Sword of Rome

by Constance O'Banyon

  “Perhaps,” Cassius agreed. “But he is a senator of little import.”

  “True. But he might be able to bring others of his kind to our side.”

  Cassius frowned, dipping his hands into rose water and drying them on a clean linen cloth. “He is a strutting peacock. I consider it an embarrassment to even be seen in his company. Did you hear him ask me to introduce him to Caesar? The man has gall, if nothing else.”

  Cassius watched Lapidus’s eyes brighten with a cunning gleam. “If one needs a person to rut around in pig swill, one must seek a swine. I can assure you in this instance Quadatus will serve us well enough.”

  “How so?”

  “He is the stepfather of Tribune Marcellus Valerius, architect to Caesar and friend to Marc Antony.”

  “From what I’ve heard of the tribune, he cares little for his stepfather. And who can blame him—Marcellus has an impressive bloodline; Quadatus has no bloodline at all—at least, none he can claim.”

  “Marc Antony will always be loyal to Caesar. Brutus? He is not yet ripe to pluck. But we might persuade him later on if enough of the others join us.”

  Cassius frowned and took a sip of wine, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We must explore every avenue.”

  “If you want my opinion, I believe Quadatus will be loyal to whomever can profit him the most. If someone else stroked his ego, he would betray you without thought.”

  “And who would take his word against mine?”

  For all his assurances, Lapidus still had doubts. “I see your point. Perhaps you are right.”

  “We must proceed cautiously until the time is right.” Cassius smashed his fist into the palm of his hand. “Then we shall strike!”

  Queen Cleopatra stood on the terrace of Caesar’s villa overlooking the Tiber River. Although Caesar owned several homes, he’d told her this was his favorite. And it was large enough to accommodate her entourage. Not only that, it was conveniently located outside Rome, which was a filthy, overcrowded city.

  Gazing down at the wild, untamed Tiber River, she thought how different it was from the Nile, which was so important to Egyptians, whose entire existence depended on its life-giving bounty.

  Cleopatra heard a slight sound behind her and turned to smile when Caesar slid his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body.

  “I have imagined you standing here so many times. I am content with you in my world.”

  She dropped her head back against his shoulder, the golden beads entwined in her ebony hair clinking together. “You speak pretty words, but they will not heal the hurt I experienced last night.”

  “That was my fault.” He turned her to face him. “I should never have invited you to my house in Rome. I am sorry for the cutting remarks Calpurnia and Octavian made in your hearing. If I had intervened, it would only have made matters worse for you. You do understand that?”

  “Your wife and nephew buried their knives deeply in my heart. I thought I was going to a feast in my honor, when in fact, I was the main course.”

  This proud young queen made Caesar burn as if he was on fire. She had taken her place in his heart and he had little room for anyone but her. “I never thought you could be hurt by cruel words. Have I not seen you take on a chamber filled with your squabbling governors and reduce them all to quivering flesh?”

  “That was in my world—last night I was in yours.”

  “You brought out the protectiveness in me, and yet, I could do no more than accept their words—your hurt became mine. But you must understand Rome. Here, if you are not a true Roman, you are a barbarian. You can only be one or the other. Citizens of Rome are not allowed to marry barbarians.”

  Cleopatra gave him her most queenly stare.

  “It’s something I intend to change,” Caesar assured her.

  “You already have a wife.”

  “Before returning to Rome, I had not seen Calpurnia for seven years. While she is barren, you have already given me a son.”

  “I might not have accepted your invitation to come to Rome had I known your citizens would resent me. Perhaps they need to be reminded that it is my Egyptian grain that fills their soldiers’ bellies as they march off to war.”

  He sighed. “It is a debt incurred by your father that you must honor.”

  She would like to have asked if Romans knew the meaning of honor, but she wisely kept silent. Caesar was honorable, and he was the only Roman who mattered to her. Instead she would talk about what was really bothering her. “Marc Antony told me he fears trouble for you among some of the senators.”

  “He has said as much to me. He is like a clucking hen seeing plots around every corner.”

  “He is your loyal friend and wants to protect you.”

  Caesar lifted her face, watching her eyes as he asked, “What do you think of my watchdog?”

  “I think Antony is a handsome man, and he thinks so, too. He swaggers too much, and he drinks too much.”

  “Most women find him irresistible.”

  “I find him necessary to your safety—if he is as loyal as you claim he is, listen to his counsel.”

  Caesar dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You listen to his warnings. I have an appointment. I need to cool some of the hotheads in the Senate who debate me at every turn and hold on much too tightly to the purse strings.”

  Cleopatra wanted to hold on to him, but she could not. “Beware,” she warned.

  He smiled and turned away, his purple cape swirling out behind him. When his footsteps faded, she glanced back at the twisting river that meandered around a bend and disappeared in the distance.

  “Apollodorus.”

  The Sicilian came to her, bowing low, as if he had expected her summons. “Most gracious majesty.”

  Her golden sandals were noiseless as she paced the marble floors. “Has Lord Ramtat’s sister been comfortably settled in her chamber?”

  “I have been told she has.”

  From her vantage point Cleopatra watched Caesar’s departure. “I have not seen her since she was a child. I have heard she has grown into a beauty.”

  “She turns heads.”

  “Tell me everything you know about her.”

  He nodded. “She is brave and intelligent, but she does not always use good judgment.”

  Cleopatra listened as he related the incidents he had witnessed in the Bedouin camp, a slow smile growing on her face. “I believe I will want her to take instructions from my dancers. She could prove valuable to me, since she speaks Latin. We can put her in any great house, and she can report back to me.”

  “Lord Ramtat would not like his sister to be put in such a situation,” Apollodorus warned.

  “My brave General Ramtat has often risked his life for me. Why should I not expect his sister to do the same?”

  “As always, it will be as you say.”

  “Find Marc Antony at once and ask him to attend me. I need ears and eyes so I can protect Caesar.”

  The sun had already lightened the eastern sky by the time Marc Antony came to Cleopatra. He stood near the door, waiting to be announced. He had been fascinated by her since first he saw her, and had become even more so with each subsequent meeting. To him, her beauty rivaled the sun, and her wit and intelligence were superior to those of any woman he knew. To his chagrin, Cleopatra had never looked at him as a man—she saw only Caesar.

  “Antony,” she said, blessing him with her most gracious smile. “Thank you for coming so promptly.” She clapped her hands, and everyone scurried from the room with the exception of Apollodorus, who remained at her side.

  “You have only to command me and I shall obey.”

  She smiled once more, her green eyes gazing into the depths of his brown ones searchingly. She motioned him to a cushion and had Apollodorus pour wine for him.

  “I am told you are to be trusted. I am further informed that you are Caesar’s loyal friend.”

  “Until my death.”

  “Listen while I
tell you what I have in mind. Tell me if you think it is possible for me to put one of my spies among Caesar’s enemies.”

  He look startled for a moment and then bent his head, listening to her speak. When her plan was laid before him, he nodded. “And this young woman, Lord Ramtat’s sister, will she agree?”

  “From what I know of her, she is daring and rash—and more than that, she speaks several languages. She is exactly the kind of woman we need. And her loyalty to me is unquestionable.”

  “It could possibly work.”

  His voice had the ring of sincerity, and Cleopatra saw something in his eyes she did not understand—was it admiration or trickery? “We will need someone you trust to be our go-between.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I know just the man to help us in this endeavor.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “I have every reason to trust him. I believe he would die in Caesar’s service.”

  “Then tell him our plan as soon as possible.” Cleopatra’s heart was troubled as she stared at him. “I feel we are running out of time.”

  “Then we must strike quickly.”

  “Arrange it!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marc Antony felt a pang of doubt as he watched Marcellus approach across the mosaic floor. There were so many tangled webs in Rome, so many false friends—dare he trust this young architect? Aye, he must. There was no one else for this task. Caesar’s very life might depend on what was decided today.

  Marcellus forcefully slapped his clutched fist against his shoulder in a salute. “Hail, Antony.”

  Antony motioned him forward. “Be seated. We must talk.”

  Marcellus dropped down on a cushioned stool and curiously regarded the great man. “I came as quickly as I could. Your messenger said it was urgent.”

  Antony wasted no time on pleasantries. “If you will recall when I arranged for you to be Lady Adhaniá’s escort, I said you would owe me a favor.”

  Marcellus smiled. “Indeed, I do recall. Name what you will and it is yours.”

  “You indicated before that you don’t trust Senator Quadatus.”

  Marcellus was taken by surprise. “My stepfather? I trust him not at all. In fact, less than anyone I know.” He sat forward, frowning. “Why?”

  “I have been doing some investigating, following up on the message your mother gave you. I have reason to believe there is a growing plot against Caesar, and Senator Quadatus is somehow involved.”

  Marcellus thought for a moment as he digested that bit of information. “Alone, Quadatus is not powerful enough to reach Caesar—he would need the help of very powerful allies. I have heard he has, of late, become friendly with Cassius. If anything would make me suspicious of him, it would be such an odd pairing.”

  “Quadatus will be the weak link between Cassius and his conspirators, and if we concentrate on him, we might be able to break him.”

  Marcellus took a moment to look about, to make sure no one was near. “What do you suggest?”

  “If this is to work, you will have to make friends with your stepfather. Would that be a problem for you?”

  “I am willing to do anything you ask of me—but if I suddenly become friendly with him, he will be suspicious.”

  “We must contrive a way to draw him in without arousing his mistrust. Some days ago, Queen Cleopatra informed me she has a plan to protect Caesar. To put the plan in place, we need your help.”

  “You have only to tell me what you expect of me.”

  Antony stroked his chin. “This plan wobbles on the edge of a blade, and we could all be cut to bits if we fail.”

  Marcellus frowned. “Tell me the plan.”

  “Invite Senator Quadatus for an evening of entertainment,” Antony said. Knowing how Marcellus felt about Lady Adhaniá, he decided not to tell him about her part in the plan just yet. “I will be at your home the night you entertain the man. And so will a certain little dancing girl who is connected with the queen’s household—she speaks several languages, but Quadatus will not know this.”

  Marcellus searched the older man’s face. “Do you recall that I told you my stepfather asked me to invite him to my home on a night when you would be there?”

  “Aye. I do recall that.”

  “I thought it odd at the time. But if what you suspect is right, and he is spying for Cassius, I’m sure he will attend to further his own ambitions.”

  “I will leave it up to you to get him to your house.”

  Marcellus looked steadily at Antony. “You should know I detest the man, and I have reason to believe he might have had something to do with my father’s death.”

  Antony leaned back thoughtfully, not in the least shocked by Marcellus’s declaration—he had heard the same gossip himself. “All the more reason for you to bring him down. I believe if we can cast our net wide enough, we might catch a traitor or two.”

  Adhaniá had been with the queen’s household for three weeks, and in all that time, she had not seen Cleopatra. She had been given a luxurious apartment, and Cleopatra had sent her own handmaiden with her greetings and a message that she wanted Adhaniá to practice with her dancers daily—which was a puzzlement since it was dancing that had caused her trouble in the first place.

  In the cool of the evening Adhaniá walked in Caesar’s garden, feeling homesick. Other than dancing each day, she spent the rest of her time in boredom. She wished for the hundredth time she could go back and change the past. Since she had sent the wretched Makana back to Egypt, she had no one to attend her, and no one to talk to in her loneliness.

  If only she were allowed to visit with Heikki, she would have him to talk to—but that was impossible in the queen’s household. He had been posted as a guard outside her apartment, and there he must remain.

  Adhaniá heard soft footsteps on the pathway and turned to see one of the queen’s own handmaidens walking toward her. The queen only surrounded herself with beautiful people, and this handmaiden was no exception. Her skin was black as ebony, her eyes large and dark. Her hair fell to her hips, and she moved gracefully.

  “Lady Adhaniá, Queen Cleopatra has asked that you come to her at once. If you will follow me, I will take you to her.”

  Adhaniá nodded, her hurried footsteps matching the handmaiden’s. At last she would see the queen. Perhaps her majesty was angered that she’d come in place of Danaë. Hope grew in her heart—perhaps the queen wanted to send her back to Egypt.

  Caesar’s villa was very grand, with marble floors and walls. They passed through three fountain rooms before arriving at the queen’s private apartment.

  On entering the room, Adhaniá dropped to her knees and lowered her head, waiting to be noticed.

  “Come forward,” a sultry voice instructed her.

  Adhaniá stood but did not raise her gaze to the queen’s face. She decided she would guard every word she spoke so she would not shame her brother yet again.

  “The last time I saw you, Adhaniá, you were quite young. I knew then you would grow into a beautiful woman, and you have.”

  Adhaniá could feel her face redden—how did one respond to a compliment from the queen of Egypt? “Thank you, majesty.”

  “Your brother was one of my best generals before he met Danaë and decided to retire from my service so he could spend his days with her. Is it not so?”

  “I have heard that said, majesty.”

  “You must also know that you and I share a sister in Danaë.”

  “Yes, majesty.” She stared at the floor. “And I know that Danaë saved your life.”

  “You may raise your head,” Cleopatra said in amusement. “It is quite safe to look upon me.”

  Adhaniá was not prepared to see a small woman who was bedecked in yellow silk, with a simple golden crown on her dark head. She found it difficult to speak as she looked into amazing green eyes very much like Danaë’s.

  “You see something strange?” Cleopatra questioned.

  “It�
�s only … you look like Danaë.”

  “And so I should since we share the same father.” She patted the stool beside her. “Come and sit with me. Talk to me—I would have news of Egypt.”

  Adhaniá knew the queen must have carriers going daily between Egypt and Rome. She could not think why she wanted to talk to her. “What would you like to know?”

  “I am told you speak and write several languages. Which ones are those?”

  Adhaniá tried to speak, cleared her throat and tried again. “Egyptian, Latin, Greek and, of course, Badarian.”

  “How good is your Latin?”

  “I … am proficient.” She didn’t want to sound as if she was boasting, so she hurriedly explained, “I had a strict teacher who would rap my knuckles if I mispronounced a word.”

  Cleopatra leaned forward and examined the young girl carefully. “Tell me, Adhaniá, what would you be willing to do for your queen?”

  Adhaniá was taken completely by surprise. “I would consider it my duty to do whatever you asked of me.”

  “I will tell you what I want, and we shall see if you are still so willing to do your duty.”

  “I am your loyal subject,” she replied with sincerity.

  Cleopatra clasped Adhaniá’s chin, and the gold bracelets on her wrist jingled. “What I require of you may go against your mother’s teachings.” She smiled. “But I have heard you are a very daring young woman.”

  “The reason my brother sent me to Rome was to overcome my rash behavior. Ramtat is sorely displeased with me. But I would not have you displeased. Ask what you will of me and I will do it with a happy heart.”

  Cleopatra gazed at Apollodorus, who had just walked into the chamber. “You were right about her—she is delightful.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “ ’Tis a pity I must use your innocence, Adhaniá.”

  Adhaniá swallowed hard, afraid of what the queen might want of her. “Am I allowed to ask what service I am to perform for you, majesty?”

  Cleopatra’s eyes took on a shrewd look. “I would see how well you dance.”

  Adhaniá’s mouth flew open, and she stared at the queen. “I beg your pardon, majesty, but dancing is the very reason I was banished from Egypt.”