‘And the money you would have had from the Falerian wine? It would have gone to pay for that fixer, to ensure you reached the Senate?’
‘As you said to the good senator, your father and the people of Rome will be for me, I have no need of fixers.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Shall we visit the temple?’
Lydia concentrated on climbing the hill. Her words had been more in bravery than certainty. She had no illusions about the fickleness of the Roman populace. Their memories were very short. The elections were not a long time away and surely her father could deliver more than enough votes. She would speak to him about it after she had won the wager and had returned to her father’s guardianship. She would show that she could be a gracious winner.
‘Always when my mother brought me here, she’d make me look for the columns,’ Lydia remarked as they came to the square where the ancient temple of Diana stood. ‘We’d play a game about who would be the first to spot them.’
‘You must have been a pretty child.’ There was soft laughter in his voice.
‘No, I was a horrid thing. My hair would not stay smooth and my nose was too big for my face.’ She made a face. ‘And I was skinny, far too skinny.’
‘I must say none of those defects are noticeable now.’
‘No, I grew up.’
‘And I am very glad you did.’ The low huskiness of his voice washed over her, warming her in the coolness of the evening. ‘You filled out in all the right places.’
Rather than risk a reply, Lydia looked at the little circular temple that stood on its own in the middle of a square, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Further down the hill, a child cried and was softly hushed. Carts, which clogged the streets nearer to the market, were a distant rumble. Above her in one of the pines, a bird opened its beak and a trilling song issued forth.
She had thought to return here for a quiet visit after her mother died, but something else always needed to be done—Publius wanted more money, or there was a problem with the servants, or her father needed someone to sort out the tablets—and the journey kept being put off for another day. Eventually she had forgotten about it, forgotten the peace.
Now, she was here with Aro by her side. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up in his arms. Gods, her lips tingled in anticipation. Lydia dug her nails into her palm. She would win this wager, and then she’d see about kisses.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for bringing me to this place, for giving me back a memory.’
‘You can go in and make an offering if you wish. We are in no rush.’
She shook her head. ‘There is no need.’
‘If you are sure…’
‘Quite sure. It is enough to be here and remember. I find I am remembering things I had forgotten.’
‘A good thing?’
‘For the most part. Some memories are bittersweet, but I have no desire to forget.’
‘The house is not far from here. You may return when you like, but you must take one of the servants with you.’
A spring of happiness bubbled up within Lydia. She was to have some freedom after all. She would be trusted to go places on her own.
‘I see no problem with that.’
Aro’s face turned grave. ‘You must promise to take someone with you at all times.’
‘I understand.’ The insistence grated. Who did he think she was? She had no intention of wandering around Rome on her own. It was far too easy to get lost in the myriad of streets and temples. Far too dangerous as well. She was under no illusion that the two workmen they had met would not have been so civil if Aro had not been there.
A single white daisy shone in the cracks of the temple steps. Lydia reached down to pluck it. She’d take it home and press the flower, and then keep it in the same cupboard where she kept her scrolls and other personal belongings. As her hand touched the delicate petals, she heard a low growl. Lifting her gaze, she saw two fiery eyes staring back at her through the gloom.
‘Lydia, keep still! Don’t panic,’ came Aro’s low voice.
‘I have no intention of panicking,’ Lydia said. Slowly she lowered her hand and started to inch back towards Aro, never taking her eyes off the dog. ‘I know what dogs are like. Korina is never like this.’
‘It probably guards the temple. Take it slowly.’
Lydia felt for one step. Made it. The dog had emerged from the shadows. Its lips were drawn back in a snarl and a low growl came from its throat. She took in a breath. Her foot felt for the next step.
‘Call off your dog,’ she heard Aro say to someone behind her.
The reply was inaudible.
‘I said call the dog off. We mean no harm. We will go one way, and you the other.’
The last step. Lydia’s foot touched it and then she felt her body tumble. The dog started towards her. She could imagine the jaws gripping around her leg. But suddenly Aro was there.
‘Please,’ she said.
He scooped her up, carried her a few steps and put her down. ‘It will be fine. The dog didn’t want to hurt you.’
A low whistle rent the air. Lydia looked up and saw a burly man standing on the steps, the human equivalent of the dog who now cowered at his feet, whimpering.
‘Why didn’t you call your dog off?’ Aro asked.
‘I tried, but he didn’t listen.’ The man gave a shrug. He held out his hand and seemed to grow taller with passing breath. ‘I’ll take your purse for calling him off now, though.’
Lydia felt her throat constrict and gave a low moan. She should never have tried to pick that flower. She had distracted Aro’s attention. This was all her fault.
‘I don’t think you will,’ Aro answered. He sounded as calm as if he were discussing the weather. He paused and straightened his cloak. ‘Be grateful and go. The woman is uninjured.’
‘Then I shall just have to take it.’
The man advanced forward, bristling menace. Lydia wanted to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. She could see the scar on his cheek and the glint of a knife in his hand, wicked and evil. She wanted to tell Aro to be careful.
Before she could draw a second breath, Aro had launched himself forward, grabbed the man and pinned both arms behind him. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter. The dog gave a low whine.
‘Who is going to take my purse?’ Aro demanded with one arm around the man’s neck, the other holding the man’s arm behind him.
‘Not I.’ The man’s voice sounded high and unnatural. ‘Who would have ever thought such a thing? To try to get a purse from you. A man would have to be a fool.’
‘I trust you are no fool.’
‘No.’
Aro released him and the man fell to his knees. He looked up at Aro and seemed to see him for the first time. All colour drained from the man’s face. He threw himself in the dirt.
‘Do you know who I am?’ Aro demanded. The sunset made his eyes seem like oil lamps. Lydia swallowed hard. No doubt the tale would be around the Aventine tomorrow, lavishly embroidered.
‘Everyone in the Aventine knows who you are, Sea Wolf.’ The man cowered with his hands over his head. ‘In the fading light…I thought…perhaps…I made a mistake.’
‘This woman is my wife.’ Aro gestured towards Lydia. ‘I trust you and your fellows will show her every courtesy or you will answer to me. The agreement remains…for now.’
‘Every courtesy, certainly, whatever you say.’
‘Good, you may go now.’
The man picked himself up and ran off. Aro like some avenging god stared after him, eyes blazing and hands on hips. Lydia wanted to go to him and rest her head against his chest, but that was impossible. She’d never do that, not after what had happened earlier. There was too much between them. Instead she looked about her for the dog.
It still lay there, but its whimpers were coming faster and it kept trying to lick its paw. Behind it, a faint trail of blood oozed in the dimming light. Lydia hurried towards the injured animal.
‘Lydia, we need to be going.’
‘Aro,’ Lydia breathed, trying not to frighten the dog. Her earlier fear was forgotten as she tried to discover the true reason for the dog’s behaviour.
‘Shall we go, Lydia?’ He held out his hand. ‘I have no wish for the man to return with his friends.’
Lydia knelt down beside the dog, trying to get a better look at the paw. The dog looked up her with pleading eyes and whimpered. ‘Give me some time.’
‘You are not injured?’
Lydia shook her head. She held out a trembling hand. ‘Shaken, but nothing damaged.’
‘Come away from the dog.’
‘He’s injured his paw. I simply want to take a look at him. I don’t think he belonged to that man.’
Aro made a noise at the back of his throat, but before she could say anything more he was kneeling by her side.
‘I have a hand on his collar. He won’t attack.’ Aro looked up at her. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead and his tunic no longer fell in crisp folds, but those were the only outward signs he had been in a fight.
‘I don’t believe he would have attacked me now. Maybe he was frightened of the man.’
The dog twisted and lay on his back, exposing his belly as Korina did when she wanted affection. Gingerly, Lydia made her way around to the far side of the dog. All the while, Aro kept his hand on the dog’s head, speaking in a low calm voice.
A large shard of glass stuck out of the right paw. She knelt down and plucked it out. The dog gave a low whimper. She removed her shawl and wrapped it around the paw.
‘We can’t leave him here,’ she said, sitting back on her heels. ‘He can’t go back with that man. It would be too cruel. I hate people who mistreat animals.’
Aro took his belt off and fastened it about the dog’s collar as a makeshift lead. Lydia regarded him, with his tunic now falling loose about his body. Most men would not have taken the risk of appearing unbelted in public, particularly when an election loomed. The only times that could happen were during the festival of Saturnalia or attending a funeral of a close relative. To appear that way at other times was to invite censure.
‘That will have to do.’ He smiled. ‘Not the most conventional of solutions, but it should keep him with us. You, I presume, are able to walk on your own.’
Lydia ignored the offered arm. She knew if she so much as touched him, she would want the feel of his lips against hers.
‘Where are you taking him?’
‘Back to the house.’ He looked surprised that Lydia should question him. ‘With a warm meal and a watchful eye, he should mend. The porter lost his dog a few weeks ago to old age. It will be a good match for the both of them.’
The dog nuzzled Aro’s hand. Lydia wondered what the gossips would say if they saw that. They would probably call it some supernatural power over dogs because he was the Sea Wolf, but Lydia knew it was kindness. The dog had seen the goodness in him and had responded.
‘And the man?’
‘He means nothing to me.’ Aro’s voice held a note of finality as he walked away with the injured dog. ‘He won’t come, demanding his dog back. If he knows what is good for his health, he will leave the Aventine and never return. I do not intend people should be threatened so near their houses.’
Lydia bent down and picked up the discarded knife. Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers traced the etching on the handle. She looked over Aro’s shoulder towards the Palatine. A shiver passed though her. ‘How did this get here?’
‘Is something wrong, Lydia?’ Aro stopped and looked back at her. ‘Now is not the time to linger.’
‘I have found our attacker’s knife.’ She held it aloft. ‘It belongs to my father. It has the Veratii symbol on it. My father has a knife very like it in his study. It belonged to his father and his father before him. There used to be another one, but Publius lost it three years ago.’
Aro crossed the square in three steps and took the knife from her. ‘Then this knife most likely is the missing one. No doubt it has been in many hands since it left Publius’s. What cause would your father have to attack his daughter?’
‘You’re right.’ She forced a smile to her lips. ‘It just seemed strange.’
‘Did you recognise the man?’ There was an urgency in Aro’s voice.
‘No, but I would if I ever saw him again.’
‘I pray to the gods you never do.’ Aro’s face had the same icy hardness she had seen when he had confronted her about her note to Sulpicia. ‘It is time to return home, Lydia.’
‘Yes, it is time we went back to the villa.’
The gods were not with him today, Aro reflected as he settled himself in his study with a cup of wine and a variety of tablets and scrolls. Something to keep his mind off the woman who was his wife.
The litter had been a mistake, compounded by his suggestion to stroll to the temple of Diana. He had thought it would be easy to kiss her and instead had ended up rescuing a dog. Unlike most women of his acquaintance, she had singularly failed to give way to hysterics after the attack.
Aro frowned and reached for another pile of tablets. Anything to keep his mind from returning to this afternoon.
He pressed his fingertips together. There was no mistaking the identity of the attacker. He needed to be dealt with very carefully, a measured response, but one which sent a signal. Aro’s eyes lighted on a tablet about olive oil. That would provide the perfect excuse. He was a patient man.
A soft knock at the door made him glance up.
Lydia stood there, the soft light from the oil lamps giving a golden glow to her skin. Her hazel eyes were luminous and her lips tinged red. Her hair had escaped from the confines of the tire-woman’s style, and now loose curls framed her face. His body leapt at the sight, but he forced himself to stay seated.
‘Come in,’ he said and gestured towards a low stool.
She sank gracefully down on it.
‘I wanted to thank you,’ she said in a low tone.
Aro put down his scrolls and tablets and leant back in his chair. ‘Thank me for what?’
‘For saving the dog, for everything.’ She made a little gesture with her hand and her gown slipped very slightly to reveal more of the line of her neck.
It took all of Aro’s strength not to draw her into his arms and bury his face in her hair. Unfortunately, he had made that foolish promise to her. She had to come to him and offer him her lips. If he followed his natural inclinations, she would never trust him again, and he found much to his surprise that he wanted her to trust him.
‘It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.’
‘No, most would have walked on by. Neither my father nor brother would have sacrificed their belt for a mere dog.’
‘You must not think me a hero from the old tales…’ Aro permitted a smile to cross his features ‘…because I am anything but. You will find me an ordinary man with simple tastes. You see—Clodius has returned my belt to me. He is very happy with his new dog.’
Her gaze lowered. Her mouth turned up into a sweet smile. ‘I have not thought you were anything but. Will you be dining with me?’
‘I regret—no.’ Aro stood up and wiped his hands against his tunic. If he dined with her, he would probably give in to temptation. And seduction was not on the menu. Then they would be no further forward than earlier today. He would distract himself with his plans of retribution.
‘Yes, I understand,’ she said in a much more subdued voice as the light went out of her eyes, all passion hidden, the perfectly composed matron. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘No doubt you expect me to beg you to stay.’
‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ Aro said carefully. He had to depart before he started to beg. He had made the wager and it suited him to play by the rules—for now. ‘If you wish me to, I will.’
She hesitated, a pause no longer than it took a drip to fall from the water clock. Her tongue flicked ov
er her lips, wetting them, making them more inviting than ever.
‘I warn you, Fabius Aro, you will not win this wager.’
‘It is my deep regret to inform you I always keep my promises, even when they prove on the face of it—seemingly impossible.’ Aro gave a bow and quit the room.
Chapter Eleven
‘M y dearest sister, I came as soon as I could,’ Sulpicia said as she entered the tablinum the next morning with a jangle of bracelets and the scent of expensive perfume. ‘Cornelius absolutely refused to let me come any earlier. He thought it would not be the done thing. But why? I argued. Why should I not see my very dearest sister-in-law? I still consider her sister, even if she has been married cum manu. Although why he allowed it—it is so unfashionable—I have no idea. He relented this morning and sends you his regards.’
Korina gave a joyful bark and attempted to jump at Sulpicia, who looked slightly aggravated at the faint streaks of dirt on her rose-pink gown. Lydia put the scroll she had been reading down, stood up and advanced towards her sister-in-law. She had missed Sulpicia. ‘It is very kind of you to visit, Sulpicia. I look forward to hearing all the news. Other than the butcher or the wine-shop owner, who has Gallus the porter managed to annoy lately?’
‘Who hasn’t he? You have no idea what that man’s temper is like.’ Sulpicia gave one of her tinkling laughs.
They chatted for a while about Gallus and his impossible behaviour and then Lydia remembered the knife. It was probably as Aro had said—the one that had gone missing long ago.
‘Has my grandfather’s dagger gone missing?’
Sulpicia put her hand to her mouth. ‘Which dagger would that be?’
‘The one in the study.’
‘Oh, that dagger.’ Sulpicia gave another laugh. ‘You had me worried. I would not know anything about that dagger. I never go into Cornelius’s study, if I can help it. Why?’
‘I had wondered. I recently saw a dagger that made me think of it.’ Lydia kept her voice casual, but every nerve waited for Sulpicia’s response.
‘Wasn’t one lost a long time ago? I seem to recall Publius saying something about it. You know how Publius is, always talking about something.’
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