B007IIXYQY EBOK (142 page)

At last he struggled to one side. “Please, don’t move,” she whispered.

“I’m crushing you.”

“I know and I do not care. Promise me you’ll not move.”

Their gazes met and both laughed, sensing in that moment they joined again, that years of words of understanding were exchanged.

She fell asleep naked, half atop him, one hand enclosed in his, her head resting on his chest; she might have been curled in her straw bed at home in the pacific days before the hall burned. She felt she had found country, clan and friend in one man.

He was wakeful longer, watching her while he worried over what was to come. What were they to do about this bewildering power they wielded over each other? He knew much of her, but he also knew so little. Would she leave her people to be with him? And if she did, might it not be unnatural and sad, like taking the deer from the forest and releasing it into the confines of a deer park? And were not life and death and Domitian’s end enough to worry about without now having to worry about this?
he thought, then corrected himself at once—but this
is
life.

When we fight for our lives, it is this
for which we fight. She is not a burden attached to me, she is at the natural center of things. It is so inconvenient. At this late age I have stumbled upon another necessity of life—fire, water, knowledge, Auriane. Nature’s cruelest trick is her greatest gift; it is freedom’s end and freedom’s beginning. Now I cannot work or be in the world without this wise friend nearby, watching me with those ingenuous eyes. I must protect her, even if I cannot protect myself.

She must not fight Aristos. Because of this night I cannot give an ear to her reasons anymore; the impulse to save her is elemental and blind, like any animal’s struggle to survive. If I do not stop her I will feel I am murdering her myself. I will present her with a choice—she must give it up, or I will leave without her. No, that is false, I should not threaten her with a thing I would never impose. I’ll simply tell her not to, more firmly than before. And if she doesn’t listen, then I
will
have him murdered. I’ll wait till the day of the assassination is near; with Domitian dead, Aristos will lose much of his influence, and the havoc his faction will wreak will die quickly. Yes, it must be so.

Near dawn an animal awareness of being in a strange place worried Auriane awake. Then came sleep-fogged memories saturated with pleasure, and she was aware of another creature, a beloved man-creature, in the bed. She shifted closer, seeking the feel of his skin, almost hot, against hers. Then she put an arm about him and lay in this half-world, unwilling to fully awaken; she dozed in his warmth, feeling like some happy primitive creature swimming in the upper depths of the sea of sleep, conscious only of the presence of love as though it were a shaft of sunlight finding her through water. But desire was ever wakeful if she was not; soon a still-hungry hand traveled over his arm, roamed his chest, then ventured single-mindedly down the front of him as far as she could reach, which, as it turned out, was not quite far enough, so she sat up—and then her stirrings awakened him.

His mind came to clarity at once; he rolled over and rose up, poised over her. The rising sun filtering through the colored panes of a mullioned window cast a rosette of multicolored light over the cushions, over her pleasure-drugged face. She looked up at him in her fuzzy mind-state, feeling contented as a lily pad on a pond. Reverentially he smoothed the hair from her forehead, and kissed it. “Dearest,” he said softly once. And that same hand wandered down, seemingly of its own accord, seeking the dove softness of a breast. Once again he felt the tidal pull, dragging his body to hers.

“Yes,” she said sleepily. “Again.”

Not wanting her to fully awaken, he carefully gathered her up, and this time their lovemaking was more a dream-journey, languorous as smoke, down a glassy river. They did not stop until the sun was well established in the sky, filling the room with a ruddy haze.

Auriane stood hooded and cloaked, ready to depart through the house’s kitchen entrance, which opened onto an alley that dropped down into the Subura. Julianus judged it better to wait until noon, when the thickest crowds clogged the narrow streets. She would leave with two cook’s girls setting out for the produce stalls, who would not know the identity of the woman who left with them. They would follow a meandering route; at the Street of Booksellers six guards of the school disguised as Vigiles would escort her the rest of the way. If his enemies’ spies saw her and managed to keep apace with her through the crowds, they would see nothing to confirm their suspicions beyond a doubt.

The larger world with all its jagged edges settled about her once more. Julianus had left her sleeping, then joined her once more after he concluded his morning audience with his hundred and more clients and dependents. He looked younger to her now, as if a life’s knowledge of tragedy had been dissolved away by the night, and maddeningly appealing, which keenly frustrated her because now nothing could be done about it.

He recognized the now-familiar look in her eyes. “Do not even think
of ripping this one off, you brazen minx,” he said, smiling, indicating the tunic he had just put on. Gently he kissed her. She nuzzled his neck and he held her for long moments in a rich silence broken only by an occasional muffled word of love.

After a time she said, “Marcus…, there is a thing I never dared ask anyone for fear of speaking blasphemy….”

“Ask, please. I thrive on blasphemy.”

“What is the sacred
meaning of…of the sacrifices of the arena?”

“A painful question. I wish to Venus they had one—it would be less shameful to speak of them. Oh, they had one, once. Long ago, pairs of criminals fought to the death to please the underworld gods at our funeral rites, and the slain swordsman was thought a fitting servant for the dead man in his journey to the other world.”

“But
now
…we do not fructify crops, or bring you victory over your enemies or help the dead? We die for no cause?”

“I fear it is so.”

“This will curse you, you know, and all your kind.”

“Yes. I believe it already has. But a man or woman does not have to be of one mind with his people….”

“I know that well; all my life I have been reviled for being of a different mind than—” Her words broke off when he held her at arm’s length.

“Well then, could not that laudable independence of mind be applied to the rite of vengeance as well? Does it matter that the great lot of your people count it necessary? Might not vengeance slayings, too, be death for no cause?”

A look of affront came into her eyes, as if a passerby had snatched at her garments. But it was swiftly replaced by a look of confused sadness. Knowing he pried at the very place where her certainties were beginning to crack, he went on with determination.

“Auriane, you must give this up. By the love you bear me, I insist upon it. After last night I can endure it far less. You must not fight Aristos.”

She looked away, unable to meet the look of love and hurt in his eyes.

I cannot let him know the day and hour have been set.
I know his mind all too well. He would be like a cornered beast, bound to fight his way out. And might not he be able somehow to undo my arrangement? His power reaches into everything. No, I cannot risk it.

But then, not telling him is akin to speaking a lie. The night has made him a kinsman; to deceive a kinsman is a cursed thing. Once again the Fates set one part of me against another. I cannot serve my people and be truthful to him. But my people will always come before all else; we sprang alike from the Well of Urdr.
He must not know.

“Auriane.” He saw the look of ferment in her eyes and was encouraged, thinking it to mean his appeal was being considered. “Surely you know that after what has passed between us, we must both live, and live together. Does not the passion of love heal the passion of vengeance?”

For a heartbeat, she thought Ramis looked out of Marcus Julianus’ eyes. She responded quickly, “Holy vengeance is not born of hatred…. It is the seal of kinsmen’s love,” realizing her words sounded like the long-memorized, numbly delivered lines of an uninspired actor.

“Or so you have been taught since before you could talk.”

She felt a door open, then slam shut. Ramis’ words stirred uncomfortably within her—
Vengeance, my poor wise fool, does not exist.

She whispered tensely, “Well, then, I will think upon this thing.”
Another lie. Now I’m twice cursed.

“You’ve not much longer to think about it, Auriane. If you want to leave with me, you must be ready to do so just after the Ides of August, whether Aristos is alive or dead. Four months. I have grave doubts that you’ll manage to get him to fight you before then, indeed, if ever. I must have your word upon what you will do.”

“You have my word—I will be ready to leave with you then, whether Aristos is alive…or dead.” If these
words turn out to be untruthful, she thought, I won’t be alive to worry over it. She paused, then asked in bewilderment, “Where would we go and not be persecuted?”

She knew now she could no longer live wholly among her own people as before, though she would ever be their servant. A creature that has struggled to crack the shell that nurtured it can’t fit itself back into that shell even if the broken pieces could be fitted back together. The old world, though still loved, was sad and constricting, like a house lived in during a poor and uncertain childhood. She thought of the cities she had passed on her journey here, of the bookrolls of Julianus’ library—these things, once seen, could not be forgotten. They set the mind alight, and slowly it burned; now she was beset with a need to know the writings of the outer-world sages, and all the secrets of towns. She knew she could only watch both worlds at a small distance, and wonder. She was condemned to the border.

“It’s only in this infernal city that nothing is permitted,” he replied. “In the wilder provinces of the far north, you would be accepted far more readily. I have been arranging for years to quit this place when my work here is done. And soon I may have to, for safety’s sake. I’m having a villa constructed in the province of Upper Germania, near the confluence of the rivers Rhine and Mosella—it is nearly complete. It is not more than two, perhaps three day’s ride from the lands of your people. It is close enough that you could go to join in their festivals, pay homage to your gods or make visits to your kin who are still living. Indeed, your influence among your people might be useful in maintaining peace. We would find your daughter and I would raise her as mine. The post I am taking there is a minor one and a day might come when I will be recalled—but I cannot worry over that now. Auriane, could you live in such a place? But for this, I see no way for us to live as one, and not be persecuted for such a marriage.”

“For such a—a
what
?”

“A marriage. Auriane, I thought this understood between us. I never thought of anything else.”

“Your people would sooner let you marry a pig or a goat.” Her eyes were bitter and bright. “It is against all your laws. Why even speak of such things?”

“There is nothing in this world that cannot be arranged. It is true that when you are freed, your status will be of the humblest. But a decree of an emperor can change that. And so it shall be. I shall request when the time comes that you be given the status of one born free—”

“I
was
born free.”

“It is but a term of the law courts. You have been enslaved—your actual status at birth means nothing to a magistrate. When released you will have the rank of freedwoman—and as such you would never be permitted to marry into a senatorial family. The stigma of slavery must be removed entirely. It is rarely done, and only by imperial intervention, but my guess is that when the time comes, my request won’t be refused.” He drew her close. “Why do you insist upon believing I mean to honor you less than I would a beloved from among my own people?”

“You’ve galloped ahead of me; you must give me time to catch up.” Her voice was hoarse; she held to him, her throat paralyzed. Her amazement gave way in stages to a cautious joy. Guardedly she began to feel warm, enclosed. He truly wanted her for life then; he did not mean to discard her when he tired of her. Here was the first budding of a new circle of kin. She shivered, having only a dim sense of what was being offered her. His wealth surely matched that of kings; she could bring rich gifts to her kin and food to the starving. Avenahar would be a wealthy woman; she would be able to find the best of husbands in spite of her mixed blood. Auriane felt she paused at a gateway; behind her was her whole life, seen through a vapor of strange, sweet sadness mingled with yearning. She wished she could somehow reach back, lift up, and hearten the woman she had been throughout a childhood spent facing world’s end, and breathe life into friends and kin who had died savagely, not living long enough for wisdom. And ahead of her was either a luminous, limitless unknown—shared wholly or partly with him, with the curse of kin-killing lifted—in which she would live as the gods intended.

Or death in the arena.

“I have saddened you. You were thinking, perhaps, of marrying someone else?”