As they neared the Golden House, Acte was struck by the immensity of the structure, though it was still unfinished. A triple colonnade stretched along the front facing the Via Sacra, covering a mile or more. Inside the main entrance hall stood a statue of Nero over a hundred feet tall, his gilded head crowned with a sunburst. They passed through an octagonal hall with five radial rooms and a vaulted ceiling. Sighs of admiration could be heard among the women and girls as each room seemed more fabulous than the last—some with walls covered with mother-of-pearl, others of gold studded with jewels, still others with delicate paintings of pastoral landscapes or grotesques. But none was ready for the surprise of the fantastic dining hall.
Ten thousand people were crouched for the feast in the enormous room, which rotated constantly, so that the stars could be seen moving through an opening overhead. A perfumed mist sprayed gently over the guests, and flower petals drifted down from time to time from hidden chambers above.
Acte noticed that few wives were included in the group, since Nero’s own wouldn’t be there. Everywhere scantily dressed slave girls and boys gave their favors freely. So this was to be Nero’s final punishment for her, her ultimate degradation at his hand. So be it. She’d never tell him where to find his son.
On the entrance of new playmates, several of the guests motioned to the women. Between the sumptuous courses being served by Halotus’s liveried staff and the wine which flowed freely from a marble fountain in the center of the revolving room, the men took their pleasures as they would.
Acte eyed the golden platform on which Nero’s couch sat. As if he felt her eyes on him, he dumped the dark slave girl he had in his lap and looked in her direction. Acte started toward him, but her progress was halted when a hand reached out and grabbed her. When she tried to pull away, she heard her drape rip. Suddenly many eyes were on her bare breasts as the filmy fabric floated down about her waist. Shocked into immobility by the lewd remarks all around her, she soon found herself wrestled down onto a couch.
She kicked at the fat and drunken man who held her.
“Oh, I do like you,” he said with a hearty laugh.
Then, taking a gulp of wine, he covered Acte’s lips and let the liquid pour into her mouth. At the unexpected gush of wine, she choked, coughing a red stain all over her attacker. His mates nearby guffawed.
A tall and not unhandsome man came to where Acte lay, still struggling.
“Here, Patrus, you always spoil everything. Allow me to clean up the mess you’ve made of her.”
Acte stiffened as she felt the man’s hands all over her and his rough tongue licking the spilled wine from her neck and breasts. She looked about her for an escape. On one couch nearby a naked fat man lay face down with a dwarf astride his backside. She turned her head so as not to see, only to find a pair of men at work atop the young Caletta, who moaned with pleasure at their attentions.
Then, as teeth bit into Acte’s tender breast, she screamed, “Nero, help me!”
When she opened her eyes again, Nero stood smiling over her and the others had moved away.
“So finally you call for me. Very well, you’ll have your wish, my sweet.”
Nero took Acte by the hand and led her to his couch. He pressed her down on it, then turned to speak to the gathering. “And now, my friends, you’ll all have the opportunity of watching your emperor’s superior ways with a woman.”
In misery Acte closed her eyes. Oh God, how she wished she were somewhere else.
As she felt Nero’s wet kisses, she said through clenched teeth into his ear, “Nero, if you’ve ever loved me, you won’t degrade me publicly.”
Just when Acte felt Nero straddle her and force her thighs apart, a mad yell silenced the room. She opened her eyes to see a grotesque mask above her—shining black with spike crest, jagged red teeth and behind two circles of shining lava, Sergio’s angry eyes.
Shoving Nero from the couch, Iron Face lifted Acte in his arms and raced out of the palace with her before any of the surprised guests and guards could move. Acte felt herself lifted onto his horse, and then they sped away south through the darkness. She clung to Sergio, too shaken, too happy to speak.
All night they rode, and with the dawn’s first rays of gold Acte saw they were nearing Puteoli—and Lucius. When at last they stopped in front of the house where her son had been hidden, she reached up and removed the mask.
Touching his gentle features, she couldn’t believe that Sergio was real and not the dream lover she’d lived with through all of her trials for the past months.
She whispered his name before their lips met.
He held her close. “Acte, my Acte. I thought I’d never find you. When word reached Athens of the great fire, I came by the first available boat. I’ve searched the city for weeks. I thought you were dead until I happened to meet Ecloge this morning and she told me you were imprisoned in the old palace. If it weren’t for that dear woman, you’d still be there. But we must hurry now. Surely Nero will send his men after us. We won’t be safe until we’re farther south.”
At that moment, Luke came running out of the villa to embrace his mother and Sergio. Acte’s tears flowed freely as she kissed her child and hugged him tightly.
“We must be away, Acte,” Sergio urged. “Pack a few things for Luke and let’s be off. Once we’re south of Naples, we’ll be safe. We can go to my villa at Pompeii for now.”
While Acte packed, Sergio hitched fresh horses to a carriage. Within an hour they were on their way. Though Acte had never seen the landscape they passed, with its broad fields and waving poplars, she couldn’t take her eyes off Sergio’s face to view such scenes now. She had waited too long to have him. With the immediate danger past, they sat with arms around each other, too overcome with emotion to talk at first.
Sergio glanced at Luke, who seemed to be sleeping in the seat across from them, then whispered, “I love you, Acte. More now than ever before. I’d forgotten how beautiful you really are.”
A bit self-consciously, Acte smoothed her hair and pulled Sergio’s cloak more closely about the old dress she’d grabbed hurriedly to cover Nero’s slave garb.
“How was Greece?” she asked nervously.
Sergio laughed and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to feel awkward with me, little one. But to answer your question, Greece is lovely beyond anything we could have imagined. And I have a surprise for you. I found my family.”
“How wonderful!”
“Let me finish, darling. You don’t know how wonderful. My uncle, Theopolis, took over the family business after my father’s death.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him, Sergio,” Acte said with true regret.
“So am I. But he knew about me and provided well for the event of my return. You see, he wasn’t a seaman as I had been told, but the owner of a vast fleet of merchant ships. Uncle Theopolis has held my legacy intact for me. He’s an old man now, and more than happy that I’ve agreed to take over.”
In spite of her interest, Acte’s eyes began to close from fatigue. She thought she heard it, but then again, maybe she only dreamed Sergio’s words.
“Imagine a former slave with royal blood! My family traces its bloodlines back to Xerxes of Persia, who conquered Greece many centuries ago.”
Sergio’s voice continued, a soothing balm to Acte’s weary mind. She roused when she felt his lips exploring hers.
Suddenly, Luke’s voice broke the dreamy spell. “Will you be my new father, Iron Face?”
Sergio laughed and handed his dreadful mask to the boy, who loved to handle it and try it on. “Well now, would that please you, Luke? Since I can’t ask your mother’s father for her hand, I suppose it’s only proper that I ask her son. May I marry your mother?”
Luke hefted the oversized mask over his face and his voice echoed from within, “With pleasure and great honor I offer my dear mother’s hand to the magnificent Iron Face!”
Sergio and Ac
te laughed and both hugged the boy at once.
Upon arriving at their destination, Sergio found his long-vacant villa in good order. Rather than wait for elaborate arrangements to be made, Sergio and Acte went to one of the Christians in Pompeii and were married in the shadow of Vesuvio that very evening. A few friends came back with the couple to the villa for a quickly prepared wedding feast, but all departed early.
When the last guest was gone, Sergio brought out a velvet pouch with a golden drawstring and handed it to his bride.
“A wedding gift from Uncle Theopolis,” he explained.
Acte opened the velvet to find an ancient necklace of fine gold set with tiny emeralds, sapphires and rubies. A single baroque pearl hung from the fragile chain. Sergio took the necklace from her hands and fastened it around her neck, then kissed her deeply.
Happy tears filled Acte’s eyes as she whispered, “It’s exquisite, Sergio.”
“And so are you,” he answered. “Uncle Theopolis told me to tell you that every woman in our family since Xerxes’s bride has worn it.” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Come to bed now, my darling.”
Afterward Acte watched the full moon rise above the smoking mountain. As Sergio caressed her, she sighed with joy.
“You know, Sergio,” she said, fingering the delicate necklace, “the Sibyl spoke the truth.”
Sergio stroked the firm peaks of her breasts. “What?” he asked absently.
Her voice seemed far away. “When I was only a child, the Sibyl at Cumae told me that I would wear a veil of happiness with a nobleman. Her words have come to pass today, my love.”
He leaned over to stare down into her eyes and answered, “And you’ll always have happiness, if you love me half as much as I love you, my little one.”
She silenced his tender words with her lips. The breeze played about their joined bodies, scenting the night with the fragrance of oleander, orange blossoms and love.
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