A Noble Captive (17 page)

‘We are important to them. They want the tribute money,’ a legionary piped up.

‘How important to them will the money be when they discover that they have been duped? Yes, money is important, but what price pride?’ Tullio ground out between his teeth. ‘Did he think beyond his own skin?’

‘Maybe Quintus thought your friendship with Helena would protect us.’

Tullio turned incredulously towards Rufus. The man backed away with hands held out in front of his face.

‘It is just a thought,’ Rufus said. ‘Not a very good one, but you could always explain the situation to her.’

‘Do you know what is at stake here? Do you realise what Quintus has thrown away? Have I ever let you down before?’

Tullio started towards the door. He needed to breathe clean air, to be away from the fetid atmosphere of this room. There had to be a solution to this mess. He had to think clearly and not to panic. All his exertions, all the groundwork he had laid, gone because one of his men had decided to act on his own.

He refused to think about what this would mean for his relationship with Helena. A pain stabbed through his heart. There had to be something he could do.

Rufus caught his arm.

‘You have to give him a chance to get away,’ he pleaded. ‘To do his duty as he sees it. You cannot betray a fellow soldier to the pirates. Maybe he will get down to the harbour and see you were correct after all. He might return. If you go to anyone now, it will be the worse for us. For the sake of our long association, wait. Let Quintus prove what type of man he is.’

His men ringed around him, healthier than when they had arrived on this island, but still captives. Tullio pressed his lips together. His first duty had to be to the men who remained. He had to find a way to protect their lives.

‘How long has he been gone? Six? Seven hours?’

‘Quintus and the others went when the storm was at its height and the guards were distracted.’

Tullio ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to believe that Quintus had somehow changed his mind and decided against this suicidal escape attempt. He had no doubt they would be caught and tortured. The pirates would show no mercy.

‘I will give him an hour to return, but after that may the gods protect him. I certainly won’t.’

Did she look any different?

Helena regarded her face in the small bronze mirror as she sat on her stool in front of her dressing table. The pots and jars filled with make-up and scent were placed in neat and tidy rows.

Everything where it should be.

Everything as she had left it yesterday morning. The only thing that had changed was her.

Or had she? The same face with its green eyes and over-generous mouth stared back at her.

The interview with her uncle had been short and unpleasant. The Lady Zenobia hovered at her elbow. Her uncle drifted in and out of consciousness. She had leant forward and his fragile fingers squeezed one of her hands. Then, at Zenobia’s nod, she had left the room. No one seemed to have guessed her relationship with Tullio.

Helena placed the mirror down with a thump.

In the cold clear light of day, she regretted what had happened in the cave. She should never have clung to him in that way or given into the temptation. When faced with a test, she had made the wrong choice. She had chosen to be a woman.

He was the same as her uncle or any number of pirates, worse because he was Roman, but her heart kept whispering she could trust him. She tried to keep from making plans. He had said nothing about the future.

She knew he could leave when the tribute arrived, but hadn’t something passed between them last night?

Other sibyls had taken lovers. Why shouldn’t she? She had not taken her final vows, and there was no reason why she couldn’t leave. It seemed incredible that she should even
be thinking such thoughts. Helena pulled the folds of her gown straighter. What would it be like to be a Roman lady?

A sharp rap at the door startled her. Another interruption. She should be grateful for it, but she wanted time to think. She rose, re-adjusted her shawl and opened the door.

Tullio’s frame filled the doorway. He had changed his tunic. This one was baggier, as if it belonged to a bigger man. The brasses on his belt gleamed.

There was no outward sign on him that they had passed the night together, but her heart fluttered.

She gripped the door handle tightly, hanging on to it as her eyes drank every detail in. It was as if she had not seen him for days rather than for a few hours. She wondered if she would ever tire of looking at him. She had not betrayed the temple with him. Their connection went beyond that. It was a relationship between a man and a woman.

‘Tullio, what a pleasant surprise.’

The lines around his mouth became harder and there was a crease between his eyebrows. There was a determination in his movements. His eyes were serious and the twinkle of this morning had disappeared.

Her smile faded under his gaze. The tingles were replaced with a nervousness.

‘What has happened?’

‘I wanted to make sure you were safely back from your interview with your uncle.’

‘Uncle Lichas is better than Captain Androceles led me to believe. He has had many years of dealing with the temple. He respects my aunt and her prophecies. The latest one had caused no little consternation.’

She rubbed the back of her neck and took a few steps away from Tullio. Whatever could be wrong? Then she chided
herself for imagining things. She was always imagining. One of her worst faults, according to Aunt Flavia. She had to stop searching for hidden meanings.

‘I left him over an hour ago in the tender care of his wife. After that, I have had time to complete an inspection of the temple. Nothing too major to fix—not for your men.’

She took a half-step towards him.

He nodded, but made no attempt to embrace her. It bothered Helena that she wanted to feel his arms about her. She returned to the dressing table and made a show of straightening her mirror and combs. Still he was silent. Something had happened. She could feel it in her bones.

‘Is there a problem, Tullio? Has one of your men fallen ill? Or become injured in the storm? You don’t have to ask, simply take him to the hospital wing.’

‘Do I need a reason to want to see you?’ He gave a crooked smile, one that turned her heart. The twinkle in his eyes was back. ‘As I said, I wanted to see you, to make sure you were safe.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be safe in the temple?’ She gave a laugh, but felt pleased that he should care enough to be concerned.

‘Androceles seems more eager than ever to station guards in the temple.’

‘It was Androceles’s suggestion, not mine. I swear that man twists and turns more than a tangled piece of wool.’

‘But it was your trick with the mirrors that convinced his men you had enough guards to handle any problems.’

A shiver ran down Helena’s back. Something had happened, something bad. The temple was about to be blamed for something. There was more than simple concern in his voice. She gulped a breath of air. She had to keep her head. She could not give into panic. Everything could be coincidence.

‘You gave me your word that you would obey the dictates
of hospitality.’ She searched his face for any sign. But it was impassive, his feelings as hidden as if he were a statue. She glanced down and saw the white knuckles of his right hand. Maybe her uncle’s visit had unsettled him. ‘The temple is not without its defences. There is no reason I should worry.’

The furrows on his brow increased. ‘Something might happen that would give the pirates an excuse.’

‘My uncle is frightened of his sister, always has been. And it turns out that my prophecy about the black mist was correct. The harbour was surrounded in a black mist when he docked. He broke his leg when the mast fell.’ Helena toyed with a pot. She couldn’t understand Tullio’s mood. If there was some problem, why didn’t he just tell her? Or was he seeking reassurance?

‘I was wrong to worry. Perhaps I do have some sort of gift after all.’

‘Perhaps, but it is nothing I would like you to test very often.’ He reached out and pulled her into his arms. The faint scent of olive oil from his bath tickled her nose.

She rested against his chest, feeling as if she were a ship that had come to its harbour. He bent his head and touched her mouth with his. This kiss was different from the others, Helena thought as the kiss deepened. There was some sort of desperation about it, something had changed. There was more to his concern than he let on.

What had happened? A shiver ran through her. What did he know that she didn’t? What was he trying to hide from her? She did not need his protection. She had not asked for it.

She broke free, and stood facing him. He reached out and smoothed a tendril of hair from her forehead. His eyes had a sorrowful look that made her stomach twist.

‘We need to speak, Helena.’

This was it. This was where he asked for the temple’s al
legiance. Something she had no power to give. And the affair ended. She knew it had to be, but she wasn’t ready yet.

Before she could open her mouth to reply, the sound of metalled sandals echoed from the hallway. Marching. Hurrying. Helena’s stomach dropped to the tops of her sandals. She ran to the door and flung it open. The temple guards were standing at the door to the sibyl’s apartments.

‘What can I do for you?’

‘Kimon, the son of Androceles, craves an immediate audience with the sibyl.’

‘The sibyl is not to be disturbed. I told you that. I will meet with him. But he should wait until the normal audience time.’

‘It must be now. The integrity of the temple has been compromised.’ The guard paused. ‘Those were his exact words, Helena. The integrity of the temple has been compromised and he demands satisfaction.’

H
elena forced her footsteps to be measured and even. She refused to run. She must not appeared flustered when she met Kimon.

The seafarers were increasing the pressure on her aunt. She would have only a few more days until her condition became known. And then what? She paused just before the entrance, drew a deep breath and adjusted the folds of her gown so that the folds fell in even pleats and her belt was snug about her hips. She had to appear the picture of calm and control.

‘Ah, Helena, you appear. I had expected to see your aunt.’ The tall pirate captain was in shadow, standing next to the libation bowl. Helena’s eye widened. He retained his sword. The gleam of the hilt. ‘I had requested to see the sibyl.’

‘Weapons are not permitted in the temple grounds. It is sacrilege. You will not pollute this place.’

‘These are dangerous times. There are dangerous men about.’

And you, one of the most dangerous. Helena held back the words.

With an arrogant swagger, he walked over to the altar, lifted the lid of a jar and peered in. He dipped a finger and tasted it.

‘Olive oil. One of my father’s gifts?’

Helena felt clammy sweat break out on the back of her neck. She hated the way Kimon’s eyes roamed over her as if she were a tasty morsel.

‘State your business. There had better be a good reason why you are in this temple armed.’

‘It does surprise me that you leave such valuable things unguarded. Kybele’s statue with its gold sword and this little trinket.’ Kimon picked the Neptune’s horn up and balanced it in his hand, examining the engravings. ‘Could such a thing really save this island?’

‘Only if blown in a time of direst need,’ Helena retorted. She went over and re-adjusted how the horn lay.

‘Are you sure the temple is up to its appointed tasks of safeguarding the treasures? After all, there are Roman soldiers on the island.’

‘The Romans are guests within this complex. We have had no trouble from them.’ She glanced over her shoulder to the shrouded mirror. Did she dare use that again so soon after the last time? ‘They respect the temple and its traditions and know that it is adequately defended.’

He gave a cruel laugh, which echoed throughout the hall. ‘I have heard of the temple’s defences. I have little time for legends.’

‘Why ever not? Your father does.’

‘My father is a superstitious old fool. He believes in portents and prophecy.’

‘Your father respects the sanctity of the temple.’ Helena crossed her arms. She refused to panic, refused to allow this man to intimidate her. She hated the way he was talking to her as if she were a child. ‘You should give me a good reason why you do not. Why you come here armed, when the sibyl
has expressly forbidden it. You should be grateful that she does not issue an edict against you.’

He smirked then, came over and patted her shoulder. Her skin crawled at the familiarity.

‘I have come to return something that you misplaced,’ he said.

‘I can’t think you have anything of mine.’ Her mind raced. Had she left something at the palace? No. Kimon was enjoying toying with her much as the temple cat toyed with the mice in the warehouse.

What did he have? She glanced about the temple, seeing nothing amiss. What could she have misplaced?

‘Oh, but I have. Guess.’

Helena’s scalp prickled. What had he taken? What had his men stolen as a test? Her eyes searched the altar. Everything appeared to be in place. Libation bowls, statues and artifacts, including Neptune’s horn. Everything.

‘I have no time for guessing games, Kimon.’ Helena tapped her sandal on the mosaic-tiled floor. ‘Return it this instant and we will forget about this unpleasant episode. Perhaps there will be no need for the sibyl to curse you.’

‘She won’t curse me.’

‘I am waiting, Kimon, son of Androceles. Return the object.’

She crossed her arms to prevent her hands from trembling. No doubt after he returned this object, he’d demand his sailors were stationed here. She had to think of a reason why they shouldn’t be.

‘Very well, if you insist. You always did enjoy spoiling my fun, Helena, even as a little girl. You continuously ran off to tell on me.’

He snapped his fingers and Helena watched with horror as three bloody bundles were dragged forth. The cloaks flopped open, revealing the belts hung with brass.

‘My men had a bit of sport with them.’

He prodded the first bundle with the toe of his sandal. A long moan came from it.

Bile rose in her throat as she realised that these were men, Roman soldiers. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The marks of whips and worse stood out clearly.

Where had he found them? How dare he beat them for sport!

‘You had no right to beat those men.’

‘I had every right.’

Helena struggled to control her temper. Kimon’s actions were a direct challenge to the temple’s authority, but she could also see that he wanted her to lose her temper, that he enjoyed making her angry. Helena curled her fingers around her amulet and took a deep breath before continuing.

‘These men are under the protection of the temple, under Kybele’s protection. How dare you invade and inflict punishment!’ Helena fought to control her voice, and not to give way to her anger. ‘Your father and the other heads of the seafaring houses will be informed. You go too far this time, Kimon. You will be cursed and set adrift.’

‘I had every right,’ Kimon repeated, curling back his lip to reveal yellowing teeth. ‘My men found them, hiding under a pile of canvas by my ship during the storm. I thought they should enjoy your hospitality a little while longer. Next time, you should not be careless with your charges. Allowing them to roam free! Whatever could the sibyl be thinking?’

Helena put her hand in front of her mouth and stifled a scream. She knew these men. The grizzled one was the Roman who had helped fix the warehouse door. He was the one Galla was sweet on. He had given her a fig bread recipe.

Maybe there was another reason. Maybe Galla had sent them in search of her. What if they had been caught and beaten
because she tarried with Tullio? She should have tried to cross that stream.

‘I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.’

‘I am not concerned about explanations. You are too lenient with the Romans. That is quite clear. My father and Zenobia agree with me. Measures must be taken.’

‘And what did you do?’

Kimon’s eyes gleamed. ‘I made them fight and when they could fight no more, I beat them. It is what you should have done.’

‘These men can barely stand up.’ Helena gestured to the three would-be escapees. ‘If they are beaten further, they will die.’

‘Let them.’

‘They are human beings.’

‘These are Roman scum.’ Kimon dusted a speck from his cloak. ‘You undertook to keep them safe for my father. Next time, do not make me do your job for you.’

Kimon turned on his heel and left the room.

The groan from one of the bundles brought Helena to her senses. She called for the guards to take the injured men to the hospital. Her whole body felt numb.

How had this happened?

It gave Androceles the perfect excuse to insist on stationing his own guards. How could she refuse now, when the temple guards had proved to be so inept? And once that happened, it would be only a matter of time before her deception was uncovered and the true state of the sibyl was revealed.

What had seemed such a beautiful morning had turned blacker than night within a few breaths.

What had been Tullio’s role in everything? She had trusted him. Had he just used her?

Helena bit down on her fist, willing the cries not to come.

After checking that the escapees’ wounds were being treated, Helena made sure she was occupied with tasks that took her as far away from the Romans as possible. She did not want the slightest excuse to visit them. No doubt she would have to face Tullio at some point, but for now, the sense of betrayal was too new and too raw.

She had to take refuge somewhere and the storeroom stocked high with the seafarer’s tributes appeared the ideal place. Above all, it served to remind her why the seafarers were important to this island and why the islanders could not live without them.

Helena paused in counting the jars of olive oil. They would need more than twice that number if they were to make it through the winter season. She wrote down the number and compared it to last month’s figure. If they went down to four lamps on the main altar, instead of the usual ten, that would save a considerable amount. The amphorae of liquamen, the fish sauce used in cooking, were down as well, but Androceles had had the amphora of Falerian wine delivered. Absentmindedly, she tapped the stylus against her teeth.

‘My lady, a word.’

She turned and Tullio stood in the doorway. He started forward. Helena grabbed the tablets and held them in front of her like a shield. She contemplated skirting around the large amphora of oil and making a somewhat undignified exit.

He shut the door to the storeroom with a quiet click. His face had more planes and hollows than this morning. She remembered the taste of his lips, his skin.

She closed her eyes.

All the time he was kissing her, his men were escaping. It was nothing but a sham. He had used her.

An awful thought struck her.

Had Pius been bribed? Was the whole seduction an excuse to betray her trust? She had thought he wanted her and all he had done was cynically use her. Aunt Flavia was correct. All men, seafarer or Roman, were alike.

He took a step closer and his sandal crunched a piece of pottery. Her eyes flew open to see his hands were outstretched. She stepped to one side, bumping the top of her legs on the rim of an amphora.

‘How dare you! I gave strict orders!’

‘We need to speak.’ He continued his advance. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Her treacherous body delighted in it. ‘I want to explain. You should hear me out.’

‘Explain what? Your men escaped.’ She forced a harsh laugh from her lips and turned away, rather than look into his eyes. If she looked there, it would be tempting to look for some reason to forgive him. She refused to forgive him. ‘You gave me your word, Tullio.’

‘Are you saying that I had something to do with what happened out there in the harbour?’

His hand grabbed her shoulder and attempted to turn her around. She shrugged it off.

‘Encouraged them, led them. Those men are soldiers, Tullio, they do not act without orders.’ She slammed her fist down on the amphora’s cork lid and enjoyed the thump it made. ‘I know that much about the Roman army and its ruthless efficiency.’

‘Will you listen to me! I knew nothing about the escape attempt. If I had, I would have stopped it.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Because, unlike the pirates, I don’t lie.’ Tullio pointed to the amphora of Falerian wine, his eyes narrowing to slits of
molten black. ‘You asked for proof that the seafarers raided. There it is. That Falerian wine bears the mark of my ex-wife’s husband. It was stolen the night of their murder and none has appeared on the market.’

‘We’re not discussing raids. We’re discussing your men.’ Helena crossed her arms in front of her. Her stomach turned over. She had no doubt Tullio told the truth about the wine, but that did not excuse his behaviour. She refused to be distracted.

‘I’m asking you to believe me.’

‘Are you asking me to believe that your being away from the temple had nothing to do with the escape? You kept me in that cave for a purpose. You seduced me for a purpose. Now I know what that purpose was.’

She heard the sharp intake of breath. If she listened, she could hear his heartbeat. Every nerve tensed. She wanted to hear that she meant more to him than a diversion, that he had spent the night with her because he had wanted to.

‘What do you take me for?’ His hand closed on her shoulder, refused to be shrugged off and forced her to face him. ‘More importantly, what do you take yourself for?’

A terrible coldness filled Helena. Tullio had betrayed her. He had given her his assurance that his men would behave. He had given her his word, but he was a Roman like any other. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and it took all her hard-won training not to collapse into a heap of tears.

‘What did you hope to gain with this sort of behaviour?’ she asked in a low whisper.

He held out his hands, palms upwards. His face was the picture of injured innocence. Her heart twisted. She had believed him. She wanted to believe him now. That was what hurt. If he could give her an explanation and tell her it was a terrible mistake, she’d run to his arms.

‘Jupiter’s beard, are you saying I had something to do with this unholy mess?’

‘They are your men, and you knew they had escaped.’ Helena forced the words from her throat. ‘You knew before Kimon came here. You knew when you took me into your arms.’

The room went still and cold. Helena fought to draw another breath. Silently, she urged him to tell her that he had known nothing, that it had been as big a surprise to him as to her, that he would never have sanctioned such a foolhardy mission, that he’d waited to see if they’d return. That she meant something more to him than a conduit to the sibyl.

‘You knew,’ she repeated.

‘Yes, I knew they had escaped.’

The chasm between them opened. She felt alone and cold. She drew her shawl tighter about her. This was the end.

A look of anguish passed over his features. He reached out towards her and then changed his mind, raking his hand through his hair.

‘I swore that I would not lie to you, Helena. Before Kimon arrived with my three men, I did know they had made an escape attempt, but—’

Helena covered her ears with her hands. She knew he was still speaking. That did not matter. What mattered was that he had not sought to warn her. He had come back, taken a bath, come to her room and taken her in his arms, never saying a word about the escape. He had known.

No matter how he tried to portray it, he had betrayed her. She had believed in him, and he betrayed her.