both eager.

As she hung the tebenna on a wall hook, the golden dice tumbled from its folds to the floor. She stooped and picked them up, but Mastarna reached across and took them from her without thanks and then dumped them on the table beside the bed.

She started to unpin the amethyst brooch at one shoulder, but he edged back. “What were you thinking, Bellatrix? Exhorting Veii to march on Rome.”

“I don’t see why you’re so annoyed. Last year you wanted to do the same when you rode north to speak to the League. And the people were buoyed by my words. They want to do more than defend Veii.”

“Driving the Romans from our lands is different from invading their city. We need the Twelve to unite.”

“Do we, Vel? Thefarie is helping our allies, Capena and Falerii, to oust the Romans from their territory. Aule Porsenna is leading the Tarchnans to assist him. Once the Capenates and Faliscans are free of their enemy, we can join forces to march on Rome.”

“When did you become a general, Bellatrix? You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulled the circlet from his head, tossing it onto the mattress. “Capena and Falerii are also under heavy siege.”

His words stung. He never denigrated her. And his coldness made her heart thump against her rib cage. Now it was her turn to be silent, lost for words.

“Your fervor only emphasizes my failure to rout Camillus and feed my people,” he continued.

She swallowed hard, realizing the nub of his anger was not just her failure to recognize all obstacles. She’d injured his pride. “That’s not true. The people voted you to be lucumo because they believe you will deliver them.”

“How? My army was slaughtered. It was the largest in Veii. I’m left rallying generals from different clans. And if we don’t get supplies, it’s not just food that’s denied us. Do you think we can conjure arrows and swords from air?”

“I never thought to hear you sound defeated, Vel.”

“And I never thought to hear you want to see Romans slaughtered. Do you understand what you are asking, Bellatrix? Do you want the land of your father put to flame and seeded with salt? For your cousin Marcus to be paraded in my triumph and executed?”

She sucked in her breath. His mention of Marcus cut through her. Only her love for her cousin had restrained her from wanting to see Rome destroyed. But the Battle of Blood and Hail had changed her. Two specters from her past had returned that day seeking to steal Vel’s life: Marcus Aemilius Mamercus and Appius Claudius Drusus. One was her kin, the other an admirer who had once claimed he loved her.

It shocked her that her husband might have been slain by her cousin. And she would always remember how Drusus had attacked Vel from behind. At least that coward was now dead, dispatched by Mastarna even when Vel was suffering the agony of a near-mortal wound. “Marcus was ready to kill you when you were on your knees injured. And he told you I was dead to him. I doubt he’d show mercy to us or our children. Why should I feel compassion for him?”

“So you’re saying you’re disappointed I spared your cousin?”

“He showed no compunction to slay you! I don’t know why you stopped Arruns from killing him.”

“He wanted to avenge Drusus’s death. Besides, the battle was over. I saw no need to send him to his gods. And I thought you would want it that way.”

She pointed at his arm. “At least Marcus was prepared to fight you face-to-face. You were lucky to survive Drusus taking you unawares. Do you now regret killing him?”

“No. But the manner in which he attacked me was just the way of war. There are always men who forget honor on the battlefield.”

She stood inches from him, her height enabling her to look level with his eyes. She was annoyed by his reasonable attitude toward two men whose hatred was so deadly. Irritated, also, at his reluctance to countenance attacking Rome if given the opportunity. “Do you know how traitors are executed in Rome, Vel? I’ll be thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, named for Tarpeia. She opened Rome’s gates to the Sabines because of her love for their king. Don’t you think the Romans will compare me with her?”

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why do you raise this?”

She reached over and picked up the golden tesserae from the table, fingering their worn surfaces, the numbers inscribed in words that were nearly rubbed away. His talismans. His luck. “You sent Arruns to give these to me after my uncle forced me to divorce you. You gave me the chance to see if the goddess Nortia wished me to return to you.”

“Yes, and I’ve been grateful to her ever since that she signaled she wanted us to be reunited.”

Caecilia took a deep breath. “I was fearful on the day. Danger awaited me in Veii. To be suspected as an enemy among your people if I returned, while having my people resolve to punish me as a traitoress . . .” She closed her palm around the tesserae. “I crouched on that dusty road to toss them. How hard my heart was beating, not sure if Roman Fortuna wanted me to choose duty or Rasennan Nortia wished me to forsake all for love.”

Vel covered her hand. “I know all this, Bellatrix. Why are you telling me again?”

“Because Fortuna reclaimed me that day, Vel. But I chose you. I gave Camillus and his hawks an excuse to blame us for a war.”

He squeezed her hand so hard the edges of the dice dug into her. “You defied the goddess of destiny?”

“No, I believe Fate’s intention was that I disobey her. Nortia brought me back for a reason, as you’ve always claimed.”

He broke from her, sinking into the chair. “Bellatrix, you may have doomed us.”

“No. I’ve given us a purpose. For Veii to defeat Rome.”

He clenched one armrest. “You’ve set us an impossible task. You’ve angered Nortia.”

She crouched before him, unfurling her palm so the golden dice tumbled into his lap. “You used to defy the goddess all the time, and you did not come to harm.”

“That was when I didn’t care if I lived or died. Now I’ve every reason to live because of you and our children.”

She eased herself onto her knees, grasping his hand and kissing it. “I will make offerings to placate Nortia. And I will say prayers to her in her guise as Roman Fortuna. All these years the goddess of destiny has protected Veii. She has spared us from catastrophe. I don’t think she wants to punish me.”

His shoulders sagged. “I don’t believe you can sway her. Fate is fixed. Beseeching her is fruitless. She’s the blind goddess, Caecilia.”

She was not used to hearing her given name on his lips. She’d always been his Bellatrix. She was used to weathering his ill temper, but his disquiet chilled her. “We’re safe, Vel. The traitor has been punished. The Romans don’t know the meaning to the portent at Lake Albanus. Queen Uni protects this city. And, in winter, Thefarie will come.”

He shook his head. It was as though he hadn’t heard her. “What have you done to us?”

She sat back on her heels, frustrated she couldn’t convince him. She wanted him to have faith that her decision had been right. And with his gloom, doubt seeped through her. “So would you rather I had never returned to you, Vel? Obeyed Fortuna? Returned to Rome? Married Drusus? Lived a life of regrets and misery? Never borne our sons and daughter?”

“Of course not. But how could you keep it from me all these years?”

“At first, I wanted to ignore what I’d done. And I did not want to burden you with it. Then, as time went by and disaster was not visited on the city, my dread dulled, and I became complacent.” She once again sought to clasp his hand. “What purpose would it have served to tell you? Because no matter the result of the dice throw, I always would have chosen you.”

He stood, the tesserae hitting the floor and scattering. “What purpose? What purpose! For ten years I concentrated on only defending this city. I could have urged the League of the Twelve to unite when Veii was still strong and Rome was suffering from pestilence and famine. Instead I merely begged for arms to shore up our defense. Now I’m toothless. Trapped behind tufa and masonry.”

His deep voice blasted her. She scrambled to her feet. She had sought to rally him; instead, all she’d done was expose his powerlessness. She tried to embrace him, but he shrugged her away, raising his arm in the air as though her touch scalded him. He headed to the doorway.

“Please, Vel . . . where are you going?”

“I need time to think—alone.”

She panicked, watching him close down his emotions in a way she’d not seen for years. “Please, Vel, forgive me.”

He paused at the door, his gaze stony. “Gather flowers, Caecilia, raid the cellar for wine to make offerings, and get used to the burning smell of incense. You have a lot of praying to do.”

She stared after him as she sank into the chair, then turned her attention to the tesserae. Her hand was shaking as she reached down to pick them up. She wished she’d never spoken. That she’d listened to her instincts to hoard her secrets.

After a time, she calmed. She knew her husband. She would not lose him over this. Their love had been tested before. And she thought of her children sleeping in the nursery. They were reason enough for her not to surrender to fear. She may have spurned Rome but the warrior blood of the Caecilians and Aemilians flowed in her. She was a bellatrix. There was no going back. She would placate Nortia. And Rome would fall.