“Have you been in the Senate long, sir?”
“Before you were born.” The man leaned more heavily on the boy and coughed into his toga.
“Ever been to Germania?”
“Been to? It was the men of my day who conquered Germania.”
The senator likely exaggerated since that campaign had been waged eight decades ago. “What were those days like?” Ness swatted a fly away. Maybe he’d offer to introduce her to the governor.
The senator startled, flinging himself forward. The slave boy jumped to catch him. “Germania, yes. I must march. I must march to Germania.”
Ness glanced at the boy. He mouthed a wordless apology. She sighed. With a kind word for the ailing man, she moved on.
Aquilus stood at the edge of a group of men where he had a full view of the dais that the Emperor would soon walk onto. Guests in the finest linen and silk moved through the great hall, bringing noise, wine, and decadence to the furthest reaches of the imperial grounds.
He should be engaging with the men gathered here, judging the political mood and forming alliances, but instead, he stared at Ness. She flitted effortlessly into a knot of quaestors, exchanged a few smiles, and then slipped into a group of senators’ wives.
Eyes wide, he shook his head. She was a wild Celtic woman one moment, and suddenly she knew how to flatter one person’s vanity and manipulate another’s pride the next?
When he had claimed her promise of political help, he merely wished to deter her from infuriating all of Rome. He had no idea she’d actually play politics, let alone play so well. Where had she hidden that side of herself these last three years since they married?
He moved his gaze from Ness’ hair, bound in a blue sash, to the draped neck of her stola, down to the gold belt that seemed a dull shade compared to her hair. She acted the Roman matron from head to foot, yet she attracted attention in this crowd. She stood taller, her skin like the white mountain snows rather than the swarthy earth, her bearing possessing a freedom so unlike the cautious constraint of other women.
Guests pushed past Aquilus to the left and right, elbowing for a place near the dais, but he continued to stare. He still couldn’t believe she’d been vindictive enough to want to ruin his Germanian trade alliance, or clever enough to succeed.
His Germanian plan now lay in ruins. All the great names of Rome, a list that most likely included Cassius now, hated him. Aquilus sighed.
Where Aurelius had reshaped a province, he had failed. Then again, Aurelius never had a wife like Ness.
How could she act so selfishly? See only her desire and not consider the Germanian people or the Empire or him? Well, he’d come to expect that latter disregard. Ness moved across the tiles. Aquilus grimaced. Tonight, though, Ness looked too precious to hate.
He caught the contrast of blue cloth against sculpted shoulders. Britannia was a majestically lovely land of crashing waterfalls, stately oaks, and aromatic mountain flowers. Ness swept all that beauty into her person.
His anger, his hate would mar that image, like a ruffian who slaps a muddy handprint on flawless marble that a sculptor has spent countless hours crafting. Ness was no sculpture, but an immortal life sculpted by a much higher Hand.
Curving around a table, Ness spoke to an older man wearing the purple-edged tunic of a senator. She said something that made him laugh, and then she wore her query face.
The senator broke into a paternal smile, neglecting to see that Ness used him. Or perhaps the man found being manipulated by her too pleasant to mind.
Aquilus groaned. He couldn’t judge the senator. If that’s what Ness’ manipulation looked like, he wished she’d try it on him. It’d be significantly more pleasant than her angry rages anyway. He ran his gaze down her.
“Aquilus,” a jovial voice said.
He startled as Cassius hailed him with a slap on the back. “How goes it almost adoptive parent?”
Cassius remained on speaking terms with him? Aquilus opened his mouth to make another apology.
“No need, no need,” Cassius said, his tongue obviously loosed by wine. “My wife is quite struck with the Linthicus boy. Says she didn’t want yours anyway, some nonsense about Celts and blue war marks. I sign the papers tomorrow. You’re talking to a father in the making.”
A herald on the dais blew his horn. “The governor of Germania, Lucius Saturninus, friend of the Emperor.” Applause swelled through the room.
With a swagger, Lucius moved onto the stage. His armor contrasted with the other men’s togas and tunics. One hand carelessly set on his sword, he took the stage. “Countrymen, the pleasure in coming here today is mine.”
Cassius groaned and turned away from the dais. “I’ve been trying to get that man’s support for years.”
A merchant of equestrian blood, who had risen to influence under Domitian’s reign, jostled Cassius from the other side.
“Quick, lock your womenfolk away,” the merchant said and guffawed.
“What?” Cassius moved his eyebrows up with interest.
Lucius continued, but even his martial voice sounded faint in this mansion. “The province in Germania does us all proud.”
Behind Lucius, a magnificent tapestry of Mars stretched several buildings’ length. “Best two legions in the Empire are stationed there. If you have fighting to be done, we’re your men.”
If only the man displayed that much enthusiasm for trade. Aquilus shifted his feet.
“Did you hear about Senator Gaius’ wife? The young one, I mean. He divorced the first.” The merchant leaned toward Cassius with the air of one who enjoys the shortcomings of a higher class.
An older man, who had recently lost his Senate seat, joined the knot. “Gaius’ wife had an affair with Lucius?”
The merchant nodded smugly. “Right under Gaius’ nose, no less.”
Cassius choked up his last swig of wine. “He didn’t know?”
“Oh, he knew,” the merchant said, “but nothing he could do about it. She used to go home with Lucius after dinner parties, not turn up again until the third hour.”
“I’d have sent that woman packing without one scrap of dowry,” the ex-senator growled and muttered something about back when he was in the Senate.
“And risk imperial ire? Lucius has the ear of the Emperor.” The merchant stressed the ‘imperial’ as if to remind them that he too claimed friendship with Emperor Domitian.
The ex-senator shook his head. “Used to be women dreamed of a nice Italian farm and grandchildren.”
“Can you blame her?” the merchant interjected in that annoying way newly-risen men have. “Lucius has the key to any door— riches, politics, military might., and he’s not bad looking either.”
“I certainly don’t blame her. If I could get Lucius’ ear by a few nights, I’d take it,” Cassius said and laughed uproariously at his own joke.
Aquilus wondered if they knew how ignorant they sounded when they’d been drinking, but mostly he considered Germania. He’d been rejected from the Germanian governor’s palace with dismal excuses often enough.
Would the governor prove any more helpful if he got an introduction to the man? Unlikely. Still, one could try. The man had walked off the stage now and wandered back into the palace’s rooms. Aquilus looked calculatingly at Cassius. Maybe he would supply the introduction.
Ducking around statues and slipping through curtains, Ness came to the back of the palace where someone had said an important senator lurked. She scanned the room. No luck. The stout woman stood by the colonnade nearest the gardens while other younger revelers clustered around the refreshment tables within. Wine flowed freely and laughter grew louder. The stout woman leaned against the pillar, panting for breath.
Ness approached her.
The woman waved her away. “I did my bit for you. Enough’s enough.”
“If you could just introduce me to a senator or someone similar, then I could acquire your perfume.”
The woman snorted. “I won’
t be needing perfume where I’m going.”
Ness stared at the woman. Upon closer note, tears mixed with the woman’s sweat. “What happened?”
“As if you care.”
The marble pillar felt cold against Ness’ arm as she moved closer. “Tell me.”
The woman stared at the darkness outside where the moon just barely illuminated lines of myrtle trees. “Domitian arrested my husband tonight.”
A shiver ran through Ness. “What will happen?”
“Exile. Worst case, execution. Domitian’s not known for his mercy.” The woman’s face contorted as she struggled for breath through tears.
Ness laid her hand on the woman’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Can I do something?”
“Just leave.”
Ness rubbed her thumb against the pillar. “Tell me your surname.”
“Scipio.” The woman buried her face in her hands.
Turning, Ness reentered the room. A full quarter of the guests had already consumed too much wine for their wits to handle, and she had no more time to waste courting senile senators or begging for an introduction.
Ness peered through the darkened hallways. No, she’d find this governor herself. Since he claimed friendship with the Emperor, perhaps she could do the Scipios some good as well.
After winding her way through several dark corridors, underneath a gold and crystal chandelier, and up a curving staircase while thrice asking directions of overworked slaves, she found herself in a room with yellow curtains and ten busts of Emperor Domitian.
A thick tapestry curtained off the next room where the Germanian governor supposedly tarried. Ness took a deep breath and pushed aside the curtain.
Inside the small room, two men and an overly-adorned woman stood together. The governor wore armor. The other man was a bookish fellow whose right hand looked permanently stained by ink.
Governor Lucius Antonius Saturninus leaned forward, hand slipping behind the woman’s heavy emerald necklace. The woman seemed prepared to respond enthusiastically when the secretary hurtled between them. “Don’t!”
Irritation washed over Governor Lucius’ face. With one hand, he flicked the man back.
Planting both spindly legs on the thick carpet, the secretary puffed his scrawny chest out. “She’s the Emperor’s concubine. If you ruin your political career, know who’s out of a job? Me.”
Lucius groaned. “I’m just talking to her.”
“Then stop talking to her.”
Moving back one step, Lucius eyed the woman. Ness took the opportunity to enter the room.
“Governor.” She gave the customary head inclination.
Lucius flicked his impatient gaze to her.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name is Ness, the wife of Tribune Paterculi,” she said as if she’d lived in Rome all her life and loved this husband of hers.
After a critical up and down visual inspection, Lucius glanced at the Emperor’s woman. “Very well. Uphold the Emperor’s double standard exclusivity.”
The concubine snorted, then turned and shoved through an anterior curtain. Lucius turned his attention to her. “The tribune is a lucky man, Domina.”
Splendid, the man was unorthodox enough to accept a breach of introduction etiquette. Ness didn’t smile. No need to give a man with his reputation any ideas. Leaving the curtain pushed aside, she moved around a table laden with food and into the room. “I hear that you are lately from Germania.”
“It is rare a woman shows interest in the further reaches of the Empire,” Lucius said. The secretary collapsed on a couch, panting, as he fanned himself with a scroll.
“I am a Celt, Governor. Rome is far for me.”
Lucius pushed a plate of refreshments on the table toward her. “Germania’s the best province. One night when my cohort and I swam the Rhine and belly crawled up to the natives—”
Sinking her boredom into a cheese wedge, Ness listened for far too many moments. Lucius smelled of cedar oil—pungently rancid cedar oil. The babe inside her must have smelled it too for she could barely shove down the urge to retch.
When Lucius finally finished talking about the skirmish, which turned into a foray, then transformed into him slaying dozens of men as the hero of the tale, and she’d downed her seventh piece of cheese, she had a chance to speak. “I hear the uprisings in Germania increase. A better trade plan would not only bring peace but also swell Rome’s coffer.”
Lucius raised one eyebrow. “And you are an expert on politics as well as womanhood, Domina?”
Ness refrained from rolling her eyes. What had Senator Gaius’ wife seen in the arrogant bore? “My husband has a trade plan. If you would give him your ear?”
Lucius studied her. “He sent you here to do him this favor, then?” Lucius’ fingers, which had been called masterful, played with the edge of his tunic somewhat suggestively.
Did he know that the bugs in her spice garden patted their little antennae on their scaly bellies just as he was doing? “You’re Germania’s governor. You’re famous enough for me to discover without aid.”
Lucius smiled, showing his white teeth. “That’s better.”
The evening grew late and, through a space in the curtain, she saw drunk guests collapsing while soberer patrons made their farewells. “What do you think? Do you wish to hear my husband out?”
He didn’t answer but, instead, reached for a crystal goblet. “Do you care for wine, Domina?”
Ness blinked. “What about the trade plan?”
“Yes, after the wine.” Lucius smiled rather boyishly at her. Maybe he’d built his reputation off the smile.
She hesitated. Wine, not good for the reputation. A happy Lucius, very good for Germanian trade. The stout woman’s plight, not even mentioned yet.
Behind her, the curtain rustled. She twisted.
Aquilus, followed by Cassius, walked through the entrance.
When he saw her, he froze, and ecce was that ever a scowl.
Lucius took a step forward, standing immediately next to her now. The cedar oil penetrated her nostrils with each breath. She could only refrain from retching so long.
“Governor.” Aquilus nodded stiffly. He turned to her. “You’re leaving.”
Ness stared at him. The desire to retch consumed far too much of her wits to even attempt to figure out what had angered him. She glanced toward the table on the left. Was it sacrilege to use that empty gold bowl for the purpose she had in mind?
Lucius moved forward, pushing himself between her and Aquilus now. “You are the domina’s husband?”
“Tribune Paterculi.” Aquilus didn’t grace Lucius with a direct look.
“I offered the domina refreshment,” Lucius said. “Surely you would not object to that.”
Ness looked from one man’s face to the other. Why did Aquilus appear as if he wished to throw a fist into the governor’s face? This was about his Germanian plan after all. Why did Lucius bluster so loudly? Surely he knew she wasn’t as much of an idiot as Senator Gaius’ wife.
Stepping away from the scene, Ness glanced out to the main hall where noisy festivities continued. She turned back just in time to hear Aquilus say “no” very emphatically.
“You no doubt have business at home, Tribune. Unless you were hoping to see my friend, the Emperor?” Lucius lingered on the ‘friend.’
What sounded like the start of an oath escaped Aquilus’ lips when Cassius grabbed his arm. “It’s just a conversation. You’ve enough problems without offending the Emperor.”
Aquilus looked ready to rip away from Cassius.
“Trust your wife a little,” Cassius said and tried again.
Ness looked blankly from Lucius to Aquilus to Cassius. Lucius appeared happy and she supposed that was favorable since she needed him to consent to Aquilus’ trade plan.
Aquilus whipped around and left. She sighed. What had she done wrong now? At least she hadn’t retched on a governor. Aquilus should give her some credit for that.
“What?” Lucius asked and tried again.
She stepped away. “I wish to talk about Germania, and you should hold your wine better than that.”
“Of course,” Lucius restrained his hand, “save it all for private, eh? But I’m not drunk.”
He definitely was drunk. Ness stifled a groan. “Save all what?” Surely, he couldn’t think she had any interest in him.
Lucius grinned. “You and I, domina.”
He did think so. Ness stared at Lucius. “You actually thought yourself capable of seducing me?”
“You tell me,” Lucius said with his signature smile.
Ness sighed. Did he think her senile?
“So?” Lucius sidled closer. The wine on his breath almost overpowered the cedar oil. It was definitely an improvement, though her guts still heaved.
Ness put up her left hand. The wedding band, a little too large these days, half covered a chafed area on her finger. “I’m married.”
“Most of the best women are.”
Ness lowered her eyebrows. She was nothing like those weak Roman women the governor dallied with. “I’m a Celt, not one of your citified paramours.”
“Many of my lovers have been Celts.”
Like that would make her feel prized? Ness suppressed the urge to hurl the crystal Lucius had handed her. Or retch. She could just retch on him and see how interested he was then. “Let me put this in a way even you can understand, Governor.”
Lucius raised his gaze expectantly.
“Laying with one Roman has provided me enough unpleasantness to last a lifetime. I shall never repeat the experiment.”
A puzzled expression crept over his face. “But, you came here and sought me out and you do have a reputation.” He reached for her.
“No!” She brought the crystal down hard against his groping hand. “And you won’t be a lout about this in the morning and reject Aquilus’ plan, will you?”
The faster she found someone to help Aquilus, the faster he left for Germania. Just then, Ness realized that someone else stood in the entrance.
For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1) Page 27