Instead, he turned towards Aro, his silver head bowed low.
‘If you will give me until the next Nones, I will get you the money,’ Veratius said. ‘My honour demands I find the gold for you, and you will have it as soon as I can manage. My reputation and that of my family is at stake. It is my sincere regret that this has happened.’
The merchant crossed his arms. Lydia could see the bulging muscles of his forearms. Unlike her brother or father, here was a man who worked for his living. His face had only become harder, and more marble-like.
‘I regret that I don’t have the time.’ Fabius Aro’s voice held no warmth. ‘You gave me your sacred word, Veratius Cornelius. You staked your honour on the amphorae of wine. My men died for you and your spices.’
‘I did not think that my idiotic daughter would take it into her head to sell them.’ Her father banged his hand against the table. His eyes held a wild trapped look. ‘What did you do, Lydia, buy a new silk gown with the money? What was the thing that couldn’t wait?’
‘I…I…’ Lydia wondered how to explain without alerting Aro to the state of her father’s ill health. If that became common quayside gossip, all hope of any more concessions and deals would be gone. Worst of all, the censor could remove her father’s dignities and they would be left without any status. ‘Father, I did what I thought best in the circumstances—’
Her father’s peremptory gesture cut her words off.
‘Thinking is never good for a woman,’ her father said. ‘No man will have you if he thinks you are interested in a man’s work. Why can’t you be interested in the womanly arts of housekeeping?’
‘I did what was necessary.’ Lydia stared at the mosaic on the floor rather than let her father see how much his words pained her. She had done so much in the past months when he lay ill in bed. Had he not even noticed? Did he think his vast empire ran by itself? Publius had departed for the east with Pompey and never a backward glance, but the decisions had to be made then. Her father’s life had depended on it. Lydia retrieved a set of scrolls. ‘Every transaction is written down. The money was not squandered.’
Her father barely glanced at the scrolls. A lump formed in Lydia’s throat. ‘You shall have your money, Fabius Aro, but you must give me time to raise it.’
‘I have already wasted enough time.’ Aro’s eyes glittered gold. Lydia could see the distinct resemblance to a wolf. ‘I should have you declared a debtor, Veratius Cornelius. Today. The censor will have something to say about a senator who can’t pay his debt.’
‘Don’t do that!’ Lydia cried. ‘You must not blame my father. He knew nothing. He has just found out. We will raise the money somehow. Father, there is my dowry—the estate in northern Italy. If the sale is handled properly…’
Aro shook his head. His eyes appeared harder than amber.
‘Is there one thing that will change your mind? Something you will take in exchange?’ her father asked.
‘There is nothing you have that I need. Or want!’
At those words, her father buried his face in his hands and sank to the floor. ‘Ruined. Ruined, I tell you. All from giving my children so much.’
Lydia gently raised her father up, but he shook off her hand. She stared back at Fabius Aro who stood there with an unyielding face.
A shiver ran down Lydia’s back. The merchant had something planned for them. Something unpleasant. Fabius Aro would ruin them. All because she had sold the cargo. She had to do something. Now before it was too late. Her father was not strong enough to withstand prison.
‘If you seek to punish someone, punish me,’ she said. ‘My father acted in good faith. He set aside the wine for you. It is I who sold it without his knowledge. I made the mistake. If you must blame someone, blame me.’
She caught her breath and waited. He arched an eyebrow. His eyes roamed over her face, her figure, undressed her. Lydia forced her body to remain still. She refused to show her terror.
‘Perhaps there is something after all.’ Aro fingered his chin. ‘An intriguing idea.’
‘What is that?’ her father asked, raising his head.
‘Your daughter’s.’
‘My daughter is not part of this conversation,’ her father said. ‘Lydia, you may depart. You have done too much already.’
Veratius Cornelius drew himself up. His voice held some of its old booming magic. There was nothing for her to do except to leave and hope. Lydia started towards the door. She had to obey her father, but she was reluctant to leave. It was her fate they were discussing.
‘There are many things I would dispose of, before I sell my children,’ her father said, not even bothering to glance at her.
‘I speak not of slavery. I speak of coemptio, of marriage between a Roman citizen and a patrician woman.’
Lydia’s sandals skittered into each other. She paused, her hand on the door. She couldn’t go, not now, not when her entire future was at stake.
Marriage? Surely, the Furies had touched Fabius Aro. She was the daughter of a senator and he, a merchant. Wealthy, powerful, but not of the noble class. Lydia risked a glance at his face. His countenance gave nothing away, just the firmness of his jaw and the deep golden hue of his eyes. He was undeniably attractive, with his black hair and broad shoulders and pleasing smile, but marriage was another chariot race. It went beyond physical attraction. This was about her family’s future.
‘My daughter and you? Marriage with a plebeian?’ her father barked.
‘You indicated earlier she is unmarried.’ Aro’s voice was cool, unhurried.
‘There are several different possibilities I am currently examining.’ Her father’s mouth bore a pinched look. Lydia’s stomach clenched. She did not want another of his attacks, but she felt powerless to intervene. ‘None involving a plebeian.’
‘I have need of a wife.’ Aro pressed his fingertips together. His gaze did not waver from her father’s face. ‘Your daughter is unmarried.’
‘Nevertheless, all suitors must be considered, balanced against one another.’ Her father twitched the corner of his toga. ‘The Veratii can trace their lineage back to Romulus and Remus.’
‘I have the same number of ancestors.’ Aro coolly lifted an eyebrow, and Lydia saw the steely-eyed determination in his face. ‘You will marry your daughter to whoever best serves your needs and purposes. Don’t bother denying it. It is the way Rome has always worked.’
‘You are not a true Roman,’ her father spat with a curling lip. ‘You are a sailor, a trader. You sully your hands with physical labour.’
Aro flinched; his eyes narrowed. The intensity of his gaze increased. Fierce with a controlled fury, but in the next heartbeat it was masked. Her father’s words had struck a raw nerve.
‘Does it really matter who I am?’ He expelled a breath with a hiss. ‘You are in serious difficulties and I am offering a solution.’
‘I would have my daughter marry well, increase this family’s prestige.’ Her father straightened, his face as red as a centurion’s cloak. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. ‘Not to a ship’s captain.’
‘I am a merchant, the head of a trading house.’
‘It is much the same thing,’ her father said.
‘If that is the way you feel…’
Lydia saw Aro begin to adjust his cloak.
This was all her fault. No one else’s. In another heartbeat, Fabius Aro would leave, and everything would be exposed and disgrace would follow. The censors would come and her father would have his senatorial dignities removed.
The shame would kill him.
Already the colour had drained from her father’s face, leaving him grey. She had to find a way to save him before another attack started. The doctors had warned the next one could be fatal. Her mouth became dry. She swallowed rapidly.
‘Father, be reasonable. You know many of our friends invest in ships.’ Her voice sounded high and unnatural to her ears.
Her father made an irritated noise in the back o
f his throat.
‘Lydia Veratia is the only thing you have left to bargain with.’ Aro leant forward, his face level with her father’s. ‘Your daughter in exchange for the Falerian wine, wine you purchased your life with. Which honest merchant will carry your cargoes of grain and olive oil if they know you to be a cheat? Tell me—what is the going rate for daughters of impoverished senators these days? Senators whose dignities have been taken away by the censor?’
Lydia forced her body to stay upright. She should never have sold that wine. She should never have listened to Publius’s bland assurances about pirates. It was not hers to sell. Now she had to pay the price. She refused to let anyone else pay for her mistakes. She had to act. Her family’s honour was at stake. Once lost, it would take generations to restore.
‘Does it matter, Father?’ Lydia heard her own voice from a long way away. ‘Shall we be sensible about this? We do not have the gold Fabius Aro requires. I sold the cargo. We must accept his offer. I will become his wife in a coemptio marriage.’
‘Lydia, how can you say such a thing?’ Her father turned towards her, astonishment in his voice, but she could see relief in his eyes. The purplish hue started to fade from his face.
‘If your daughter raises no objections…’
Lydia watched her father bow his head. She hoped he’d understand why she had done this. She had to buy time. Time to raise the gold, to fix her inadvertent mistake. He could now negotiate the betrothal, and a sine manu marriage where she remained under her father’s guardianship. It would give her time to sell her mother’s estates in northern Italy for a good price. A betrothal was different from a marriage, and could be easily broken. Or, if worse came to worst, her father could arrange for the divorce. It would be a business arrangement, rather the hoped-for meeting of equals.
Her heart panged slightly. Some day, she wanted a true marriage like her parents had enjoyed before her mother’s death. She wanted to have children and bring them up properly so that in due course they could take their place on the senate’s floor. But that couldn’t be helped now. The Fates had decreed that she must save her family’s honour.
‘As my daughter raises no objections…’ her father paused, straightened his toga, and stood with his shoulders back, the very picture of senatorial dignity ‘…I agree to your offer of marriage.’
‘We shall formalise the agreement tonight.’ A smile flicked across Aro’s face. ‘I am positive we can arrange terms.’
‘Very well, if that is your desire.’ All the blustering had gone out of her father. He turned towards her and she could see the lines etched on his face. ‘Lydia, you must allow me to discuss business matters in private. It is not seemly for a woman to be discussing the finer details of her marriage.’
‘As you wish.’ Lydia turned to go. From the look on her father’s face, she knew that she could not risk further disobedience. She had to trust he would be able to negotiate a good settlement.
Aro caught her hand, raised it to his lips. The briefest of touches, but it sent pulses of warmth throughout her body. She swallowed hard. It bothered her that her lips tingled. She had done this for her father, not because she was attracted to this man, this merchant.
‘You have saved your father’s honour. A Roman woman at her finest.’
‘You gave me no choice.’ Lydia snatched her hand away and tried for as rapid an exit as her dignity would allow her.
‘Lydia, your face is as white as a Vestal Virgin’s robe,’ Sulpicia remarked when Lydia returned to the tablinum. Her greyhound, Korina, lifted her brown and white head and padded silently over to her, nudging her nose under Lydia’s hand, demanding adoration.
‘It’s nothing, Sulpicia.’ Lydia gave Korina’s head a stroke and tried to regain control of her thoughts. If she concentrated on something other than her problems, she might regain her poise.
‘Has the cargo been lost?’ Sulpicia caught her hands together and made her eyes wide, her usual gesture when she wanted something. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense Lydia. Tell me what has happened to the liquamen.’
Lydia blinked. In her shock at the betrothal, she had nearly forgotten why she was in her father’s study in the first place.
‘No, no, the cargo was loaded on the day after the last Ides. The loading tablet was where I thought it would be.’ Her stomach became less knotted with every word she uttered. ‘Provided the ship reached Corinth, Publius will have his money from the cargo. I suspect the next tablet you receive will tell you that the cargo has arrived safe and sound. Ofellius is reputable and charges a fair price, unlike some I could mention.’
Lydia wrapped her arms about her waist and tried to forget the other merchant, the one she had promised herself to—Fabius Aro with the penetrating eyes. Was it any wonder Fabius Aro prospered when he drove such hard bargains? And now she would have to pay the price.
‘I knew you wouldn’t fail me. Thank you, my sweetest and dearest sister.’ Sulpicia leant forward and kissed Lydia on her cheek. ‘While you were out, the apothecary delivered a jar of pills. You are not ill, are you?’
‘No, no, they will be for Father.’ Lydia forced her lips to turn upwards. ‘He promised to send over the medicine, in case there is another attack.’
‘I have had Beroe put them on your make-up shelf. They are there when you want them.’ Sulpicia’s gaze searched Lydia’s face. ‘But I feel there is something you are keeping from me. Something you discovered in the office. Is it bad news about Publius? We are sisters now, Lydia. You can trust me.’
Lydia drew in a great breath. She had to say it, see how Sulpicia would react.
‘I am to be betrothed.’
‘Betrothed? But that is wonderful news. Who is the lucky junior senator? Someone I know?’ A gleam came into Sulpicia’s eye and she clapped her hands together. At the sound, Korina gave a joyful bark and started to chase her tail. ‘For too long, this house has been silent. We can have a wondrous party to celebrate. It should match my own betrothal to Publius in splendour. What a pity he isn’t here. He does so love parties. There will be so much to plan. The house will positively hum with excitement for the next few months. When is it exactly?’
‘I don’t believe you know my intended.’ Lydia bit her lip and regarded Korina’s ears. ‘The party is to be kept quiet because of Father’s health.’
‘Who is he, then?’ Sulpicia leant forward, the spindle lying forgotten at her side. ‘It can hardly be some great state secret. I am your sister-in-law. I have a right to know who this family seeks to ally itself with.’
‘Fabius Aro.’
Sulpicia tapped her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand. ‘I know most of the Fabii, but don’t recall this one. Is he very young? Is that the problem? A younger spouse can be useful. Much more vigour than an old, worn-out man.’
‘He’s not a senator,’ Lydia said and started to pace the floor. When she reached the charcoal brazier, she stopped and turned. ‘He’s a merchantman, a trader.’
‘You mean he’s a plebeian.’ Sulpicia covered her mouth with her hand. ‘You gave just two names, not three. Worse than a plebeian, he could be a former slave. Oh, Lydia, I am so sorry. Whatever can Cornelius be thinking of? The Veratii marry patricians. It is what they have always done.’
‘Fabius Aro is a merchant.’ Lydia raised her head. She had not done anything to be ashamed of. She had acted in good faith. If Publius had told her the truth, then the crisis would have been solved in another way. ‘He’s the driving force behind the Lupan trading house.’
‘You mean you are betrothed to the Sea Wolf?’ Sulpicia gasped and leant forward, eyes gleaming. She patted a spot by her side. ‘Lydia, I have heard tales about him. They say his temper is twice as fierce as a storm at sea. He is not a man you want to cross. Marriage to such a man might be difficult. But then he is handsome. Women flock to his bed. He was the toast of Baiae two seasons ago, with his looks and money. They say Cadmunia—you know, the notorious friend of Clodia Metellia—even tried to bri
be his porter so she could make her introductions in bed.’
‘How do you remember such things?’ Lydia shook her head.
‘It was a big scandal at the time. My brother does business with them.’ Sulpicia waved an airy hand. ‘I am not simply a pretty face, you know. I do listen. You never know when it will come in useful.’
‘Do you know anything else? Anything not scandalous?’ Lydia asked, going over to sit beside her sister-in-law.
‘He has come out of nowhere. Nobody knows his background. His family could be anyone. Some say he is the son of a god, and that is why the seas part for him. Others that he has demons working for him. In any case, his temper is legendary as is his seamanship. He was the first to reach Rome with the grain harvest for the last three years running.’ Sulpicia’s cool hand reached out and grabbed Lydia’s, pulling her down on to the couch so they were at the same level. Sulpicia’s expensive scent tickled Lydia’s nose. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said anything, Lydia, but you are my sister now and you need to know about your potential bridegroom.’
Lydia disengaged her hand from Sulpicia’s. She tried to think, but her head pounded. The Forum always buzzed with the latest rumour or whisper. And Sulpicia took great delight in embroidering the tales.
‘Fabius Aro demanded the betrothal take place tonight. My father has agreed to his terms.’
‘Tonight? It took my mother and me three months to prepare for my own betrothal banquet. Tell him you need time.’ Sulpicia leant forward. ‘You need to find a way. Let me speak with my father…’
‘Time is not a luxury I have.’ Lydia felt a great bleakness rise up within her. If even half of what Sulpicia had said was true, she had made a bad bargain. ‘There are other things he needs to attend to.’
‘He could do them and have the betrothal dinner later.’
‘I know you are trying to help, but everything has been agreed.’ Lydia rubbed a hand on the back of her neck, suddenly weary. ‘There is a debt to be paid. Publius was mistaken. Fabius Aro rescued my father from the storm.’
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