The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (46 page)

Opening her eyes she realized it was past daybreak, fresh sunlight spilling into the tent, the heat already beginning to permeate through its walls.

Her heart tottered and lurched. The plebeian general was not in her dream. He was standing no more than two yards away. His manservant was unfolding the cross struts of a chair for him so he could sit next to Camillus. Closing her eyes, she hoped the men had not noticed she was awake.

She concentrated on feigning sleep, hoping that by remaining still she could avoid recognition. She was naked beneath the thin sheet, her hair loosened, partially covering her face. No different in appearance than all the other times Genucius had seen her except for lack of paste and henna. She could hardly believe her misfortune. For nearly a year she’d coerced Drusus into silence and bargained with Marcus for protection. Now her chance for happiness would be destroyed by one random meeting.

Why had Camillus not woken her? She should have returned to her tent by now, creeping back in the hour before sunrise. Yet after their lovemaking the night had been stifling, making sleep fitful. The cool of the early hours must have granted her deep slumber. Perhaps this had happened to him also.

His vow that they should not lie together had been broken the first time she’d soothed his headache again. The continual lapses made him guilty but did not hinder repetition. In a way she wished that Marcus would return. She needed the matter to be settled. Then Camillus’ conscience could be salved. Hers as well. She was desperate for Marcus to trust her enough to release her despite her infidelity. And sometimes she resented the general’s intention that he would not pressure his officer should he object.

She visited him when the sun had set and the moon risen, returning to her tent before he met with his officers at sunrise. The hours with him were similar to those she kept in the lupanaria. At least there she could rest at dawn whereas now she was expected to work in daylight as well. She did not mind the lack of sleep. Not when it meant she could spend treasured time with him.

There was no declaration of love. Pinna told herself never to expect one, to be content with what she had. Yet she could not help wanting to possess his soul. For certain he’d stolen hers. She hoped to convince him there was no need to check emotion, no shame in letting her share a place in his heart. Wanted to believe that, because he’d not stopped lying with her, there might be a chance.

Although they strived to keep their affair secret, those in the camp were not foolish. Nor were his servants. There were whispers. Gossip was spreading that Pinna was not just skilled in rubbing the general’s shoulders. It made her nervous, making urgent the need for Marcus to return.

“
Was the whore any good?”

Pinna tensed. Genucius must have been looking at her. She kept her eyes shut.

“
You know I don’t use prostitutes. I leave that to city idlers and weak soldiers. I’ve tried to expel those poxy Faliscan whores but it is like trying to rid a scab-skinned cur of fleas.”

Pinna felt a flush of heat. She’d not known the depth of his scorn. Suddenly she realized there would be no redemption if he discovered her past. He would think of her as vermin, feel stained by her touch. She prayed he would not flay her.

“
Then you have taken a concubine. Something new for you since your wife died.”

Camillus was curt. “You’ve arrived here earlier than expected. Why not make use of your time by talking of war instead of women.”

“
Certainly.” The one-eyed officer sounded uncomfortable. “But I am parched and hungry. I have been traveling most of the night.”

Hearing this, Pinna opened her eyes a slit, her muscles aching from the strain of stillness. Camillus must have been taken unawares by his colleague’s premature arrival, giving him no time to rouse her.

The general gestured to his manservant. “Of course. I’ll see to it that your aides are fed as well.” Then he called to her, voice gruff. “Pinna, wake up. See to my guest. Bring us some water.”

Her panic heightened, knowing she couldn’t escape. She murmured a reply, realizing that even though she’d listened more than talked to the plebeian, he may well recognize her voice.

Tense with nerves, she sat up and turned her back to them as she drew on her clothes. Then, flipping out the hair trapped by the neckline of her tunic, she twisted it into a knot and pinned it tightly. Head bowed she hurried to the clay water jar, lifting the dipper and pouring the liquid into the cups. Maybe if she served the men as fast as possible the chance of detection would be lessened.

Genucius was sitting on his armchair, one leg hooked at a right angle upon his other knee, rubbing his calf muscle. He had lost some of his size. No doubt campaigning had reduced his diet. He was still hairy though, beard wild and bushy, tufts poking out from the top of his tunic. Even with the reduction in weight his bulk was not made for summer. He was already sweating.

Pinna concentrated on quelling her jitters. Standing on his blind side, she offered him the cup together with a plate of figs and cheese. To her relief he didn’t look up at her as he drained the goblet and asked for another.

Accepting the drink, Camillus nodded his thanks. “You must wash the general’s feet, too, Pinna, after his long ride.”

She froze, remembering how Genucius had once kissed and sucked her toes. She wondered if the plebeian had found another whore to tend to him as she had.

Camillus took a swig of water. “It is good that you have come in person. It’s time to destroy Mastarna once and for all. He may have failed to raise all of Etruria against us but he is not a man to be underestimated. If he succeeds in opening the routes to the north, our plan to starve our enemies will flounder.”

“
So what do you propose?”

“
My spies have confirmed he is making his way back to Veii. He is weak enough to want to be with his bitch when she whelps another pup. To return to her he will have to break through your defenses. Are the outer siege lines secured?”

“
My men have replaced much of the timber cladding with stone on both inner and outer trenches, but the work is hot and exhausting. Quarrying the tufa from the ravines is a long process.”

“
But you have built more forts?”

“
Yes, and replaced the hides on the siege engines with iron. All the roads to the north and east are now blockaded. The main camp is doing the same in the south and west.”

Pinna listened with amazement as she fetched the pitcher and ewer. Genucius was no longer the world-weary politician complaining about the burdens of office. It was obvious he was clearheaded and resourceful. And a good ally to Camillus.

“
And the bridge across the river leading to the northwest gates? Have you taken it yet?”

The plebeian paused. “We’ve launched assaults, but Kurvenas holds it fast. Skirmishes prevent us from constructing a siege tower at the most vulnerable entrance to the city. The king is also a leader not to be ignored.”

“
Then we must cut Mastarna off before his army reaches the bridge. Destroy his force and we may yet forge a corridor to the walls of Veii.”

“
I will order more troops to defend this section immediately.”

Camillus stood and paced. Since the news of the plague his enthusiasm for razing crops had faded. Over the past weeks he had left behind fields of blackened stubble and ruined villages to slowly edge into Veientane territory. His discontent at being denied the primary command was eating into him. He needed a victory.

Kneeling at Genucius’ feet, Pinna unlaced his boots. The tortuous blue veins were raised and thick, the skin bruised with tiny blood vessels. Stomach churning, she guided his foot onto her lap. Then, after wringing the wetted cloth, she wiped the grime from his calves and ankles.

“
Ah, that is good. My feet and legs ache in the heat, you know.”

“
Pinna is skilled in massage.”

She smoothed her hands along heel and arch. As she did so she sensed Genucius’ attention. He leaned down so he could see her with his good eye. “Why, Lollia, is that you?” A pain twisted in her gut. She cursed that it was her touch, not voice, figure or face, that had revealed her.

Inhaling deeply she raised her head. “I think you are mistaken, sir. My name is Pinna.” She squeezed his ankle. “Your feet are so swollen; perhaps you would like me to do something ‘special’ for you?”

Even behind his beard she could see him redden. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and fiddled with his eye patch. She fixed her eyes on him, hoping that her candid stare would act as a warning—remain silent or risk revelation of his fetish.

Alert to their conversation, Camillus frowned. “Have you two met before?”

Genucius was quick to recover. “I’m mistaken. Pinna here looks like a servant girl I once knew.”

“
And no doubt bedded.” He grew impatient. “Dry the general’s feet and help him on with his boots, Pinna. And then you may go.”

She hastened to finish the task, sloshing water from the ewer in her rush to leave.

A familiar voice halted her progress. Looking around she saw Drusus asking permission to report. He was travel-stained, dusty from his journey. She could scarce believe his arrival at this moment.

A tremor ran through her. For weeks she’d been spared Drusus’ malice. She’d felt freedom, glad for the respite from the exhausting tug of war between them. Now, as the emotions that he always evoked swept through her, she realized she’d been lulled into a false contentment.

And yet Drusus’ shock at seeing her barefoot in Camillus’ tent was almost comical before he regained composure and saluted the commander. Denied the chance to sneer at her because of the general’s presence, there was an edge to him. He was disconcerted. His worst fear had come true. Pinna now possessed the power to whisper secrets into Camillus’ ear as she laid her head upon his pillow.

Marcus entered the tent, his brow creasing in puzzlement when he saw her. She was nonplussed to glimpse hurt in his eyes before they hardened. And suddenly she understood Camillus’ sense of dishonor. This is not how either she or the general wanted Marcus to learn of their liaison.

The Aemilian’s gaze traveled from her to Genucius, his confusion returning. The last time he’d met the plebeian was in the brothel, and yet it was evident Genucius had not spoken to Camillus about her. The half-blind man also looked perplexed to learn the two officers had not revealed her profession either.

She could no longer control her hands from shaking. She bent down to clean the spill from the ewer. All four men in this tent had taken her in different ways. All four had a secret that she alone preserved. Three of them could destroy her if they had courage to expose themselves. She prayed that none of them could summon it, that her schemes would not unravel.

To her surprise Camillus showed no embarrassment that Pinna was present in his tent in the early morning, her shoes beside his pallet. Instead he seemed annoyed that his officers were distracted by her. “Don’t just stand there. Tell me the news from Rome. Is the sickness still spreading?”

Marcus stood to attention. “The plague still rages, sir.”

“
And Aemilius and the other senators? Do they still claim divine anger is caused through the military consulate being debased?”

Marcus glanced at the plebeian before replying. “Yes, sir. The gossip is as virulent as the disease. I tried to make Father understand that the accusation serves no good purpose but he will not heed me. The senate is agitating for only patricians to once again be elected. And there seems to be little opposition to the proposal. The commoners are preoccupied with the mystery at Lake Albanus. Even Calvus’ complaints about the war tax are of less concern.”

“
Are you telling me no ceremonies have been conducted to placate the gods?”

“
Only those in relation to the pestilence and extreme weather. The Sibylline Books don’t contain the answer to the miracle. Rome remains ignorant as to which rites should be performed in response to the unnatural rising of the water.”

Pinna murmured a prayer. If her city did not know how to appease the gods, what disaster would befall it?

Genucius shifted in his chair. “This is indeed ominous. What do you think, Camillus?”

The general tapped his gold ring as he contemplated the news, then he leaned forward and slammed his fist onto the table. “What do I think? I think the time has come to glorify the gods by dedicating a victory to them. Let’s defeat Mastarna and then divine wrath may be assuaged. And it will provide proof that the current leaders of Rome’s legions are not the reason why such prodigies have occurred.”