Dragon's Child (11 page)

‘Very,’ Artorex replied. ‘You will find yourself lost before you have taken twenty paces into the trees. And there are many dangers for unwary fools.’

Gallia smiled as engagingly as she knew how, for she was an accomplished flirt and the steward brought out the very worst in her nature.

‘You own a fine horse, Artorex. He’s quite large.’

‘Yes. He’s big. But he’s still smaller than his dam,’ Artorex responded uneasily.

He was discovering that this frank young woman possessed the ability to make him feel awkward and uncomfortable simply by gazing intently at him with her neat head tilted sideways, as if in surprise.

‘Surely not,’ she replied limpidly.

‘Oh, yes. Aphrodite is his dam, but his sire was a wild horse who mated with her in the forest.’

‘Aphrodite?’ Gallia invested the name with a coo of surprise that showed her small, red lips to advantage.

Artorex mutely pointed towards a very large workhorse contentedly dragging a wagon loaded with harvested hay through a nearby field.

‘Well, he’s much prettier than his mother, I’ll grant you that.’ She laughed, and affectation fell away with her mirth.

Then her expression changed entirely, leaving Artorex even more confused.

She turned to her manservant and gestured to him to move out of earshot. Well used to the moods of his mistress, the burly man obeyed.

‘Would you walk a little way with me, please, Artorex? I have wanted to speak with you all day but I would not willingly trouble you.’

Artorex decided that he’d never known a woman speak so much and say so little, apart from polished compliments. She was unstoppable, and similar to Plod when the mares were in heat. He felt no envy for the man who would become her husband at some time in the future. But, despite his reservations, he dismounted and led Coal by the reins, shortening his stride to match Gallia’s smaller steps.

‘I’m sure the farm will do without me for a time, if you desire my attention.’

The last traces of Gallia’s flirtatious manner fell away like a discarded shawl. Her eyes pinned him so directly that Artorex was forced to halt.

‘I’m glad you have the time to speak to me.’ She smiled disarmingly before continuing. ‘You’re aware by now that I’ll be living at the villa as companion to Julanna. She’s my friend of many years’ standing, but even in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve become curious about the nature of her life in the villa - and especially her reliance on her husband.’

She smiled guilelessly up at Artorex once again, so her next words left him gaping.

‘Does he beat her often?’ Gallia asked bluntly.

‘That’s not a question for me to answer, my lady,’ Artorex replied. ‘I act as the Steward of the Household and it’s not my place to comment on the actions of my masters.’ Artorex closed his eyes for a short moment. This girl-child had no tact at all.

‘Come, Artorex. Who at the villa will answer me if you do not? I have always preferred plain speaking - it saves so much time.’

Artorex examined her determined face with narrowed, opaque eyes. What would this child say next?

‘Caius is the son of Lord Ector,’ he said. ‘And one day he will be my master.’

‘But you are free-born. Have you no brain under all that hair?’ Gallia retorted tartly.

For no reason in particular, Artorex laughed. As an angry young woman, she reminded him of a speckled hen, dashing here and there, with her beak on the ready to peck at the nearest enemy toe.

Gallia saw his laughter for what it was - patronizing indulgence - and she stamped her feet in frustration.

‘Even a woman can reason, Steward,’ she hissed.

‘In answer to your question,’ Artorex shrugged, ‘Caius is . . . just . . . Caius. He is an only son of a wealthy Roman family, and he believes himself to be important in the world.’

‘Is he too important to spend some time with his wife who is gravid with his child?’

‘He feels he is far too important for all this good earth as well.’ Artorex’s outspread arms encompassed the Villa Poppinidii and the lands that surrounded it. Bitterness lay under his sarcasm and Gallia could clearly hear the gall in his response.

‘Then he’s a fool,’ Gallia replied, somewhat mollified by Artorex’s frankness. ‘He trusts his wealth to the honesty of others.’ She turned on her heel and began to stride in the direction of the villa. Artorex was forced to follow.

‘You are also being foolish, Mistress Gallia, if you speak harshly of your host inside his own house.’

She stopped abruptly, and stared directly into Artorex’s eyes.

‘Do you deny the truth of what I’ve been saying?’ she demanded.

‘No. But it’s not your place to say it. Mistress Julanna is the wife of Caius, and she’s his property to do with as he wills. We live by the old ways, and the Villa Poppinidii follows the ancient traditions.’

‘Even you, Artorex?’

‘Caius and I are not friends, nor ever will be. I’ll serve him as a servant, but only out of gratitude to my foster-parents. I don’t need to love Caius to be his steward.’

Somehow, Artorex realized, this slip of a girl, so tiny and so inflexible, had wrung an admission from him that he would not have made to any living man.

‘The blood that flows through my veins is purer than that which nurtures Caius,’ Gallia retorted haughtily, with her head held high. ‘I am all Roman, not a bastardized Celt. His actions are appalling for a man of breeding.’ She looked like an angry pigeon.

Artorex was concerned about the direction their conversation was taking, and gazed around to ensure that no one could overhear the words this girl was uttering. Did she have no reserve in her nature?

‘My brothers share my lineage, and they don’t assert the full rights of a husband on the bodies of their wives.’

Artorex shrugged. Lineage was of little interest to a fatherless man.

‘And so Caius is allowed to beat Julanna, and everyone in the Villa Poppinidii knows about it,’ Gallia stated with conviction. ‘How cowardly!’

Artorex shrugged once more. The truth was self-evident.

‘Is there anyone here who can protect her from Caius?’

‘No one at all, if the Mistress Livinia decides to turn a blind eye - as I believe you should, if you are wise.’

‘I am not so mean-spirited.’

‘I believe you, but what do you expect me to do? Lady Livinia has spoken to her son, so I expect no more violence from him. I can hardly insist that the son of the house should be punished, nor is it my place to be critical of those decisions made by the master and the mistress of the villa.’ Artorex was frustrated with the discussion, mainly because he knew in his heart that Gallia was correct. Caius was a bully, and the poorest servant at the villa knew it. Artorex himself had seen the proof and he felt soiled by his complicity.

‘As the steward of this noble house, I suppose there is nothing you can do if his parents will not prevent the cruelty of their son. It is all very sad, because I considered this beautiful villa as a little slice of Olympia, and it is disheartening to discover that wickedness is everywhere.’ Gallia sighed deeply, and Artorex found his irritation had flown away on that gentle exhalation of breath.

But the girl immediately shocked him with her next question.

‘Does he follow the Greek fashion?’

‘What?’ Artorex drew to a halt so quickly that Coal butted him in the back.

‘Does he seek out love with small boys and effeminate men?’ Gallia elaborated as if to a young and innocent child.

‘I know nothing of the amorous preferences of Master Caius. His friend, Severinus, may be another matter - but I am never invited to consort with my betters.’

‘How very convenient,’ Gallia said softly, as if to herself. Turning, she smiled up at Artorex’s scowling face. ‘Thank you, Artorex.’ She smiled once more in dismissal. ‘You may leave me now. I wish to return to the villa.’

His abrupt dismissal irritated Artorex more than he could have expected.

As he mounted Coal and rode away, his mind decided on a number of stinging answers to her impertinent questions. But it was all too late.

‘Damn the girl,’ Artorex told Coal, who whickered his encouragement. ‘She makes me feel like a fool.’

However, once an idea takes root, it begins to grow.

Despite himself, Artorex discovered his thoughts returning to Caius and his friends, no matter how vigorously he tried to rein them in. Thoughts of Gallia, too, intruded into his reading of Caesar’s exploits against Versingatorex, something that had never happened before. In the days that followed, when he was in her presence he struggled to meet her wide amber stare - and realized that thoughts of her lush breasts were beginning to disturb his sleep.

Women are very, very strange, he thought to himself on several occasions. The other servants frequently noticed that he would stare distractedly at nothing in particular when he should have been concentrating on the running of the villa.

It was only natural that the servants began to gossip.

‘The young steward is in love,’ Frith cackled at him one morning after a frost had driven him into the kitchens to warm his chapped hands.

‘Nonsense, Frith!’ Artorex retorted, although the old servant noticed that her words had brought two spots of colour to the thin skin over his cheekbones.

‘Methinks it is Lady Gallia that distracts you,’ Frith replied complacently.

Her great age and the service she had provided to Mistress Livinia allowed the old woman some impunity against censure, so Frith exercised her tongue as much as she pleased. The servant was a natural aristocrat.

‘I am a steward, Frith, and the Mistress Gallia is of an ancient lineage.’

‘What nonsense!’ Frith responded rudely. ‘Her father, Gallicus, may be a lord but he has no class at all. He’s a seller of fish,’ she exclaimed, as if that explanation bridged the wide gulf that existed between Gallia and Frith’s favourite.

Artorex kissed her wrinkled, rose-petal cheek.

‘Please don’t encourage gossip, Frith,’ he said softly. ‘If you wish me to remain free from harm.’

‘And who would dare to touch you, young master, when you could cut them in two in a moment?’ Frith answered practically. ‘Now away with you, or the servants will start to talk about us.’

‘You are fairer to me than all the beautiful maidens in Rome.’ Artorex smiled down at her wizened old face.

‘Away with you, you teller of tales.’ But Frith glowed softly with love for him.

Artorex’s mind was now fully occupied by the currents that seethed below the placid surface of the Villa Poppinidii, and he determined to discuss the matter with Targo at the earliest opportunity. If anyone at the villa would speak frankly with him of his concerns, then the wise veteran would be the one.

He joined the old warrior under his favourite alder tree, squatting easily on his heels beside the veteran, and searched ponderously for the appropriate words. Artorex had lived with Caius all his short life, and he had chosen to blot out the spiteful words and personal insults hurled at him by the young master before he was even half-grown. Targo was a servant of the house and would be made to suffer if he became involved in any attempt to openly chastise the young master. But Artorex understood the rat cunning and vindictiveness perpetuated through the ages by servants. A cruel master was often punished in various, surreptitious ways - a meal made a little too salty, or a nettle placed under the blanket of a fractious horse so that accidents bedevilled him.

But, in his fashion, Targo was an honourable man. He scorned to resort to a servant’s revenge, and instead chose to store away the insults of Caius towards the inevitable day when the young master could be humbled.

‘Ask your question, lad. Spit it out! I’ll be on my deathbed before you find the pretty words you seek. What do you want?’

Targo was as blunt as Gallia. Momentarily, Artorex smiled at the thought of these two unpredictable people in conversation.

‘I wish to speak to you of Caius. What rumours of the young master run through the village? What does he do with his hours? Where does he go?’

Targo raised a quizzical white eyebrow. ‘So that’s the way the wind blows, is it? I’ll be arrow-straight with you, boy. The village has no love of Caius, but that sad fact is common knowledge. He’s fast with his whip, slow to pay and his friends are men who are even worse than he is. I’ll say no more.’

‘If he becomes master, then I must know what breed of man I serve. Please, Targo. You are more aware than most men concerning what occurs at our villa.’

‘I don’t speak the half of what I hear,’ the veteran replied, with a sardonic grin. ‘That’s why I’ve grown to be so old.’

Artorex waited, his relaxed hands resting on his knees.

After a short length of stubborn silence, Targo capitulated. ‘You will tell no one what I say, for I have no desire to be found on my doorstep with an extra mouth under my jaw.’

‘I can’t believe that Caius could murder,’ Artorex exclaimed. ‘I know he’s a bully, and his friends are drunkards and wastrels, but he’s too weak to commit a mortal act.’

‘Is he? Well, then, you hardly need me to tell you anything, young sir.’

Targo began to rise, but Artorex abjectly apologized, so the old man reluctantly leaned back against the trunk of the tree.

‘The young master has been vicious since he was a boy. His mother is a great lady, and my Lord Ector is as easy in nature as old Plod there, for all that he’ll huff and puff if he’s in a temper. But Caius was born with a black hole inside his body and nothing in this whole land can fill it. He is not to be trusted.’

‘You know this for certain?’

‘For certain. Beyond doubt. Sadly, I’m aware of many matters involving the young master - matters that I don’t wish to recount to any person. Because you’re already aware of one particular sin of his making, I’ll confirm with you that he ruined Aphrodite because she wouldn’t answer easily to the bridle when she was a yearling. He beat her until her coat was blood-red.’