A Voice in the Wind (41 page)

“Not so fast, Father. I won’t relinquish control until I’m certain this husband of Julia’s isn’t a wastrel.”

“You’ve no legal right to retain control of her estate,” Decimus said firmly. “When Caius Polonius Urbanus took your sister as his wife, he took possession of everything she owns as well, and that includes Claudius’ estate.”

Marcus thought of Hadassah and felt an uncomfortable feeling coil in his stomach. She was one of Julia’s possessions. Who was this Urbanus, and what would he feel toward his new wife’s Jewish maid? Embarrassed by his feelings for a slave girl, he hid behind his concerns for Julia. “And if she wants to leave the financial arrangements as they are?”

“It’s no longer Julia’s right to make that decision.”

Phoebe rose and went to Marcus. “Once you’ve seen how happy she is with Caius, you’ll feel easier about your father’s giving approval to the marriage.”

Marcus went to see Julia the next afternoon. She was still in bed when he arrived at Urbanus’ villa, but upon being told her brother had come, she wasted no time in joining him. “Marcus!” she cried, flinging herself into his arms. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

He was surprised to see her so disheveled. Her waist-length hair was unbrushed, her face devoid of makeup. She looked tired and was trembling, as though suffering the aftereffects of heavy drinking. A small, round red mark showed on her neck, disturbing evidence of passion.

He looked down at her, concerned. “Imagine my surprise when I returned to the news that you were married.”

Julia laughed gaily. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait for you. You’d already been gone two months and sent no word back about how soon we could expect you. You’ll like Caius. You have much in common with him. He adores the games.”

“How did you meet him?”

Her smile turned mischievous. “Calabah introduced us.”

His mouth tightened at her ready admission of defying him and Father. “That’s hardly a recommendation.”

Julia let go of his hands and moved away from him. “I’m sorry you don’t approve of her, Marcus, but it makes absolutely no difference to me.” She turned and faced him, angry and defensive. “I can do as I wish now. I no longer need Father’s permission, or yours, to choose my friends.”

Marcus could see Calabah’s influence. “I didn’t come to argue with you. I came to see if you were happy.”

Her chin jerked up. “I assure you I am. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Indeed. I’m joyous to hear it,” he said with unveiled annoyance. “You have my congratulations for escaping our clutches and my apologies for intruding on your newfound freedom.”

Julia’s defiance evaporated at his anger and she hurried to stop him from leaving. “Oh, Marcus, don’t be so impossible! You’ve only just come to see me. Don’t stalk off. I couldn’t bear it.” She hugged him as she always had from the time she was a small child who idolized him. He softened for a moment. She went on, drawing back slightly, “You only disapprove of Calabah because you don’t know her as I do.” She took his hands in hers. “I’m not like Mother. You know that. I’m not content to weave and see to everyone else’s needs above my own. I want excitement the way you do, Marcus. The gods brought Caius and me together.”

He searched his sister’s face, looking for the radiance of a young bride—and saw along with it the exhaustion of a debauched life-style. He caressed her cheek. “Are you really happy?”

“Oh, I am. Caius is so handsome and exciting. When he’s not here, all I can think about is him and when he’ll be back again.” She blushed. “Don’t look at me that way,” she said laughing. “Come and sit with me in the peristyle. I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.” She snapped her fingers and ordered one of the servants to have a meal brought to her.

Julia talked about the parties she and Caius attended, the sort that had always appealed to Arria. “I saw Arria the other evening,” Julia said as though reading his thoughts. “She asked who you were seeing. She had a gladiator in tow. He had scars all over him and was quite ugly.”

She complained about what the servant brought her, telling her to go back for fresh fruit and bread. “I miss Hadassah,” she said in annoyance. “She always knew what I wanted. These maids are so stupid and slow.”

“What did you do with her?” Marcus asked as carefully as he could. His heart was beating fast and a cold sweat was breaking out over his body.

“Caius doesn’t like Jews because they’re so prudish. Besides that, he didn’t like her because she was homely.”

Urbanus arrived before Marcus could ask any questions. Julia rose quickly when she saw him and raced to him. He kissed her briefly, looking her over with a wry smile, and whispered in her ear. Julia shrank slightly and then turned back. “Marcus, this is Caius. I’ll leave you two alone and make myself more presentable.” She hurried off, leaving Marcus alone with her new husband.

“You must wonder at the life we lead when your sister greets you straight from our bed,” Caius said, strolling toward him.

It was obvious to Marcus why Julia had fallen in love with Urbanus. He was the sort of man many women went mad over— dark, well-built, exuding sexuality. His enigmatic smile was challenging. Marcus met it with a smile of his own, stifling the urge to demand what he had done with Hadassah.

“Julia speaks of you often,” Urbanus said. “One would think you were descended from the gods.” He leaned against one of the marble pillars, his gaze cool.

“Younger sisters have a way of idolizing older brothers.”

“There’s a considerable difference in your ages.”

“We lost two brothers to fevers.”

“She doesn’t mention them.”

“She didn’t know them. Have you any family, Caius?”

Caius straightened and walked along the edge of the pond. The only sound for a long moment was the sprinkle of the fountain. “No,” he said simply. “Not until I married Julia.” He smiled, and Marcus wasn’t sure he liked what he saw on Caius’ face. “Your mother and father welcomed me with open arms,” he went on, looking at Marcus steadily.

“I’ll reserve my welcome until I know you better.”

Caius laughed. “An honest man,” he said. “Refreshing.” A servant entered the peristyle and offered Urbanus wine. At his nod, the slave turned to Marcus. He declined. Urbanus sipped his wine for a moment, studying Marcus over the rim of his silver goblet. “I understand you’ve been managing Julia’s estate.”

“Would you like an accounting?”

“At your convenience.” Caius lowered his goblet. “From all I’d heard about you, I thought you wouldn’t be so agreeable about it.”

“You’re my sister’s husband. The burden of her estate now falls upon you.”

“Indeed. It’s a lot of money.” His dark eyes lit with amusement.

Marcus wondered how Caius knew what was involved. Even Julia didn’t know. Perhaps Father had laid out the details, but Marcus doubted it. Father would have left it to him.

“Perhaps we could work something out between us,” Caius said slowly. “You could continue to manage the estate and pay over an established portion each month.”

Very neat
, Marcus thought cynically. “I usually charge a fee for my services,” he said dryly, having no intention of becoming Urbanus’ lackey.

“Even to your own family?” Caius said mockingly.

“A percentage of the profits,” Marcus returned smoothly. “A sizable percentage.”

Caius laughed softly. “I was just curious to see what you’d say. I’m fully capable of managing things myself. You know, Marcus, you and I have a great deal in common.”

“So Julia said a little while ago.” He liked hearing it from Urbanus even less.

Marcus stayed only as long as was polite. Julia returned to the peristyle dressed in an expensive fine wool palus. She wore pearls around her neck and woven into the curls piled high on her head. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she said, fingering her pearls and showing them off to him. They were the most expensive baubles a woman could have. “Caius gave them to me on our wedding night.”

The dark circles beneath her eyes were covered skillfully by makeup, and pink blushes had been added to her pale cheeks and her mouth. Had he not seen her an hour before, he wouldn’t have known she was tired and hung over from whatever party Urbanus had taken her to the night before. Her animated chatter grated, and Urbanus’ teasing was full of innuendo, which made her laugh. Unable to stomach any more, Marcus made his excuses and left.

Returning home, he was depressed. When he entered the house, he handed his cloak to Enoch. He heard his father’s voice in the common room where he met with his patrons each morning, and went to join him. “Hadassah!” he said, seeing her standing before his father and mother. As soon as he said it, he was embarrassed. “What’s going on?”

Decimus glanced up at his son and saw an expression on his face that he had never seen before. “Bithia has accused Hadassah of stealing.” Decimus had been unable to make sense of the accusation until now. He noted with increasing interest that Marcus scarcely noticed the Egyptian slave; indeed, he seemed to have eyes for none but Hadassah.

“Stealing?” Marcus said, pulling his gaze away from Hadassah as he entered the room. His heart sank. He looked at Bithia and saw her dark eyes glittering with emotion. He had seen that look often enough in Arria’s eyes to recognize it. She was burning with jealousy over something. “Has Bithia any proof?” he said coldly.

“We were just getting around to that,” Decimus said. Phoebe sat pale and distraught in the seat next to him. Hadassah stood silently before him, her head bowed. She had made no outburst of defense. In fact, thus far she had said nothing at all. “What proof do you have against Hadassah?” he demanded of the Egyptian girl.

“I saw her with my own eyes,” Bithia said insistently and named two other household slaves who could corroborate her story. Decimus called them in and they said, yes, they had seen Hadassah giving coin to a woman in the marketplace.

Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Bithia looked smug and unpleasant as the other testimonies agreed with hers. He felt a rush of deep dislike for her and wondered what he had ever found desirable about her in the first place.

“Hadassah,” Decimus said grimly. She looked up, frightened and pale. “Is this true? Did you give coin to someone in the marketplace?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Decimus wished she had lied. He sighed heavily. He was going to have to flog her and he wondered if her slender body could stand up to the punishment. He didn’t like the look on Bithia’s face. He suspected the Egyptian resented Hadassah being called to serve them now, instead of her. “Leave us, Bithia.” If he was going to be forced to punish Hadassah, he wasn’t going to do it before a gloating slave. He dismissed the others as well.

“You know the penalty for theft is flogging,” Decimus said. Hadassah seemed to shrink, though she made no defense. Phoebe was growing more and more distraught.

“Decimus, I can’t believe she’s stolen from us. She’s always given a full accounting—”

He raised his hand imperiously, and she fell silent. He was furious to be placed in this position and addressed himself to Hadas-sah. “We warn every slave that comes into our home what the penalty is for theft. What possessed you to give away money your mistress entrusted to you?”

“I only gave away the coin you gave me, my lord.”

“Coin I gave you?” he said, frowning.

“The peculium, my lord.”

Decimus blinked. Each morning he sat in his curule chair and doled out coin to his dozens of patrons. He also gave a quadrans to each of the least of the slaves, more to Enoch and the cook. He could scarcely believe a slave would give her peculium away.

Phoebe leaned close again and laid her hand on his arm. “Hadassah has always accounted for every coin I’ve given her.”

Frowning, he studied Hadassah intently. “Have you ever given away any of the money your mistress has given you?”

“No, my lord. Only what you’ve given me as peculium.”

“But why would you give your peculium away?”

“I had no need for it, my lord, and the woman did.”

“What woman was this?”

“A woman on the street.”

Marcus came closer, astonished by what she was saying. “You’re a slave with nothing. The peculium is all the money you’ll ever have. Why didn’t you keep it for yourself?”

She kept her eyes properly lowered. “I have food to eat, my lord, a warm place to sleep, clothes to cover me. The woman had none of these things. Her husband died a few months ago, and her son is a legionnaire on the frontier of Germania.”

Decimus stared. “You, a Jew, gave money to a
Roman
?”

She looked up at him then, tears in her eyes. She was trembling in fear of him, but wanted him to understand. “She was hungry, my lord. The quadrans you gave me was enough to buy her bread.”

Decimus leaned back, amazed. That a slave with a few coins would give it all to an enemy of her people was inconceivable to him. “You may leave us, Hadassah. The peculium is yours to do with as you like. Give it to whomever you please.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He watched her leave the room, then glanced at Phoebe and saw her eyes were filled with tears. He took her hand.

She looked at him. “If Bithia makes further accusations, Decimus, I would like your permission to sell her.”

“Sell her now if you wish,” he said, and then glanced at Marcus. “Unless you’d like to take her along to warm the bed at your villa.”

Marcus hadn’t realized his father was so aware of his private affairs, nor that he was willing to discuss them openly before Mother. “Thank you, but no. I want nothing more to do with her.”

“Do as you wish,” he told Phoebe. She rose and left the room.

Father and son looked at one another. Marcus’ mouth tightened. “Bithia came to my room of her own volition the first time.” class=font4> >

“I’m sure she did, but I doubt Hadassah will ever behave in the same manner.”

Marcus stiffened, his eyes flashing. “Meaning what?”

“You know very well what I mean,” he said. He sighed again. “Julia returned her to us—”

“Because Urbanus dislikes prudish Jews,” Marcus interrupted with sarcasm.