‘I have my reasons for marrying this way, and your father agreed. Becoming Juno’s priest was not one of them.’ He gave an ironic laugh. ‘Above all, I expect my wife to be loyal.’
‘Loyalty can not be bought or sold like grain in the market place, Fabius Aro.’ Lydia held her head high. ‘Loyalty, true loyalty, can only be earned.’
Lydia held her breath and watched Aro’s eyes darken in the golden lamp light. Her words hung between them. Something flickered in his eyes and died.
‘Your father has given your hand to me. He trusts me to look after you properly. I gave my word. I always keep my word.’
‘Did he tell you my husband was on board ship when that storm struck?’ The words flowed from her mouth. ‘You gave your word. You promised to save everyone on board ship. You broke your promise.’
‘I regret that I could not save everyone.’ His voice was cold and remote. A muscle jumped in his cheek. ‘I lost two of my best crew to the seas that day. Neptune was in a fearsome temper. Would that it were otherwise. I only promised to try. There is a difference. Be grateful your father’s life was saved.’
Lydia swallowed hard. She had made it sound like it was Aro’s fault that Titus had drowned. Her father had assured her that it was no one’s fault, that the mast had hit him and he had slipped over board. The man who had saved her father had risked his life, and had plucked him from the very entrance of Hades.
Lydia had always wondered what would have happened if Titus had not died. Would they have become friends again or would they have continued to drift apart? She always hated the fact that when she had first heard it had been her husband who perished and not her father, she hadn’t felt despair, but relief, relief she no longer had to worry about a husband whom she had little respect for. Grief for Titus came later, but her first emotion had been one of gratitude that, if the gods had demanded someone die, it had been her husband. The guilt she felt afterwards woke her at night. She knew Titus with his shy smile had deserved a better wife.
Did Aro?
‘Enough of this.’ He reached for her, an intent expression on his face. ‘What is done, is done. The ritual has been performed. Your father gave your hand to me. We are husband and wife. A wife owes her husband loyalty. You will put the Lupan House and me first.’
She wasn’t ready, her nerves still tingled. She retreated to the other side of the room, away from the bed. She picked up a cup of wine and brought it to her lips. The sweetened liquid tasted bitter. ‘I will do what I promised to do.’
He gave a slight nod, and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand straight up.
‘You know how to run a household?’ he asked. ‘Or have I made a bad bargain, with your father unable to wait to get rid of you after spoiling you rotten?’
‘My father has never had any complaints about the way I have run his house.’ She made sure her chin was lifted and that she looked him in the eye. ‘You will find me more than adequately trained. I mean to make you a good wife and to uphold the ideals of a Roman matron.’
‘But you fear me. You fear my reputation. It is written in your eyes.’ His eyes deepened to golden brown and his voice became more cajoling. ‘Who has been filling your ears with tales? Is this why you object to me holding sway over you? Most of those tales are of wine-shop gossip from people who have never met me and are envious of the way the gods favour me and the Lupan House. You are now part of my family and I offer you my protection. I will let none harm you.’
‘I never said I fear you,’ Lydia said quickly, too quickly. ‘I am not afraid of you.’
His expression had softened. The golden flecks in his eyes now glowed with the warmth of a hundred oil lamps.
‘Your manner says differently. It has changed since you found out who I am. I know the stories that go around the docks. The Sea Wolf who is half-immortal and hunts down any who would try to steal from him. Therefore, none wish to cross me and my cargo remains safe. The sea is a harsh enough mistress without worrying about pirates. The tales serve their purpose, but they are just tales. My people, the people I have helped, know the truth.’
‘Thank you.’
He took the cup from her unresisting fingers and set it down on the table. A shiver went through her. The oil lamps highlighted the scar on his cheek. The pads of her fingers itched to touch it, to see if it was silky smooth or rough. She pressed her hands together, remembering the admonitions she had been given. A Roman matron behaves like a lady at all times, not like a prostitute in the streets. She had no desire to become notorious like her distant kinswoman Clodia Metellia or Servilia Junia. She wanted to be like her mother who was beloved by all.
He rested a hand on her shoulder, smoothing away the cloth so the tops of her breasts were revealed. His eyes danced with a hidden fire and then sobered as she flinched when her brooch bit into her skin. Instantly, he withdrew his hand.
‘Fear not, Lydia, I will not force you.’ His lips touched her forehead. He returned her dress to the base of her neck and stepped away from her. ‘Get into bed. You have had a long day.’
‘If you will give me some time, I need to make the appropriate sacrifices to Venus.’
‘You made the sacrifices to Venus this morning.’ There was laughter in his voice. ‘You do not need to make more. Gods and goddesses don’t need to be bothered that often.’
There was nothing for it. The time had come. He would bed her without any wooing.
She allowed her gown to fall to the floor and then stepped away from it. Would he be gentle with her? His eyes assessed her, roamed over her body. She ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to get some warmth back into her body, cold despite her under-tunic.
‘You need not look at me like that. I have never forced a woman and I never will.’ He gave an exaggerated stretch. ‘I find my side pains me.’
‘What is that you want from me?’ she whispered.
‘I told you before—to make my house a home.’ His eyes met hers, a long steady gaze where his eyes glowed golden in the lamplight. ‘Now, get into bed; the hour is late and I wish to sleep.’
Not needing any second warning, Lydia scrambled over to the bed and pulled the coverlets up to her chin. ‘Where will you sleep?’
‘With you. I don’t intend to sleep on the floor.’
Without waiting to hear her reply, Aro unclasped his toga and climbed into the narrow bed.
‘I gave you my word, Lydia.’ His breath tickled her ear. His right arm curled around her waist. ‘I am not an animal to take you by force. We will consummate this marriage in our time, rather than with rowdy men outside blowing trumpets and banging drums.’
Lydia’s throat closed. She had not expected kindness. She shifted her body, trying to ignore the growing warmth between her legs. His scent and nearness was doing strange things to her.
‘Hold still, if you wish nothing to happen to you. Keep moving and I will forget my good intentions.’
With a gulp, Lydia stopped and held her body rigid. She waited, all senses alert until she heard his regular breathing. He had granted her a reprieve for a reason she didn’t understand. She had expected him to take her, to treat her in the same unfeeling manner Titus had, taking his pleasure and giving her none, but he hadn’t. He was sensitive to her nervousness. Maybe marriage to the Sea Wolf was not going to be as awful as Sulpicia had predicted. In time, perhaps they could find some measure of peace together. In the morning, when the men had gone, they could begin their marriage properly.
She found some comfort in the heavy arm about her waist, keeping her from falling off the side of the bed.
Aro forced his breathing to be steady, listening for a change in the rhythm of Lydia’s breath. Her hips were tucked snugly against his, and her hair tickled his nostrils. He shifted to ease the ache in his side. Perhaps he had been hasty in dismissing her salve, but the pain would ease eventually. It always did.
Lydia moaned slightly in her sleep and sought the middle of the bed. Her dark hair
tumbled against the white of the pillow. Her under-tunic had slipped, revealing her creamy skin. Aro felt his loins tighten as her warm soft scent of rose, intermingled with something indefinable, tickled his nose.
Temptation swept over him and he longed to touch his lips to hers and awake the passion he felt when they had kissed earlier, but he had given his word. Keeping his word meant that he was different from Ofellius and the other traders who plied the Mediterranean, he had honour. Aro gave a wry smile. The long years he had spent at sea, building his business, meant he had learnt the value of patience. To the one who waited and who was ready to act on opportunity came all things.
He eased his way out of bed and pulled up the coverlet. His fingers smoothed a damp curl away from her temple.
‘Sleep well, Lydia, for I shall not.’
Chapter Seven
‘Y ou should have sent for me earlier,’ Aro said, pushing through the crowd of silent onlookers.
The smouldering ruins of the main Roman warehouse for the Lupan House glowed orange in the half-light before dawn. The heat from the fire burned his face. The smoke stung his eyes. Smoke invaded his mouth with every breath he drew.
‘I didn’t want to pull you from your marriage bed before you had the chance to accomplish anything.’
Aro made a noise at the back of his throat. He would have welcomed the distraction. Anything to keep his mind from remembering Lydia clad in her thin under-tunic and the warmth of her body against his.
‘There is plenty of time for such things. You wouldn’t have suffered the wrath of the Sea Wolf. The Lupan House and its business comes before any personal consideration. You know that. My marriage changes nothing.’
‘I thought you could use a little more time before confronting this. The men and I were perfectly capable of handling it.’ Piso swayed slightly. His ash-stained tunic bore little resemblance to the snow-white tunic of a few hours before. Lines of tiredness and worry creased his face.
‘Tell me the worst—how much have we lost? Everything? Senator Appius’s consignment of black cumin and cinnamon? A few amphorae of olive oil? Quickly, man. Hold nothing back. Have we saved anything?’
‘My men and I handled the removal of the spices and silks. We may have lost five or six amphorae of olive oil, but nothing more.’ Piso wiped a sooty hand across his brow. ‘Nearly all the cargo had been loaded on the barges. Your obsession for early morning departure has worked once again in our favour. I may grumble about them, Aro, but your rules have served us well again.’
‘The departure will have to be delayed.’
Aro watched the relief grow on Piso’s face. There could be no doubt his captain would have put to sea if he had ordered it, but what would have been the point? Overly tired men meant mistakes, mistakes meant lost cargo and Aro did not intend to lose any more than he had to.
‘For a few days only.’ Piso’s face looked a little less careworn. ‘These men are exhausted; even with Poseidon and Hermes’s grace, I would not like to put to sea. We are not all Fabius Aro.’
‘You will have two days. Plans have changed. Instead of Corinth, you head up the coast and pick up a consignment of wine and be back within five days. Mergus and his crew can take the ship to Corinth. It is about time he sampled their delights again. I think the city aediles and the baths will have just about recovered from the last time.’
‘Two days and an easy coast run is more than generous, Aro.’ Piso inclined his head. ‘More than I had hoped for.’
‘I expect those days to be spent getting ready, not visiting Flora’s wine shop.’
A wide smile broke out across Piso’s face. ‘Now whatever gave you that idea? I had gone off the lady a bit after our last encounter, but now you mention it, her…wine tickles the palate.’
Aro placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the smouldering ruin. After Piso returned from the voyage, they would discover if the fragile truce with Ofellius held. The last thing he wanted to do was to break the agreement without sufficient cause. But his instincts were telling him—Ofellius had a hand in this fire somewhere.
One of the roof timbers crashed to the earth, sending a stream of sparks into the sky.
‘Any idea of what caused it?’ Aro asked as a gang rushed forward with brooms and water to beat the new flames out. ‘It seems past coincidence a fire should start now of all times. Were all the safety checks made? Did anyone leave an oil lamp burning?’
‘The men obeyed your instructions like they always do. No one has the desire to cross the Sea Wolf. They value their pay too much. They all know what happens to men who do not follow your rules.’
‘Good. I am glad you investigated.’
‘First thing I thought about. You can’t be too careful with oil lamps and charcoal braziers.’
‘Then why did the fire happen?’
‘Fires are always a problem in Rome, Aro. You know that. I have lost count how many dwellings have burnt since March. And I spotted at least five other blazes in the night sky,’ Piso said with a shrug. He indicated the night watchman, who was standing respectfully behind him. ‘Thanks to Rufus’s quick thinking, the worst failed to happen. If any of our warehouses here or in Ostia had to burn, it was as well that it was this one.’
‘I don’t know how it happened.’ Rufus raised his soot-streaked face, tiredness and grief etched firmly on his body. He swayed slightly, but appeared determined to stand without aid. He’d make the elderly night watchman see a doctor, Aro thought and none of the usual excuses. Rufus had known him since he was a small boy, and was one of the few who felt he could speak his mind to the Sea Wolf, but this time he would be obeyed.
‘I had double-checked that warehouse not an hour before and hadn’t smelt no smoke.’ Rufus’s voice sounded close to tears. ‘Still as Neptune’s sea on a clear day. I’d gone to investigate a noise, but it turned out to be a stray dog. When I turned back, the thing went up like Hades on me.’
‘I know you did your best, Rufus. You always do.’
Time and again Rufus had proved his usefulness with sword and sail until an accident had put an end to his sailing days. His eldest had been Aro’s navigator until he was lost during the rescue of Veratius Cornelius and the misbegotten cargo of spice. Aro had ordered him back to the boat, but the lad had insisted on trying one more time, that the last amphora of garum was too precious to be lost. A large wave washed him and the young senator, Lydia’s first husband, overboard. Aro had been only able to watch helplessly from the deck of his ship.
‘Thank you Fabius Aro. The Fabii mean everything.’
‘It was lucky as Rufus started to raise the alarm, my men and I returned.’ Piso laid a hand on Rufus’s shoulder. ‘It had taken us a bit longer than I expected to get back here.’
‘No doubt a wine shop or two is richer because of your delay.’
‘No doubt, but we put our backs into it once we saw the blaze.’
Rufus cleared his throat and moved away from Piso’s supporting arm.
‘What is it, old friend?’ Aro asked quietly. ‘What else are you hiding from me?’
‘You have made some powerful enemies, Aro,’ Piso answered, all merriment vanishing from his face. ‘Someone wants to bring you down.’
‘Many have tried and failed.’
‘A curse tablet was stuck on the side of the warehouse.’ Rufus gestured towards the far wall. ‘It was when I was tearing the thing down that I discovered the fire had taken hold.’
‘The things our rivals will try.’ Aro kept his voice light. He might not believe in such things, preferring to trust his own skill and hard work, but the others were superstitious. ‘The gods have always been with me. They are with me still.’
‘It’s not the gods I’d be worried about. It’s them Veratii. You should never have married one of those Veratii. Your father always said they were trouble. They couldn’t be trusted and would use anything to wriggle out of an agreement. Shouldn’t wonder if there was something in the marriage contract. Veratius
Cornelius’s father helped with your father’s proscription.’
‘There was never any proof of that.’
‘Your father always said so.’ Rufus’s voice quavered. ‘They’ll be behind it, I shouldn’t wonder. You mark my words—they’ll have hired someone else to do the dirty work, but they’ll be there.’
‘To what purpose?’ Aro knew his father had blamed Veratius Cornelius’s father for engineering the proscription. It had been one of the reasons he had demanded such a high price for the rescue, but Veratius Cornelius had proved a man of his word. He had not tried to postpone the wedding at all. He had agreed to every demand. Aro had been determined there would be no loopholes for the man to wriggle through. He pressed his lips together. There was one, an annulment on the grounds of non-consummation, but Cornelius could not have guessed that would happen. No, Lydia’s show of nerves had been true. ‘You must have a reason for saying this, Rufus. I will not have my father-in-law’s integrity questioned without proof.’
‘I don’t know. It’s a feeling I got. Who would benefit most from the fire, I thought, but then what does the likes of an ex-slave know about the mind of a Roman senator?’ Rufus’s eyes blazed defiantly. Behind him, another timber crashed to the ground. ‘It passes all coincidence, it does. Why tonight? You mark my words—your wife will be demanding to see her father today.’
‘Do not search for connections when there are none.’
Rufus gave low moan, slid to the floor and lay still.
‘A doctor, quick,’ Aro barked to a nearby man. Aro knelt down beside the slumped figure, and laid his ear to the elderly man’s chest. He could hear the noisy rattle of his breath. ‘And not the soothsaying quack from around the corner either. I want one who knows what he is doing.’
‘As you say, Fabius Aro.’
Aro regarded his captain. ‘Piso, clean up your carcass, go back to the compound, wait for my wife.’
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