Lydia tightened her fingers about Korina’s collar. ‘Were you there when it happened?’
‘I had made my goodbyes the morning before and was travelling towards the port.’ He ran his hand through his hair and stood up, pacing about the courtyard. ‘My father delayed calling the doctor until it was too late. By the time he sent word to me, he too was waiting for the boatman to cross the River Styx.’
‘There was nothing you could have done.’
‘How do you know?’
‘My mother, she died of a fever. She had taken some food to one of my father’s clients. There was no need for her to do it. She could have sent one of the servants.’ Lydia swallowed hard, forcing her memory away from that awful day. ‘By the time they had sent for me, it was too late. And I had seen her only that morning…’
‘What happened happened. A long time ago and far away. Nothing you or I do will bring the dead back.’
The words seemed to resound off the walls. Lydia felt the shutters going up, blocking her out from that part of his life. It was as if the past was a forbidden place for her.
‘And yet you never married,’ she said quietly. ‘Never tried for a new family.’
‘I married you.’ He turned back, his voice fierce.
Lydia kept her head bent, examining Korina’s multi-coloured fur, plucking out a stray hair, anything but directly gazing into his eyes.
‘You needed a wife.’ She forced her voice to sound carefree and unconcerned. ‘You are about to make a try for the greasy pole that is the Senate. You needed my father’s support.’
Aro regarded her with glittering gold eyes. Lydia was reminded more than ever of a wolf, sitting, waiting, watching. She wanted him to say something, to deny her reasoning. She wanted him to say that he had married her because he wanted her. That he had married her in spite of his misgivings about their family’s past.
‘As you say.’ He made a sketch of a bow. His voice was heavy with irony. ‘I had my reasons.’
‘As you say, you had your reasons.’ Lydia stood up and straightened the folds of her gown. ‘If you will forgive me, it is nearly time for dinner.’
‘You do not speak of your dead husband.’ His voice stopped her. ‘He has been gone for eighteen months. Time enough for you to remarry. Why hadn’t you done so?’
Lydia regarded the pool of water sparkling in the sunshine. It was hard to explain. Titus belonged to another life, when she had been someone else. She had been so much younger then. She hadn’t wanted to marry out of guilt for all the wrong reasons.
‘It was never the right time,’ she said. ‘My father became ill, Sulpicia lost her baby and all my concerns had to be put to one side. I had to fight for my family’s survival.’
‘As you say, things happen.’ He turned and walked towards the precipice where Rome was laid out at his feet. The last rays of the sun hit the gold-roofed temples of Jupiter and Saturn on the Capitoline. A faint mist hung in the marshland across the Tiber.
Lydia was torn. If she hurried after him, she’d end up in his arms again, and she didn’t want to be there. Or did she?
‘We ought to go into dinner. The servants will be waiting to wash our feet and hands,’ Lydia called after him.
‘If that is what you want…’
Over the next few days, Lydia argued with herself that she should have said or done something more. Somehow after their talk, there had been a slight shift in the air. Nothing spoken, but Aro was far more distant and reserved. He made no attempt to kiss her or even place her in a situation where that might happen. She could not help feeling that she had lost something or made a mistake somewhere.
Aro also made no mention of keeping her at the villa. It was as if he had lost interest in the wager. Lydia wondered if for some reason he had changed his mind.
On the last day of the wager, Lydia went out to the baths and discovered that an old friend of her mother’s lived quite close by. She went and passed a pleasant hour, discussing her mother and childhood memories. Yet all the time in the back of her mind was a certain amount of sadness. She was going to win, not because she was not attracted to Aro, but because he had lost interest in the chase. The victory tasted hollow.
When she arrived back from Livia’s house, she discovered Tuccia in her room, weeping as she straightened the jars and ointments.
‘Tell me, what is the problem?’ Lydia went over and put an arm around her tire-woman. Tuccia gave a great sob and buried her face in Lydia’s stola. ‘Are you unhappy here? Surely life can’t be that awful.’
Tuccia stepped back, wiped her eyes with the corner of her gown and gave a great hiccup.
‘No, not that, my lady. I beg your pardon, my lady. I have dripped all over your stola.’ She picked up a cloth and started to dab at the damp patch.
‘Something is wrong, Tuccia. Tell me.’ Lydia put her hand over Tuccia’s. ‘Did you break a jar or spill some of my perfume? You need not fear, I am not in the habit of abusing my tire-woman.’
‘My grandfather sent word my grandmother is ill, seriously ill.’ Tuccia dissolved into another bout of hiccups. ‘There is no one left to look after them. Both my brothers have gone off to Ostia. And my mother…well…she does not want to have anything to do with them. They never got on and now she is far too busy with her husband and new baby. I’m terrified something will happen. Who will fetch the bread and wine? They live on the fourth floor.’
‘You shall go to them and stay until they are well enough to look after themselves.’ Lydia raised Tuccia’s face and looked directly into her red-rimmed eyes. ‘I can manage well enough on my own.’
‘But my lady, I couldn’t.’ Tuccia wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Why ever not?’ Lydia asked. ‘It is clear you will be of no use to me here, worrying about your grandparents. I’d far rather have you know your grandparents are safe. Your grandfather did a great service to the Lupan House when he raised the alarm about the fire and then fought it by himself. It would be a dreadful shame if he wasn’t looked after properly.’
Tuccia’s face broke out into a wreath of smiles, sunshine after a storm. If only her own problems were that easily solved, Lydia thought.
‘Thank you, my lady. May Juno bless you and this house.’ Tuccia’s hand knocked the alabaster jar of ointment, sending it rolling along the cupboard shelf.
Lydia reached out and caught it before it crashed to the floor. Her special salve. She started to put it back and then hesitated, a plan forming. She would be dignified in winning and show Aro that she fully intended to take an interest in the Lupan House and all those connected with it.
‘I should like to meet your grandfather and give him this jar of ointment as thanks for all he did in the fire.’
‘You are too kind, my lady.’
‘Nonsense, I should have done so earlier when I first heard about the fire.’ Lydia cringed slightly when she thought of what her mother would have done. She’d have gone the first day she learnt of the man’s plight. She’d never seen her mother shy away from visiting any of her father’s sick clients, declaring it was her duty.
‘You don’t need to do that, my lady. He was pleased to do what he did. The Fabii mean much to him. He owes them his life and his freedom.’
‘It is not a matter of having to, Tuccia. It is a matter of wanting to. You are not to return to my care until your grandmother is quite well. I can look after my own hair and make-up for a short time.’
Tuccia looked doubtful. ‘Are you sure, my lady?’
‘I mean that. It won’t be to your standard, of course, but I can do it.’
The servants were occupied with cleaning the atrium’s pool, and therefore Lydia decided that she could make do with one escort instead of the usual two that Aro had insisted on. With a massive scar running down the side of his face and tree-trunk arms, Strabo could surely cope with anything that they might meet. Besides, it was broad daylight and she’d be back long before the seventh hour.
Not that Aro
would care or be here to meet her, she thought with a pang.
Strabo and Tuccia led the way up and down a complex maze of back streets and alleyways. Unlike the Palatine where she had lived before or even the top of the Aventine, the streets near the waterfront were filled with narrow multi-storeyed dwellings, rising high and shutting out the sun. Lydia shivered slightly and pulled her shawl tighter. Here and there were little sunlit squares where merchants and traders spread their wares, and women filled their earthenware jars with water from fountains, chatting and gossiping as children and dogs tumbled about in the dust.
Tuccia stopped outside one of these dwellings. On the ground a baker’s jostled for space with a wine shop. A flight of stairs disappeared up into darkness. A smell of stale oil and sour wine permeated the area.
‘My grandparents live on the fourth floor,’ Tuccia said and raced up the stone steps.
‘Shall I wait for you here?’ Strabo offered. ‘There ain’t much room up there. Unless you’d like me to take it up for you, my lady, and bring you word that Tuccia is safely with her grandparents? Or maybe they will come down?’
‘No, I’ll do it myself.’ Lydia glanced over her shoulders at the men stumbling from the wine shop. She readjusted her shawl. It was not a place to linger. ‘I have not come all this way to wait outside. I am not such a grand person that I cannot climb a few steps.’
After the first flight of wide stone steps, the stairs became steep, narrow and wooden. Lydia had to pause on the third-floor landing to allow a heavyset man and his wife to descend. Tuccia waited for her, eyes gleaming. ‘My grandmother will be pleased to see you. It is a great honour you are doing our family.’
The door swung open, revealing a grizzled man with arms swathed in bandages. ‘Tuccia! What are you doing here? You have not run away, child, have you?’
‘She received word this morning of your wife’s illness,’ Lydia said quickly. She was pleased she had decided to accompany Tuccia or otherwise she might have been sent back in disgrace.
‘This is Fabius Aro’s wife.’ Tuccia tugged at Lydia’s hand, propelling her forward.
The man’s face instantly changed, became less welcoming. ‘Does Fabius Aro know you are here?
‘In a manner of speaking, yes, he does.’ Lydia wished Aro was standing beside her. It would make everything much easier. As it was, she had to hope she was doing the correct thing.
‘Who is it, Rufus?’ a voice called from within.
‘Fabius Aro’s new wife. Come to visit.’ He nodded towards the room. ‘You had best come in. It wouldn’t do to have the boss’s wife standing out on the landing like a fishwife, now would it?’
The apartment was average size with a couch in one corner. Shabby but clean. On the table food was set out—a loaf of bread, several figs and a piece of hard cheese. Tuccia’s grandmother lay in the one bed with a cloth over her eyes. Tuccia rushed over to her, making soothing noises.
The woman reached out her hand when Lydia went over to meet her. ‘You and Fabius Aro have already been so good to Rufus and me and now you visit. See what he sent the other day—fish sauce. He remembered that Rufus is partial to the vile stuff.’
An amphora of fish sauce was propped up against the back wall, next to the tiny charcoal brazier. Lydia’s mouth went dry and she longed to examine it more closely, as the markings looked familiar. No wonder Publius had complained of his fish sauce’s non-arrival. It had never left Rome. Aro had known that day in her father’s study. He had to have, but when they were at the warehouse, he had let her think all was right and correct. Exactly how had he come by the garum? Had he bought it from Ofellius and was that why Sulpicia had said that everything had been taken care of?
‘Tell me, are you displeased with our Tuccia’s work?’ the grandmother asked.
‘Hush now, woman. You don’t demand things of Fabius Aro’s wife. She’s a grand lady.’ Rufus made an exaggerated bow, and indicated the one chair in the room.
Lydia ignored his sarcasm and answered the old lady’s question. ‘Tuccia has real skill in her fingers. I have never known my hair so easily tamed.’ Lydia held out the jar of ointment. ‘When I heard of your difficulty, I thought to bring you some of my salve. It works wonders for burns. My cook…that is, my father’s cook swears by it. It was my mother’s recipe.’
Rufus’s face broke into a wreath of smiles. ‘Now that is really kind of Aro. Never forgets those who are loyal to him. There were others who said otherwise, but I never thought any different.’
Lydia put the jar down on the tiny table. ‘Aro is a good man. He does the right thing by those in his employ.’
‘We thank you kindly for the ointment, my lady, ‘Rufus said. ‘I’m sure it will be of great use. Tuccia, it was good of you to call.’
‘I…that is…Fabius Aro wishes Tuccia to stay here and look after you both.’ A white lie, but a necessary one. Lydia felt positive that Aro would agree with her decision, once she informed him of it. From the way Rufus had struggled to open the door, and Tuccia’s grandmother’s attempts at raising her head off the sleeping couch, they needed someone. Unless they thought the order had come from Aro, Rufus was sure to insist Tuccia return with her. ‘Tuccia may return when you are both well. Fabius Aro told me so.’
The elderly lady had tears in her eyes. ‘May the gods bless you, my lady. I know this is your doing. See, Rufus, I told you it was the right thing to send word through our neighbour. Fabius Aro would never marry someone horrible, not like you said the Veratii were. He is too intelligent for that. You are an old fool.’
Rufus hung his head and shuffled his feet.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, my lady, I was afeared when I first heard Fabius Aro was marrying a Veratii. No good has ever come of them, says I. But he went ahead, and right glad I am that you have taken Tuccia under your wing. You’re a real lady. May the gods bless you and your marriage.’
Back on the street, Lydia looked for her guide, but he had vanished. She pinched the skin between her eyebrows, undecided. She took a half-step into the road and glanced at the wine shop where a large crowd of working men had gathered. Where was Strabo?
Rough hands caught her shoulders.
‘My, my, my, look at what we have found.’
Chapter Fourteen
T he house felt different the instant Aro entered it. He swiftly made his way to the tablinum, but the sole occupant was Korina. The dog lifted her nose from her paws and softly padded over to him, tail wagging. She gave him a questioning look.
‘Your mistress is not here?’ he asked, giving the dog a pat.
It annoyed him that Lydia had seen fit to leave the villa without sending word of her whereabouts. When he returned to the villa, Clodius the porter informed him that Lydia, Tuccia and Strabo had departed several hours ago, and none had come back. Clodius had neglected to enquire about their destination. He had had vague hopes Lydia had slipped in unnoticed.
Aro cursed under his breath.
He had come back early with the intention of spending the afternoon with her, and she had gone out. The seven days were nearly up and she had not turned to him as he had planned. The curse tablets kept arriving and the low-level disruption continued, taking him away from her more than he wished. The whispers had started that the augurs were wrong and the gods did not favour his marriage to Lydia.
He was left with no option as the water dripped away in the water-clock—he would have to seduce her. He would win their wager, and she would find it enjoyable. He could not risk her leaving him, tearing his heart out as she did. She had become more important to him than he had thought possible.
Why hadn’t she left a note?
‘I suspect she plans on coming back.’ Aro gave Korina another pat. ‘She would have hardly left you if she hadn’t.’
Korina gave a sharp bark in agreement and then settled at his feet, her head resting against his sandal.
Aro reviewed his options. Lydia had neatly boxed him in with her demure smiles and r
eady agreement to his plan. He could hardly go to her father’s house, seeking his missing wife. The scene was all too easy to imagine—Lydia coolly sipping her cup of mint tea, calmly rising to greet him, point proved. He’d give her another hour to return and then he’d send his men in search of her.
He thanked the gods that she had seen sense to take one of his men with her. Wherever she was, she would be safe. But when she returned, he would demand a full explanation. He would not be taken in by fluttering eyelashes or soft sighs. He needed to know why she had decided to ignore him and his advice.
Lydia fought against the rough hands that held her in place. She aimed a well-timed kick at her captor’s shin, followed by a knee. She heard the low groan and felt the hands loosen. She took a step backwards. Her sandal slipped slightly on the stone pavement. She started to run, but other hands grabbed her, holding her fast. Lydia tried struggling, but found it impossible to free herself.
‘Lydia Fabia, what a delight it is to see you! And looking so well too. Doesn’t she look well, boys? A real treat for the eyes.’
Lydia froze. She could hear the mockery in Ofellius’s high-pitched voice. The hands keeping her captive released her without warning and she stumbled forward, nearly falling to the ground. Before turning towards the voice, she took a deep breath and straightened her shawl.
Dignity, she thought. It was necessary to show Ofellius that she was not in the slightest bit afraid or perturbed by this rough treatment. She was above all things a Roman, and conducted herself with a certain amount of decorum. She only wished someone had remembered to tell her knees as they threatened to give way.
‘What exactly is going on here, Ofellius? Why do you seek to hold me captive?’
‘Captivity is a harsh word, my lady.’ His thin lips revealed his yellowed teeth. ‘I prefer protective custody.’
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