The Roman's Revenge

by Caroline Storer

  “My name is Metellus.”

  “Metellus? Metellus who? I do not have time for games, man. State your business and go.” Flavius’s voice was full of scorn as he looked Metellus up and down. It was obvious he found him lacking in social graces and definitely not up to Flavius’s social standing. Metellus was wearing a tunic of dark blue, the colour complimenting the silver grey of his eyes, but the tunic, although clean and tidy was made of plain cloth, not the silks her half-brother was used to wearing. To Flavius’s self-important ego the stranger was no-one of consequence, and was to be treated as such.

  “I am here because we have a mutual acquaintance,” Metellus finally answered, “Publius Asicus. I gather you know him?” His voice held a mocking edge, even though he speared Flavius with a hard look.

  At Metellus’s words Flavius's face paled, and he immediately became flustered. Livia watched in stunned fascination as he raised a hand to wipe away the sweat beading his forehead. She had never seen him react so, as his normal demeanour was one of sarcasm, anger, or distain no matter what the provocation.

  Instead of answering Metellus, Flavius turned his ire onto Livia, his eyes flashing in anger as he ordered, “Get out. I'll deal with you later.”

  Livia bristled at his tone, and the manner of his order, but knew she had no choice in the matter. She stepped forward, her gaze lifting to meet Metellus's. It was only then, she realised belatedly, that her exit was blocked by his presence as he still stood in the open doorway. Her stomach plummeted when she saw the intensity of his gaze as it travelled over her.

  His eyes missed nothing, from her expertly coiffured hair, down over the slimness of her body, clothed in a peach coloured stola made of the finest silk, until they came to rest at her expensively shod feet before returning once more to her face. His mouth twisted, a touch of malice around his lips, before he stood to the side to let her pass.

  She endured his gaze, because she had no choice, but as soon as she moved past him she avoided any eye contact with him. She thought she had escaped him, but then he commanded, “Wait.”

  Livia froze, staring ahead. Was he going to expose her? Tell Flavius all that had happened between them on the island? She angled her head, schooled her features into what she hoped was a neutral look and looked up at him.

  Why are you here Metellus? And what games do you play? Her eyes communicated the unspoken questions at him as he continued to stare at her for endless seconds. Then she firmed her chin, and her eyes dared him to tell Flavius everything. Do your worst, they said, for I no longer care anymore.

  The tension in the room was palpable, until he finally broke eye contact with her, and looked over to where Flavius stood. “Introduce me,” he demanded, and Flavius, picking up on the minutiae of the situation, for once in his life obeyed a direct order made to him.

  “She is Livia Drusus. My half-sister.”

  Metellus stepped forward and reached down to take her hand in his. His gesture surprised her, and she stood there in shock as she became aware of his thumb stroking the underside of her hand, the small movement causing a hot warm flush to suffuse her body. She shuddered in response to his touch, as feelings she’d suppressed for weeks now, burst forth. She looked down, her fingers seemed so small, as he closed his large hand around hers, and she felt the rough callouses on his fingers rasp against the softness of her skin before he lifted her hand and kissed it, his eyes flashing with mocking humour as they met hers.

  Heat flooded into her face. Anger, vied with desire, as she fought her traitorous emotions, felt the heat of his lips on her skin. Her whole body seemed to be on fire, as his mouth lingered for far too long on the back of her hand, before he moved his lips from her skin but still held onto her hand. The feel of his lips brought back long supressed memories of a hot night on a Greek island, when he had made love to her.

  Needing to supress the memories of that night, she tried to snatch her hand away, but Metellus's grip tightened, the movement imperceptible, refusing to let go. She stood there feeling helpless, berating herself for still wanting him, for falling in love with him. He was nothing but a mocking stranger. A man who had thrown her declaration of love firmly back in her face.

  But now he was back, and kissing her hand with such audacity it took her breath away. Kissing her without any trace of remorse for his previous actions, as if he had only left her on the quayside yesterday, promising to return, when instead he had left her without a backward glance. And remembering the way he’d left her caused her to stiffen, as her eyes flashed their displeasure at him. Exactly what games are you playing Metellus?

  “Ah. Of course,” Metellus finally drawled, “Livia Drusus. I have heard a lot about you.”

  This time the sarcastic tone to his words made her angry, and gave her the strength she needed to snatch her hand away. Stepping back from him she was able to put some much needed distance between them.

  “Lies! All lies!” Flavius blustered, and this time his voice brooked no resistance as he snapped out, “Leave us, Livia. Now!”

  Livia needed no second invitation, and fled the room as fast as possible, running down the long corridor of the villa, her sandals click clacking on the marble tiles, as she made for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  It was only when she closed her bedroom door, leaning her full body weight against it, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might faint, that the reality of what had just happened in the tablinum hit her. And hit her hard.

  Metellus was here! In the family villa. Demanding to see her brother and pretending not to know her.

  But why? What reason did he have for being here? But more importantly, why the pretence of not knowing her? Feeling a headache gathering in the front of her temples, she went over to her window and pushed open the wooden shutters, just enough so it enabled her to see out into the atrium. The atrium, Metellus would have to pass through, in order to exit the villa once he had finished his business with Flavius.

  Livia didn’t have to wait long, only a matter of minutes in actual fact, before she saw him stride down the path which bisected the atrium, and make his way out of their large villa that sat in majestic splendour on the Palatine Hill. His stride was purposeful, as confident as ever, and she even heard him whistle as he walked past her window.

  Whatever he’d discussed with Flavius hadn’t taken long, and by his confident demeanour it had was obvious it had gone in his favour. Not many men got the better of her half-brother, but he seemed to have. But what business could he possibly want with Flavius? And who in the name of Hades was Publius Asicus? As she watched the huge gates close behind him, she couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he had managed to gain entry in the villa in the first place.

  Deciding she needed answers, Livia made the decision to confront Flavius, and she left her bedroom in search of him. She would ask, even beg if she had to, and make him tell her precisely what was going on between him and Metellus.

  But when she entered her brother's office she stopped short. The tablinum was empty apart from a slave who was tidying the room. The slave also informed her that Flavius had just left the villa, and hadn’t said where he was going.

  Frustration ate at her as she realised she was going to have to wait for an explanation. Providing, of course, Flavius would give her one in the first place…

  CHAPTER 13

  “Psst! Livia! Over here!”

  Livia turned towards the voice hissing her name, and she watched bemused, as silk curtains that covered the litter parted, and a slim arm adorned with distinctive bracelets poked out, beckoning her over.

  Livia hastened across the street from where she had been buying some fresh fruit. It had been the first time she had ventured out of the villa since her return to Rome and Metellus’s visit to the villa several days ago. Several days, in which she’d hadn’t be able to get any sensible answers from Flavius as to why Metellus had visited with her brother in the first place. Frustration had clawed at her, and in a fit of rebellion, she ha
d ventured out of the villa, pointedly ignoring the whispers and stares which followed her.

  Now, for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile broke across her face as she peered into the litter to see her friend Portia reclining on silk cushions.

  Portia’s face was flushed, her prostrate body stiff with tension. “Quick, get in, before anyone sees us.”

  Doing as her friend bid, Livia climbed into the litter, making sure the curtains concealed them both, giving them the privacy they needed.

  “What-”

  “Quiet. Not now,” Portia interrupted, cupping her hand to her ears as if to warn Livia that whatever was said could be overheard.

  Livia nodded, and sat back against one of the silk cushions saying nothing more. Eventually, the litter stopped, and Portia peeped through the curtains and nodded, before she flung them back and stepped out, gesturing with her hand for Livia to follow.

  “Why have you brought me to your families burial ground? Has someone died recently?” Livia asked, when she realised where they were.

  Portia shook her head, “No. It was the only place I could think of where we could be afforded some sort of privacy.”

  Livia mentally applauded her friend’s ingenuity, but as she looked around the mausoleum, she couldn’t stop a shiver of apprehension.

  “My father thinks I am being a dutiful daughter this afternoon by honouring the dead of our family” she said derisively, “It is a good thing he has no inclination as to the real reason why I am here.” Portia stopped talking, and with a small cry of anguish, pulled Livia forward into a tight embrace, “Oh Livia! How I've missed you! How do you fare?”

  Livia relaxed when she heard the earnest tone in her friend’s voice. Oh, how good it felt to finally be cared for. To be believed. Livia broke the embrace, stepping back so she could face her friend. Taking both her hands she smiled at her, “I am well. Lucky to be alive, and so very thankful to be back in one piece,” before her mouth twisted and she said, “Even if I am the talk of all Rome.”

  Her voice faltered for a moment as she watched a myriad of expressions chase across her closest friend’s face, before saying, “But you shouldn’t have compromised yourself, Portia. Being seen with me could ruin your reputation.”

  Portia's face suffused with anger, “My father can be a pompous oaf sometimes. Always the first to believe the gossips. Always the first to believe the worst. I tried to tell him the baby was not yours – but he refused to listen.”

  Livia felt tears spring into her eyes at her friends heated, and heartfelt words. “You are a true friend, Portia. You are the only person amongst my friends, and family to believe in me!” Livia shrugged, “I swear even I was beginning to doubt myself!”

  Portia giggled, and took hold of Livia's hand once again, “I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to see you, but my father forbid me to go anywhere near you. I've not spoken to him since of course, and I've made my displeasure known by spending a large amount of his money!”

  Livia laughed out loud, “Portia you are incorrigible. Trust you to shop on the basis of my misfortune!”

  Portia pouted, her face breaking out into a smile, “Livia you wound me! But you also know me too well!” She flapped her other hand in the air, “But enough of all this. What of the baby? Do you still have her?”

  “Yes, for now at least,” Livia replied, her laughter dying, “I've got a wet nurse for her. But I'm not sure for how long. Flavius is still undecided as to what to do with her - or me – for that matter.” Livia’s back stiffened, “But I am fighting him all the way.”

  “And your father?”

  Livia shook her head, “He has improved slightly since I have been away. He awakens sometimes and mumbles words, but it is difficult to make out what he is saying as the left hand side of his face is still paralysed. But at least he has regained consciousness. But he is still too ill to do anything, and unfortunately, that means Flavius is still in charge of the villa, and all of our affairs – more’s the pity.”

  “Would it do any good if I had a word with him?”

  “Speak with Flavius?” Livia asked incredulously, “You are friendly with my half-brother?”

  “No. But I am a woman am I not? And unless Flavius's tendencies go the other way, if you know what I mean, what harm could it do?”

  Both women looked at each other for a split second before they dissolved into helpless giggles, tears of mirth rolling down their faces.

  Once they had calmed down, they sat talking for several minutes catching up on gossip – gossip which was mostly about Livia! Livia listened as Portia told her how she was trying to convince some of their acquaintances that the baby couldn't possibly be Livia's.

  “And as I said to Octavia – she’s such a cat by the way – hadn’t we seen you in the Baths not two days before you had set sail, naked as the day you were born?” Portia paused and leaned forward, excitement evident on her face, “And when Octavia had nodded, I went in for the kill, asking her whether there had been any hint of a baby when your stomach had been as flat as it always had been.”

  “Do you think they believed you?” Livia asked, when Portia paused for a breath.

  Portia shrugged, a small frown marring the perfection of her immaculately made up face. “I'm not sure, but some are beginning to question the facts I’m sure of it. They have even asked me who the baby’s real mother is, and why she had been aboard the ship.”

  For moment Livia hesitated, wondering if she should tell Portia the whole truth. She had obviously heard the tale Flavius had put about, about how Livia had taken the baby and cared for her. Indecision assailed her. Would Portia be shocked if she told her that Elisha was the child of a leper?

  And as much as she loved, and trusted her friend, she decided it would be in hers, and Elisha’s, best interest not to tell Portia. For now at least.

  It was a secret only known to her and Metellus.

  Thinking about Metellus caused a sharp pain in the region of her heart, and she rapidly dismissed him from her mind. Coming back to the present she smiled across to her friend. “Portia you are a true friend. But to be honest I think the damage has already been done. It will be nigh on impossible to reverse what has happened. We both know what the gossip is like in Rome. Once the seed has been sown there is no turning back.”

  Portia's shoulders slumped in defeat as she acknowledged the truth of what Livia said. “But it is not fair! You have done nothing wrong.”

  A long silence filled the quietness of the burial ground, until Livia broke it by saying, “I think we should go. I do not want you to get into trouble on my account.”

  “I don't care if I do,” Portia said, defiance in her tone, before she sighed, her shoulders slumping even further as she realised Livia was right, and as if by mutual consent they both made their way back to the litter, and the four slaves who waited patiently beside it.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention,” Portia said, a short while later, “I was at Senator Crito’s gathering last night, and Sextus Calpurnius Pullus was asking me all manner of questions about you once he realised I was acquainted with you.”

  “Pullus is back in Rome! But how? Why?” Livia exclaimed.

  Portia lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, “He’s been summoned back from Alexandria by the Emperor. Something to do with grain prices apparently.”

  Livia had to hold back the urge to laugh hysterically. The Fates were truly laughing at her misfortune, as she mentally calculated that Pullus must have left Alexandria before Livia had been due to arrive there! How ironic. She would have arrived in Alexandria, only to find her betrothed had gone back to Rome! How typical, that once again women meant nothing to men like Pullus and Flavius. Women were nothing more than goods and chattels to be used and bartered to gain ever more wealth and prestige-

  “He arrived yesterday morning I understand,” Portia said breaking into Livia’s dark musings. She shuddered dramatically, “He’s the most odious man I've ever met. His hands were everywher
e, and as for his eyes-”

  “What did you tell him about me?” Livia asked, interrupting Portia’s heated words.

  Portia frowned when she heard the alarm in her voice.

  “Nothing! I love you too much to resort to idle gossip about you with men like Pullus.”

  Livia was immediately contrite, when she saw the hurt look on her friends face.

  “What does Pullus mean to you?” Portia asked, before Livia could apologise. “I’d assumed he was only asking about you because of the gossip he’d heard,” Portia tilted her head questionably, “But I gather that’s not the full story is it?”

  Livia said nothing for a moment, before she replied, “He was the reason I had to leave for Alexandria. I was to be married to him.”

  Portia gasped, “Oh, no! How horrible!” Her hand flew to her mouth in shock, the gold bangles on her wrist jangling nosily in the darkened interior of the litter.

  “Horrible, indeed,” Livia said slowly, “And I have a nasty feeling that now he is back in Rome, he wants me to go back to Alexandria with him.”

  “You wanted to see me?” Livia said, tempted to add “again” but didn't, when she saw the hard expression on Flavius’s face.

  “Yes, come in and close the door,” he snapped.

  Livia did as he bid, but no sooner had she stepped into the tablinum, Flavius launched a ferocious attack on her once more.

  “The frenzy about you shows no sign of abating. This family is being ridiculed throughout Rome.”

  Livia once again braced herself as Flavius launched into his usual tirade of verbal abuse as to how she’d brought disgrace on the family, until finally he barked, “It must end, and it will end. Which is why you leave me with no choice.”

  Livia’s heart lurched. Was he finally going to take Elisha off her, as he’d been threatening to do ever since she’d arrived back in Rome? She would have to be raised by strangers, but at least Flavius wasn’t going to kill her. She knew of families who had done such things to unwanted children. Girls mostly, or those born with some illness or malady. Her breath hitched in her throat. How would she bear it? The baby had come to mean so much to her-