The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (9 page)

Mastarna continued to bristle but acceded to her wishes. Despite his bluster, Tarchon seemed relieved at her intervention. As they walked away, the father could not help one last retort. “You should be careful, Tarchon. Otherwise you’ll be remembered for dying from pox instead of battle wounds. And for bringing shame upon our house.”

Glossary

Cast

Carriages and litters clogged the road, the traffic extending for a mile outside the city. Those who did not have the luxury of transport trudged beside them, heads bent to bear the brunt of falling snow. Oxen fouled the whitened ground as they waited uncomplaining in their traces. Their owners were not so patient, tempers flaring, cursing the standstill, the glow of wine waning as good humor was blown away by freezing wind.

Mastarna soon grew irritated at being cooped up in the confines of the carriage. “It would be faster walking.”

He stepped out when the snowfall ceased and the wind eased. Caecilia, legs cramped, decided to join him. She breathed in the crispness, delighting in the fresh snow coating the ground away from the road. Soon the commoners were staring at the principes who had decided to get their boots wet, no doubt thinking them foolish for swapping coziness for chill.

Caecilia surveyed the bleak winter landscape. Once the woods had been dense with shimmering summer green, or the autumn blanket of russet and purple. Harvested for its timber by the Romans, the forest was growing sparser and sparser, raw stumps instead of the stark silhouettes of winter.

Dotted along the landscape lay the remnants of forts, picket trenches and siege engines which had fueled the bonfires of the Winter Feast. Their blackened struts were skeletal against a bellicose sky. The prospect of the enemies repeating the routine of construction and destruction was now an expectation. Caecilia hoped that Rome might see sense. Grow weary of it.

Husband and wife walked in silence. After a time they reached the scorched hulk of the enormous siege tower that lay in front of the city. The war engine stood halfway along an earthen ramp. Despite the weather, slaves were laboring to dismantle the slope, their burden doubled now that they needed to shovel snow before using picks to dig out frozen dirt and rubble.

The Romans had erected the tower on the plain throughout last spring, tier upon tier, higher and higher. Each level housed archers ready to spew quarrels of arrows through slits in the wooden walls. Pregnant with danger, the massive machine had then been wheeled up the ramp to try to bring it abreast with the top of Veii’s walls. If not for Kurvenas’ troops thwarting its progress, the Romans may well have slid gangplanks across and overrun the city.

Today, the seared hunk of timber was inert and useless. Nevertheless, its proximity was evidence of the considerable advance made by General Aemilius that year. Her uncle’s doggedness had been disturbing. Caecilia often wondered if it was Veii alone he wanted to destroy. She knew that she might be dead to him, but did he wish to be the one to end her life?

The thickness of the cows’ hides stretched taut and nailed to the tower’s frame had protected the structure from being totally consumed by fire. A faint stink of singed hair wafted in the air. Despite this there was a kind of beauty to the wreck, the snow softening its contours as it stood in a patchwork of colors, half scorched, half unscathed. Was Marcus one of the officers who ordered its erection? Did he, too, wish her dead?

“
It could have been my cousin in the arena today.”

Mastarna paused beside one giant wheel of the ruined tower. “But it wasn’t. And I wouldn’t let him be a victim if he’d been taken.”

“
I’ll never understand why there have to be any victims at all!”

“
You know why, Bellatrix. The Calu Cult is part of our religion. People are scared. They face death from Romans in this world, and then the torments of demons in the Beyond. Why wouldn’t they seek salvation?”

“
I don’t believe killing humans can help make you immortal. No matter what priests like Artile say.”

Mastarna cracked off a piece of burned wood. “Neither do I, but my brother and his colleagues peddle dread. What do you expect me to do? His power grows greater with each year the war continues.” He crumbled the charred chunk, letting it trickle through his fingers, leaving a scattering of charcoal upon the white.

“
It went too far this time. Dead men lashed to the living? It was more than a holy rite; it was vengeance.”

He broke off another piece of wood and flung it towards the forest. His tone was deliberate. Each word clipped. “I’ve seen worse in battle.”

She studied his face. The scar that ran from nose to lip, the shadow stippling his jaw line, his eyes that could be flinty. It scared her to think what deeds Vel performed in combat. There was a coldness to him. Expected of him.

“
But this wasn’t a battle.” Stubbornness had always been her flaw.

“
You must not expect pity for prisoners of war,” he snapped. “Especially when they could have been the very men who killed those whose funerals we attended.”

“
But blinded men brought down like hinds in a hunt? I can’t bear it.”

Mastarna placed his hands on her shoulders. “And do you think Roman soldiers are always honorable, Bellatrix? I’ve seen their savagery in the aftermath of combat. They would rape and torture our women and children if they breached Veii’s walls. There is good reason why we’re fighting so fiercely to protect this city.”

She fell silent knowing he would not lie about the ruthlessness of Rome. Yet her lack of response seemed to provoke him.

“
And they are no better with the soldiers they defeat,” he continued. “They defile the dead, mutilate the wounded. Your people can be as merciless as the Rasenna. And they are relentless. How much longer do you think we can endure this constant siege? Our farmlands are ravaged. We must wait until winter to replenish our corn supplies. It’s no wonder Kurvenas wants to destroy Rome. Or that other high councillors believe there is merit in such a tactic.”

Caecilia was stunned. Finally he had broken his silence. All this time she thought his surliness was because he was railing against his peers. Now she realized he’d been reluctant to tell her that he believed Veii should march on Rome.

She shrugged him away, clenching her fingers. “What are you saying, Vel? That Kurvenas is right? That Rome should be razed? You refer to the Romans as my people when I thought you considered me Rasennan! You know I’ve always believed Veientanes should defend themselves. But this talk of conquering Rome is different. And there is danger in the strategy. What happens if Veii fails?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you see I’m torn over this? And worried about challenging you? I’m exhausted from weighing advantage and disadvantage.”

She stared at him, still angry he had kept this from her. Did he no longer trust her?

Mastarna reached for her but she tensed at his touch. He stiffened at the rebuff.

Needing to be alone, she ducked into the hulk of the blackened tower. It was gloomy inside, the acrid smell from the scorched pelts stronger. Mastarna remained outside with a familiar brooding look.

She gazed up through the inside of the structure. The fire had eaten holes through the floors and ceilings of each of the four tiers. The rungs of the ladders leading between them were half burned away. She could see where the blaze had spurted upwards, the charred tessellations marking the lick of the flames. She remembered watching the Romans erect it as she stood at the ramparts upon the plateau. It had taken her some time to pluck up the nerve to observe the faces of her besiegers. But when she recognized one of the soldiers laboring behind a wheeled shelter, she’d hastily looked away, the sense of being alien filling her. Where did she belong? Was she truly a traitor when all she wanted was peace?

She fingered the iron amulet on her wrist with its Aemilian crest. Marcus had given it to her long ago. It linked her to him and to her clan even now. Could she stand by and watch the city of her birth and her tribe annihilated? No matter how much she wished she could feel nothing, the fact remained she would never shuck off her ties to Rome. Even though Marcus was now her enemy, she could not bear to see him harmed. Not when he was the only person there whom she loved. And Drusus? She would not want her former admirer dead either.

There was a flurry of snowflakes. The line of traffic crawled along, darkness creeping. No sun to make shadows.

Seeing the snow settling on Mastarna’s head and shoulders, she stepped forward and extended her hand to him; this man she loved but whom she should have hated.

Mastarna hugged her. “Please, let’s not argue. I’m sorry I upset you.”

She drew away from him, searching his face. He wore no armor today other than that he used to guard his emotions. “Do you really think Kurvenas should launch an assault?”

He sighed. “Nothing is clear. There is value in his scheme but he is foolish if he thinks he can attack Rome without the support of the League of the Twelve. And they will never agree if we are led by a lucumo instead of a zilath. Not after King Tulumnes antagonized them.”

She slid her arms around him beneath his tebenna cloak and leaned against his chest, the wool of his tunic soft against her cheek. “So you don’t regret wedding a Roman? Our marriage has made it so difficult for you.”

Vel pressed his lips to her forehead. “Of course not. I’ve told you before, Nortia brought you back to me for a reason.”

“
And can Veii not sue for peace?”

“
On Roman terms? Never.”

“
So it will continue.”

“
Unless other foes distract to the south and east of them—the Volscians, the Aequi. The Latin tribes are always threatening Rome.”

“
But General Camillus has just succeeded in routing the Volscians!”

He stroked her cheek. “Then we must hope the Romans turn upon themselves. Patrician against plebeian. General against general. It has happened before.”

“
But not here.”

“
No, that is why I won’t oppose Kurvenas becoming the lucumo. I won’t weaken Veii from within.”

She smoothed her hand along his chest. “Please promise me you will never agree to his plan. It’s too perilous without the assistance of the Twelve.”

“
I promise,” he said, but his voice was too quiet.

She gripped the edges of his tebenna. “Because I could not bear that, Vel. Not just because of Marcus. There is no guarantee of success. Veii might be defeated in the attempt.”

“
Hush.” He took both her hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each in turn. “I promise.” His tone was firmer.

A snowflake settled on her cloak. She looked up to see a column of snow tumbling from a gap in the roof of the tower. They moved farther beneath the unburned section, accepting they would have to wait a little longer to make their way home. The heavy falling flakes outside blurred their vision to the line of oxen and donkeys.

“
The snow is early this year,” she said. “Winter will be bleaker if trade is hampered by frozen roads and rivers.”

Mastarna did not reply.

“
It will make the ground hard for plowing,” she continued. “Seeds may wither before taking root. There was once peace for twenty years when Rome was preoccupied with feeding itself instead of fighting. Perhaps that will happen again.”

“
Perhaps.” He leaned against a beam, unconcerned that a coating of ash marked his cloak. Caecilia stood with her back resting against him, drawing his arms around her waist. “Veii is impregnable, isn’t it? With its high citadel, walls and encircling rivers?”

“
True,” he murmured, wrapping his tebenna around them both. “We are heavily fortified. None have succeeded in taking the city before.”

“
So maybe this spring, the Romans will accept it is fruitless to prolong this war.”

“
Perhaps. We should never give up hope.”

Her teeth were chattering, her feet freezing within her fine ankle boots. She rubbed her hands together, aware that the comfort in his voice was familiar. It was the one with which she soothed Tas to sleep after a nightmare, reassuring him that the monsters will have disappeared when he closed his eyes.