The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (29 page)

Tas tugged at his uncle’s sleeve, his tawny eyes anxious. “Please, Uncle, she must stay. She always stays. I need her with me.” He pointed to the potter. “And she won’t tell, will you, Semni?”

The girl nodded without knowing the full extent of the secret she must keep. She was certain, though, that she did not want to incur the priest’s displeasure.

Artile stroked the boy’s hair again. “Little seer, you do not need a servant to help you take the sacraments.”

The child straightened, hands on his hips, stubbornness emerging. “I don’t want Aricia to go!” He stamped his foot. “I won’t perform the rites if she is not with me!”

To Semni’s surprise the priest did not chastise him. Chuckling, he placed his pointed hat onto the boy’s head where it sat lopsided and low upon the brow. “Such a temper, little seer! But you must understand that Aricia has to be punished. I will not grant her the sacraments tonight.” He held out his curved staff. “Nor can she remain in the sacred space that I create with my lituus. But I will let her watch over you from the doorway of Uni’s cell. Will that please you?”

Cheeks high with color, Tas looked over at Aricia. The maid smiled, mouthing reassurance.

“
Yes, thank you, Uncle.”

The priest smiled at his nephew, but when he gazed at Aricia over the boy’s head, his eyes were like flint. Semni shivered, disturbed by the effortlessness with which this man glided between emotions. To her dismay, he turned his attention upon her. “Come here, girl.”

As she approached he recoiled slightly, making Semni realize that it was not only Nerie who was noisome. She thought he would shout but instead his voice was low, his menace laced with the scent of bay leaves on his breath. “Tell no one of this or I will call down disaster upon you.”

Dumbstruck, Semni nodded then backed out of the chamber. Aricia followed.

Safe in the sanctum, Semni glared at her friend. “By the gods, Aricia, what are you doing? Lady Caecilia knows nothing about this, does she?”

Aricia gripped Semni hard enough to hurt. “You must tell no one. Not the mistress. Not my mother. Promise me. Otherwise, if you do, I will be thrashed and then dismissed.”

Semni broke from her grasp, rubbing the sore spot on her arm. “How long have you been bringing him here in secret?”

“
A year.”

The girl’s jaw dropped. “But why? Why would you do this?”

The nursemaid’s expression hardened. “Because Lady Caecilia clings to her Roman religion and the general believes Fufluns will be his guide in the Beyond. But the Afterlife, where demons lurk, is perilous and fearful. Piety must be observed and eternal life sought through prayers and appeasement. I don’t want to see Tas and his brothers damned—I want them to become lesser gods after they die and become one of the Blessed.” She paused. “And I want to gain salvation, too.”

Semni grimaced. She preferred Fufluns’ blissful worship. The strictures required to satisfy the Calu Cult were rigorous and unforgiving. Blood sacrifice needed to be made often to gain Aita’s favor. Providing a supply of victims was expensive. She doubted anyone other than the wealthy could afford to maintain such devotions. The common people were too busy struggling for staples. No wonder Aricia saw benefits in helping the young master. She was able to steal victims from the pantry for him and then offer them together—and all through the ministry of a priest whom Lord Mastarna despised.

What was she to do? The prospect of a bed, clean clothes and food for both her and Nerie beckoned. Yet to accept them she must start her new life deceiving her mistress. She peered through the doorway at Lord Artile. His threat frightened her. Here was a man who communed with the gods. The punishment he could call down upon her was unimaginable. The very thought of his retribution made her shudder.

Behind them Nerie stirred, whimpering in his sleep. Semni tensed, unable to bear the thought of having to cope with his misery.

Frowning at the mother’s hesitation to comfort her infant, Aricia hurried to him, bending down to rub his back, soothing him until he settled into sweeter dreams. “He is beautiful.”

Semni stared at her friend and baby, then made her decision. After all, it was really none of her business. She was not responsible for Tas. It was enough that she had to care for Nerie’s welfare. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“
Thank you.” Aricia squeezed Semni’s hand but her face was still lined with worry. She leaned against the wooden jamb studying Tas and his uncle. Yearning was etched into her expression. Semni understood then that this girl was hurting. No doubt she would have to spend much time in expiation, begging forgiveness for her lapse in worship—a lapse caused by Lord Artile’s cruelty. The haruspex knew that the servant was not at fault. And yet he was punishing her, making her suffer.

Sorry that she had unwittingly caused the problem, the potter placed her hand on the maid’s shoulder. “He is spiteful to blame you.”

Aricia swung around, shrugging her off. “Don’t say that! He was right to punish me. I should have sent you away as soon as I saw you.”

Semni frowned at the defense of the unjust priest.

The Greek girl returned to studying the haruspex and his nephew, nodding encouragement to Tas when he glanced over for reassurance. She slid her hand into Semni’s. “Lord Artile is most wondrous. Just watch and listen.”

Glossary

Cast

The novice bustled past the girls bringing warm water for the haruspex and flour to sprinkle on the sacrificial blade.

As Tas waited for the priest to wash his hands, he pointed to the strange bronze object again. “What’s that, Uncle?”

“
That is a model of a lamb’s liver I use to teach pupils how to read divine signs.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Truly? Will you teach me, too?”

“
Why, of course, little seer.”

“
Now?”

The haruspex studied him for a moment, then wiped his hands. Sitting in the armchair, he drew his nephew onto his lap and handed him the replica.

Tas turned it over and over, examining the web of lines carved upon it. “What are these?”

“
They represent the quadrants of the heaven. See how there are sixteen of them? In each segment a different god resides. And so, if I see a blood clot or other blemish in those sections I know which deity has sent the message.” Lord Artile eased the model from the child’s fingers. “Look. On this side the sun and moon is written. And on the other, the dwelling places of the gods. Those in the northeast where Tinia and Uni lie bring the greatest good fortune. Those in the northwest are to be dreaded.”

Tas traced the grooves. “But how do you know what the god is telling you?”

Artile removed the hat from Tas’ head and once again smoothed the young master’s hair. His fingernails were painted purple, his hands white and soft, those of a man unused to labor. When Semni first noticed his caresses she had thought him merely kind, but with repetition goose bumps pimpled her flesh. The soothsayer’s fingers seemed to linger a little too long before he ran his hand down the boy’s arm then rested it on the child’s thigh.

Semni glanced at Aricia, wondering if the maid was also troubled about the uncle petting his nephew, but the maid stood rapt, admiring both priest and pupil.

The haruspex drew the linen books upon the table towards him. “Through the sacred texts, of course. The Great Discipline. They contain the wisdom given to us by Tages as to how to interpret prodigies and portents.”

“
Who is Tages?”

“
Has your father not told you?”

Tas shook his head. “Apa talks about being a warrior but treats me like a baby.”

Artile patted the boy on the back, a hint of disgust in his sigh. “Then listen and I will tell you. Once a man called Tarchon was plowing a field—”

“
Tarchon? Like my big brother?”

Semni saw what seemed like sadness shadow the haruspex’s face, and yet when he spoke his tone was harsh. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

It was the first time the man had been stern with the child. Tas shrank back. “Sorry, Uncle.”

“
You must listen, little seer.” Artile patted the child’s knee, benign again. “Now, to Tarchon’s surprise, a boy, innocent as a newborn, rose from the furrowed earth.”

“
A boy?” A frown creased Tas’ forehead. “How could he live beneath the ground? He would not be able to breathe.”

This time the priest did not chide him for the interruption. “Because he was Tages, the grandson of Tinia. More amazing was that he spoke with wisdom beyond his years. He was a child sage, ancient yet young, who bade Tarchon write down his words. The plowman thought this so astonishing he called all the priest kings of the twelve cities to attend there. And then they recorded all that Tages told them about prophecy.” The haruspex pointed to the pigeons and the model. “Secrets about how to interpret portents from the flight of birds or from the liver of a beast. Or, most amazing of all,” he paused, watching Tas’ anticipation, “from lightning!”

“
Lightning!”

Lord Artile flipped open a fold of linen. “Here is the Book of Thunderbolts that Tages gave us.”

Semni leaned forward as much as she dared through the doorway to view the sacred text. She was disappointed. There were only neat columns of black and red writing, the script no more special than that used by scribes to note down inventories and contracts. She’d expected the words of the gods to be written in ink of gold.

Engrossed in the scene, Aricia also craned her neck to see. Semni remembered how her friend desired to become a priestess. Today Aricia had a chance to overhear the lessons granted to her charge. “You wish Lord Artile would teach you, too, don’t you?”

“
Ssh,” hissed the girl, keeping her eyes on Tas.

Their whispers must have been too loud. “Be quiet there,” the soothsayer growled.

Aricia gave Semni an annoyed glance. Lord Artile concentrated on his nephew again, who was tracing the columns with his finger. “The words are too big for me.”

The uncle leaned over him, his arms flanking the boy, their faces level and close as they scanned the book together. “Study as hard as you can and then you will become a great haruspex, my boy.”

“
Like you, Uncle?”

“
Greater than me. And you will be a famous fulgurator, too, able to interpret what thunderbolts mean.”

Tas turned and beamed at Aricia. The maid’s smile matched his.

“
Tell me what it says,” he cried. “Please!”

The child’s hand was still on the linen page. Lord Artile placed his over it. “No. Enough for today. It’s getting late. We must give sacrifice to Aita so we might become one of the Blessed. We must appease and placate him. We must give thanks and expiate our sins.”

Semni watched Tas’ expression fall at the news the lesson was over. Sliding off the man’s lap, he reached down to pick up the rabbit, which lay twitching on its side. The child was pensive, his confident manner dwindling. “Uncle, will Aita strike me with a thunderbolt if he is unhappy with me?”

“
Aita? No, his realm is the underworld, not the heavens. He possesses no lightning. Why do you ask?”

His voice was small and lost. “Because he sends demons to scare me when I sleep. I thought, perhaps, that he was telling me that I was bad.”

Crouching down, the man stroked Tas’ face with one purple-tipped finger. “We must always be fearful of demons, little seer, but the gods do not speak to us through dreams. I am going to help you gain salvation so that no monsters will ever harm you.”

The relief in the little boy was patent, shoulders relaxing, a smile returning. This time the priest’s tenderness in comforting the child touched Semni.

Lord Artile clasped both of Tas’ hands. “You remember your promise, little seer?”

The child nodded, golden eyes as liquid and gleaming as the man’s. “Yes, Uncle. I must not tell Apa or Ati that I meet with you.”

The haruspex smiled. “That is right. Because if you do they will not let you visit me ever again. And then how will you become a great soothsayer, the most powerful prophet Veii has ever known?”