The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (36 page)

Aricia thought the guard grotesque because of his tattoo. To Semni the markings were art wrought in flesh instead of clay. The snake’s scales rippled under the flex and tightening of the musculature of Arruns’ massive neck and back, the sloping shoulders and the curve of pectorals and ridges of abdomen. She wondered how many needle pricks he must have endured as the ink was hammered, inch by inch, into his swarthy flesh. She also imagined smoothing her hand along the coils that slithered around him. Wanting to satisfy her curiosity whether the serpent writhed beneath the guard’s short kilt.

There was no intricate patterning upon his arms and legs but there were scars. Cuts scored his forearms and marks marred his thighs. The Phoenician was not entitled to wear cuirass, helmet or greaves in battle. He may have been a rich man’s protector but his only armor was shield, dagger and spear.

Compact and proportioned, Arruns’ physique was made for brawling, not the structured exercise of a gymnasium. His calves and thighs were sturdy, defined above the knee; his biceps brawny. Semni thought he was like a panther. A heavyset body endowed with explosive speed.

Semni did not fully understand why she wanted a man whose hooked nose had been broken and crookedly mended, and whose front and bottom teeth were chipped. She’d had so many lovers who were taller or more handsome. And yet, obsessed with him, she now found other men lacking.

The Phoenician had not yet shaven, his jaw heavy with stubble. Her son’s blond hair was stark against his darkness. Semni remembered Nerie’s father. She had noticed the fair-haired trader before the Winter Feast, and had tried to tempt him without the help of unwatered wine and worship. He’d not lain with her, though, until his face was masked and their spirits merged with Fufluns’. Thinking of the northerner did not stir any desire or regret. She wanted Arruns to be her husband. She wanted him to claim her son.

The guard sat up and rested his back against the stable wall, letting Nerie climb onto his lap. He gestured towards the hopper. “Hadn’t you better do some work?”

“
Plenty of time for that.” She poured some grain into a pail before walking over to him and dumping the contents of the bucket in front of Nerie. The boy grabbed a handful, laughing as the granules slid through his fingers.

Sitting cross-legged next to Arruns, Semni hitched her chiton so he could see her thighs. Most men would have welcomed such a sight but he remained impassive, although his gaze wandered over to her every now and then, giving her hope.

Over the months his lack of interest had made her doubt whether he liked women at all until she heard gossip that he slept with one of the seamstresses. Learning this, resentment flared. She could not understand why he would choose a widow nearly as old as the Gorgon instead of her.

Arruns scooped some grain and poured it into little heaps in front of Nerie. “You still haven’t said why you are being punished.”

“
One of Cytheris’ spies told Cook I was in the atrium.”

“
You mean one of the housemaids.”

“
Yes. They are one and the same.”

“
And what were you doing there instead of the kitchen?”

She reached in front of the tot and leveled the piles of grain, then drew a figure of a rabbit with her finger. Nerie cooed and clapped.

“
I was reminding myself of what I used to be. I went to look at one of my creations.”

The guard stopped observing the boy’s play and instead searched Semni’s face. “So you are unhappy here?”

“
Why wouldn’t I be? To know that my red figure vases and bucchero are only a corridor away is unbearable. The housemaid thought I was there to steal them. At least Cytheris and Cook did not believe her.”

To her surprise, his voice was sympathetic. “It must be hard for you, but at least you are fed and clothed and sheltered during this siege.”

She placed her hand tentatively on his forearm. For once he did not rebuff her. Her pulse quickened at the touch of muscle beneath flesh. “And you? What about you? You were hurling that spear as though you wanted to destroy the stable.”

He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “The master has been away many months now.”

“
And you are bored with women and children?”

He straightened again, brow creased. “I do not question my duty to my mistress.”

“
Even though she is a Roman?”

“
The Romans are not the enemy of my people, Semni. Besides, Lady Caecilia is a brave woman. I respect her.”

“
Enough to die for her?”

“
If necessary. It is my job to protect all of Lord Mastarna’s family.”

“
But you are a freedman. You don’t have to risk your life.”

He didn’t reply, moving his arm away from her hand. She silently admonished herself for voicing her doubts about the mistress to so loyal a servant.

Spying some pebbles, Nerie toddled over to them, then proceeded to carry them one by one to drop them in the pail. One hit the edge and fell onto the grass. The man handed it to him. The boy dropped it again. Realizing it was a game, Arruns smiled.

Wanting to gain the Phoenician’s attention, Semni picked up the stone and closed her hand around it instead of giving it to her son. “I don’t understand. Don’t you fear dying for them?”

Nerie whined, trying to prize his mother’s palm open. She kept her fist tight. Finally the Phoenician focused on her. “I owe my life to the master. I will not leave him. He saved me from being the Phersu.”

Semni relinquished the pebble to the child, who promptly gave it to Arruns. It didn’t worry her that the man had been the Masked One. She was intrigued that he had once acted as an instrument of the gods. Stirred her, too. “What was it like to be the Phersu?”

There was a hint of anger in his voice. “Like a coward. A man called upon to set vicious hounds upon half-dead men.”

“
But the blood you spilled revitalized the dead. You must have felt great power when you wore the scarlet mask.”

“
Power? No, I just felt grateful I didn’t have a sack covering my head.”

She blinked, slowly comprehending. “You were a criminal?”

The boy began transferring the stones from the pail into a heap in front of the man. Arruns helped him. “My crime was to be a prisoner of war. Because of my strength, though, I was given the choice of being either a victim or the Phersu.”

“
How did Lord Mastarna come to rescue you?”

“
One of his lictors died when the master was zilath. He saw me in the arena and chose me as a replacement. And then he kept me on as his guard after he left high office.”

Nerie had grown tired of his game. He clambered onto Semni’s lap, tugging at the neck of her chiton and demanding to be fed. Semni unfastened one side of her robe. Holding her nipple between two fingers she took her time offering it to her son. She glanced up as she settled Nerie, pleased to see Arruns watching. When he noticed her scrutiny, though, he looked away. Semni smiled. “So you never felt the divine within you?”

His tone grew impatient. “Don’t you understand? I was sanctioned to murder men in the name of a god that was not mine.”

Her eyes widened. The idea that Arruns might not worship the gods of her people stunned her. She thought her deities lived everywhere. “Who, then, do you worship?”

“
Lord Ba’al. Lady Astarte. Gods of the land of Canaan.”

“
Canaan? I thought you were Phoenician.”

“
That is what the Greeks call us. Sidon is my city.”

Hearing that name reminded Semni how she had once dreamed of her fame extending far beyond the Great Sea. “Why, Sidon is where my pottery was sometimes sent!”

Arruns nodded. “That is not surprising. My people are great traders, great seafarers.”

Too absorbed in lamenting how her life had been reduced to kitchen, washroom and courtyard, Semni had never thought about Arruns’ past. Having been granted a glimpse into his world now, she was suddenly keen to learn where he came from, who he had been and how he had come to be here. “And you? Were you a sailor?”

At her question, his expression clouded. “My story is simple, Semni. I was free, then a slave and now a freedman who owes his life to this house.”

“
But how long have you been in Veii?”

“
I was twenty when I sailed from my home. I have not seen my family for fifteen years. There is nothing more to know.”

She did not press him, seeing that he was retreating, no longer prepared to share his story.

A silence fell between them as she nursed Nerie. After a time, the boy relaxed, his suck lessening. Semni stroked his hair and reached down to kiss him. When she raised her head she found Arruns was watching her.

“
The impatient mother has grown patient.”

She found herself grinning, pleased with his compliment. “It helps that he is so placid.”

Arruns touched the boy’s cheek. Drowsy, Nerie held the man’s finger. “No need to be modest, you care for him well.” Semni placed her hand over both of theirs. “The boy needs a father,” she murmured. “You saved him, Arruns. He would have choked if not for you.”

Surprise registered upon the guard’s face. “I am not what he needs.” He started to rise. “My life is not my own.”

Not wanting him to go, she eased Nerie from her lap and laid him on the grass where he curled up, thumb in his mouth. Then, scrambling to her feet, she caught hold of Arruns’ hand. “Please stay.”

He hesitated, then faced her. The girl stepped closer, running her finger along a raised vein upon his chest. “I have been good. I have been with no man for months.”

Arruns grasped her hips, keeping distance between them. Yet Semni sensed he was restraining himself more than holding her at bay.

She edged nearer, her naked breast grazing his tattooed skin. His fingers tightened on her. Dipping her head, she brushed her lips across his corded flesh, tasting the salt of his sweat.

Taking his time to inhale and exhale, Arruns closed his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze. Under the hooded lids his eyes were the color of resin with dark rings around the iris. They were eyes that might have been kind before slavery, war and violence made them guarded.

She encircled his neck with her arms and laid her head against his shoulder. The embrace was an echo of the one on the night of Nerie’s birth. She raised her face to his. The snake’s fangs only an inch away. “It meant something, didn’t it? When you held me while I labored?”

He wrapped his arms around her so fiercely it made her gasp, then kissed her with hard lips. Eager, she opened her mouth to coax him, but at her urgency, he released her as swiftly as he had hugged her. Confused, she clasped his neck again, but he gently unlaced her fingers. “Don’t, Semni. There’s no point.”

“
Is it the widow? Do you love her?”

He frowned. “The seamstress? We satisfy each other sometimes. She means nothing to me.”

“
Then why won’t you have me? I want to be your woman.”

He clasped her forearms. “You think you want me, Semni, but you would soon grow bored.”

“
No! I would be faithful.”

Arruns sighed. “Don’t you see? I can’t be a husband. I have the master’s family to protect. I must put them above all others. You would not deserve that. Nor would Nerie.”

Semni stared at him, disappointment deep and painful within her. “We would take what you give us. It would be enough.”

“
After a time you would want more.” He glanced at the napping boy. “And so would I. Then I’d find myself putting both your and Nerie’s welfare above my master and his family. I would fail in my duty.”

Behind them one of the grooms led a horse into the courtyard, calling out the Phoenician’s name. When he saw Semni standing with one breast bare next to the bodyguard, he smirked. Arruns let go of her. Semni hastily retied her chiton.

Expression grim, Arruns feigned disapproval as he said loudly to the girl, “You better get to work.”

The groom was not fooled. He ogled Semni and winked at Arruns before delivering his message. “Lady Caecilia is looking for you. She needs you to accompany her to the palace.”