A Noble Captive (9 page)

Helena put her foot on a small ledge. Tullio peered closer. Several narrow steps were cut in the rocks and she started to climb. Tullio caught the glimpse of a neatly turned ankle and the memory of her warm body from that first evening jolted him.

‘Where are you taking me, Helena? I would have never found this track without you.’ He asked only in an effort to turn his thoughts back to the present. He had to look towards what benefited Rome, rather than his own desires. He did not dare risk offending her inadvertently.

She didn’t reply, but continued to climb the track. At several places, it levelled off, only to turn again and then begin to climb once more. In some places, his bulk was almost too big for the passage.

Tullio wondered briefly if this way could be used to escape and then rejected the idea when the path turned a final time and they came out on top of the tallest tower’s roof. Below their feet, the entire complex lay spread out. Above them to the right, the stone-strewn mountain peak rose to meet the azure blue sky.

The view confirmed his earlier suspicion—the temple was virtually inaccessible, a perfect fortress for whoever con
trolled it. He wished Quintus could see it and then his grumbling about the need for escape plans would stop.

It was little wonder that the sibyl wielded so much power if her temple commanded the headland of the island. He could see what must be the palace of one of the seafaring houses further down the hill and then the harbour with its gaily coloured triremes, their prows painted with hawk’s eyes—the better to see their prey—and fishing boats festooned with nets.

Tullio stroked his chin. He had given his word not to escape, but he had never said anything about regaining the tribute. He was determined that the pirates would not benefit from it. They would be punished and brought to justice.

The island expected an attack from the sea. The watch towers were positioned that way. Was there another route? Tullio turned and looked in the other direction. A sheer cliff dropped down to the sea. Small white waves played on the tiniest of shores. A possible anchorage? He lent over the parapet and tried to examine the shoreline closer—maybe a small boat.

A movement attracted his attention, made him forget all thoughts of the future and concentrate on the now.

Helena stood, her hands clinging on to the parapet so tightly that her knuckles shone white. The breeze whipped her gown about her ankles and flattened it against the curve of her breast. Gone was the self-confident priestess’s assistant who had faced down the pirates and in her place was a young woman with wary eyes. Rome no longer mattered. Tullio longed to draw her into his arms and cradle her, whisper to her that he would take care of her troubles, fight her battles as long as it brought no dishonour to Rome.

‘Is there any way to get down there?’ he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp.

‘The only way on or off the island is through the harbour. Remember that.’ She gave a laugh, half-strangled and yet grateful, and turned to face him. ‘There is a tale about a lover of a sibyl escaping down this cliff, but I think it is just a story. I searched and searched, but never discovered a path. Then the sibyl told me that the cave was bewitched and only those people who truly needed the path could find it. You can only go down, but never up.’

‘Another one of the shadows and mirrors used to fool the unsuspecting.’

Her mouth formed a startled O and her shawl slipped slightly, revealing the creaminess of her throat.

Had she even realised that he knew about her trick with the bronze mirrors?

He ran his hand through his hair. If he was going to gain her trust, he would first have to tell her that he knew she was in trouble.

‘You know about that?’ Her hand plucked at her gown, twisting the folds and then smoothing them down. ‘How?’

‘My sister was ill like Niobe and my mother sought a cure. I have been to many temples, Helena. I have seen many tricks and sleights of hand.’

‘The seafarers believed.’

He took a deep breath, and the same tightening of his belly that immediately preceded battle plagued him now. It was a risk, but one he had to take. He stared her directly in the eye and willed her to tell the truth.

‘You are lacking men and the sibyl is gravely ill,’ he said, choosing each word with care. His eyes were trained on Helena. The colour drained from her face and she swayed where she stood.

H
elena gasped for air. Something to stop this terrible reeling, tilting feeling.

Tullio had guessed. That was all—a guess. He couldn’t know for certain. Helena blinked. Her ears buzzed with the sound of a thousand bees. She would trust him a little bit, but not with the whole.

‘The sibyl had trouble returning from Kybele’s realm.’ She forced her voice to sound even, measured, nothing to betray her inner turmoil. She would give no more information than she had to. ‘She will recover in a few days. She needs complete peace and silence in which to heal.’

‘You took her place on the quayside and at the daily rituals.’ Tullio’s face was hard, full of uncompromising planes and shadows.

‘Somebody had to, it is expected.’ Her hands twisted her belt in ever tighter turns. This was proving harder than she anticipated. ‘The populace expects to see the sibyl when a pirate captain’s ship enters the harbour, and I could not risk it.’

‘Why?’

‘Aunt Flavia will get well. Why should her position as
sibyl be in any doubt?’ She waited to see confirmation on his face that he understood the danger if the seafarers thought something was wrong at the temple. ‘You’ve seen Niobe. Aunt Flavia uses her power wisely and well.’

‘If I noticed, others will have as well, Helena.’ His eyes softened. The shadows receded. His stance eased. ‘Androceles has guessed. It is why he asked for the prophecy.’

‘You may be right, but he is uncertain. When he gets the prophecy, he will be satisfied. All will be well.’

‘How much longer do you think you can keep up this pretence? The Ides is in three days. If the sibyl is too ill now, will she be well enough?’

Helena’s stomach knotted. It was one thing to have fears herself and quite another to hear them baldly stated like that. All her hopes and illusions tasted like ashes in her mouth. He was right. Aunt Flavia was not going to recover quickly enough. She would have to face Kybele and her cave alone, and the thought terrified her.

‘The prophecy will be given.’ A shiver ran down her back. She could see the gaping black hole of Kybele’s home on earth before her, feel the cold seeping. The place haunted her dreams, but her duty was clear. To save the temple and protect Aunt Flavia, she had to enter the cave. ‘I intend on keeping my word.’

‘Can I help you? Is there something I or my men can do?’ He leant forward. His hand brushed her shoulder. ‘Tell me—if it is within my power, it shall be done.’

She gazed at the point where his tunic kissed the column of his throat. More than anything she wanted to turn to him and lay her head against his chest, and feel his arms about her, holding her. She only had to take one step closer and she’d be there, her body next to his, her hands entwined with his.

The image shocked her, made her hesitate. Her thoughts
were not of a priestess in training but of a woman. Such thinking had led to her mother’s downfall and disgrace.

She should despise him as her enemy, not be drawn to him. She wrapped her arms about her, refusing to give into the feeling.

‘This is something I must face alone.’

‘Has this ever happened before? Has she had trouble crossing over before?’

Helena risked a glimpse into his deep midnight-black eyes. Compassion, not condemnation. A lump grew in her throat. Someone wanted to share the burden with her.

‘With Aunt Flavia?’ Helena tilted her head. The memories of the other times Aunt Flavia had confronted the goddess, and how each time lately she had come back a little weaker, flooded her mind. ‘She has been breathless before, and often takes to her bed for a little while. Galla makes her eat a dozen pyramid cakes. The goddess makes enormous demands on any who enter her lair, which is why she has always gone prepared.’

‘But this time, it was different.’ He reached out and touched her shoulder again. This time, the touch lingered. Warmth radiated outwards from his hand, soothing. ‘It shows on your face, Helena, the way you hold your body. You are frightened for her.’

The pressure from his hand was gentle, as if he were trying to tame a wild creature. Helena found she had no strength to move away. The warmth grew within her. She wanted to stay. Her hands itched to touch his. She wanted to feel the strength of his arms.

‘When she failed to return after the sand ran out, I began searching.’ The words started slowly and came tumbling out. It was a relief to finally speak of it. ‘Galla and I discovered her half in and half out of the deep hole at the bottom of the
cave. I have no idea how long she had been there. Even a few breaths makes me dizzy, if I am not properly prepared. We had just laid her down on her bed, when Androceles’s ship was sighted. I had no choice.’

‘People fall ill all the time. Why did you not explain?’

Helena moved towards the parapet, away from the shelter of his arms. The triremes bobbed gently, their painted eyes a comfort as always. The distant shouts of the porters as they unloaded more cargo echoed up the valley. A scene she’d watched a thousand times before. Busy, but contented.

How could she explain that Aunt Flavia’s illness was a signal that the sibyl’s powers were fading? That it would intensify the rivalry between seafaring houses? All this could go. When Tullio returned to Rome, she had no doubt that he would use that information and any hope of peace would be gone.

‘There was no need to alarm anyone. Despite the sibyl’s illness, we continue to conduct the temple’s business. She will get better and she will continue to command the respect of all the seafaring houses.’

‘And if she finds it too difficult to continue, who will the people turn to? Who will stop the seafarers from raiding the coastline?’

‘The next sibyl. Me.’

‘How can you be sure of that? Lady Zenobia said that you had not made your final vows.’

‘It is what I have been trained for.’

But as she said the words, Helena thought of the Lady Zenobia and her greedy fingers, of Captain Androceles and the way his tributes to the temple were increasingly on the light side. So many dangers. So much responsibility.

Helena pushed away thoughts about not having a response
from Kybele when she put on the mask, about what had happened to her mother and about how, until last night, Aunt Flavia’s skin had had a waxy tinge to it. She had seemed to be getting better and then had taken a turn for the worse. Aunt Flavia was not strong enough to face the prophecy cave and emerge alive.

Aunt Flavia needed time, and time was one thing she did not have. The miracle she prayed for was not going to happen. Not yet.

Was she ready for it? She could almost taste the rank smell in her mouth and hear the steady drip of the water. She wanted to run and hide in a corner as she had done the first time her aunt had taken her there. That was no longer an option.

She was not ready, but she had to be.

‘Yes, I am certain of that.’ She made her voice sound true and even. ‘The people of the island have always looked to the sibyl for protection, and the next sibyl will not fail them.’

‘And you will be the next sibyl.’

‘If the goddess so chooses.’

The breeze ruffled Tullio’s hair and his face turned pensive. He reached out and touched her cheek with gentle fingers, smoothing away a single lock of hair. From that one touch, her whole being was infused with warmth. Her lips ached with a sudden heaviness.

She gave into temptation and took the final step towards him. His hands drew her closer still until no more than a breath separated them. The heat of his body provided welcome relief from the chill of the breeze. She laid her head against his chest and listened to the rise and fall of his breath. His arms came around her and held her close. All her fears and worries faded away to nothing.

‘Helena.’ No more than a husky whisper, Tullio’s voice did
strange things to her insides, made her want something more than comfort. ‘I want to thank you for all you have done.’

‘I did what I felt was right.’ She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes, deep pools of black. Not cold like the black marble of Kybele’s high altar, but filled with flecks of warmth and promise. Her hand touched a lock of his hair, flicked off his forehead. ‘You asked for the protection of Kybele, and it had to be given.’

‘My men are alive today because of you and your actions.’

His lips were close, so close. If she lifted her mouth, she could touch them. A shiver of anticipation ran through her.

What did she know of this man and his life? Would he abandon her as her mother had been abandoned?

She took a step backwards and his arms loosened. Her hands rearranged her shawl so it covered her hair. A little gesture to hide her nerves from him.

‘Hopefully no one will be pining for you.’

‘My mother, my sisters and mayhap my dog.’ His voice was a caress, pulling her back towards him, towards his mouth. ‘My father will pay the ransom as we arranged before I departed. My wife divorced me two years ago.’

‘I am sorry.’ Helena saw the shadows in his eyes and heard the catch in his voice. Had his wife’s defection hurt him that much? She examined her hands. She had seen the way he treated his men. How could anyone leave a good man?

‘You must not be. We were not suited. It was a business decision on her part. We parted amicably enough.’ Tullio gave a harsh laugh. ‘She had already lined up her next conquest—a senator she had met at Baiae. A man more devoted to arguing in the courts than being a soldier or looking after his lands.’

‘Baiae?’ She tilted her head to one side.

‘A resort near Naples where the wealthy go to relax.
Perhaps both our expectations were wrong. I thought she understood that my duty came before pleasure. At least, she experienced some measure of happiness for a short while.’

‘A short while?’

‘She died six months ago.’ His mouth took on a bitter twist. The pain increased in his eyes. The flecks of warmth had vanished.

‘I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.’ She reached out her hand and touched the roughness of his cheek. Tingles ran up her fingers.

‘It had nothing to do with me, but she didn’t need to die. She was young and beautiful.’

‘Sometimes the gods have reasons we mere mortals can not understand.’

‘And why do you think the gods have brought me here?’ His voice was no more than a ragged whisper.

‘They have their reasons.’

Their eyes locked and she found it impossible to turn away. His hand reached out and drew her close. A single finger tilted her chin and he bent his head. His mouth brushed hers, feather light and then firm. She pressed closer.

Tullio’s lips held the tang of the sea breeze.

Helena was surprised how soft and gentle his lips were and how her body rapidly filled with a warmth. She wanted to be closer to him. Her body pressed forward and her curves moulded to his body. His kiss increased in pressure and she opened her mouth. His tongue touched hers and retreated, then returned to touch again. Helena knew that, without the support of his arms, she’d sink to the floor.

How long they stood there, limbs and lips entwined, Helena could not say. Everything had ceased to exist except for this man.

Then it was over. He let go and stepped back. They stood facing each other, chests heaving. Her legs and arms trembled.

Helena found herself trying to concentrate on something other than his mouth, her aching lips and the feeling inside her that she had not experienced nearly enough. Her forefinger traced the outline of her mouth. His hand caught hers, held it there and then let go.

‘You will keep my secret. You will tell no one.’

He raised an eyebrow then reached out towards her, but she backed away until the stone parapet touched the back of her thighs. ‘If they are your secrets, they are not mine to tell. But if you need help, I and my men are here. We have no wish to see innocents suffer.’

A shout from the harbour, followed by a loud blast from a horn, brought her back to the present with a jolt. She shielded her eyes with her hands and stared at the purple-sailed ship with its hawk eyes. The mark of Androceles’s house was clear even from this distance.

‘I have to go. They will expect to see someone from the temple.’

‘The sibyl?’

‘No, it is Androceles’s son. The sails of the Androceles’s clan are distinctive. The sibyl only appears for the heads of the houses, the men who have proved their worth.’

Tullio let her go. The passion in the kiss surprised him. He had expected to offer comfort and found himself desiring more. He should be thanking Jupiter the pirate vessel appeared when it did and reminded him of who he was kissing and what she stood for.

He watched her rapidly disappearing figure as she descended, and followed her with his eyes as she crossed the courtyard. No doubt soon he’d see the lions emerge pulling the chariot and the whole charade would begin again.

How many had been captured this time?

Would she attempt to save them?

She held the fate of his men in her palm. There was more to her than curves and an attractive smile. He tried and failed to imagine a Roman woman holding the power of life and death like that. Perhaps a Vestal Virgin.

A shiver passed over him. He knew the penalties for toying with a Vestal Virgin. Did the followers of this sibyl expect the degree of purity?

Was he guilty of what Quintus had accused him? Of putting his desires before his loyalty to Rome?

He had meant to comfort her and had ended up plundering her mouth. Tullio raked his hand through his hair and knew that, despite the risk, he would do it again.

‘Did you get the stone?’ Quintus asked before Tullio could say a word.

The men were lounging by a rebuilt wall. Most wore satisfied expressions on their faces. Workmen rather than discontented prisoners or slaves, Tullio thought with approval.

‘Something more important has happened. Another pirate ship has arrived.’

‘Our tribute?’ one legionary asked in a joyful voice. ‘I didn’t think it would be here before the end of the month. Thank the gods. We will be free men.’

Tullio held up his hand, silencing the general happy chorus. The men fell silent and then assembled into their formation. Their faces bore expressions of anticipation. Tullio hated he had to destroy that hope.