The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (38 page)

Kurvenas scowled when he saw Caecilia had brought an ally. “What are you doing here, Ramutha Tetnies?”

The aristocrat squared her shoulders. “I was not going to let my friend walk into a winged lion’s den lest she be eaten.”

“
Careful how you address me or I’ll have you removed.”

“
I never thought you’d be one to fear a woman.”

Caecilia put her hand on Ramutha’s arm. “Enough. Now that we are here, let him speak.”

“
Very well.” Ramutha glared at the men. “At least bring Lady Caecilia a chair. Her baby is due any day now.”

For a moment the Roman thought the lucumo would refuse, but when Lusinies cleared his throat loudly, Kurvenas signaled the slave to fetch a stool. Ramutha was left to stand.

Caecilia felt more vulnerable once seated. With his height, and enthroned upon a dais, Kurvenas towered above her. Suddenly the pleasant atmosphere of music and beauty palled; the staccato clicking of the castanets grating upon her nerves. “Why have you asked me here? Do you have news of my husband?”

“
Yes, I have news. He has failed miserably at the congress of the Twelve and is doing little better in assisting the Faliscans to thwart Camillus’ forces.”

Caecilia tensed, surprised at the vehemence of the slur even as relief filled her that Vel was still alive. From the corner of her eye she noticed Vipinas’ attention sharpen.

Bracelets sliding down her arm as she shook her fist, Ramutha stepped towards the ruler. “Don’t speak of Mastarna in that way!”

Caecilia leaned forward to grasp her friend’s skirt and pull her back. Unlike the Rasennan woman she was not about to trade insults with the lucumo. Hand to the small of her back, she lumbered to standing. “Thank you for informing me that he survives. Now may I be permitted to take my leave?”

“
Sit down!” The volume with which Kurvenas bellowed the command stunned all within the room. He shouted at the musicians to leave. Discordant clicking and pinging of castanet and lyre marked their hasty departure, plums and cherries spilling across the floor as they knocked a repository table over in their haste.

Lusinies’ expression was no longer bored. He frowned as he watched Kurvenas descend from the dais and stand behind Sethre.

“
I have not summoned you here to merely report on your husband.” Kurvenas placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. The youth bowed his head, face scarlet. “Tarchon Mastarna has tainted Sethre and shamed my family! He was not qualified to act as a mentor.”

Perspiration pricked Caecilia’s scalp. How livid Kurvenas must have been to beat his golden child. Tarchon would be distraught to see that he’d caused his beloved to be thrashed. Dreading having to answer for her stepson’s stupidity, she tried to remain calm as she settled back onto the stool. “I acknowledge Tarchon has acted foolishly.”

“
Foolishly? He has ruined my son’s reputation.”

“
He did not intend to do so. He mistakenly hoped to create an alliance between our families.”

Kurvenas moved across to her. “Are you mocking me? An alliance with your house? Mastarna caused my kinsman to be disgraced and deposed! And your great-uncle ordered my grandfather to be beheaded!”

Caecilia slipped her hand into Ramutha’s. The noblewoman’s expression had been one of bewilderment at the revelation of Tarchon’s affair but, seeing her Roman friend’s need for comfort, she smiled in encouragement.

Bolstered by Ramutha’s reassurance, Caecilia challenged the king. “Whatever enmity there may be between our two families, my husband has acted honorably. When he learned of the liaison he forbade it and led Tarchon to war.”

Kurvenas hooked his thumbs into his ornamental belt, looming over her. The nadir of his loathing had been revealed. The shaming of his son had added to his own humiliation at Mastarna challenging him on the battlefield.

“
Removing that molles was not enough!” He strode to Sethre and placed his hand on the youth’s brow, forcing the youth’s head backwards to face the others. Caecilia felt sorry for him. He looked so young and frightened as he gulped back tears.

“
I punished my son when I heard,” the king continued, “and I will shun him if he ever goes near his lover again. If Mastarna had done the same when Tarchon flaunted convention years ago, this never would have happened.”

Caecilia’s attention swiveled to Artile. He sat inscrutable, seemingly untroubled by the mention of his past affair. He had corrupted a young boy also. Why did Kurvenas not despise him? Yet again the priest had managed to escape condemnation.

The father released Sethre and glared at Caecilia. “Don’t look at the haruspex. It was he who informed me of this betrayal. I owe him a debt of gratitude. He saved me from being ridiculed for not knowing Tarchon was riding Sethre. If I get my hands on your stepson, I will kill him!”

“
No, Father!” The youth stood up, high spots of color on his cheeks.

“
Go and wait outside!” Kurvenas abruptly clipped him across his bruised cheeks. The boy doubled over in pain but did not cry as he ran from the throne room.

Caecilia looked at Artile. He’d not spoken throughout the drama. The soothsayer gave her his familiar complacent smile and adjusted the gold crescent brooch at his throat that fastened his cloak. How had he learned of the trysts? She doubted it was through his mantic powers. More likely his web of spies. She never thought his love for Tarchon would sour enough to hurt his old beloved, or that his jealousy would lead to betrayal.

At the assault on Sethre, Lusinies concentrated on wiping sweat from his pate as though embarrassed. Vipinas, brow furrowed, watched the youth leave. “Sire, you are wrong to claim Mastarna has acted ignobly. He erred in not advising you of the liaison, but what Caecilia says is correct. He sought to avert disgrace by taking Tarchon into battle.” He started coughing as he turned to Ramutha. “Just as he offered to help me by extracting my grandson from that slattern’s grasp.”

Ramutha’s disbelief at what she had witnessed between Sethre and his father had rendered her dumb. Now she changed from staring at Kurvenas to glaring at the old princip. “I am no slut. And I ask nothing of your family to raise Caile’s child. I alone have claimed your great-granddaughter as part of my bloodline.”

“
Enough!” Kurvenas roared. He moved to stand behind the table with Artile. “I have no interest in listening to you squabble over a bastard child. There is a matter of more importance. That is why I have summoned Aemilia Caeciliana.”

Curious, Lusinies sat forward in his seat. “What have you to tell us, sire?”

Kurvenas gestured towards the haruspex. “Lord Artile will explain.”

After his long silence, the priest’s bass voice seemed to reverberate around the chamber. “Rome suffers from drought and famine. This in itself is a sign that that city has offended the gods. But there is a greater prodigy.”

Caecilia touched her Atlenta pendant nervously. Unlike Mastarna, she didn’t doubt the power of the seer to foresee the future. His prescience had been proven too many times. His prediction had come true about Arnth Ulthes’ death, and that Veii would fight a long and dreadful war. There was no doubt the haruspex was the supreme authority on sacred matters.

Ramutha also respected the haruspex for his gift. Her voice lost its edge. “What is this great miracle?”

“
My spies have brought news that, despite lack of heavy rain or snowfall, the waters of Lake Albanus have increased so they now lap at the peaks of the mountains around it.”

All fell silent again at hearing the mystery. Caecilia thought how tantalizingly close the prospect of such an abundance of water must be to the Romans. Only leagues away from their city, the Latin tribes were experiencing the solution to ending thirst caused by the relentless summer. A thirst that Rome must continue to suffer with no rain to fill its wells. The gods were indeed cruel.

Vipinas shifted in his chair. “A most wondrous omen, indeed. What does it signify?”

Artile smiled and smoothed one eyebrow. “That Rome has done more than displease the deities—it has angered them. And until our enemy can determine what expiation rites need to be performed, it cannot conquer Veii.”

Caecilia knew of the Romans’ limited ability to interpret such a sign. In contrast to the knowledge of the Rasenna, their skills were as infants compared to the ancients. Yet the patricians could still consult the oracle on how to placate the gods. “But can’t the senators consult the Sibylline Books for direction?”

Artile tutted. “Those texts do not contain the answer. But our sacred codex does. And I am the interpreter of such secrets.”

Caecilia smiled. It was the first time Artile had brought her good tidings. “Then Veii is safe if there is no chance for them to determine the correct rituals.”

Kurvenas stroked the scar that furrowed the hair of his beard, his temper sparking. “Being spared an assault doesn’t help me realize my ambition to rule your people!”

The baby stirred within her together with a twinge of pain. Caecilia flinched, stroking the baby’s contours, hoping it was not a birth pang.

Vipinas coughed. “As Mastarna has failed to rouse the Twelve to march on Rome, such an endeavor is dangerous. Perhaps we should be satisfied that Rome’s gods are unhappy. Our foe will need to be brave to continue to press a siege until divine wrath has been assuaged.”

Kurvenas placed both hands on the table, arms straight. “Rome needs to be destroyed. But lack of support from the other Rasenna is not the only reason why I’ll be thwarted. Artile has foretold there is a traitor among us. Until the betrayer is exposed and our gods appeased, Rome will remain secure, too. And I will never be its king.”

A sharp pain squeezed Caecilia’s womb. She bit her lip, not wanting to reveal her discomfort. The talk of sedition was as unnerving as her dismay that her labor had begun.

Ramutha walked over to survey the linen book on the table. “What is the portent that signified there is a traitor?”

The priest placed his hand on the open page. “Thunder was heard on the night of the new moon. The Book of Thunderbolts warns that treachery should be averted.”

Caecilia remembered the storm. How the gods teased and taunted the Veientanes, sending rumbles and flashes but no rain.

Kurvenas pointed at her. “You are that traitor, Aemilia Caeciliana.”

She steadied herself, gripping the stool. This time her apprehension was not for herself. It was for her children. Would Kurvenas also exact punishment on them for having a Roman for a mother? Another spasm wracked her. She could not stifle a groan. Ramutha hurried to crouch beside her. “Mele, is it the baby?”

Caecilia nodded, breathing through the contraction, pressing her hands to her womb. Three times in her life she had borne a child and yet the intensity of the first pain always took her by surprise. When the pain had passed she focused on the king. “I am faithful to Veii.”

The lucumo’s expression was as though he needed to scrape a lump of dung from his boot. “Remember your boast at the Winter Feast? How, if anyone doubted your loyalty, you would return to Rome to meet a traitor’s death? Well I test that fidelity today. Tell us, would you see your city destroyed?”

“
Rome is no longer my city.”

“
So you would welcome its annihilation?”

Caecilia faltered, the same reluctance emerging as when Mastarna spoke of such a course. “I want peace. I do not see how that is treason.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ah, but if you truly loved Veii you would not balk at seeking Rome’s destruction.”

Another pang. She breathed deeply. Was she ever to be free of the threat of execution? First Tulumnes and now his cousin. She thought, too, of the women at the well. Antagonism would swell to assault with a decree she was a betrayer.

“
Then you plan to kill me?”

“
No, returning you to Rome will suffice. And when your people slay you, our gods will be appeased.”

She found herself laughing. “And what if my death placates the rage of the Roman gods also? Both cities would be thwarted.”

Ramutha put her arm around Caecilia, her gaze swinging between Artile and Kurvenas. “This sounds like personal revenge as well as holy advice.” The king stiffened and glanced at Artile. The priest smoothed his eyebrow. Caecilia knew then that Tarchon’s actions had catapulted their family into peril just as Vel had predicted.