‘You must believe me. He has been ill, seriously ill. We…that is…Publius and I kept it quiet.’ Lydia clasped her hands together. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She had told the truth and he refused to believe her. ‘There are things I have been attending to. There wasn’t time—’
‘If he was that ill, why did your brother go with Pompey? Why did he not remain behind to look after your father?’
Lydia traced the mosaic pattern with the toe of her sandal. There was no use in attempting to explain Publius’s behaviour. She had argued with him to stay. But her father and Publius had quarrelled violently and Publius had stormed off.
‘Publius did what he thought was right. He knew I would never leave my father to suffer—’
‘Your brother and sister-in-law have used you.’ Aro’s voice cut across hers as his hands clenched at his sides. Lydia became aware of the power in his shoulders and legs. ‘Pay some time getting to know this household and how it works, rather than returning to your old life, Lydia of the Fabii. Your father said as much to me last night before we left. He will not be expecting you. Do not disobey me on this, wife. Your duty is clear.’
Lydia stared at him. The full impact of her new life hit her. She had no rights. She was going to be kept a prisoner here.
‘I need to see my father.’
‘Will you do me the dignity of telling me the true reason?’ Aro’s eyes flashed. He seemed to grow in stature. Korina hid her nose under her paws and Lydia wished she might do something similar. ‘Or are you going to persist in telling tales, each one more fanciful than the next, until out of sheer exhaustion I give in? In the space of a few breaths you have told me three different reasons why you wish to return to your old house. None of those reasons are urgent as far as I can discern.’
‘I told you the truth. My father has been ill and I have a few matters I need to see to.’
‘Other people can see to them.’ His brows knit together in a black frown and the corners of his lips turned down. ‘He has slaves, men of work. Now, tell me the truth.’
‘Why do you persist in telling me that I am lying?’
‘What is so urgent that you need to run back to your family on the morning after your wedding night? What story do you wish to tell him?’
‘I have told you the truth.’
She forced her back to stay straight and still. He did not care where she went. He had not bothered to be there when she woke up. He had gone to the baths, rather than stay by her side. It was only now, in front of his friend, that he made a show of being concerned. Her throat closed around a tight hard lump of tears.
‘You must respect my reasons,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. She had to keep her dignity. Without it, she had nothing. ‘If my father chose not to inform you, his new son-in-law, of the exact nature of his illness, I must honour his wishes.’
‘Very well,’ he said after a long silence where the only noise was the thumping of Korina’s tail. ‘I must insist you stay here. You have enough to occupy you here and Veratius Cornelius and Sulpicia can fend for themselves for a short period. They will not starve.’
‘If you insist.’ Lydia bowed her head, resting her chin on her hands. She had to hope that her father did not have another attack and, if he did, Sulpicia would know what to do. That was all. Sulpicia could be sensible when she chose, despite wringing her hands and fainting the last time. The servants were too much in awe of her father to be much use. Someone would have to force the pills down his throat.
‘I do insist.’ His eyes softened then. He held out a hand towards her and gave a half-smile. ‘I am not an ogre, Lydia. Give it time. Your father will not be expecting to see you today. He is not in any danger. You are a bride. He knows you will be with me. If you are seen returning to your old house, people might begin to question the omens for the marriage.’
The implication in his voice was there. A small curl of warmth wound its way around Lydia’s insides. She damped it down. Aro had spent time in the baths, rather than with her.
Lydia raised her head and met his eyes, a sudden thought occurring to her. If she timed it correctly, Sulpicia should be there. She offered a small prayer of thanksgiving to Juno. Sulpicia was a creature of habit. If she hurried, Lydia would reach the baths in time. They could have a quick word and Lydia could explain. Surely Aro could not object to that. ‘Will I be able to go the baths today?’
Aro’s expression turned sceptical, and she struggled to keep her head held high, refusing to flinch. It was a small deception, nothing serious, forced on her by his intolerable attitude. Somehow the thought did not ease the knots in her stomach.
‘There should be no reason why you should not,’ he said, drawing his eyebrows together. ‘The local baths are well known for their treatments. Many come from all over the city for the waters. I will take you there later. It has a small library and I understand a few new scrolls have come in.’
‘I had rather thought the baths between the Circus Maximus and the Palatine.’ Lydia fought to keep her voice from quavering. She had to get the pills and instructions to Sulpicia. It was a slight subterfuge, nothing wicked. She kept her entire body still, concentrated on not allowing her voice to waver. ‘It is the one I always use. The people know me there.’
Then she waited.
Every muscle in Aro’s body tensed.
There was a hidden meaning to Lydia’s words. She intended to go to the baths for another purpose. Aro knew that as surely as he knew the sand shoals in Ostia’s harbour. He made his living out of his ability to read faces.
‘Let her go, Aro,’ Piso called out from where he reclined. ‘There is probably a hairdresser she wants to see. You know what women are like. The wrong hairstyle and they are in a vile temper for days.’
‘Piso, it will take too much time.’ Aro turned towards his old friend. Until he had discerned Lydia’s motives, he intended to keep her away from her usual haunts. Whose aid would she try to enlist there? ‘One bath house is much like another.’
As he said the words, he watched the light dim in Lydia’s eyes.
Rufus’s words had proved prophetic. Lydia had asked to see her father immediately when he had arrived back, not giving him a chance to explain about the fire. She had not even asked where he’d been. Instead she demanded that she return to her father’s house, giving a series of reasons that might or might not be true. Now she was not content to go to the nearest baths, but wanted to visit one very close to her father’s house. Why was she acting so suspiciously? He regretted he had given in to his impulse and had taken pity on her last night. She seemed determined to find a reason to end their marriage.
‘I will go with her,’ Piso said.
Tears appeared to shimmer in Lydia’s eyes, but she glanced away before Aro had a chance to examine them more closely. ‘No, no, it is fine. I can use the bath suite here.’
‘If you wish.’ Aro stared at the point where her hair kissed the back of her neck. He was torn between the desire to comfort her, and the need to ensure this marriage was celebrated as a success.
‘Thank you,’ she said and hurried away, her sandals clicking on the mosaic-tiled floor and her dog following at her heels.
‘Why did you feel the need to do that, Aro?’
‘Do what?’ Aro asked, watching the door. It bothered him that she had not asked where he had been. How typically Veratii. Why he had expected different behaviour from her, he didn’t know, but he wanted it. He had wanted to believe that this woman was different from the Veratii of his father’s tales. He had seen her courage and her sense of honour that day in the study, and had been sure she was different.
‘Forbid her to see her family?’ Piso stood up and dusted off his tunic. ‘Or is this another Roman tradition of which I remain in blissful ignorance?’
‘She lies. You heard Rufus as well as I did. Lydia would demand to see her father as soon as she could.’
‘I had forgotten that.’ Piso’s eyes widened
. ‘I always considered the Furies drove him mad after his son’s death, and didn’t pay much attention to his rambling rants.’
‘He has been a good and loyal servant to my family, in particular my father for many years. He has a long memory, and he may be right to be cautious. If my father had followed his advice about Veratius’s father, he might have avoided proscription.’
Piso broke off a chunk of bread. ‘Lydia did seem insistent though. Women are odd, inexplicable creatures. A totally different species. They take strange notions into their heads. Funny she should say about her father being ill—wasn’t he at the Senate the other day?’
‘He gave no indication to me that he is ill. Far from it. He mentioned several times how glad he was that he had returned to full health. Whatever ailment he had early in the year has cleared up. Trust me, my friend, he has no fear of it returning.’
‘Rufus said that Veratius might have put something in the contract.’ Piso stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘By Poseidon’s trident, I can’t think of anything he could. You are too clever for that.’
‘Annulment.’
‘But surely you slept with her?’ Piso’s eyes widened. ‘She wouldn’t lie about such a thing as that. I saw how her cheeks flushed when you came into the room.’
Aro gazed at the frescoes on the dining room wall, frescoes that echoed the rooms and gardens of his childhood, avoiding the question.
‘That fire was deliberately set, Piso. No other warehouse or building in the area burnt—just ours and the empty shop behind it. I discovered another curse on the side of the compound when I returned. Now against tradition, suddenly my wife wants to make a private journey to her old home.’
‘It gave me no pleasure to drag you from your marriage bed. What should I have done?’
Aro didn’t bother to explain that he had been standing looking out at the moonlight when Piso’s summons came. He didn’t know at that moment who he despised more—Lydia for accepting his marriage bargain or himself for wanting it. Whatever happened, he did not intend to be cheated out of it.
‘You did the right thing, Piso.’ Aro reached for a grape, tossed it in the air. ‘The priests have decided that it was a good omen, a new beginning. Whoever wanted to use this fire against me gained very little.’
‘Lydia came looking for you.’ Piso’s voice was quiet. ‘She wanted to find you and discovered me instead. Mayhap she felt you did not want her.’
‘Why in the name of Apollo would she think that? I married her.’
Piso gave a careless shrug. ‘Women are like that, Aro. You should know better than most. Perhaps she felt piqued you were not there when she woke, or that you had stopped to wash the soot from your hair. If I understood a woman’s mind, I would be a rich man.’
Aro kneaded his right shoulder. He wished he had remembered to ask for Lydia’s ointment. His whole body ached from searching through the ruins and from the rituals he had helped perform. The gods willing this was the end of it, but he doubted it. He had read the curse tablets.
‘Until we understand exactly who is behind the fire and the curses, I want to keep her safe and in this compound. With me. I want to see what she does next.’
‘Do you think she will do something more? What more could she do?’
‘Attempt to contact her sister-in-law.’
‘And what will you do if she does?’
‘I will sail through that storm, if I have to, but this time the Veratii will yield to the Fabii.’
Lydia tapped the scroll against her mouth and resisted the temptation to pace the room. Normally a firm favourite, the tale of Psyche and Cupid and their star-crossed love affair did not hold its usual pleasure. She had made a mess of her recent confrontation with Aro. She knew that.
She should have told Aro the truth to begin with. She had intended on confessing the truth, but then it had seemed such a trivial thing.
Why should he care how her father fared?
And why shouldn’t he allow her to visit whom she pleased, even if was against tradition? Surely someone such as Aro couldn’t care about tradition. He had built his fortune from nothing. And it wouldn’t be a bad omen, necessarily. Only if it was combined with something else.
Equally she did not want her father’s enemies to know about his illness. She might now belong to the Fabii, but it did not stop her being Veratii. Surely Aro must understand that. Her feelings and loyalties remained the same despite the words that the auspex had spoken.
She only hoped the tablet she had sent Sulpicia would be understood and that Sulpicia would immediately come for a visit. The message was a bit cryptic, but she had to make Sulpicia hurry. It was the only way to ensure that those pills reached her father and Sulpicia knew how and when to use them.
She hated stooping to subterfuge, but what choice did she have if Aro failed to listen?
She refused to sacrifice her father, simply because her new husband on a whim demanded she not return to her family’s home.
‘Why have you asked for your sister-in-law to visit you, Lydia? Without delay? To discuss an urgent matter?’ Aro’s voice dripped ice.
Lydia set the scroll down with a trembling hand. She stood up and put her hand on Korina’s collar, keeping her close. Aro’s eyes glittered gold. His frame filled the doorway. The tablet she had hastily scribbled not more than an hour ago was in his hand rather than on its way to Sulpicia.
She was prepared for a rage. She had dealt with her father’s rages all the time. Rages were over quickly. But this was a cold deliberate way of speaking, something not easily handled or controlled.
‘Is there any reason why she shouldn’t?’ she asked, striving to keep her voice steady and her breathing even. She would be serene, the very picture of a Roman matron. Above all she would not lose her temper. ‘She is a friend of mine. As you would not let me go to my father’s house or to my usual baths, I felt that it might be pleasant to have someone from my family visit me.’
‘On the day after your wedding?’
‘Surely you do not intend to cut me off from all my friends?’ she asked with her gaze demurely on the tiled floor.
‘I will not dignify that remark with an answer. If that is your only contribution…’
Lydia shifted in her sandals. Juno, she sounded worse than Sulpicia when Publius had told her to return the two silk gowns she had just purchased. She had to apologise, to take back the words.
‘I’m sorry. You have never said anything of the sort.’ She pressed her hands together to keep them still. ‘My family is very important to me. I fail to see how inviting Sulpicia to take a cup of mint tea with me will break any protocol. And what gives you the right to read my personal correspondence?’
She waited for his answer, but he stood there, in silence, tapping the tablet against his arm. His face betrayed no emotion. Here was no softening of his features, nothing to say that he had accepted her apology. She wanted to go back to last night’s fleeting bit of closeness. Surely the man who had been sympathetic to her then would understand now.
‘My servants tell me everything that is happening in this house. When my wife attempts to send a tablet out, begging for her sister-in-law to visit her after I have told her she can’t go to her father’s house, I become concerned.’
‘There is an innocent explanation.’
He tossed the tablet back into Lydia’s lap. Lydia stared at it. ‘Why do you need to see her so urgently? What has happened that you need to confide in her?’
Lydia stared back at him. His eyes glittered with an ice-cold fury. It was easy to see why he was called the Sea Wolf, why people would be terrified of crossing him. She refused to be—for her father’s sake.
‘As you refused to let me go to my father, getting Sulpicia to come to me seemed to be the easiest solution. I wanted to tell her exactly what she needs to do, if he should ever have an attack again.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why didn’t you ask me to send a note?’
His hand reached
out. Lydia evaded his fingers by standing and crossing the room to look out of the window at the fountain in the atrium.
‘You refused to listen,’ she said. ‘I have no idea what you think I want to do, but my father has been ill. Somehow, the pills he needs in case of another attack became mixed up with my jars and ointments.’
His expression showed he refused to believe her. He simply stood there, stony faced, disapproving. ‘Veratius Cornelius made no mention of it when we last spoke. He appeared to be well and hearty. I understand he was defending in court this morning. Hardly the actions of a man on his deathbed. Why should I believe you?’
‘I am telling the truth.’ She held up her palms. He had to believe her. ‘He was ill before. It was why I sold the wine—to pay the doctors and buy their silence. You asked before and I couldn’t give you an answer. Now I am. I sold the wine to save my father’s life and I am proud of it.’
‘And the pills, where are they?’
‘They are on my dressing table.’
‘If you give them to me, I will see that he gets them.’ He held his hand.
Lydia acted. This was perhaps her only chance to get the pills to her father. It was also her chance to prove to Aro that she was trustworthy and that she told the truth about her father’s ill heath. Once he saw the pills, he’d realise how wrong he had been. She looked forward to seeing his face, hearing his grovelling apology.
‘Here you are.’ She thrust the jar of pills at him, struggling slightly to catch her breath. ‘If you give me a little time, I will write down the instructions. They are very precise.’
Without waiting for an answer, she reached for her stylus and a blank wooden tablet and began scribbling.
‘Your father doesn’t know how to take them?’ His tone held a disbelieving note as he examined the pills. ‘Why didn’t you simply send the pills to him and avoid this mystery?’
‘I wanted to be sure that Sulpicia knew exactly what to do in case of another attack.’ Lydia glanced up from her writing and directly into his gold-flecked eyes. He had lifted an eyebrow, but this time there was no mockery in his glance. She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on her writing. ‘As far as I can tell, he remembers very little of the first attack. The doctors fought long and hard to save his life. Sulpicia never pays any attention to what other people do.’
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