Sword of Rome

by Constance O'Banyon

  Cleopatra’s voice hardened. “But now you are in Rome, under my care. I desire you to dance and serve Egypt.” Her voice softened. “Have I not instructed you to practice with my dancers?”

  “Aye, majesty.”

  “I am told you do quite well, and I have need of your skills.”

  “I will do whatever you command.”

  “Then you shall dance.”

  Adhaniá now spent most of her days practicing new dances under the watchful eyes of Cleopatra’s own dancers. The twelve women were the best Egypt had to offer, and their movements were like poetry, any one of them beautiful enough to draw and hold a man’s attention.

  After a few days of training, Adhaniá was asked by the head dancer to show the others some of the Bedouin dances. After Adhaniá had finished a traditional dance with many hip movements, the other dancers were delighted. But when she performed the Dance of Flames, they swarmed around her, begging to be taught the steps.

  One morning when Adhaniá was practicing, her body aching from the rigorous movements, the doors were thrown open and Queen Cleopatra herself entered the chamber. Adhaniá immediately fell to her knees, along with the other dancers, and she waited for Cleopatra to speak.

  “Adhaniá,” the queen stated, touching her bowed head. “You may stand.”

  Adhaniá rose but kept her head lowered.

  “Look at me.”

  She raised her head. “Most gracious majesty?”

  “I am told you possess a unique talent. I will see you dance with the flaming torch.”

  Adhaniá nervously licked her lips. “Yes, majesty.”

  She feared she might miss a step or drop the torch. But to her relief she performed the intricate dance faultlessly, twirling the fiery torch, tossing it over her head and deftly catching it. When the dance ended, she looked at the queen, fearing she might be displeased.

  “Leave us,” Cleopatra said to the others, and she waited until everyone had scurried out of the room. “Come closer and sit on the stool near me. We will talk.”

  Adhaniá quickly complied. It was difficult to be in the presence of such greatness and not tremble. She clutched her hands in her lap and met the queen’s eyes.

  “Your dance is exciting and unusual, and one I would think no Roman has ever witnessed. Perhaps your steps are not as skilled as those of my dancers, but if you were in a room dancing with them, all eyes would eventually turn to you. You are beautiful … you do know that, do you not?”

  “I have never given the matter much thought, majesty.”

  Cleopatra took Adhaniá’s chin and raised her face. “You have the kind of beauty that will draw men’s lust.”

  Adhaniá’s mouth flew open in horror. “I promise you, majesty, I would never do such a thing!”

  “Not even if I asked it of you?”

  She quickly dropped her head in fear. “I … I will always obey you.”

  “Aye. I believe you will. You will wear more clothing than my dancers so you need not worry about modesty.” She smiled thoughtfully. “I am ready to place you where you can be my ears and eyes. There are those who plot against Caesar, and I must know their plans.”

  Adhaniá was stunned and could think of no answer. “I will serve you faithfully,” she said at last.

  “I have a warning for you, and you must take it to heart. No one is to know that you understand Latin or any other language except the Bedouin tongue. That way you can use your ears in my service.”

  “Yes, majesty.”

  “I am sending you to the villa of Tribune Marcellus Valerius. I do not know how long you will remain there, but hear this: He will have my instructions, and you will do as he says, as long as it is in my service. There may be those who will attempt to trick you and find out what you know—do not let them! Can you do this for me?”

  Adhaniá attempted to hide how deeply the queen’s words had affected her. She nervously moistened her lips as happiness burst through her. To see the tribune again had been her fervent hope. “I must confess to you, majesty, Tribune Valerius knows I speak Latin. He was at the Bedouin encampment with Apollodorus. And he was on the ship with me as far as Alexandria. He also escorted me to this villa.”

  “I am aware of this. Apollodorus has assured me that the Roman tribune will have a care for your safety. I am bestowing upon you as a gift, for your loyalty to me, a handmaiden. Layla has been trained by my personal handmaidens, and she will serve you well.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.”

  “You must do whatever is necessary to overhear the conversations of the guests at Tribune Valerius’s villa. You will be told the names of the ones we suspect, but there may be others.”

  Adhaniá could do no more than nod.

  “Even now my sewing women are making your costumes. You shall leave in two days’ time.”

  “I shall be ready.”

  The queen smiled. “I regret that I must use you in this way. But Caesar’s life may well depend on what you learn. I will protect him, no matter the cost.”

  With a swish of silk, Cleopatra departed, leaving Adhaniá stunned. For a long moment she pondered their conversation, trying to make sense of it. She did not quite comprehend how she could be of help to the queen by dancing.

  But the thought of seeing Marcellus again sent her heart pounding.

  Then she thought of Ramtat. He would certainly not approve of what the queen required of her. But had he not commanded her to obey the queen in all things? And so she would.

  It was but a short time later, as Adhaniá was walking in the garden, staring at the river, that the handmaiden Cleopatra had given her arrived. Heikki was standing guard nearby.

  Adhaniá thought Layla had the gentlest eyes she’d ever seen. She was not Egyptian; her hair was coppery red and her eyes a soft gray. She was shorter than Adhaniá, and over her light-colored skin she had a scattering of freckles across her nose. She was a lovely young woman and could not be much older than Adhaniá.

  Layla bowed deeply. “It is my pleasure to serve you, mistress.”

  Adhaniá smiled. “Rise, Layla, and tell me about yourself.”

  Layla stood with her hands demurely clasped before her. “I have no memory of ever living anywhere but in the palace in Alexandria, where my mother was a kitchen slave. I aided her there when I was younger. Two years ago, I came to the attention of the queen’s steward and was placed under the care of the queen’s handmaidens. They trained me daily, but I have served no one until now.”

  “Do you speak any languages other than Egyptian?”

  “I was trained in Latin, mistress, as are all handmaidens since the time Caesar came to Alexandria.”

  Adhaniá thought of the unsuitable Makana, who had made her life miserable until she was sent back to Egypt. “I welcome you, Layla. I need a friend as well as someone who can dress my hair and see that I am properly attired.”

  Layla smiled shyly. “I am happy to serve you, mistress.”

  Heikki stared at the young woman in awe: The sun slanted into the garden and fell upon her hair, streaking it with fire. He wished he could touch the glowing strands and look closer at her face. For the first time in Heikki’s life, he found a female other than Adhaniá wondrous to look upon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marcellus had been awakened in the early morning hours when a messenger from Caesar summoned him to the dictator’s home in Rome. For over an hour he’d been pacing impatiently in the long chamber, awaiting Caesar’s pleasure. General Rufio, head of Caesar’s Sixth Legion, appeared at the door and bade Marcellus to follow him. On entering the chamber where Caesar was seated at a desk, Rufio took a stance behind him.

  Caesar kept Marcellus waiting while he examined the scroll in front of him. At last he shoved it aside and nodded for Marcellus to be seated. Caesar studied the tribune for a long moment before he spoke. “I am pleased with the work you have done on my aqueduct. It would seem you’ve inherited your father’s talent.”

  “I thank you, Ca
esar. But, in truth, I do not have half his gift.”

  “Antony thinks you do. He chose you to work on the aqueduct while I was out of the country—as you may know, I empowered him to speak with my voice, and I heartily approve of his choice.”

  “I am humbled by your praise,” Marcellus said, in truth feeling uncomfortable with the great man’s compliment.

  Caesar thumbed through the parchment before him. “I have here your report on the project, and on the temple you built in Argines. Your work on the aqueduct was finished two months early and saved me coinage, and I have never seen a more beautiful temple outside of Egypt. How do you account for that?”

  “Much of the credit for the aqueduct goes to a former Greek slave, Damianon, who carried out my instructions without fault.”

  “Aye, aye, I see it all here in the report. But it was you who found the graft, and you who recognized merit in the Greek and empowered him to work on your projects. Those are the qualities I look for in a true leader. I commend you on a job well done. But let us speak of the temple—that was your work and your design, was it not?”

  Marcellus bowed his head. “The temple was my design. But I must insist on sharing your praise for the aqueduct with Damianon.”

  “Duly noted.” Caesar rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “I knew your father well; he was an honorable man.”

  “I have always been proud to be his son.”

  Caesar watched Marcellus closely as he said, “The same cannot be said of your stepfather.”

  Marcellus thought carefully before answering. They lived in dangerous times—one carelessly spoken remark could have far-reaching and disastrous consequences. He was not sure if the dictator was testing his loyalty, but Marcellus decided to sidestep the issue. “Some would say that’s the way of it.”

  “And you,” Caesar pressed, “what would you say?”

  “I would say my mother plainly finds something in the man to admire.”

  “You tell us nothing,” General Rufio stated sourly.

  Caesar smiled broadly and stood, preparing to leave. “Oh, I think he has told me what I wanted to know. I know exactly where Marcellus Valerius stands with regard to Senator Quadatus.” He paused in the arched doorway and turned his hawkish gaze on Marcellus. “I am sorry, you will no longer be known as architect Tribune Valerius.”

  Marcellus was confused. He frowned, coming to his feet. “Have I displeased you in some way, Caesar?”

  “The opposite is true. Marc Antony sings your praises, and I have seen for myself that you are a credit to your father’s house. Henceforth, you shall bear the title of Master Architect of Rome.”

  In stunned silence, Marcellus stared after Caesar as the dictator walked away with his hands clasped behind him.

  General Rufio clapped Marcellus on the back. “Congratulations! You have just become a member of an elite group—one of Caesar’s trusted circle. I hope you stand ready to serve him well.”

  Marcellus frowned. “I am, and have always been, Caesar’s man.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adhaniá was approached by the queen’s head handmaiden. “Your costumes have been packed and sent on ahead to Tribune Valerius’s villa. The litter awaits you.”

  Adhaniá felt her stomach tighten with fear. “Are there any last-minute instructions?” She had hoped the queen would change her mind and forsake the daring plan.

  “Her majesty says only that she has put her faith in you, and she hopes it has not been misplaced.”

  Hardly comforting words, Adhaniá thought as she gathered her courage. “Tell her majesty I shall not disappoint her.”

  Heikki stood stiffly beside one of the two litters that would transport the dancers. When Adhaniá appeared with her handmaiden, he helped them into the litter and motioned the queen’s bearers forward. When he had touched Layla’s hand, he felt his heart skip a beat. Confusion registered in his mind; he was unsure what was happening to him.

  * * *

  Adhaniá felt numb. She turned to stare out through the thin curtains, hoping she would not fail the queen. Her mother would be scandalized if she knew Adhaniá was to dance for men with the hope of prying secrets from them. But scandal and Adhaniá were becoming close friends. She was committed to Cleopatra, and she would do what she was told.

  When they reached the river, the litter was carried aboard a barge that would ferry them across the Tiber. There were many people onboard, so she and the other dancers remained in their litters.

  On the other side, the bearers moved at a good pace through the streets of Rome. She had been curious about the city that held sway over most of the world. At first all she saw were a few huts and hovels where foul odors dominated the air. She covered her nose, noticing the raw sewage puddled in the street. But when they reached stone roadways, the stench lessened and the streets were wider.

  Adhaniá noticed there were no great avenues or boulevards like the ones in Alexandria. Rome’s streets were narrow and twisting and seemed to meander with little sense of purpose.

  Her Alexandria had been planned and laid out by the Great Alexander himself—there seemed to have been no plan to the construction of Rome. The buildings were close together, and it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began, especially since they had all been made of the same material. She was surprised to see no carts or wheeled conveyances, so she pulled the curtain aside and spoke to Heikki.

  “Do you know why there are only people on horseback and in litters?”

  “Aye. I was told that wheeled transports are banned during the daylight hours because their noise is too great and the streets are not wide enough to accommodate them.”

  “But surely they must have need of wagons and carts, if only to haul produce and goods to the marketplaces.”

  “The transports come at night. I am told the noise often keeps people who live near the marketplaces awake.”

  She dropped the curtain back into place and leaned against the soft cushions. The Romans might have conquered most of their neighbors, and even countries across the great sea, but it seemed to Adhaniá that they had neglected their own cities, if Rome was any indication.

  She could now see some fine columns and tall buildings in the distance, but they still could not compare with Alexandria. That great city was built of marble, while Rome was mostly brick and mortar.

  When they reached what Heikki informed her was the Forum Trajan, she was more impressed. There were clusters of shops and well-appointed homes. From the huge columned temples located on the square, it was obvious that the Romans had copied Greek architecture. One tall statue seemed to stare across the forum, while smaller ones were clustered along the roadways.

  “It seems,” she said to Heikki, “Rome has taken the best of those they conquered and made it their own.”

  “I have heard that said.” He laughed. “But you will never get a Roman to admit it.”

  “I do know Caesar takes credit for his new calendar when, in truth, he borrowed most of it from an Egyptian mathematician, Sosigenes. I believe Caesar calls the calendar the Julian year, after his own house.”

  Heikki was happy Adhaniá was no longer angry with him, and he was pleased to tell her what he had learned about Rome. “We are entering what is known as the patrician part of the city, where the wealthy estates are located. We will soon be nearing Tribune Valerius’s villa.”

  Shortly thereafter, they passed beneath an ornate arched gateway with walls that enclosed the huge estate. There were tall trees and the aroma of many varieties of flowers. She could hear the musical sound of fountains splashing in the distance. The two wide, arched doors opened and three servants rushed forward to greet Adhaniá and the other dancers.

  Dusk had fallen, layering the land in different shades of gold. In the shadows the color was muted, while the treetops were splashed with red and appeared to be on fire. The huge villa itself shimmered as if it were sprinkled with crushed gold.

  Heikki offered his hand to Adhani�
� and helped her stand. She was relieved Marcellus was not there to greet her because she would have been embarrassed to face him. It was cooler when she stepped into the atrium. The floors were cream and yellow mosaic, and the room was wide and spacious, with trees and flowers growing around an ornamental pool. The walls had wondrous mosaics portraying the Great Alexander and his victory at Issus. Although Alexander had been Greek, Adhaniá had always thought of him as an Egyptian hero. Was not his well-preserved body displayed in Alexandria for all to see?

  Adhaniá was impressed with Marcellus’s villa. It was the home of an architect, tastefully decorated, and subtly displaying its owner’s wealth. An unexpected thrill went through her at the thought of being so near him.

  She blushed, reminding herself that he would again see her dance. What would he think of her now?

  The housekeeper spoke to the dancers, but Adhaniá shook her head, pretending not to understand anything she said. Already her deceit was put into play.

  “I am sorry,” Heikki said in his halting Latin, “the dancers do not understand your language. You may speak to them through me.” So saying, Heikki turned to Adhaniá and pretended to relate the message to her. What he really said was a warning that Adhaniá must keep up her pretense even in front of the servants.

  Adhaniá smiled and nodded.

  Soon she would have to face the master of this house, and she longed for, and feared, that moment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The litter that carried Quadatus passed quickly down the nighttime streets, the torchbearers running to stay even, their flames casting flickering shadows along the roadway. Quadatus straightened his fine white toga and stared down at the golden rings he wore on three of his fingers.

  He smiled smugly.

  He had won!

  For whatever reason, his stepson had changed his mind, and he had received the coveted invitation to dine at Marcellus’s home. Quadatus had heard murmurings in the Senate earlier that Marc Antony himself would be present at the affair. If Quadatus played it smart, he might well advance his career. He would flatter Antony … play up to him. He had not felt this good in a very long time.