The Patrician (33 page)

Memories of the prison and Jared’s torture flooded her mind. And what of Bran? Her vow to rescue him still burned hot. But she had seen the look Damon exchanged with Jared when she’d spoken of her brother. While he’d not given voice to his thoughts, she had seen that, like Jared, he believed Bran’s fate sealed.

Bryna swallowed against the closing of her throat. He was alive. She would find him. She could not let their stark reality erode her hope.

Damon leaned forward, peering at the ships. “I think your return home will come as a bit of a shock to good Uncle Gideon.”

Jared’s uncle wouldn’t be the only one in shock, thought Bryna. She was starting to feel a bit like that herself. When she had left Alexandria six months ago, she had been a lowly slave. Now she was the wife of a prominent merchant. How would the good uncle react to that?

“You’re shaking,” whispered Jared, drawing her close.

How she wished she could just stay safe and secure in the warmth of his arms. “I was just wondering what your family will think of your barbarian wife.”

Jared brushed a kiss on her forehead. “They will think you are the most beautiful woman to come into Alexandria since Cleopatra.”

“I do not know this Cleopatra,” she answered, stiffly. “Did you know her before you met me?”

Jared frowned and then curved his lips into a dazzling smile. He smiled more and more each day and it took her breath away each time.

“Cleopatra was an Egyptian queen known for her beauty.”  He raised her hands to his lips. A shiver ran through her as he nibbled at her fingers. “But she cannot compete with a princess of
Eire
.”

Bryna ducked her head at his compliment, but it warmed her heart that he had spoken of her as something more than a mere barbarian.

It took less than an hour to maneuver the ship into a berth along the dock. Damon exited ahead of them, melting into the crowd so quickly that Bryna lost sight of him. She liked him, this friend of Jared’s, but his inner walls were even thicker than Jared’s.

Bryna clutched the sack that held
Cuini
close. The noise and the activity on the busy docks caused the excitable feline to fidget. Her head poking out of the bag, she meowed plaintively.

“You’ve already got the sack. A simple slip into the harbor,” muttered Jared as he guided her through the bustling throng. Bryna made a face at him and
Cuini
hissed.

Damon signaled them from the side of a curtained litter. “I thought it appropriate since you left in chains that you return in the grand style you’re accustomed to. Plus—” He winked. “It will be entertaining to see your uncle’s reaction.”

“Damon, I know you have no care for Uncle Gideon,” Jared said, “but I think your occupation has made you overly suspicious.”

Damon’s expression became unreadable as he assisted Bryna inside the cushioned conveyance. “I think only of your wife’s comfort.” He straightened the curtains. “I have some long neglected business to attend to here in the city. It will give you time to get settled back into your house.”

Jared clasped his friend’s forearm. “I expect you no later than tomorrow.” He elected to walk alongside the litter, leaving Bryna to grab the sides as it was lifted on the stout shoulders of four porters. Cuini continued her protests and Bryna had to admit she felt the same.

***

Jared stood hands on hips and looked at the brilliant, white marble steps leading to the elevated entrance of his villa. Perched on a high prominence west of the city, it looked down at the sea, surrounded by an oasis of flowers and trees. A home befitting Alexandria’s wealthiest man.

He hoped Bryna would approve.

He reached into a pouch on his belt and paid the required fee to the hot, tired porters, adding extra for each of the four men. He drew the curtains aside and put his hand in for Bryna. Instead a loud hiss greeted him.

“Don’t be afraid little Cuini,” crooned Bryna. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him.”

Jared scowled and offered her his hand, careful to avoid the fangs bared at him. Bryna stepped out and stared at the house.

“It’s really quite modest,” mumbled Jared. Still holding on to her, they climbed the stairs to the embossed bronze doors. Jared pulled at the ring.

The door did not budge. He frowned and tried again.

“Perhaps you should knock.”

“At my own house?”

Bryna shifted Cuini to a more comfortable perch on her other hip. She did not react as he shot her a hard glare, but did as she suggested—three times before the door finally opened. A short, balding man regarded them with a mixture of regal disregard and pompous indifference.

“My Master Gideon is at dinner and cannot be disturbed.” he drawled in a nasal monotone. “Be gone and call at a more convenient time,”

“Master?” Jared repeated his tone deceptively soft. “I am
Master
of this house and I will not be barred from it.”

The steward’s gaze faltered just the tiniest bit before drawing himself taller. He still only came to the height of Jared’s shoulder. “If you do not remove yourself in a calm fashion, I will have to resort to physical persuasion.”

Before Bryna could blink, Jared grabbed the steward by his tunic and pinned against the door. “I will see Master Gideon. Now.”

F
amiliarity led Jared through the tiled atrium to the banquet room. He hadn’t even thought, had only reacted out of frustration, anger and sheer disbelief that the sorry excuse of a butler meant to bar him from his own home. He smiled tightly.  He’d left the fool holding Cuini.

“If you want a dignified entrance, you must slow down.” Bryna urged. She was breathless from the effort to match his long strides. She was right. He forced himself to slow his pace.The soft thrumming of a harp and flute mixed with the murmur of conversation floated down to them. He paused at the arched entrance to the dining hall.

The source of the music came from two slaves tucked away in a curtained alcove where they could be heard without being seen by the diners reclined around a large square table. A handful of cousins and their spouses, overseen by Uncle Gideon, tall and straight, watching the antics of his family with a calculating eye and the slightest hint of impatience edging the firm straight line of his mouth. Such a classic look for his mother’s brother. “Will the last two ships be ready by the end of the week?”

“Yes, yes,” answered a stocky, hairy man. Baram, his cousin’s husband. Baram belched and earned a disproving look from his wife, Elizabeth. “Perhaps sooner if we can get the
amphorae
resealed properly.”

“Really, dear, do you think it wise to send the merchants in Rome wine that is more water than spirit?”

Jared’s gaze shifted to his Aunt Neta and his heart warmed. She had been kind and loving to an angry young boy. Now, her face was drawn and weary. She lowered her head at Gideon’s reproachful glare.

“Neta, I’ve told you before, you do not understand business.”

“Oh, but I do Uncle and think my Aunt’s honest question bears an honest answer.”

A loud clang broke the silence that engulfed the diners. A slave hurriedly retrieved Baram’s goblet from the floor. So complete was the shock among the adults at Jared’s presence that Elizabeth’s two young children stopped in their play, seeking refuge at their parents’ sides.

Jared surveyed the assembly. They all looked appropriately stunned. All except Elizabeth, who cast surreptitious looks at Gideon. His uncle’s brief moment of surprise was quickly shuttered.

“Jared!” Neta jumped from her seat. He caught her in a tight embrace, excitement and joy filled her deep, brown eyes.

His aunt’s welcome seemed to unfreeze the rest of the family. His cousins David and Samuel stepped up to slap him on the back. Their young sister Miriam, a child of twelve gave him a shy hug before hurrying back to her seat. Elizabeth hesitated before approaching him, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. Baram, eyes darting nervously around the room, simply nodded his greeting.

“What a miraculous surprise.” Gideon’s smile did not quite reach his dark eyes. “Our repast is now a celebration feast.”

There were hard questions to be asked and Jared was in no mood to simply act as though nothing had happened. He had lost six months of his life, had almost died, and now his uncle would have him simply join them for dinner. Bryna met each person’s curious gaze head on, and while he could read the uncertainty in her eyes, she showed no fear. Was she sensing anything connected to his kidnapping?

The answers would be found soon enough, he decided, and inclined his head, accepting his uncle’s invitation to join them at the table. He seated Bryna on a pillow, then himself.

“Your slave can take her meal in the kitchen with the rest of the servants,” sniffed Elizabeth, spearing a slice of lamb with a knife. Bryna tensed.

“This is Bryna. She is my wife.”

Elizabeth cast him a bland look. “She is not Hebrew.” It was a statement.

He nodded, accepted a flagon of wine from a slave. “She is not. But we were married by a rabbi in the ways of my mother.”

Elizabeth stared a moment longer, than smiled solicitously. “Of course she is welcome. She will be like a sister to us all.”

“Well my goodness, this has all come as quite a shock.” Neta darted nervous looks between her niece and nephew. “Your wife is indeed welcome to our family. Now Jared, please tell us, where have you been? Why did you not send word? We were told you’d perished at sea.”

He considered his answer, decided on a partial truth. “My trip was unexpected. I’ve been in Rome, convalescing at my father’s house. But as you can see, I am recovered and eager to resume my duties to my business and,” he surveyed them in each in turn, “to live in my house.”

He could have sworn Elizabeth let out a slow hiss. But when he turned to look at her, she only smiled, patted his hand.

“Ah, yes. . .Rome,” replied Gideon, as if he had a sour taste in his mouth. Jared tensed beneath the disapproving look his uncle gave his Roman clothes.

Gesturing smoothly with one hand for more wine, Gideon settled back against a cushion. His uncle certainly seemed comfortable in
his
house, though Jared noticed the tense set of his Uncle’s shoulders, rigid line of his mouth. “You can imagine our grief on learning of your death,” Gideon continued. “Neta and I decided that it was in the best interests of the family and the business if we all moved here, to one house.”

“All of you are living here?” His gaze encompassed the entire table. David and Samuel moved food around on their plates while Miriam huddled closer to her mother.

Finally, Elizabeth spoke. “Well, you can just imagine, cousin, we were all grief stricken—absolutely grief stricken—thinking you dead.” 

“You sound disappointed, Elizabeth,” he commented.

The conciliatory smile on Elizabeth’s face seemed to slip a bit.

“Forgive your cousin’s manners,” Gideon interjected. “It is just that we are still quite shocked...and delighted, of course, at your return. After all, did I not have a hand in raising you, the same as my own children?”

Jared rubbed at the ache in his temple. He was used to Gideon tossing that up at every opportunity, but the refrain sounded different this time, almost regretful.

What was the matter with him? Of course his family would feel entitled to his house, his business. They had, after all, been his only heirs. He glanced at Bryna. That was likely to change. He had a wife and, if things continued as they had been, he might soon have a son.

“Of course now we will find other lodgings,” Neta offered nervously.

Jared held up his hand. “There is time enough for that. For now, you are welcome to stay here. However, I expect my chambers to be returned to me.”

Gideon inclined his head stiffly. “Of course, nephew. Of course.”

***

Bryna thought she would explode before the meal ended. Her understanding of the Hebrew language was poor, but she was picking up words here and there. But she could read their enough in the subtle shift in posture, in the hidden glances to know that not all of Jared’s family was happy at his return.

From the moment they had entered the room, she’d been bombarded with emotions—shock, astonishment, joy, disbelief and fear. The strongest was anger, a white, hot anger. She searched the faces around the table but couldn’t pin down the source. None of the sensations indicated any involvement in Jared’s betrayal.

But that anger. The darkness, it was...familiar.  

The conversation dwindled down. Some type of agreement had apparently been reached, although no one at the table, including Jared, seemed particularly pleased.

She listened attentively as he introduced her to each of his cousins. The two younger men seemed quite amiable and Miriam radiated that special inner beauty common to all young girls. It was like a balm to her. Jared’s Aunt Neta was a contradiction. Within, Bryna recognized kindness and a gentle spirit, but the tired lines around her eyes, the habitually drawn brows spoke of a woman with many worries.

The one called Baram was silent and aloof, answering only when spoken to. He spent the entire time stuffing food into his mouth reminding Bryna of a pig at the trough.

Then there was Elizabeth, eaten with envy and spite though she smiled and laughed, seemingly accepting of the change in circumstances. Even if Bryna had not understood the Hebrew word for slave, Elizabeth’s haughtiness conveyed her thoughts quite clearly. Bryna worried her lower lip as she watched her husband smile at something Elizabeth whispered in his ear. Surely Jared could see beyond the forced smile and good wishes?

Gideon. Now Gideon was like a sheltered wall. She couldn’t get a feel for him, neither good nor bad. There was simply emptiness.

A slave approached Gideon, bowed and whispered something to him. Gideon’s expression hardened for an instant before sliding into a solicitous smile. He said something to Jared and the whole group came to their feet. She watched as the family filtered out of the dining area. Neta embraced her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.