The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (28 page)

No more than a month after Semni had moved into his house she caught him eyeing her breasts as she suckled Nerie. She did not mind. He was broad-chested and pleasant-faced enough for her to consider him. Liking the attention, and out of habit, she gave him a coy smile and took her time to fasten her ties when the baby had finished. Soon he grew bolder. At dinner one evening he slid his hand along her thigh under the table while his wife ate her dinner. And needing a man after so many months without one, Semni guided his fingers higher.

After a while she merely tolerated him, bored with sneaking into the shop’s storeroom to allow him grunting satisfaction amid wicker drying frames and casks of sulfur. She dared not spurn him. After all, she needed his protection. Her chance to earn money as a potter had vanished. The other craftsmen had shut their doors in allegiance to Velthur. And so her brother-in-law’s groping was little enough price to pay for a thatched roof above her head and lentil soup in her bowl.

Every time the fuller took her, though, she thought of Arruns. Would he be skillful? Could he be tender? With her banishment from Lady Caecilia’s workshop there was no reason for their paths to cross. It disappointed her that the Phoenician had made no attempt to seek her out. She thought a bond had been forged between them in the blood slick of birthing. And now that General Mastarna had ridden north with his army there was no chance she would meet him.

Nerie was fretful, pushing at her slackened breast then biting her nipple. She yanked him away, which set him wailing. Her limits reached, she shook him. His cries rose in pitch.

Their prayers disrupted, the people in the sanctuary glanced at her in annoyance and a cepen priest bid her to quiet the child. Even the beggars who’d staked their territory on the temple steps raised their heads and frowned.

Emptiness squeezing her insides, Semni also began crying, aware at last that it was too late for remorse. There would be no reconciliation. Or assistance from her brothers after her disloyalty. She would have to sleep outside another night and every night thereafter. And if she did not gain food and shelter soon, Nerie and she would die.

She looked down at her bawling baby and took a deep breath. Shaking him would only make him scream louder. Regret overcame her. He was all she had now. Rocking him, she kissed his fine fair hair, whispering she was sorry. She did not always resent him. The first time he’d smiled she’d been joyous, and the first time he’d reached up to touch her face she’d kissed his fingers a dozen times.

After a time her lullaby soothed him. Thumb in his mouth, he fell to sleep. Weary, Semni closed her eyes and leaned against a tall red-and-black column; vulnerable, tired and tiny against its breadth.

Glossary

Cast

She’d only meant to doze but when she opened her eyes it was late, the stone altar table and podium in the courtyard black solids. And the cippus stones scattered around the sanctuary were dark phallic shapes silhouetted against the deep blue sky of evening.

Aware she’d not yet made her offering to Uni, Semni carried the slumbering Nerie into the goddess’ sanctum.

The deity was immense, towering above her. The diadem crowning her head almost touched the terracotta-clad rafters of the lofty chamber, a goatskin cloak adorning her shoulders. The goddess held a lightning bolt in one hand, a spear of light to send her portents. Her posture was regal befitting her status. She was a queen, wife of Tinia, king of the gods.

The statue was ancient, created centuries past. For a moment Semni forgot her awe of the goddess to marvel at the artistry of the mortal who’d sculpted the masterpiece. It was beyond her ken, beyond her imagination.

Other supplicants were present, the susurration of prayers the only sound to break the hush. A novice cepen was lighting fresh bowls of myrrh, scent trails drifting in the air. Semni knelt and laid Nerie beside her. Little votives cluttered the space around the statue’s feet representing pleas and prayers. Among them were many small images of Uni, appealing to the vanity of the divinity as much as her mercy.

Semni’s votive was a tiny lamb she’d fashioned from clay. Only the rich could afford to sacrifice a real one. As she offered the gift to Uni, she beseeched the goddess to give them succor, and grant long life to Nerie, son of a ram.

By the time she’d finished, she was alone. No doubt the other worshippers had homes to go to and an evening meal waiting. Even the young priest had disappeared.

As Semni considered whether to hide for the night in one corner of the heated chamber, she heard the faint sound of warbling and, above that, the reedy voice of a boy.

She glanced at Nerie. The babe was still sleeping. It was the first long rest he’d had for days. Semni covered him with her shawl and placed him near the warmth of a brazier.

Curious as to why a child would be present in the temple at night, she padded towards the sounds. The massive wooden doors at the back of the sanctum were ajar. She peeked through the opening into a long narrow cell that served as a workplace for the priests. Tall three-tiered candelabras lit the room brightly. The perfume of myrrh was stronger here, a fortune in resin heaped in deep salvers, the air stiff with headiness from it.

The cooing she’d heard was coming from cages on the wall. Semni eyed the plump pigeons shuffling on their roosts. For a moment she pondered offending the gods by stealing one of their messengers before noticing the young novice was busy mopping the floor clean of white droppings.

In the middle of the room was a large oaken armchair and table, their legs carved into the shape of sphinxes. A small stone altar stood behind them. She scanned its surface, noticing golden patera dishes and a large knife with a handle studded with turquoise. Tools for sacrificial rituals. Costly and sacred. There was a pile of linen books also, folded neatly.

To her surprise the child she’d heard was the young master Tas. He was standing on tiptoe trying to reach a bronze object with strange markings on it. Instead of his usual reserve, he was chattering to his nursemaid, who sat on a stool holding a bound rabbit by the ears. Semni eyed the animal imagining tasting the victim after it had been sacrificed and cooked. There was little chance, though, that the priest who performed the ceremony would share his dinner with a beggar. “Aricia, is that you?”

Startled, the maid swiveled around. “Semni!”

The cepen looked up and frowned. Aricia hastily gestured him to leave. The youth heeded the girl, intriguing Semni as to why he would obey her. Tas fell silent, studying the intruder. Once again, Semni noted his unusual eyes, thinking his eyelashes darker and longer than she’d remembered.

Handing the rabbit to the boy, Aricia hurried across to her friend, drawing her by the hands into the chamber then throwing her arms around her. “Oh Semni, I’m so pleased to see you.”

As usual the maid smelled of freshness and sweet orris, her linen robes clean. For a moment envy surged at the good fortune of her friend to live in a princip’s house when she and her child had no home at all.

“
I’ve missed you,” continued Aricia. “I’ve not seen you since you went to live with your sister.”

Tears welled in Semni’s eyes.

The Greek girl raised her eyebrows. “My goodness. What’s the matter?”

“
She threw me into the streets.”

“
Threw you out? Whatever for?”

“
Because of her husband. It was all his fault.”

The nursemaid gasped. “Oh Semni, you didn’t? Not with your brother-in-law!”

The judgment irked her. “I said I was sorry but she wouldn’t listen. Then she threw us out. Me! And my baby!”

Aricia looked past her. “Where is Nerie?”

Semni gestured towards the sanctum then restrained Aricia from going to the infant. “Please don’t wake him.” Then she put her hands over her face and wept. “I’m so tired.”

Embracing her again, Aricia stroked her friend’s hair, brushing away her tears. Her fingers were soft. Those of a pampered servant. Semni laid her head upon the girl’s shoulder. The maid hesitated before kissing the top of her head. “Hush, all will be well. I will help you.”

Semni drew away, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You will?”

“
I will speak to Mother. I am sure there is work for you.”

Semni thought of the ghastly faces of the Medusa antefixes and then of the pockmarked and stony-eyed Cytheris. “The Gorgon? Help me? I don’t think so.”

“
Mother is not so bad. And even if she doesn’t approve of you she wouldn’t see a baby suffer. And besides, Lady Caecilia was your patron when you were at the workshop. I’m sure she’d agree to you being in her service.”

Semni hugged then kissed her, once, twice, three times upon both cheeks.

Aricia smiled, keeping her arm around her friend, one hand gently resting on Semni’s waist. “And if you live in our house I won’t be lonely anymore.”

“
Did you hurt your knees when your sister threw you away?” Tas had ceased his inspection of the table and was standing quietly beside them.

Semni had forgotten how disconcerting his questions could be. Always slightly askew in his understanding. “Not in body, master, but in spirit.”

Distracted by the rabbit struggling feebly against its bindings, Tas stroked the animal’s soft fur, calming it. Semni thought it strange the child was not in bed. Even stranger that he was here at all. “It’s very late to be making sacrifice to Uni,” she said to Aricia. “Are you waiting for Lady Caecilia?”

The maid avoided her gaze, instead busied herself retying her girdle.

“
We’ve come to give sacrifice to Aita only,” said Tas.

Semni remembered how the child had mentioned the god of the Beyond on the day he’d visited the pottery workshop. Aricia had been nervous then too. Suddenly Semni felt uncomfortable, sensing something was amiss. Why was Lady Caecilia entrusting a nurse with the duty of attending to her son’s salvation? Surely it was a mother’s duty to seek immortality for her child.

Before she could question Aricia further, Semni noticed Tas looking towards the door, his mouth curved in a broad smile. “Uncle, Uncle!”

Semni turned, blinking when she saw who Tas was greeting.

The high priest of the Temple of Uni, the chief haruspex of Veii, the chief fulgurator, stood in the doorway, imposing in his long sheepskin coat and high pointed hat, his fingers clenched around his staff.

Semni cast a shocked look at her friend as both girls bowed. All Veii knew of the enmity between Lord Mastarna and his brother. None understood what caused it, but guessing why was a constant source of rumor. Had the rift been mended?

Tas ran to the priest and lifted the rabbit to show him. “Uncle, see what we brought this time.”

Smiling, Lord Artile crouched beside the boy, resting his beringed hand upon his head and smoothing his hair in a tender motion. “Very good, little seer. Aita will be pleased to receive blood sacrifice.”

The affectionate gaze bestowed upon his nephew changed from warm to cold in a matter of seconds as the priest stood and faced the two girls, his eyes accentuated with antimony. “Aricia, who is this stranger?”

The Greek girl stammered, bowing. “My lord, forgive me. I did not bring her here. She was making devotions to Uni and found us.”

Semni barely heard her. She’d never been close to the gifted soothsayer whom king, zilath and princip heeded. Last time she’d caught a glimpse of him she’d been packed tight with other people into the forecourt of this very temple as he presided over a sacrifice. A white bull for Uni. Even before the hammer stunned the beast it had been docile, ready for the knife, a good portent. And the haruspex, blessed with the sight, revealed the meaning of the divine sign hidden in the veins and membrane of its liver. A terrible omen that had come true—that Veii must endure a long and bitter war. Now she was in the same room as the prophet. His presence seemed to fill the chamber as much as the enormous statue of Uni standing imposing in her sanctum.

He glowered at Aricia. “I am displeased. Leave now—and take her with you. I will send word to you when it is time.”

“
But, your grace,” the girl continued to stammer, “I should stay with master Tas. And I must give libation to Aita.”

“
No, you have broken my rules.”

His deep voice was alarming. Aricia quaked. Again unease spread through Semni, who realized she’d chanced upon a conspiracy in which she wanted no part.