Jars of Clay (9 page)

“Mother, please, talk to Father. He’d listen to you.”

Virina smirked. “I’ve barely spoken two words to your father in months. I’m the last person in Rome he would take advice from now.”

“I can’t marry this man, I just can’t. Mother, I need your help.”

“Your father’s word is law, Helena, you know that.” Virina closed her eyes and a soft groan escaped her thin, narrowly parted lips.

Helena’s hopes fell. She left her mother alone in the darkness of her room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

HELENA

Helena poured libations on the altar of Diana’s image in the family garden, the sweet honey and floral scent overwhelming her senses.

“Oh holy Diana, come to my aid, a humble servant and a woman in distress. Deliver me from the plans of my father.” Helena was in an impossible position from which only the divine could bring deliverance. She poured again and repeated her chant, bowing low before the idol.

A concerned voice called out, “Helena?”

Helen straightened sharply, placing her palm over her heart. “Tatiana? You startled me.”

Tatiana wasn’t the sort of friend who could keep a secret this big.

“I’m sorry,” Tatiana said, greeting Helena with a kiss. “Felicity told me I could find you here. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s quite alright.” Helena pressed the wrinkles from her tunic with her hand, wishing suddenly that she had worn something nicer.

“Helena? What’s the matter?” Tatiana’s smooth forehead wrinkled and her mouth pulled down into frown. “You look troubled.”

Helena studied the countenance of her friend. As always her dark coiffeur was perfectly arranged, her bright eyes flashed vivaciously, her gait and manner, stately.

Tatiana’s father would have no trouble arranging a suitable marriage for his daughter, for Helena had heard rumors that men were fawning over Tatiana already, and eager to enter into negotiations.

Unlike herself, who could do no better than a toad.

“Helena, what is it?”

“You could hardly understand, Tatiana.”

“You insult me. I am capable of great understanding.”

“I talk not of poetry or Greek literature,” Helena said.

“No, you speak of life. And you have been disappointed.”

Helena stopped, surprised by her friend’s keen perception.

“The gods whisper in your ear about me?”

“Hardly. But I am a young woman, as you are Helena. Our troubles are not as different as you think.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, though not convinced.

“Let me guess,” Tatiana scooped her slender arm through Helena’s and led her down the cobbled garden path. “You must leave your childish musings, and become a wife.”

Helena sighed. “Yes, you are right.”

“It is our lot in life, Helena. The gods have ordained it to be so.”

“Father has arranged a marriage for me, Tatiana. Though I’ve only just met the man, I loathe him already.”

“This is natural, I think. I too deplore the man I am to bed.”

Helena stopped abruptly. “You know about your husband?”

“Yes, you silly,” Tatiana teased. “Unlike you, who have had the pleasure of escaping the inevitable with your naiveté, I have lived with the complete knowledge of my fate for some time.”

“You never spoke of it!”

Tatiana stopped to pluck a daisy. Twirling it between her fingers she spoke softly, “Perhaps I thought that mentioning it would be a bad omen, somehow bringing it upon me sooner by speaking it aloud.”

“Who is he?”

“Oh, no one you know. A very old man, older than my own father, can you believe it? My stomach turns to think about it.”

“Oh, Tatiana.” Suddenly ashamed of her own bout of self-pity, Helena impulsively embraced her friend.

“It’s okay. I could do worse. He’s an old friend of the family, with strong Phoenician roots, which is important to my father. And,” she added with a mischievous grin, “quite possibly, if the gods are with me, the excitement of our wedding night will kill him.”

“Tatiana!”

“I jest, Helena, I jest. Indeed, I hope I conceive a son immediately, and Hermus will no longer have need of my services.”

“Oh how you talk, Tatiana. Surely he must love you?”

“And what is love, Helena? What is love?”

Helena nibbled her lip as her thoughts turned to Lucius, and she grew warm. Every stray thought regarding him affected her wildly. In vain she made efforts to restrain her feelings, but the more she tried to banish all thoughts of him, the larger the images grew and the deeper their intensity.

“I’d rather run off with a servant if I loved him,” she spouted, “than marry the man my father has chosen!”

Helena held her breath. Had she just betrayed herself to her friend?

“Oh, Helena, your age does shine forth. How incredibly ridiculous to even think such a thing! A servant? Really? If you are going to have a temper tantrum, you must do better than that.”

Then, as if contemplating whether Helena’s impulsive speech might have a regrettable ring of truth to it, Tatiana added, “And of course you realize if there were such a servant, and you did run off together, you would both be dead by sunset.”

Helena feigned laughter. “I jest as well, surely.” Besides, her prayers to Diana might in fact be answered. “Now, let’s not talk of such depressing matters. We aren’t married off yet.”

“Indeed,” Tatiana pasted on a smile. “Let us enjoy the day.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

HELENA

Though Helena reprimanded and lectured herself on the absolute folly of what she was about to do, she continued. Back-tracking through the gardens and around the estate, she checked over her shoulder one final time before sneaking toward the servant compound.

She hid behind an abandoned outbuilding until she saw him.

“Lucius!” she called softly. Her heart sped up when he stopped and turned toward her voice.

“Helena? What are you doing?” He scoured the horizon before going to her.

“I know it’s not our regular time and meeting place, but…” she suddenly felt foolish. What a stupid thing she had done.

“What is it, Helena? Is something wrong?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Not yet, not like this. She changed her demeanor, and spoke to him once again has her servant.

“I choose to meditate in this field and I require a blanket.”

Lucius masterly wiped the confusion off his face. “I will return with your request.”

Helena debated with herself. Should she flee? She owed him no excuse if she did, but she wanted to be with him. Their time together was short.

Lucius was soon back at her side and smoothed the blanket on a patch of grass under the shade of a black alder tree. “I hope this is adequate for your needs.”

Helena shifted her tunic and sat. “Please, Lucius, join me.”

He hung back briefly then took a spot an appropriate distance away. “It would be my pleasure.”

They sat in silence until Lucius leaned back onto his elbows and stared up at the sky.

“It’s a chariot, Helena,” he said, pointing to the clouds. “See the spokes of the wheels.”

Helena allowed herself to fully recline. “Yes, I see it. I think the wind is about to blow the rider off.”

Lucius pushed his elbows out and laid flat on his back beside her. “Not a very skilled charioteer, then, is he?”

“Obviously not,” she whispered, painfully aware of his nearness. She could smell the soil and the faint scent of olive oil on his bronzed skin. She pinched her eyes together, fighting the emotions that threatened to burst from her in a flood of tears.

“It’s been an extraordinary summer,” he said. “More festivities than I remember from summers past.”

“It must be because of the new emperor,” she said. Like everyone else in Carthage, the house of Vibius had decorated their home with laurel, held great banquets, and made sacrifices to the genius of the new emperor, especially since he was once the General of Tunisa.

Not everyone, though. She was wrong about that. For the Christians and the Jews did not participate in the city’s celebrations. Their homes were left conspicuously bare.

“Lucius?” she said, thinking aloud. “Are not the Christians and the Jews peculiar?”

“They are profane.”

“I mean, they openly segregated themselves from the rest of Carthage, refusing to worship the gods of Rome with the rest of us. The emperor would be outraged by their lack of allegiance, I would think.”

“And so he should,” Lucius agreed. “The Christians and Jews ought to know their place in society. They are a threat to the ways of Rome. Jupiter may withdraw his favor if he is not pleased. And surely the Christians and Jews who refuse to honor him must tempt his wrath. They are compromising all of Rome.”

“I suppose. But, in some ways I think they are quite courageous, standing up for what they believe, even if it is erroneous.”

“I think they are the epitome of ignorance and should be stopped at all costs.”

“Um,” she added, thinking of her own situation and wishing she were brave enough to resist it. “Perhaps.”

She breathed in deeply, air sweet with the scent of freshly baked bread, still lingering from the loaves made in the morning in the round brick ovens on their property. She had grown used to these comforts, for most did not have their own bakeries; others who were not smiled on so much by the gods made the required trek into the Forum each day to purchase what was needed for their households.

If only it were possible for a day, for this day alone with Lucius, to be stopped and gripped tightly in her hand forever.

Helena rolled over onto her side and faced him.

“Lucius?”

“Yes?”

“You have excelled in your studies and can speak Latin as well as I. You have mastered the poets, the philosophers, and figures as well. You should move on from here, like you once said. Make a place and a name for yourself.”

Lucius replied stiffly, “I will go when I am ready. I am still needed by your father.”

“He will manage without you.”

He propped up on one elbow to face her. “Why, suddenly, would you have leave of me?”

“Lucius,” she paused, swallowing. “I am to be married.”

Pain shuttered across his face. “I see.”

“Father said he would try to keep him waiting, but I know that Vincentius’s family is eager for us to unite.”

She reached out placing her hand on his arm. “Lucius, it is the way of the gods.”

He placed his hand on hers, holding it tight, “Damn the gods, Helena! Damn them, and damn Rome!”

“Lucius!”

“I’m sorry. I cannot deny my heart any longer. I would rather die than see you given to another. Don’t you see? I would rather die than live without you.” He leaned in. She felt his breath on her neck. Her heart jumped and she gasped. She tilted her head until her nose gently touched his. If they were to kiss, it had to be her initiative. She knew she should pull away and run.

Instead she kissed him. Her lips trembled as they touched his, soft and warm. He gave himself to her, their kisses forbidden and growing in urgency.

Lucius kissed her jawbone, her cheekbone, until he found her ear.

“I love you, Helena,” he whispered.

She felt tears streaming down her face. Lucius wiped them with his lips.

“I love you, too, Lucius.” Her voice quivered and the excitement of wrapping herself in his arms battled with the dread of knowing this love could not be theirs. “I do. But it’s not enough for us. It will never be enough.”

“We could run away,” Lucius said eagerly. “We could go to Rome, start our lives over. Together.”

Helena held back a sob. That was a dream, a very nice dream.

“Helena, please, I love you.”

She kissed him again, softly. “There is no good that can come of admitting such a thing as love.”

Lucius rested his forehead on hers. “Well then, I am defeated. I suffer more than the victims in the arena.”

He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ears. “But I will suffer honorably and not disgrace you or the master of this house.”

“Must you go?”

“It is too damaging for me to stay. I will leave in the morning.”

“Oh, Lucius,” she said, “I don’t want you to go.”

She folded herself into his arms and pressed against him. Lucius nuzzled his face into her neck, sending shivers up her spine. “Stay with me,” he said softly.

She nodded, yes. The gods be damned.

Chapter Twenty-Four

HELENA

The brightness of dawn massaged Helena’s face. For a moment she’d forgotten where she was or why.

Then the memories rushed in on her and she grasped for him, her arms stretching, fingers reaching. But all they clawed was the wool blanket on which she had spent the night with Lucius.

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. Where was he? Had he already left for Rome? Without saying goodbye? And worse, had he left her exposed, alone in the fields this way?

Then she heard his voice. “Helena, my darling.”

A long breath of relief escaped her lips.

“I’ve brought breakfast.” Lucius sat across from her, laying a tray with bread, cheese and tea between them.

Yes, they must forget about his imminent departure and enjoy this last moment together. “Thank you,” she sighed.

They didn’t say much. Helena was more concerned about feasting on her love, than she was with breaking the fast of dawn. She studied his eyes, the way the light danced off the grey flecks in his irises and the way they took her in with such emotion. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, and the ridge of his nose. She must memorize him, every bit of him. The way his arms flexed as he lifted his cup to his lips, the ripple of his abdomen.

“Lucius?” she whimpered.