The Patrician

by Joan Kayse

  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.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Familiarity 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 underst
anding 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.

  “Welcome to the family,” she said in Greek. She patted Jared on the hand. “You will no doubt want to get settled in. The steward tells me, ah, the rooms have been put to order, and I must see to our things.” Neta paused, her expression reflecting the awkwardness of the situation. “You are very kind not to toss my family into the street.”

  Jared gave his aunt an affectionate hug. “I remember a time when you could have tossed a rebellious young boy into the streets. Instead you gave him the comfort and love of a mother.”

  He said something in Hebrew that earned a smile from Neta. Bryna’s heart clutched at the tender exchange. Obviously, he held his aunt in a special place.

  Neta left them standing in the middle of the dining area. Servants crept around the room, cleaning the dishes away, slanting apprehensive looks at the new master.

  Jared laced his fingers through hers. Once she had resented him dragging her around by the hand. Now it felt natural, even comforting.

  “How would you like to see your new home?” he asked.

  She gave him a measuring look. There was an edge to his voice, the same type of distancing that she had sensed when they’d first met in Coeus’ dreary room. She drew his hand against her cheek. “My home is where you are.”

  His eyes darkened to deep amber. Bending, he captured her mouth with his, cupping his hand behind her neck.

  She leaned back, smiling at the irritation stealing across his face.

  “I am not finished,” he growled, but she placed her hands between them.

  “Nor am I,” she drawled. “But I do not think it would make a good impression on the servants if their master seduced his wife in front of them.”

  It was all she could do not to laugh out loud at the dark look he sent the staff. Servants scattered to imaginary duties.

  He turned back, nipped at her neck. “We can continue this in our bedchamber.”

  Bryna couldn’t keep a giggle from escaping but their retreat was stopped short by the stodgy butler who had greeted them at the door. Standing at attention before them, he seemed completely unruffled by Jared’s surly demeanor.

  “Your pardon, my lord, but Mistress Neta has instructed me that you are now in charge of the household.” He seemed a bit put out by the course of events, and sent a sour look at this upstart who had turned the current domestic arrangement completely inside out.

  “Your name?” demanded Jared.

  The man flinched at the harsh tone. “Talus, my lord.”

  “Well, Talus, you will remember from this point on to make yourself known before interrupting. Is that understood?”

  Talus sniffed. “Perfectly, my lord. I but followed the mistress’ instructions, as would be expected.”

  She sensed the uncertainty beneath the butler’s stiff pride. “Jared, do not be so hard on him.” Bryna turned to the man. “There are many new customs, new ways that we all have to get used to. I hope that you will be able to help us—help me—to adjust to them.”

  “I would be honored, my lady.” He bowed formally.

  Bryna scanned the hallway. “Talus, where is my cat?”

  The butler cringed, absently rubbed several bloody scratches on his hand. “I had one of the household boys take it to the kitchen. I will have him fetched back.”

  “No,” interjected Jared, earning a peeved look from Bryna. “We’ll send for it later.”

  Talus bowed again. “As you wish. May I escort you to the master’s chamber?”

  “I know the...” Jared began, but Bryna jabbed an elbow in his side. Ignoring the glowering look he sent her, she smiled at Talus. “Please do.”

  The tense lines around Talus’s forehead relaxed. He turned, leading the way with all the formality of royalty, through an arched doorway at the opposite end of the dining room. She nearly laughed out loud at the ferocious look on Jared’s face but he kept silent and followed the butler.

  The corridor seemed to go on forever. Bryna could not help but marvel at the ornate frescos covering the walls. They did not portray scenes of victorious battles that Marcus Gaius, their former master, had favored. Nor were there vignettes of scornful gods and willful goddesses. No, these walls were awash with beautiful seascapes. Waves of turquoise caressed the plunging bow of a sleek ship sails billowed out to catch the breeze. Graceful gray dolphins leapt from the white foam ahead of the vessel, just as they had on the voyage to Alexandria.

  And on the bow, the faintest outline of a figure, looking forward, looking ahead to a distant shore, shrouded in white and gray clouds. It was beautiful. “Whoever did this was very talented.”

  “My thanks.”

  She stopped and stared at Jared. “You?”

  “A merchant does not spend all his time at the markets.” He tugged on her hand and continued down the hallway.

  Talus stopped outside a large arched doorway. “At Master Gideon’s command, the staff has readied your rooms for you. I pray you will find them acceptable.”

  The paintings were forgotten for the moment as they entered the room. Bryna felt Jared watching her, gauging her reaction. She wanted to be very sophisticated, admire the rich woven coverlet, its shaded blue folds draping the ivory inlaid bed that sat upon a dais of black marble. A small carved stool of cedar wood made ascending the platform convenient.

  A cypress table lined the left wall, an ornate flagon of silver placed meticulously next to a large matching basin. Neatly folded linen cloths sat close by, ready to dry face and hands. Another held a cluster of bronze oil lamps, their wicks cold in the light of day.

  A chest bound in iron, a large brazier, still glowing with remnants of a fire and two chairs set close to the brazier to capture the warmth during the cool nights, completed the room’s furnishings.

  Yes, she wanted to be very sophisticated, but in truth she was overwhelmed. Her mother had taught her how to manage a simple, thatche
d roof home. How would she manage such a house as this?

  “I’ve...I’ve never seen anything so grand,” she whispered, moving slowly into the room.

  “There will be several chests and other belongings arriving,” Jared told Talus. “See that they are well cared for.” The butler bowed, began to back out of the room.

  “Oh, and Talus,” Jared stopped him.

  “Master?”

  “Be sure to knock before bringing them in.”

  Talus pressed his lips together. “As you wish, master.”

  Bryna slipped out of her palla and walked out to the open balcony. The Mediterranean Sea stretched out in front of her. The sun, beginning its descent, cast streaks of red and orange across the foam capped waves.

  Jared enfolded her in his arms, drew her against his chest. “When I was lying, chained in Gaius’ dank prison, this is the scene I kept alive in my mind. The salt breeze replaced the fetid odor of filthy men. The turquoise color of the sea at sunrise.” She felt his chest rise with a deep breath. “That’s what I saw in the darkness of the estraglia.”

  “I saw hills painted in shades of greens,” she replied softly. “When my hands became red and cracked from labor, I saw lakes as blue as the sky and rushing rivers filled with salmon. I saw deer, rabbits and all manner of wildlife come to quench their thirst.” She ran her hand along his muscled arm, the skin warm beneath her fingers. “And when I lay at night on the hard, cold floor, my back bruised for no other reason than the fact I am a barbarian, I saw my clan, my family, and dreamed of the day when I would return home.”

  Jared’s arms tightened imperceptibly. “This is your home now.”

  Bryna’s mouth curved upward as she turned in his arms. She traced his jaw with her finger, feeling the stubble of his beard. Despite the resolute cast of his eyes, she saw uncertainty and fear lurking behind them.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Where you are, there is my home, be it a simple barbarian hut, a grand Roman manor or a cave.”

  “Bryna.” Her name was a whisper on his lips that melted away as he captured her mouth with his. She met his kiss with equal fervor. Gods, she loved the taste of him. She slipped her arms around his neck and as he made to lift her, wrapped her legs around his waist.