Lydia started to speak the ritual words and gave a small squeak on ‘ubi’. She stopped, closed her eyes and concentrated on not allowing her voice to tremble. She refused to shame her family. She had to be strong and confident. She opened her eyes and stared directly into Aro’s eyes, eyes like hard lumps of amber. No sound emerged from her mouth.
Her father’s elbow nudged her in the back. She started again.
‘Ubi tu Quintus Fabius Aro, ego Lydia Fabia.’
‘You are now man and wife, cum manu,’ the auspex pronounced. ‘You may kiss the bride.’
Lydia dutifully lifted her mouth, expecting the brief brush of lips, a repeat of yesterday’s performance. Hard arms drew her to Aro’s unyielding chest and his mouth swooped down, taking what had become his by right. His lips captured hers, plundered and held them. Sensation filled her body. She gave to the pressure and opened her mouth, tasting his. Everything ceased to matter but the kiss.
As suddenly as it began, it was over. His arms fell away, and Lydia was left gasping for breath. A knowing smile played on his lips. Lydia’s limbs trembled and she struggled to straighten the flaming orange veil that had become skewed during the kiss. No one, not even Titus, had kissed her like that before. And certainly never in front of a crowd.
The cheers of ‘felicitations’ and ‘kiss the bride’, along with other cruder remarks, rose from the assembled throng. Her cheeks burnt as brightly as Jupiter Maximus’s golden roof at sunset and she was glad the veil provided some protection from onlookers. She cast a sideways glance at Aro. He gave a short satisfied nod. With a start, she realised the crowd was behaving just how he wanted them to. Instead of focusing on the unusually old-fashioned nature of the marriage, they were now intent on the passionate kiss.
Lydia’s insides wriggled as the comments grew louder. Aro put an arm about her waist. She saw several people speaking behind their hands. It was all too easy to guess what they would be saying with knowing nods and furious whispers.
‘Why did you do that?’ she asked Aro in an undertone.
His eyes twinkled and he wore an unrepentant look on his face. ‘Do what? Isn’t a man allowed to kiss his bride on their wedding day?’
‘You made it seem like…like we were already intimate.’
‘And?’
‘Tomorrow at the baths, my waist will be inspected to see if I am breeding,’ Lydia voiced her fears. ‘Between the auspex, the senators and now the kiss, no one will believe that this marriage was hastily arranged. No doubt rumours have already reached the Forum.’
‘People will say what they will. The truth hardly matters. It is what people believe. I learnt that lesson a long time ago.’ He gave a little shrug, but failed to remove his hand. Lydia felt the warmth radiate outwards from where his hand touched her waist. ‘We are married, legitimately, and no one can whisper there are other reasons for the marriage.’
‘But it is not the truth.’
His hand abruptly dropped, leaving cold air to encircle where his palm had rested.
‘Would you rather they whispered your father has money difficulties?’ he asked in a harsh voice. ‘That he sold his only daughter for a cargo of wine?’
Lydia looked down at the chipped mosaic floor and didn’t answer.
‘Would you rather he was held up to ridicule and lose his senatorial dignity? It can be arranged, I assure you.’
There was no mistaking the determination in Aro’s voice. Lydia jerked her head upwards.
‘No, but—’
‘Let the curious and the gossipmongers inspect your waist. It is quite slender. I can almost join my two hands about it.’ He demonstrated.
Lydia kept her body stiff and tried to ignore the spreading warmth. In another heartbeat, she’d beg for the touch of his lips again. She wanted the treacherous warmth to leave her. He had to understand that any good will had been lost when he had married her in that fashion.
‘It is not what I expected.’
‘What did you expect?’
Lydia rubbed the back of her neck. The question caused her to pause, to consider. She had to think, but her thoughts kept circling back to the kiss. ‘I expected things to be as they normally are—for people to behave with proper dignity.’
‘You’re saying you didn’t like the kiss.’ He ran a thumb along the edge of her jaw. His voice lowered to a husky whisper. ‘Or are you asking for another demonstration?’
He had deliberately misunderstood her!
‘Another demonstration of what? Your prowess with women? I will take your word for it. I am not one of your bored women from Baiae!’ She started to swish her skirt away. She found it impossible to determine if she was more annoyed at him for kissing her that way in public or at her body for responding to his touch. She ran her tongue experimentally over her full lips. ‘The banquet has started. You have no idea how hard it was to find enough fattened dormice and good quality figs on such short notice…’
His fingers caught her arm, forced her to face him. His dark eyes searched hers. ‘There is more to this than misplaced outrage at a kiss. I would never describe you as a woman of Baiae. You are nothing like them.’
Lydia dropped her gaze to the mosaic and concentrated on the missing tile from the dolphin’s fin. She owed him some sort of explanation, but to do so here would be to invite more gossip. If someone overheard, all the good this marriage had done her father would be lost.
Already, well-wishers were advancing towards them, hands outstretched, faces wreathed in smiles. For now she’d hold her tongue, but she intended to discover why he had married her in such a fashion.
Lydia moved her elbow and he released her. A temporary reprieve. The Fates had tangled her thread very nicely. All the familiar routines and rituals of her existence ended. No longer could she look to her father, the man who had raised her and who held her best interests close to his heart as her guardian against the world. Her life now depended on a man she barely knew, a man with a reputation for a fearsome temper. A man whose intentions she could not guess.
‘Guests are arriving for the feast. We will speak of this later,’ she said with quiet determination.
‘As you desire, but you will find that I do not intend to be cheated.’ He made a bow and turned to greet a well-wisher.
Chapter Five
A ro glanced at the blood-red sun sinking slowly over the Capitoline. The time had come to start the next part of the ceremony. Only the bones of the roast pig and three amphorae of muslum wine were left. All it remained for him to do was to collect his errant bride and take her to his house. The three boys who would lead the procession were there along with the flute players. In keeping with tradition, he had chosen three boys whose parents were alive, sons of his seamen rather than hired boys. He had no wish for anyone to say that things were not done properly. No one would have cause to challenge this marriage.
He spotted Lydia’s orange veil first. She was chatting to a heavily pregnant woman underneath a faded fresco of olive trees and doves. He briefly closed his eyes, remembering another time in this city when two women had gossiped and he had played about on the mosaic floor with his toys. All too soon the peaceful idyll had ended, and his family had been driven from their house, forced to run for their very lives. And one of the men chiefly responsible, if his father’s ex-slave could be believed, was his new wife’s grandfather. There was a certain irony in that.
He had vowed to his mother and father as they lay dying of fever that he’d return in triumph. Today was the start of that triumph.
‘Aro,’ he heard Piso’s low tone calling him back from his memories. He frowned, annoyed that memory should have such a strong pull on him that he had forgotten where he was and what his purpose was.
The light tinkle of laughter rose like the sweet sound of a westward wind over the company. Lydia. Her gentle laugh sounded again as her greyhound caught a bone in mid-air. She was a puzzle, his wife. He had felt the passion rise in her when they kissed, but then she berated him
. He stroked his chin, watching her throw the bone a third time. Perhaps her former husband had been rough with her. Perhaps some misguided person had whispered stories in her ear. He wanted his wife to be an equal participant in his bed, not a woman who feared coupling. He did not hold with the notion that a Roman matron should be rigid in bed, or else she was a lady of the night. That would bring no pleasure for either of them. When they coupled, she would respond and experience joy.
‘Fabius Aro,’ Piso’s voice came again, with more urgency and Aro drew his attention away from his bride.
‘Yes, I know we need to depart. We need to get the ceremony finished.’ Aro shook his head. ‘The auspex has had his ear bent by that many people, requesting his opinion on the future. You are quite right. The time has come to start for home.’
‘No, over there. Our most recent arrivals.’ Piso nodded towards a group of men. ‘Ofellius and his henchmen. Come specially to give a rousing send-off to the new bride and groom. Did you invite them, boss, or shall we give them the sort of welcome they gave us?’
The leader of the group stopped in the middle of the atrium, a smirk on his face and a swagger to his step. Just behind him were the two men who had attacked Aro in the wine shop, sporting bruises. Aro was pleased to see how gingerly they had to walk. The next time, they would respect his right to drink unmolested.
After he had paid his compliments to Cornelius, Ofellius turned towards Aro and flicked his fingers under his double chin. The insult was unmistakable and provocative. Piso gave a low growl in the back of his throat and started forward.
Aro caught Piso’s tunic, held him in place. He forced a smile on to his lips. There would be no unprovoked attacks on his wedding day. He refused to allow it, but neither did he intend to let the insult pass. The question was where and when to strike.
‘No, it is only a gesture,’ Aro remarked with slow deliberation. ‘I have no wish for my wedding day to be bathed in blood.’
‘But you know what he did. What he is. After what his men did yesterday. He started the violence again. After you both gave your solemn pledge less than six months ago. I told you—you should have denounced him to Pompey as the slave trader he is.’
‘He attempted to start a fight.’ Aro ignored the pulling pain every time he moved his shoulder. His toga hid the worst of the purple bruising on his arm. ‘I doubt Ofellius will try that again. See, the bruises they sport. It was a simple misunderstanding over the right to drink in a tavern. Do not make it into anything else. The peace holds. It is good for business, good for the Lupan House and good for Rome. It is as true now as six months ago.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘He didn’t succeed last March and he won’t succeed now,’ Aro replied, his eyes following Ofellius’s every move. ‘This is a wedding, not the deck of a ship nor the inside of a run-down wine shop in one of the alleyways near the Forum. Ofellius does posses a small amount of intelligence.’
‘But why didn’t Pompey crucify him?’ Piso’s hand rested on the hilt of his dagger. ‘His reputation is notorious. You personally freed those Roman soldiers.’
‘Friends in high places, Piso.’ Aro watched Ofellius take a cup of wine and toast Lydia and her father. Several senators joined in the toast. Aro derived a certain amount of satisfaction that two other senators, senators with whom he had a good working relationship, refused to join in. ‘Those friends will not protect him for ever. See, already several look uncomfortable. If he makes one mistake, tries to take one thing that belongs to me that I can prove in a court of law, all previous agreements will cease. And it will be war between the houses, but not today. Today I am in a forgiving mood.’
‘You’re in charge.’ Piso pulled away from Aro and straightened his tunic, but his eyes were mutinous.
‘Good, now enjoy the wedding feast.’ Aro clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I understand Veratius Cornelius has access to some rather excellent wine. Make sure some of our guests are offered it. I want them to drink deeply to my marriage. Weddings are times of happiness, not for settling old scores.’
‘I understand you.’ Piso grasped Aro’s wrist. ‘But for Poseidon’s sake, be careful. You mean too much to the sailors.’
‘It is my wedding day, Piso. The gods of the Capitoline have blessed this marriage. I shall be safe.’
Aro clapped Piso on the back and advanced towards the late arrivals. The sea of people parted and allowed him easy passage. The room fell silent as if waiting for a signal from him. All eyes were on him. Aro knew his actions would have far more consequences beyond a simple greeting of two rival traders. It had to be correct.
‘It is good of you to come, Ofellius, and partake of my wedding day feast’ he said, standing in front of Ofellius with his feet apart, arms crossed. The noise in the room grew again, as people turned back to their abandoned conversations. ‘It has been a long while since we last met.’
‘Ah, yes, I recall.’ The pirate dipped his head slightly. ‘You were having a bit of difficulty with the sea. Your ship had taken on water.’
‘Nothing I could not handle.’ Aro permitted his smile to grow wider. ‘The sea and I are brothers. My cargo of olive oil and wine was safely delivered to Corinth. A profitable voyage.’
‘And now you are married. To a Veratii. Quite a rise from a sailor with barely denarii to his name.’
‘Some are born lucky.’
Ofellius leant forward and tapped the side of his nose.
‘The whisper is you were caught in her bed, and that is the only reason why her father permitted the marriage.’
‘The whisper is that you are a pirate who indulges in slave trade and your powerful friends in the Senate are about to fall.’ Aro paused, beginning to enjoy himself as Ofellius’s nostrils flared. ‘Dangerous things, rumours.’
‘Quite.’ Ofellius wiped his forehead with the corner of his cloak.
‘Now, if you will excuse me, it is time for my bride and me to depart to our new home. Your men are welcome to join in the festivities if they come as friends.’
‘You would do well to remember our agreement has proved beneficial…to both us and our men. I would hate for anything to disrupt it,’ Ofellius called after him.
Aro halted, forced the air into his lungs. Once he would have acted without thinking, but not here, not with half the biggest gossips in the Senate looking on. Nothing must interfere with the good omens of the day. He had to be enrolled in the Senate when the censors next met. It was what he had worked for.
‘Our agreement, such as it was, was violated when your men attacked me without warning. No more assaults, was that not what we agreed?’
‘My men made a mistake. They swear to me that they did not recognise you in the darkness of that drinking hole.’
‘They had best contain their excitement. They are at a wedding.’
Ofellius sucked his lips. ‘They were punished. They have made a sacrifice to Mercury. You will receive your compensation from the priests.’
‘I refuse to have Lydia frightened. The agreement must be extended.’
Ofellius dusted a speck off his cloak. ‘Why are these bridegrooms always so hot-tempered about their wives? I was speaking of business, not of women, of cargoes, not soft sighs. As for wine shops, can I help it if my men like to drink free from the smell of the docks?’
Aro’s fingers itched to draw his dagger, but to do so would be to play into his rival’s hands. The whisper would reach the Forum in no time of his temper, and subtly the contracts would be withdrawn. The censors would discover a reason to deny him. Aro forced his fingers to ease. ‘I noticed a distinct improvement in the stench once your followers departed.’
‘The incident will not be repeated.’
‘Next time, they should know who they are attacking.’ Aro held his gaze steady.
‘It does make me wonder if you would stoop so low as to marry to ensure trade. You have often proclaimed the need to stay unencumbered.’ Ofellius leant forward. ‘Tell me, Aro, how is business
? I hear you are having trouble delivering some promised wine.’
‘As I said, one mustn’t believe rumours.’
‘I have some Falerian wine, if you find yourself short. Acquired at an excellent price, I might add.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Here, I brought some as a wedding present. An exceptionally fine vintage.’
‘So I am given to understand.’ Aro turned his back on his business rival. He also ignored Piso’s amused grin.
‘I believe we have discovered the mysterious purchaser of the Falerian wine.’ He patted his purse. ‘I believe my purse should be several denarii heavier by this time tomorrow, old friend,’ he said, referring to their bet.
Aro regarded Lydia, laughing with her friends and relations. Why had she sold the wine to that pirate whose reputation was such that no honest man would deal with him?
Aro watched Ofellius walk over and present his compliments to Lydia with a flourishing bow. Lydia said something and Aro saw the large man frown, his hand start towards his dagger.
Quickly Aro stepped forward, reaching her side before Ofellius drew his next breath. ‘Is there some problem, Lydia?’ he asked, keeping his eyes on Ofellius, daring him to try something.
‘Not a problem,’ Lydia said stiffly, but her eyes blazed. ‘Merely a question about liquamen.’
‘Your wife has the heart of a man.’ Ofellius gave a hearty laugh. ‘There are not many who would dare question me. And on her wedding day no less.’
‘Lydia?’ A muscle jumped in Aro’s cheek. He placed a hand on the back of her chair. His fingers lightly touched the back of her neck. He could feel the tension in her muscles. A wave of protectiveness surged through him. Lydia was his wife and he would not have her facing Ofellius on her own. He would not expose her as her father and brother seemed to have done to such men. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’
‘It is nothing, merely an old settling of accounts. Something to do with my old life.’ Lydia’s smile brightened. ‘I believe it is time we departed.’
‘We will discuss this…settling of accounts later,’ Aro said through gritted teeth. Nothing was going to spoil the final part of the ceremony. He would have no man or woman claiming this marriage was not blessed by the gods. He had come too far in his quest to be denied.
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