A Voice in the Wind (16 page)

“One look at your face this morning was enough to tell him you weren’t going for a simple ride in the country.”

“He didn’t forbid you to take me from the house.”

“Perhaps he knows you would find some other way to come. He might prefer you attend with me rather than with one of your flighty friends.”

“I could have come with Octavia.”

“Ah, yes, innocent little Octavia.”

She didn’t like his wry tone. “She gets to go to the ceremonial feast the night before the games and see all the gladiators up close.”

“Indeed,” Marcus said dryly, well aware of the fact. “Octavia does many things I wouldn’t want my sister to do.”

“I don’t see why you disapprove of her. She’s escorted by her own father.”

Marcus made no comment, certain any information he might give on Drusus would be repeated to Octavia. Drusus was not rich enough to be a threat, but he had enough influence and money to be bothersome.

Julia clenched her hands tightly in her lap. He was trying to make her feel guilty. It was beastly of him and she wouldn’t be drawn into a discussion about Father. Not now. She was well aware she was disobeying his wishes, but why should she feel guilty? Marcus had been living for himself since he was eighteen. He didn’t bow to their father’s ridiculous sense of morality, so why should she? Father was unreasonable and dictatorial and dull. He expected her to study and prepare herself to be a proper wife, like Mama. Well, that was fine for Mama—who seemed to enjoy such a mundane life—but Julia wanted more. She wanted excitement. She wanted passion. She wanted to experience everything the world had to offer.

Marcus shifted his body. His eyes were half-closed already with boredom. Julia’s mouth tightened. She didn’t care if he was bored. And it annoyed her that he defended Father’s attitude, especially when he and Father were so often at odds themselves lately. They argued constantly, about everything.

She glanced at her brother and saw the rigid line of his jaw. His mind was wandering. She had seen that look on his face often enough to know he was thinking about some spat he had had with Father. Well, it wasn’t fair. She wasn’t going to allow anything to spoil today—not Father, not Marcus, not anyone.

“Octavia said she has seen Arria at the feasts more than once.”

Marcus’ mouth curved cynically. Julia was not telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Arria does many things I wouldn’t want you to do.”

Why did everyone expect her to be different from everyone else? “Arria is beautiful and rich and she does whatever she wants to please herself. I wish I could be exactly like her.”

Marcus laughed without humor. “You are too sweet and . uncomplicated to become like her.”

“I suppose you mean that as a compliment,” she said, and looked away, fuming silently. Sweet and uncomplicated! He might as well have said she was dull. No one really knew her, not even Marcus, who knew her better than anyone. To him, she was his little sister, someone meant to be spoiled and teased. Father and Mother saw her through a cloud of their own expectations and spent every waking moment trying to mold her into those expectations.

Julia envied Arria’s freedom. “Is she going to attend today? I’d like to meet her.”

“Arria?”

“Yes, Arria. Your mistress.”

The last person Marcus wanted his sister to meet was Arria. “If she does attend, she won’t arrive for hours yet. Not until the real bloodletting begins. And when she comes, my sweet, she will sit with Antigonus and not with us.”

“You mean Antigonus won’t be sitting here?” she said in surprise.

“He’ll be in the sponsor’s box.”

“But you always sit with him.”

“Not this time.”

“Why not?” She grew indignant as she grasped the possibility that the young aristocrat thought himself too important to sit with an Ephesian merchant’s son. “We should be sitting in the sponsor’s box. Considering it’s Father’s money paying for all this, I wouldn’t think it to Antigonus’ interests to exclude us.”

“Calm down. It was no slight on his part. I excluded us,” Marcus said. He had no intention of putting his sister in the same vicinity as his lascivious friend or his own amoral mistress. He wanted Julia to enjoy herself, not to be completely corrupted after only one hot afternoon at the arena. Antigonus had already remarked once that Julia was growing into a lovely young lady, and that was enough to warn Marcus of his intentions. Julia was far too impressionable and would probably fall easy prey to an attack of Antigonus’ experience. Marcus intended to make sure Julia didn’t. She’d remain intact until she was married to a man of their father’s choosing, and then she could do as she pleased.

A frown momentarily creased Marcus’ face. Father
had
chosen, though Julia wouldn’t be informed of it until all the arrangements had been made. Father had told Marcus of his choice only an hour ago, just before Julia came into the room. “Arrangements are being made for your sister’s marriage,” he had said. “The announcement will be made within the month.”

Marcus was still stunned. If Father suspected he was taking Julia to the games, he hadn’t let on. He had looked at his father cautiously, wondering why he was telling him about the engagement. “I’ve never given Julia free rein under any circumstances,” Marcus had said to reassure him. “She’s my sister, and I will see her reputation protected.”

Rome

“I know that, Marcus, but you and I both know that Julia has a tendency to be excitable. She could be easily corrupted. You must shield her whenever possible.”

“From life?” Marcus said.

“From pointless and foul entertainment.”

Marcus stiffened, well aware the remark was aimed at his own life-style. He didn’t rise to the argument, however. “Who have you chosen for her?”

“Claudius Flaccus.”

“
Claudius Flaccus
! A worse mate you couldn’t find!”

“I’m doing what I think best for your sister. She needs stability.”

“Flaccus will bore her to death.”

“She will have children and be content.”

“By the gods, Father, do you even know your own daughter?”

Decimus stiffened, his dark eyes flashing. “You are foolish and blind where your sister is concerned. What she wants is not what is best for her. I hold you partly responsible.” Marcus turned away, aware that in his anger he might say something he’d later regret. “Marcus, see that Julia is not compromised while in your care!”

Marcus knew Flaccus was a man of impeccable bloodlines, a trait Father disdained openly, but coveted secretly. Flaccus also possessed some measure of wealth and community standing. However, Marcus suspected the real reason behind Father’s selection was Flaccus’ bronze-cast traditional points of view and morality. Flaccus had had only one wife and, from all accounts Marcus had heard, had remained constant during her lifetime. It had been five years since she had died in childbirth, and yet Flaccus’ name had never been linked with any other woman. The man was either celibate or homosexual.

For all Flaccus’ assets, Marcus didn’t think the marriage would bring happiness to Julia. Flaccus was far older than Julia, and he was an intellectual. Such a man would be dull company for a girl of Julia’s temperament.

“You’re making a mistake, Father.”

“Your sister’s future does
not
concern you.”

Julia had chosen that moment to come into the room, thus preventing Marcus from venting his opinion on that statement. Who knew Julia better than he? She was like him, chafing under the restrictions of a morality that no longer existed anywhere in the Empire.

On the ride to the arena, he had given Julia the reins and let her send the horses into a wild gallop.
She is barely fifteen years old… Let her feel the wind of freedom in her face before Father hands her over to Flaccus and she is locked behind the high walls of an Aventine Palace
, he thought glumly. The same hot blood that ran in his own veins ran in Julia’s, and the thought of her fate sickened him. It was half in his mind to allow his sister any adventure she wanted, but the family honor and his own ambition wouldn’t allow it.

His father’s warning had been clear, though unspoken: Keep your sister away from your friends, especially Antigonus. The warning was unnecessary. Besides the need of protecting Julia’s purity in order to protect the family reputation, Marcus didn’t want to further complicate his relationship with Antigonus. He knew his friend, the aristocrat, far too well to trust him with Julia. Antigonus would seduce Julia and marry her just to guarantee himself future access to the Valerian coffers. Marcus was no fool. A substantial investment in Antigonus’ career had been necessary to gain the building contracts he coveted, but Marcus had no intention of allowing a marriage that would permanently obligate him.

Now that he had the contracts, he could prove his own abilities on a broader scale. In three or four years, Antigonus would be useless to him. For while Marcus found Antigonus amusing and somewhat intelligent, he was wise enough to know Antigonus wouldn’t last in the Senate. He ran through money and wine too quickly and ran off at the mouth too much. One day, Antigonus would have one party too many, get too drunk and speak too freely, seduce the wrong patrician’s wife, then end up with an imperial order to slit his own wrists. Marcus intended to have some political distance between them before that time came.

Julia’s exclamation drew him back to the present. “Oh, Marcus, it’s so exciting, I can hardly bear it!” The stands were filling up with men, women, and children. The noise rose and fell like the ebbing surf. Marcus saw little to interest him and leaned back indolently, resolved to suffer through the morning tedium. Julia sat, back straight and eyes wide with fascination, taking in everything that was happening around her.

“A lady is staring at you, Marcus.” His eyes were half-closed against the sunlight.

“Let her stare,” he said indifferently.

“Perhaps you know her,” she said. “Why don’t you open your eyes and look?”

“Because it’s pointless. If she is beautiful, I might wish to pursue her, and I must remain and protect my beautiful and innocent sister.”

Giggling, she hit him. “And if I weren’t here?”

He opened one eye and sought the woman mentioned. He closed it again. “No further discussion necessary.”

“There are others looking,” Julia said, proud to be sitting by him. The Valerians could claim no royal Roman bloodlines, but Marcus was very handsome and he had an air of masculine confidence about him. Men, as well as women, noticed him. This pleased Julia, because when they looked at him, they ended up looking at her as well. She had made special preparations today and knew she looked her best. She felt the bold look of one man a few rows away and pretended not to notice. Did he suppose she was Marcus’ mistress? The thought amused her. She wished she looked sophisticated and aloof, but knew the hot color flooding her cheeks gave her innocence away.

What would Arria do under the circumstances? Pretend she didn’t feel the man’s open stare? Or return it?

Trumpets blared, startling her. “Wake up, Marcus! The gates are opening!” Julia said excitedly and leaned forward in her seat.

Marcus yawned widely as the tedious preliminary proceedings began. Usually he came late in order to avoid the boring pronouncements of whom to credit for funding the day’s games. Today Antigonus would lead the parade with his banners flying. No one really cared who paid, as long as the games went on. In fact, sometimes insults were shouted at sponsors who took too long to advertise their part in the production.

Julia clapped wildly as the chariots bearing the sponsors and duelists appeared. “Oh, look! Aren’t they wonderful!” Her excitement amused him.

As primary sponsor of the events to come, Antigonus led the parade. He was splendidly dressed in white and gold with his hard-earned edging of purple denoting his new, but tenuous, rank of senator. He waved to the crowd while his driver struggled to keep the pair of majestic stallions under control. As they made a full circle and a half, the driver turned the chariot and halted it before the emperor’s platform. Antigonus, with all the dramatic flare of an actor, presented the speech Marcus had written the evening before. The crowd approved the brevity; the emperor, its eloquence. Antigonus signaled grandly and the duelists climbed down from the chariots to display themselves before the cheering multitude.

Julia gasped and pointed at a gladiator stripping off a brilliant red cloak. Beneath it, he wore polished bronze armor. “Oh, look at him! Isn’t he beautiful!” His helmet held dyed ostrich plumes of bright yellow, blue, and red. He marched around the arena so that the spectators could get a good look at him. Marcus’ mouth curved wryly. For once, he agreed with Father. Celerus looked like a cock on the walk. Julia, on the other hand, stared in fascination and seemed to think him the most beautiful man she had ever seen—until the next half-dozen gladiators stripped off their cloaks and joined him.

“What is
he
?” Julia asked, pointing.

“Which one?”

“The one with the net and trident.”

“He’s a
retiarius
. They will put him up against a
mirmillo
, the ones with fish-shaped crests on their helmets, or a
secutor
. You see that man over there, the fully armed one? He is a secutor. They are supposed to chase down their opponents until they are worn down enough to finish off.”

“I like the mirmillo,” Julia said, laughing. “A fisherman against a fish.” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining brighter than he’d ever seen them. He was glad he’d brought her. She clapped her hands as trumpets blared again. “Is that one a
Thracian
?” she asked, pointing to a tall gladiator carrying an oblong shield and wearing a plumed helmet. He had a gladius and lance and a sleeve on his right arm. “Octavia said the Thracians are the most exciting!”

“That one’s a
Samnite
. The one with the curved dagger arid the small round shield is a Thracian,” Marcus said, unable to arouse much enthusiasm for either.

Celerus had stopped before a box of richly dressed women and rolled his hips at them. They shrieked in lustful approval. The more explicit his antics, the louder they laughed and screamed, others around them joining in. Several men clambered down over the rows, pushing past people to reach the ledge, so they could lean over and toss flowers down to the famous gladiator. “Celerus! Celerus! I love you!” One shouted down at the gladiator.