A Noble Captive (8 page)

‘I have seen the destruction, Helena. Recently.’

‘Prove it was one of the five seafaring houses, and the sibyl will do something about it. We must have proof, not Roman rumours.’

Helena waited. He had to understand what sacrifices were made. If what he said was true, then it was all the more important that Aunt Flavia’s condition was not known. The risks to the community were too great. She held her breath and waited to see what proof he would offer.

‘Destruction is destruction whoever causes it.’ He gave an elaborate shrug. ‘The important thing is to build and to make the world a safer place for those who find it difficult to defend themselves.’

Helena heaved a sigh of relief. An open break with a seafaring house was not on the horizon. Her aunt would have time to recover before Tullio could find any concrete evidence.

‘Do you always repair walls before obtaining permission?’

‘The wall had fallen down.’ A smile tugged at his lips. ‘Walls, in my experience, are generally there for purpose. If you need them, they should be sound. If not, you should demolish them.’

‘Your logic is flawless.’

‘And sometimes, you only think you need walls.’ He gestured towards the half-rebuilt wall with one hand. ‘Which is it with this one? Demolish or repair?’

His face had such an intent look that Helena wondered if he was speaking about something more than this stone. ‘This wall is supposed to help keep the sheep and goats out of the temple gardens.’

‘Then it should have been rebuilt at once.’

Helena shifted once more in her sandals, hating the feeling of inadequacy. The legionaries, along with a thousand other problems, plagued her mind. There was no one to ask and everyone wanted an answer. Until now, she hadn’t realised quite how much Aunt Flavia had done. Always there with a helpful word, or the correct ritual, Aunt Flavia had allowed Helena the illusion of control.

Repairing the temple benefits you as well, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind.

‘If you do work, you will not be paid for it. The amount of money you owe will still be the same. The seafarers took a great risk rescuing you.’

She watched his face. Only a muscle jumped briefly in his jaw. No other emotion was displayed.

‘We would go faster if we had some proper tools to build with, and a guarantee of proper rations.’

‘You eat what we eat. The temple makes no distinctions. Plain but enough to fill.’ She hesitated. This was a delicate matter. She was under no illusion what a few men could do armed with hammers and hoes. If the Romans attempted to escape, there was little her guards could do to hold them. She had to trust that the display of strength had convinced the Romans and the seafarers alike. ‘As for tools…’

‘You can trust us. We have given our word as soldiers, as Romans.’ His voice was low and intense. ‘You need this work doing, why not put your faith in us?’

‘As you have started, you might as well finish.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’

Tullio returned to his men. Helena watched for a little while. To make sure they were fixing the wall properly, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the man directing them, or the temptation he presented.

Tullio kept an eye out for Helena the rest of that day, and the whole of the next, but she did not reappear. The only sign she might be softening towards them was a pile of tools and a wooden tablet listing the jobs she wanted doing. This temple and its list of repairs was worse than Hercules’s encounter with the Augean stables.

Most of the men were glad to use their muscles during something other than training. Quintus, however, grumbled and moaned that they were being treated no better than slaves. But he had not disobeyed the direct order to work.

As Tullio and his men laboured in the sweltering heat, a crowd of villagers would often gather round. Most stood silently with hostile faces. One, a young girl dressed in a ragged tunic, held out a jug of water, which Tullio and his men took with grateful thanks. She gave a shy smile and then ran away. Tullio watched her go. A small start, but still a start.

After that, the faces appeared to be less hostile, the crowds not as large. The villagers were letting them get about their business. Not helping, but not hindering. With each passing hour, the faces grew watchful rather than suspicious.

Tullio put the final stone on the second boundary wall they had rebuilt that morning.

‘You and your men work with admirable speed,’ Helena said behind him.

Tullio wiped his hand on his tunic before he risked turning around and facing her. Who would he see this time? The woman or the administrator? He hated the way his blood jumped at the sound of her voice. He had to remember the stakes. Keep in mind his oath to Rome and his obligations. Quintus was correct. A dalliance could do more harm than good. But his breath quickened as he saw the way her gown hinted at her curves and the way her pearl-drop earrings drew attention to her long neck.

‘My men and I are unafraid of hard work.’

‘I can see that.’ She paused, started to say something, but changed her mind. There was speculation, even admiration in her eyes. The tension eased slightly in Tullio’s shoulders. It bothered him that he wanted her respect. ‘I hope you’ve had
little trouble from the villagers. They are not used to seeing Romans. Many have come with prayer requests for the sibyl, simply to get a better view of the legionaries.’

‘They have been most kind. One in particular—a girl with big brown eyes and a ragged dress—brought a jug of cool water. She has become quite a favourite with the men and me.’

‘When was this?’

‘Earlier.’ Tullio ran his hand through his hair. Was he now about be reprimanded for accepting a jug of water? ‘She held out the jug. It seemed churlish not to accept. She then refilled it twice from the well, but would not speak. The sun is quite fierce and, while not as refreshing as the vinegar we normally drink, the water was welcome. Hopefully you have not received any bad reports.’

‘No one has complained. I’ve heard nothing but praise.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He leant forward slightly. ‘I should like to thank the girl. It was an unexpected kindness. My men were parched. But she vanished before I had a chance to say anything.’

Helena’s teeth caught her bottom lip for a heartbeat. Then she shrugged. ‘Yes, that would be an idea. If you would follow me.’

Tullio motioned for Quintus to keep the men working on rebuilding the wall. Quintus grimaced, but moved to obey the order.

Helena led the way to a small pasture of rough grass where the young girl sat, stick in hand, tending geese. Catching sight of them, the girl gave a cry which sounded more birdlike than human. ‘Is that the girl?’

‘Yes, that is the girl. What is her name?’

‘Niobe.’ Helena made large gestures to the girl who started towards them. ‘She lost the power of speech. She was a happy baby, toddling about, chatting to everyone and everybody.
Then she caught a fever and fell silent. The villagers whispered that demons had stolen her soul and left a changeling. In desperation, her mother came to the sibyl. The sibyl decreed Kybele had touched Niobe. Her speech will return when the goddess decides. Since then we have provided a home for her, doing what we can. Her brother is our goatherd, Pius.’

The girl stopped, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes grew round.

Without waiting for Helena to make any more introductions, Tullio knelt down. He hoped he could reassure the child that he came in peace. Having seen the pirates in action, he knew they would not be kind to the child. He held out his hands and kept his voice gentle and that his lips clearly formed each word.

‘Greetings, Niobe. Do you look after the geese? They are very healthy and well fed. I wanted to thank you for the water you brought me and my men earlier. It was you, wasn’t it?’

She returned his smile and nodded enthusiastically. She gave the imitation of a goose. Tullio attempted a honk and the girl burst out in a fit of giggles. She bowed several times and then raced off to rejoin her flock.

‘You have made a friend.’ The pinched look on Helena’s face was gone. Her eyes held a new expression—as if he were some backward pupil who had just completed a difficult conjugation of a Greek verb.

‘A little kindness never did anyone any harm.’ Tullio concentrated on readjusting his cloak. Here was no heartless statue. Her concern for Niobe was real.

‘The sibyl is of a similar mind.’

‘The sibyl exercises great power.’ Tullio stared after the now distant figure of Niobe, rather than at Helena’s lips. The memories of the fights he had fought to protect his sister
crowded in. ‘No doubt there were many in the village who argued for the girl’s destruction.’

‘My aunt believes that the gods made each one of us. She has been a great force for good on this island and I intend to keep it that way.’

‘But for how much longer?’

She gave him a panicked look and Tullio knew he had hit a raw nerve. She was less sure about the temple’s position than she pretended. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘The pirates grow stronger in this region of the Mediterranean.’ He leant forward and dropped his voice. ‘How much longer until they decide they don’t need your aunt or her portents? How long until they take what they need with force?’

Tullio watched her face intently to see if there was any sign that she was listening, that she understood. All he could hear was the distant honks of the geese.

‘It is certainly something to consider.’ She pointed back down the track. ‘I believe your men will be waiting for you.’

Tullio started back. When he turned slightly she was standing there, the breeze whipping her gown about slim legs, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Could she trust him?

The question reverberated through Helena’s mind as she walked back towards the sibyl’s chambers.

Niobe, who hid when any strange man approached her, was not afraid of him.

His assessment of the situation was much the same as hers. As the seafarers grew bolder, their respect for the temple grew less.

How much longer before they decided to challenge the sibyl’s authority with an attack on the mainland?

Or, worse, stopped paying tribute altogether?

The minor insults were clear to anyone who had eyes. Androceles was determined to challenge the sibyl’s authority. Why Aunt Flavia had not chastised him when he first tried to deliver the mouldy grain, Helena had no idea. But each time, the house of Androceles dared that little bit further.

She hated the fact that Tullio had wakened these fears. She also hated the fact that she kept finding reasons to seek him out. She told herself that it was to make sure he and his men behaved properly but each time she saw them, it only served to show her how wrong she had been.

Lying on the table was another scroll from Androceles. Helena rapidly scanned it. Like the three that preceded it, Androceles respectfully reminded her of her promise. This time, he asked after the sibyl’s health. A subtle hint that, like Tullio, he had realised Aunt Flavia was not well?

Helena’s mouth went dry. He was guessing. He had to be. If he had solid proof, he’d have acted before now. But she had to do something.

‘We have finished repairing the southern enclosure. What else would you like my men to do? The warehouse looks like its east wall is missing stone.’

Helena glanced up and saw Tullio standing there. His frame filled the doorway. The sun had tanned his skin to a deep bronze. His tunic touched the mid-point of his thighs. Solid, reassuring and something else that made her blood sing.

Helena became aware she was staring, and rapidly rearranged the tablets in front of her. He would have to appear when she was at her most vulnerable.

‘The sibyl is grateful for what you and your men have done. She is relieved that you are obeying the rules of hospitality.’

‘
We
are grateful to be given the chance.’ His eyes seemed
to bore into her. ‘When the sibyl has a chance to inspect, I look forward to the opportunity of showing her all we have done.’

‘When she has time,’ Helena replied quickly. Too quickly. She drew a breath. ‘The demands on the sibyl are great at this time of year.’

‘The loose stone is almost exhausted. I fear someone has found another use for it. The repairs to the southern granary need more stone if it is to withstand a fierce storm.’

‘I already told you that is impossible.’ Helena released a breath of air. She had to cope with this request. ‘You and your men must stay within the confines of the temple. We must ensure your safety.’

‘Our captivity, you mean.’ Their eyes locked. Tullio crossed the room in three steps, and his warm hand covered hers. A tingle ran up Helena’s arm. ‘What is it, Helena? What are you frightened of? Confide in me.’

His whole being exuded strength and calm. Helena’s hands trembled. Did she dare trust him? She had to trust someone. She had to speak with someone or lose her reason. She remembered how Niobe had turned to him. Her aunt always said that Niobe was the closest to the goddess, that she understood the goddess’s will.

Was she being nudged towards the Romans?

The only thing she knew was that, if she stayed in this room, she’d be tempted. And this was not a burden she could share. However, she owed him more than a curt dismissal. The only thing to do was to take him to her refuge and hope the goddess offered more guidance.

‘Come with me, please.’

Before Tullio had a chance to ask more or even consider why she might be reacting in this way, Helena had left the room and started down a corridor. She hurried along and then,
when he thought they had reached a dead end, she pressed a hidden latch.

Tullio heard a click and a door swung open, revealing a passage hewn out of rock. He carefully noted where she had placed her fingers. Two indentations, so small he would have missed them if he had not known where to look. He tried to keep the rising sense of hope from bubbling over in him. The work he and his men had done had begun to bear fruit. This was his chance to bring her over to Rome’s side. Silently, he wished that he was more of a silver-tongued senator than a blunt-speaking soldier. This might prove to be his best chance.