Sword of Rome

by Constance O'Banyon

  In the cool of the evening, Adhaniá stepped out into the garden, pausing to take in the sweet aroma that wafted through the air. She took the path that led toward an ornamental pool and stopped to sit on the edge, seeing fish dart among the blooming lily pads. Dipping her hand into the water, she watched the water ripple across the pond, thinking about Marcellus. She did not know how long she remained there lost in thought, but suddenly the reflection of a man shimmered in the water.

  As if her thinking about him had conjured him up, Marcellus had appeared.

  Turning to him, she noticed he wore a plain white toga that fell to his knees and sandals that laced up his muscled calves. Looking into his intense brown eyes caused color to creep up her cheeks. “I am glad to see you. I have been wanting to congratulate you on your promotion to master architect. You are very young to have reached such a high rank.”

  “ ’Tis no more than a title.”

  “An exalted one. I am told there is only one master architect in all of Rome, and you are he.”

  He noticed her hair fell down her back like an ebony waterfall. “I like your hair this way,” he said, sitting beside her.

  Suddenly unable to look into his penetrating brown eyes, she lowered her head to stare at her clasped hands. “You must know it was not my choice to be here. I feel as if I was forced on you. I doubt my queen gave you much say in the matter either.”

  Marcellus smiled. “I could have refused. Unlike you, I answer only to Rome. Queen Cleopatra fears for Caesar’s life, as do I. That’s the only reason I agreed to help her.”

  His gaze went back to her hair, and he noticed the way the sun reflected off the ebony color, making it appear blue-black. “In truth,” he said, dragging his gaze away from her, “I like having you in my home. Usually I come home to an empty house. Today, I knew you would be here.”

  “You have many slaves.”

  “Slaves, aye,” he said, his dark eyes filled with mirth. “But what would I say that would be of interest to them, and with what wisdom would they answer?” His gaze fell on her dainty hand resting next to his leg. “I hope you have been made comfortable.”

  “Your housekeeper has tended me very well.”

  He could not resist taking her hand in his. Even though he spent most of his time under the sun, her skin was still darker than his, a honey-gold color. She did not pull her hand away when he measured it against his. “So small … and, yet, you may now hold the weight of Rome in your grasp.”

  “I beg you not to put too much importance on my capabilities—it frightens me,” she admitted, and when he released her hand, she was sorry she had spoken of her fear. “It’s just that … I do not know what I can do to help my queen.”

  “How could you know?” There was an angry edge to his voice. “You have been drawn into an intrigue you cannot possibly understand.”

  “Is not one obligated to obey one’s sovereign?”

  “What would your brother say if he knew about the position in which you find yourself? I have no sister, but if I did, I would not want her involved in such a dangerous venture.”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I believe Ramtat would be angry. But as he served the queen in many dangerous conflicts, so must I.”

  “You have been asked to sacrifice yourself for Caesar—not your queen.”

  “Caesar is a friend to my brother, but more than that, he is the father of our future king, the queen’s child, Ptolemy Caesarion. It will be an honor if I can aid him in any way. But what am I to do?”

  “None of us is sure of what we do. But make no mistake, there are those who would do Caesar harm if they got the chance.”

  “Your own stepfather.”

  “Aye. Him most of all. But he has not the power, or the courage, of Cassius and Lapidus, who are the greatest threats.”

  “I have a limited knowledge of Roman politics, so I do not understand why they would want to kill a man who has done so much for their country.”

  “There are those who are ambitious … jealous. Caesar did not get where he is without making enemies along the way.”

  She leaned forward so that her hair swirled across her face, and he reached out to brush it aside. His hand drifted through strands that rippled through his fingers. “You look so young in this simple white shift and with nothing lining your eyes.” He drew his hand back. “I can hardly believe you are real and not a fantasy I conjured up in my dreams.”

  She frowned. “No man has ever said the things to me that you say. Is it the Roman way to compliment a woman you hardly know?”

  He laughed so hard, he couldn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t believe it is solely a Roman trait, but rather that of any male overcome by the beauty of a woman such as yourself.” His voice deepened. “Has no man told you how beautiful you are?”

  “They would not dare for fear of my brother.” She shook her head. “I lived a very different life at the Bedouin camp—no man would think to pay me such a compliment. And you should not either. My brother would not approve.”

  Marcellus hid his grin. “I beg your pardon. My heart ran away with my head. It was unwise for me to speak so.”

  She met his gaze, and her lips curved into a smile. She shook her head, sending her hair spilling across her shoulders. “May we speak of other matters?”

  He moved away from her. “Of course. Tell me, are all the women in Egypt as well educated as you?”

  “I know not. But I can tell you that my brother believes that a woman must reach her potential, whatever that might be. I found it easy to absorb other languages. Sometimes I find myself thinking in Greek. Since arriving in Rome, I often find myself thinking in Latin.”

  He arched his brow. “And what else did you find easy to learn?”

  “You will think me vain if I tell you.”

  Dusk was falling, and the servants had just lit the torches in the garden. The flickering light fell on her face, and Marcellus felt a catch in his throat. “I promise I will not.”

  “I am well versed in mathematics, science and philosophy. My aunt taught me the healing herbs, and I like that subject very well. I have some skill with the sword and the bow, and my horsemanship is adequate.”

  He laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “No, you’re not vain. Your horsemanship is more than just adequate, as is your skill with the bow. You did win the Golden Arrow. I believe if I had been your brother, I would have awarded it to you.”

  She ducked her head. “I brought shame upon Ramtat that day. If I could relive the past, I would not be here.”

  “And that would be a pity, else I might never have seen you again. I am glad you came to Rome.”

  Marcellus knelt in front of her and tilted her face. “You are the most extraordinary woman I have ever known. Yet you are so young.”

  As their eyes met, Adhaniá had to stop herself from leaning toward him. She savored the touch of his fingers against her skin. “This last year I became old enough to be considered a woman,” she informed him.

  His mouth moved closer to hers. “A very desirable woman.” His head dipped, and as his mouth slowly brushed against hers, he heard her gasp.

  Adhaniá’s lips trembled and then parted beneath his. Of their own accord, her arms slid around his shoulders.

  Marcellus had not meant for this to happen—she was under his protection—it was wrong. But he could not stop kissing her; her lips were so soft, and he was intoxicated by her nearness. He gripped her shoulders and brought her closer, crushing her breasts against him. He hungered, he trembled, but when his body swelled with need, he released her.

  Standing, he quickly stepped away from her. “I ask your forgiveness. I am your host, not your ravisher.”

  She was trembling and turned from him to dip her fingers in the water while she studied his reflection behind her. “It will not happen again.”

  “Certainly not.” He gave her a quick bow. “I will wish you a good evening, Lady Adhaniá.”

  Adh
aniá watched him move away, wishing he would stay. There was something between them she did not understand, but it was strong and powerful. She remained at the pool until encroaching shadows crept across the garden. She marveled at how such a simple thing like the touching of lips could make her heart beat so fast.

  Aching with an unfamiliar feeling, she abandoned the garden and sought her bedchamber.

  The soft bed soothed her, and she found comfort just knowing Heikki was outside her door. Otherwise she might have given in to her urge to seek out Marcellus and beg him to press his mouth against hers once more.

  It seemed the banishment from her homeland had done nothing to curb her wild spirit.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Adhaniá had been residing in Marcellus’s home for five days, and so far she had not been asked to dance. Still she practiced each morning so she would be ready when the time came. In the afternoons she often walked in the garden in the hope that Marcellus would come to her there—but he did not.

  On the sixth day, Adhaniá felt as if she was living on the edge of a volcano, waiting for something to happen. She paced the floor in boredom and then made a decision: She would go into the city and visit some of the shops. When she approached Heikki with her request, he was against it at first, but she finally convinced him when she promised to stay at his side and keep her face covered at all times.

  The streets were crowded with humanity, and sometimes Heikki had to push people aside to make room for Adhaniá to walk. She stepped carefully across a broken stone in the street, noticing that many bricks were worn from years of passing feet.

  She stopped at a shop and bought several ribbons in colors she’d never before seen. She bought a delicately woven shawl for her mother and a carved wooden horse for her nephew, Julian. She and Heikki ate a honey cake and sipped a cup of delicious nectar.

  For the moment she had forgotten about her troubles and was actually enjoying herself. Heikki was more like the friend she had grown up with, and she had decided to forgive him all. It was midafternoon; the heat and the smell of unwashed bodies was overpowering.

  “I am ready to leave,” she told Heikki.

  They were making their way across the Forum when a young boy ran up to Adhaniá, his grimy face streaked with tears, his small hands clutching at her robe.

  “Please, mistress, help me! They will take me to the slave market if they catch me.”

  Adhaniá gazed across the street, where two Roman guards were dashing in and out of small shops, searching the face of every child they met. Without hesitation, she shoved the youngster behind her and gave Heikki a look that dared him to object. She felt the child trembling against her, and her heart went out to the frightened boy.

  Without thinking, she spoke to the child in Latin. “Do not move,” she warned him. “They are farther down the street, but remain hidden until they have gone around the corner.”

  As soon as the guards were out of sight, Adhaniá turned to the boy and went down on her knees. “Why were they after you?”

  He lowered his tear-streaked face. “I was hungry. I took only a small loaf of bread.”

  His clothing was in tatters, and it was difficult to tell the color of his hair, which hung down his back in tangles. Hunger had ravaged his poor body: The skin was stretched tightly across his small face, and his eyes were bright sapphire blue. “Do you live nearby?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I live in the catacombs. I sneak into the caves at night because the older ones will send me back to the streets if they catch me.” He took a step away from her. “I’ll just be going now.”

  “Wait!” She reached out to him and drew him closer, attempting to wipe some of the grime from his face with her silken scarf. “You are to come with me. A child as young as you should not have to live in a cave and steal bread to eat.”

  Heikki looked on disapprovingly. “He can’t come with us.”

  “I thank you, mistress, but no,” the child said with feeling. “I’d rather live out my life in the catacombs than become a slave.”

  She smiled. “You would not be a slave. Perhaps I need a friend. I am a stranger in your city and yearn for someone to talk to.”

  He smiled, showing a missing tooth. “Excuse me, mistress, if I don’t believe you—you’re too pretty to be lonely.”

  “And you speak pretty words for a street urchin.”

  Heikki shook his head. “You can’t trust these beggars—they will steal from you the first chance they get and disappear before you can catch them.”

  The child moved around Adhaniá and kicked Heikki in the knee, then dodged back behind her. “I would never take from a friend. And I am not a thief.”

  Heikki reached for him, but the child dodged his grasp. “You took a loaf of bread, little thief.”

  “Enough,” Adhaniá said, holding up her hand. “We have to leave this place at once or the guards may return, searching for this child.” She looked into the boy’s shimmering blue eyes. “I leave it to you—decide if you come with me or go on your way.”

  He hesitated, undecided, and then nodded. “I guess I could go with you. I have nothing else to do today. But if I don’t like it with you, or if you try to put a slave collar on me, I’ll not stay.”

  Adhaniá took the grimy little hand in hers. “No one is going to put a slave collar on you.” She gazed into eyes that had seen too much and looked years wiser than they should at his young age. She saw mistrust, and she saw hope. “Let us leave this place at once.”

  With Heikki looking on in disfavor and grumbling under his breath, the three of them hurried down the street.

  When they reached the litter, Adhaniá pushed the child inside. When she was settled beside him, she inquired, “Can I trust you?”

  “You can trust me until my debt to you is paid. Until then, I am yours to command, beautiful lady. After that, I make no promises.”

  The litter was lifted, and the bearers started off at a steady pace, with Heikki moving beside them. Adhaniá tried not to react to the stench that clung to the small child. “This is my promise to you: No one will hurt you, and you will never again have to scavenge for food.”

  The child looked doubtful but said nothing.

  When they arrived at the villa, Heikki helped Adhaniá out of the litter while the boy dodged out the other side.

  Before Adhaniá could decide what to do with the child, she saw Marcellus stalking toward her, his red cape fanning out behind him and his sandal boots crunching on the rock walkway.

  “Heikki,” Adhaniá said quickly, seeing Marcellus’s angry expression, “take the boy to my chamber, see that he is bathed and have Layla find something suitable for him to wear.”

  Heikki, his arms loaded with her purchases, grumbled as he herded the urchin away. With dread in her heart, Adhaniá turned to Marcellus, whose dark eyes were narrowed with displeasure.

  Before she could speak, he gripped her arm. “Where have you been?”

  “I—”

  “Who was that child?”

  She resented his dictatorial tone. “I do not have to account to you for my actions, and the child is my … friend.”

  “I know exactly what happened—the little thief approached you with a tale of woe and drew you in. You should know there are hundreds of abandoned children on the streets of Rome. Their way of surviving is to steal what they can. Don’t think kindness will change him.”

  “I trust this boy.” She tilted her chin upward. “And no matter what you say, he stays with me.”

  “As you wish—you have been warned. You will find, much to your sorrow, that I am right about him.”

  She started to walk away, but he stepped in front of her. “When I came home and found you gone, and no one knew where you were, I thought someone—I feared—”

  “Did you suspect I had run away?” She stepped around him with the intention of going to her chambers.

  “No. I didn’t think you had left of your own accord. But no matter,” he
said softly. “You have correspondence from Egypt. Apollodorus delivered it in person—he was displeased to find you were not here, and I could not tell him where you were. I must send word to him at once that you are safely home or the queen’s guards will be swarming throughout Rome in search of you.”

  She halted in midstride. Once again she had caused a disturbance because of her actions. “I am sorry to have caused you trouble.”

  “I was concerned,” he admitted.

  “Is the message from my brother?”

  “It bears Lord Ramtat’s seal.”

  She took the parchment from him and moved to a bench beneath a shade tree. Breaking the seal, she began to read:

  Dearest sister, we miss your laughter and your brightness in our lives. It seems so long ago that you left us. Be assured our mother is well. A mere two weeks after you left, we took up residence in Alexandria to await the birth of our child. I know you will share our joy when the baby is born. Take the best care of yourself, and I hope to bring you home soon.

  She glanced up at Marcellus, who seemed to be waiting patiently for her to finish reading. “Ramtat says he hopes to bring me home soon.”

  “That must please you.”

  She glanced back at the message:

  You will remember we discussed the matter of your marriage before you left. I have been giving it much thought, and I have someone in mind for you. He is a highborn gentleman and a mere five years older than yourself. You will remember Lord Tayman’s son, Barasat. There are still details to work out, and I have not yet approached him with the offer. We will speak of this when you return home. Your loving brother, Ramtat

  Adhaniá raised her head, her eyes swimming with tears.

  Marcellus took a step toward her. “Is something amiss?”

  She stood and paced down the path and back again. “The worst! When will my brother stop punishing me? Have I not done enough penance for my crime?”

  “Can I help in any way?”

  “Not unless you can convince my brother that I do not want to marry someone he has chosen for me.” Angrily, she brushed her tears away, furious with herself for allowing Marcellus to see her cry. “It is of little matter at the moment. I do not even remember the man he speaks of. How can I wed a stranger?”