A Noble Captive (6 page)

It had been a mistake to dismiss the guard, she thought. She had to remember the Roman was a soldier and she knew what Roman soldiers did and how they behaved. The pull she felt was her overactive imagination. How many times had Aunt Flavia criticised it?

This man was her enemy. He had the potential to destroy everything she held dear. She refused to be attracted to him.

‘I wish to speak with her, to thank her for the supplies she
has sent the men.’ Tullio spoke as if he were trying to soothe a frightened horse. His hands hovered as if he sensed her fear and wanted to protect her. ‘Let me speak to her. Tell me the words I need to use to unlock her door.’

Helena found it difficult to breathe. Her heart thumped in her ears. She wondered what it would be like to be engulfed in those arms. A woman could feel safe in those arms, she was certain of that. The atmosphere seemed charged with something and she longed to lay her head against his solid chest. Helena put a hand to her throat and grasped her gold necklace as if it were a lifeline. The movement broke the spell.

‘I’ll let her know of your gratitude. She will be pleased to be thanked.’ She made her voice as brisk as possible as she stepped towards the table, away from his arms, away from him. Her body’s reaction to his nearness shocked her. For the first time in her life, it was as if she was on shifting sands, unable to find a proper response.

‘You do that. I wanted to let her know that we Romans never forget our friends.’ His voice held warmth, more warmth than she had heard in a long time.

Helena wrapped her arms about her waist and tried to ignore the slight trembling in her limbs. Normally, she had no hesitation, everything had a ritual, a proper place. There was a certain order. She knew again where she stood.

‘The sibyl would behave in such a manner towards any…any storm-tossed stranger who used the correct ritual.’ The edge of the table dug into her thighs. ‘The goddess guides her every move.’

He made a small dismissing gesture and then moved closer. If she put out a hand, her fingers would brush his tunic. Her fingers curled.

‘I do not search for reasons. I look at results. My men will
live because of what she has done.’ Again, his voice sent thrills down her spine. ‘She holds my and my men’s life-debt.’

She could only stare at him and his deep fringed eyes. There was a certain untamed power about him. She had never been able to understand why women might find men overwhelmingly attractive, enough to gossip in the corners and giggle, but, faced with this man, she felt the stirrings of something inside her. It both excited and frightened her.

‘I will let her know.’

‘I would like to explain it personally to the sibyl.’ His eyes were focussed on her lips, making them feel full and heavy. ‘You can arrange that for me, can’t you?’

The words were like ice water. Helena turned and broke his gaze. She had allowed this conversation to progress too far. The spell he held over her shattered. Helena drew a shuddering breath. All the warnings she had over the years about Romans came flooding back. What was his game? Seduction? Too late, she remembered her aunt’s warnings. Men were not to be trusted.

Did he hope to turn the temple away from its people?

‘The sibyl is no friend of Rome. She has no use for Roman life-debts,’ she stated flatly.

He had to understand this. If anyone from her uncle and Captain Androceles even suspected a hint of co-operation with Rome, retribution would be swift and harsh.

‘She cares only for her people. She would never betray her people.’ Helena watched Tullio as her words echoed around the room. Something seemed to die in his eyes. Cold hardness replaced the warmth.

‘I see. I mistook the situation.’

‘My lady, your aunt, the Lady Zenobia, and her entourage approach,’ a temple guard said, bursting into the room.

Helena pressed her fingertips together. A new wave of pain crashed around her head. The Lady Zenobia. She had to prevent Aunt Zenobia from seeing Aunt Flavia. It was that simple and that fraught with danger.

Why now? Had Zenobia reached a similar conclusion to Tullio? Her aunts never spent any time in the same room together. Aunt Flavia blamed Aunt Zenobia and her extended Cilician family for many of the excesses of the seafarers.

Oh, Kybele, what had she done?

T
he Lady Zenobia, dressed in a heavily embroidered purple gown, stood in the centre of the sibyl’s reception room. Everything about her posture proclaimed she was consort to the head of one of the most important seafaring houses in the islands. Next to her stood Captain Androceles, resplendent in his green tunic and darker green cloak. With his sharply pointed nose, his resemblance to a bird of prey was striking.

A great pit opened where Helena’s stomach used to be, and her limbs started to tremble. She had expected the captain to sail with his trireme, but he hadn’t. There had to be a reason why he had let the trireme sail without him. Normally, he was content to leave behind one of his men, while he took charge of negotiation with the Romans for the disposal of his goods. It was this attention to detail that had earned in part his nickname of the Eagle.

What had his eyes picked up this time? And he had enlisted his distant cousin in his plans. The combination could spell disaster for the temple unless Helena kept Aunt Flavia’s illness hidden.

Helena straightened her robes and made the necessary ob
ligations in front of Kybele’s statue before turning to her aunt. She concentrated on her breathing, steady and sure, the same as she practised before the libation water ritual. Everything she did had to appear unhurried when, in reality, she wanted to flee from the room and lock the door behind her.

‘How good of you to call, Aunt Zenobia.’ Helena made an expansive gesture with her hands. ‘The sibyl did mention that you were in the congregation for this morning’s ritual. What can the temple do for the queen of this island?’

Helena paused to see if her aunt would use any of the ritual words, but Zenobia stood fingering her deep purple gown and the expression in her eyes turned to one of deep distaste. Helena looked behind her. Tullio stood, arms crossed, face stern—an unrequired bodyguard. Helena pressed her tongue against her teeth. The Roman presumed much. When she needed help, she’d ask for it.

‘This is not a social call, niece. I, that is,
we
desire a word with Flavia, with the sibyl. My dear maternal cousin and I wish her to read the portents.’ Zenobia glanced at Androceles who nodded.

Helena’s heart plummeted. What was Zenobia doing, deferring to Captain Androceles? She never deferred to anyone. It was one of Aunt Flavia’s standing criticisms. The Lady Zenobia would not even bow to Kybele herself.

‘Is there some matter in particular you wish the sibyl to consider or is it a more general request?’ Helena forced her face to remain impassive. She must wait until her aunt spoke. She must not offer anything, jump to any conclusions.

It might only be about temple business.

Had one of the temple’s goats escaped and eaten her precious orchids? Had she not had her feet washed first during
the ritual? What possibly could warrant this visit, rather than sending a tablet as Zenobia normally did when she had a prayer request?

‘As we are caring for the good captain’s guests, the temple hums with activity. There are many demands on the sibyl’s time. Making sure the strangers are looked after according to tradition is very important to us.’

‘I have a matter I wish to discuss with Flavia.’ Aunt Zenobia’s face wore an expression as if she tasted a very sour grape. ‘You will fetch her for me. Tell her I am here and desire an immediate audience.’

‘The sibyl must attend on us at once.’ Androceles took a step forward. He placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. Helena bit back a gasp. No one used that tone with Aunt Zenobia or touched her person with such familiarity. It would be demeaning to her status. ‘Zenobia, you have forgotten what we discussed earlier. You were to use the exact wording we agreed on. We are concerned about the sibyl. Her behaviour yesterday was extraordinary.’

‘Androceles is right.’ Zenobia fluttered her eyelashes and gave a simpering smile to Androceles. ‘Her behaviour at the quayside was…unusual.’

Helena’s hand instinctively sought the Kybele amulet that hung from her belt. Its familiar curves and indentations provided a measure of calm. Giving way to panic would undermine everything. Shouting at Zenobia that Androceles was using her would serve no real purpose. Some sort of accord had been reached between the two rival seafaring houses. She had to find a way of distracting them and reassuring them that everything was normal. Only her mind was as blank as an unused wax tablet. ‘The sibyl…’

‘The sibyl is resting at present. I believe I have first claim
on an audience with her.’ Tullio’s rich tones came from behind her, drowning out her words.

The pair turned towards him with an identical astonished expression on their faces. As distractions went, his intervention was a good one, Helena had to admit with grudging admiration.

‘Why?’ Zenobia asked. ‘Why should you wish to see the sibyl?’

‘The sibyl did a great service to my men last night. Several received medical attention and I wish to thank her for her assistance.’

‘Who is this man that he dares speak to me like this? Does he not know who I am?’ Zenobia’s elaborate mass of curls shook. Her face turned red underneath the white lead paste she wore.

‘Marcus Livius Tullio. The sibyl graciously consented to our lodging with her until the tribute arrives from Rome.’ Tullio made a flourishing bow towards the captain. ‘Captain Androceles is responsible for our presence in this place. I do not believe it was the sibyl’s intention.’

Captain Androceles returned the bow. Helena was reminded of two gladiators giving each other elaborate courtesies before the games began.

Helena forced air into her lungs and kept her hands still. She wanted to cry out, but did not dare.

What if they came to blows in this chamber?

It would give Captain Androceles the excuse he needed to station men here. At the very least, he would demand a personal audience with Aunt Flavia. There had to be a way of preventing that from happening.

‘Are you denying that you wished to be rescued?’ Captain Androceles’s lip curled. ‘By the beard of Alexander, your trireme would not have lasted much longer upon the sea.’

‘Typical Roman seamanship, no doubt.’ Zenobia’s face
was crimson with poorly concealed rage. She moved away from Androceles. Her eyes shot daggers. ‘Androceles told me about the rescue when we dined together last evening. But he did not tell me that he had forced the sibyl’s hand.’

‘The sibyl has powers beyond ordinary mortals’ understanding. She no doubt has her reasons,’ Tullio said. ‘It is not for me to question the will of the gods.’

Tullio’s body was turned towards her aunt, but his gaze held a knowing gleam and seemed to pierce Helena’s soul. He knew. But did he know that Kybele did not speak to her? That this whole was her fault? A mistake that she had yet to recover from? Helena felt the ice sink into her veins. If only she could replace the sands of time, she’d never ever have gone to the quayside. She’d have found another way. But for now, all she could do was to hope and to listen.

‘Kybele has always taken the seafarers’ part,’ Captain Androceles drawled. He brushed a speck of dirt from his green cloak. ‘Time and time again, Kybele has shown a coldness toward Rome. It is only natural the sibyl should want to protect her investment.’

‘Gods can be notoriously fickle,’ Tullio replied.

‘As can Romans.’

A muscle in Tullio’s jaw jumped, but he said nothing.

Helena struggled to breathe. In a few more sentences, Androceles would be accusing the temple of colluding with Rome. Having been thwarted in stationing men here, he was attempting to use Zenobia to force the situation. The Roman was playing into his hands. She had to regain control of this interview. She had made another error. She possessed none of Aunt Flavia’s unerring instinct for the best way to bend circumstances to her will.

‘I have seen nothing to lead me to conclude that Kybele
requires a change of allegiance. The sibyl even forgave the shipload of mouldy grain.’ Helena stepped forward, making an expansive gesture with both her hands. ‘It was your wish that the Romans be housed here, not the sibyl’s. The sibyl relayed the conversation to me yesterday so that there would be no mistake on anyone’s part. She has felt the goddess’s call.’

She glanced at both Tullio and Androceles. Her answer should satisfy both of them. Tullio gave her a slight nod.

‘As you say, my lady,’ Captain Androceles murmured.

‘Your words make me ashamed of my thoughts, but I know much of Roman treachery. My sole concern was for Flavia.’ Zenobia drew her gown away from Androceles. Her lips curved upwards in a self-satisfied smile. ‘These Romans would sell their own mothers if they felt they could get a good price for them.’

Helena ignored Androceles’s laughter. She wanted to scream at Zenobia that she had glimpsed more humanity in the Romans than she had ever seen in the seafarers, but what good would it serve? She knew the temple did not have the resources to fight the combined force of the two major seafaring houses. However, for now she held the advantage. She had to make sure she used it and ended this interview on her terms.

‘Aunt Zenobia.’ Helena cleared her throat and waited a heartbeat for silence to fall. ‘Have you a boon that you wish the sibyl to consider? The temple does not run itself…’

‘Flavia should have you make the final ritual, Helena,’ Aunt Zenobia retorted and her voice could have been chipped from the snows of Mount Olympus itself. ‘You will make a fine sibyl some day. You have Flavia’s exact intonation down.’

‘I will take that as a compliment.’

‘Today appears to me to be as good as any for soothsaying,’ Androceles drawled. ‘I trust the sibyl will not delay in answering Zenobia’s question. Knucklebones simply do not give the answer required. We want to consult an expert.’

Soothsaying. That was it.

Not merely looking at entrails or rolling the four-sided knucklebones to see the future, but actual communication with the goddess. Entering her abode and returning unscathed to the land of the living. The ultimate test to indicate that the sibyl retained the goddess’s favour.

Aunt Flavia had made her reputation on getting the prophecies correct. Helena’s mind raced. She had to stall for time, and hope. If Aunt Flavia became better, maybe there would be a chance.

‘And the question is?’

‘I desire to know if Lichas’s mission will succeed.’ Zenobia snapped her mouth shut like a turtle closing in on a particularly juicy bug. She and Androceles exchanged knowing winks. Helena felt the knots in her stomach turn. Having failed to get her to confess to an open breach with the seafarers, they were trying for a new line of attack. Exactly what was Androceles plotting? ‘Surely this is not too difficult a question for a seer of Flavia’s standing.’

‘Soothsaying is not so easy. It requires careful consideration and preparation,’ Tullio said. ‘In my humble experience.’

A weight seemed to roll off Helena’s chest and she could breathe again. Tullio had thrown her a lifeline, a glimmer of an idea. Something she could use. ‘The tribune is quite right. To foresee the future is not a gift to be rushed.’

‘The tribune shows a marked knowledge of the temple’s affairs,’ Zenobia remarked. Her expression had turned even more sour.

Androceles leant over and whispered in Zenobia’s ear. She nodded back at him. Zenobia gave another of her trilling laughs.

‘Do tell Flavia about our request. I truly wish to know what the goddess thinks. It would be a dreadful thing for this island if her powers started to desert her. Of course then, maybe someone I know would take her place.’

They suspect something, Helena thought with a sudden certainty. The reprieve was too easy. And Zenobia thinks I will be a simpler sibyl to manipulate.

Who carried the intelligence to her aunt? One of the guards? Could she really trust anyone? How long did she have before they acted? Enough time for Aunt Flavia to recover her health? She had to.

‘You shall have your answer by the Ides. The sibyl needs time to make her ritual preparations.’

‘You impress me with your certainty, Helena. A quality to be admired in a sibyl.’ Androceles bowed low, with his green cloak flowing behind him.

‘I leave such things to my aunt. She is an extraordinary sibyl.’

‘For now.’

Androceles’s words sent an icy chill through Helena. She wanted to sink to the floor and put her face in her hands, but she forced herself to remain upright.

‘Helena has given you her answer. I suggest you heed it.’

Tullio crossed his arms over his massive chest as if he were one of her guards. Solid, steady and protective. The message was unmistakable. He knew and was trying to protect her. The temptation was there, but she needed more. She had to know she could count on him and Rome always. And she already knew the answer to that.

‘You will have your answer by the Ides, Aunt Zenobia.’
Helena held her head and met Zenobia’s gaze. Zenobia was the first to look away.

‘Six days, and tell Flavia I expect a clear message, not one of her usual obscure ones. Far too often she has been able to wriggle out of a situation with an interpretation after the fact.’ Zenobia turned on her heel and with a click of her fingers left the chamber.

Helena’s knees threatened to give way and she reached out a hand to steady herself. Instead of encountering the small stone altar, her hand brushed the wool of Tullio’s tunic. The brief contact sent shock waves through her body. She hurriedly withdrew her fingers.

Why now? Why this man? No other man had sent these strange flickers through her body. One touch and she was ready to forget all her training. Was this how it had happened to her mother?

‘Is something wrong, Helena?’ His warm fingers grasped her elbow, steadying her. Warmth like the heat from a charcoal brazier on a cold day spread up her arm. ‘Let me help. Trust me. We can work together. We are both suspicious of Androceles.’

He was so close she could see every eyelash that fringed his dark rich eyes. She could even see a small white scar on his right cheek. But what she really noticed was the compassion in his eyes.

She tried to tell her body that this was a Roman and Romans twisted words, but equally her mind reminded her of yesterday when he was ready to take another’s punishment and last night when he sat by his man’s bed for the sake of a promise. He had integrity. Maybe she could trust him. She wanted to believe he could help.