Fated: Torn Apart by History, Bound for Eternity (25 page)

“
Did Julius threaten him?” Mondi asked, her voice urgent.

“
Not in so many words, but I overhead Marc say that Brutus would be summoned to the palace itself this very evening, and the matter would be put to rest.”

Syra’s chest tightened at the choice of words. Would Caesar silence Brutus permanently for his lack of support? She found Fiona’s eyes. The cook’s face was covered with the same mask of concern. Luckily, the conversation turned to fashion once again as Mondi asked what Cleopatra was wearing when this all occurred. These women were nothing more than magpies. Their concentration could be broken with a single flash of a bright bauble.

She noticed, however, that even though Fiona had picked up her material again, the cook’s fingers did not work the thread any longer. Syra glanced at Navia, whose face had not yet recovered from the words that Giana had spoken. Both of her friends seemed shaken. And these women did not know half the danger Brutus was in.

The conversation turned to the festival again, as it had for the past week. It was to be the most spectacular gathering in the history of Rome. And given these women’s concern with dresses and jewelry, Syra did not doubt the celebration would hit its mark. Each of their matrons had decided upon and discarded half a dozen outfits. These women took their apparel as seriously as most generals considered their weapons. The maids talked strategy, as if this party were a battleground and only one woman would come out the victor.

“
I hear they will have over fifteen hundred tables in the Forum!” Mondi exclaimed.

“
Nay, more like two thousand,” Giana corrected the older servant.

It seemed that Mondi had enough of Giana’s special knowledge this afternoon, for her tone dropped. “So will your mistress be arriving in time for the celebration, Giana?”

“
You know she has been detained in Greece,” Giana stated, but would not look up to meet anyone’s eyes.

“
More like marooned there,” Mondi snapped back.

Nothing more need be said. They each knew the tale. Marc had surprised his wife with a trip to Greece, only to announce the very next day this grand festival. Everyone knew that Giana’s mistress would never have left, had she known of the impending celebration. The ruse was so very low, but so very Antony. Behind his wife’s back, there were whispers of whom Marc would bring to the celebration instead of his wife. The lieutenant was growing bolder in his infidelity.

“
That is quite enough,” Fiona stated, as she set down the scarf she was working on. “I suspect we are done for the day.”

“
Nay,” Mondi argued. “I have barely started on the hem.”

“
I have a meal to prepare—”

Mondi was not to be denied. “You heard the girl. Brutus will not be home for dinner.”

Fiona’s temper flared. “All the more reason to prepare something special for his return from the palace.”

Before Mondi could inflame the cook further, Delva rose as well. “Fiona is right. Even with festivals on the horizon, we must tend to our households. Even celebrants must eat.”

In the face of the two most senior servants, Mondi bit her tongue and packed away her materials. The others quickly followed suit. Fiona hustled their guests out within a hand’s-width of time. Navia tried to join the cook in the kitchen, but the cook would have none of it.

“
Nay, child. Take a nap before dinner.”

“
I will not abandon my responsibilities.”

The cook took the girl’s hand. “You have looked peaked all day. If not for yourself, for your babe.”

“
But, Brutus…”

Fiona put on a warm smile that Syra doubted the cook truly felt. “He will be fine. I will rouse you if he arrives.”

“
Even if you just hear word?”

“
You will be the first I summon.”

The younger woman’s face finally relaxed. “A nap does sound delicious.” Navia’s eyes even sparkled with a little mischief. “Not as delicious as your toffee, of course.”

Syra got the not-so-subtle hint. “Which will be ready upon your awakening as well.”

The girl smiled one last time, then set off for her room. The rosy grin on Fiona’s face fell as soon as Navia was out of sight. Syra quietly followed the cook into the kitchen hoping Fiona’s mood would lighten, but as they began preparing the meal, the woman’s face clouded even more.

“
Is there something amiss?” Syra asked.

“
Nay.” Fiona fidgeted with the squash before her. “It is just… Lylith’s return. It has me…”

“
Concerned?”

The older woman only nodded.

“
For Navia?”

“
Nay. The girl has cleaned up far better than even I imagined. And she’s learned like a tadpole shedding its tail. Lylith will be most delighted at Brutus’ choice.”

“
So you are concerned for me?”

The cook actually chuckled a bit. “You? You are like a cat who lands upon her feet no matter the terrain.” Fiona sighed. “I’m afraid that my concerns are far more selfish than that.”

For a moment, Syra’s heart worried. Was Fiona going to reveal a dark conspiracy? For the past week, she had scrutinized everyone around her for signs of deceit. But after days of kneading bread together, it was hard to find reproach with the cook.

Yet, Fiona fidgeted as she gathered the ingredients for dinner. Syra braced herself for the cook’s confession.

“
You will think me silly,” Fiona finally admitted.

“
Loose your tongue, woman.”

Taking a deep breath, the cook turned with tears in the corners of her eyes. “Once Lylith tastes your toffee, she will have little use for me.”

“
You think I wish to replace you?”

“
Nay. Not your desire, but Lylith’s, yes. One day soon I may be down in my heels, cooking in the market.”

Secretly, Syra felt relief ripple through her body. There was no plot uncovered, only Fiona’s insecurities. “Brutus surely would not allow that to happen.”

“
Perhaps in the past. But now? His mind is elsewhere. It worries me.”

“
He is the same man, Fiona.”

“
Is he? Two weeks ago I would have wagered a year’s salary that Brutus himself would have been beating down the streets in search of Tiberius. Now he will barely speak his name.”

Indecision tore at Syra. How she wished to comfort this woman. The news would be so soothing to the cook. But she could not reveal that the stable boy was safe without revealing other less-appealing truths. No, she would honor Brutus’ request. Yet there had to be a way to relieve Fiona’s other worries.

“
It is simple. I shall not cook.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous, child. Then what is your role here?”

“
As you said, I will land on my feet.”

Fiona was suddenly distracted as she checked the tomatoes. “Oh, dear.”

“
What is wrong?”

“
I forgot to buy fresh tomatoes.”

Syra did not see why this was such a crisis. “No bother. We will collect some tomorrow.”

The cook was now nearly frenzied, pulling out all of the fruit in the pantry. “It will be too late. Lylith insists on a fresh tomato every morning.”

“
She might not arrive until the afternoon, Fiona.”

There was no dissuading the older woman’s panic. “Or at sunrise. She will be most displeased.”

“
There is still time. I shall go down the hill and buy some.”

“
You don’t understand. They must be firm, but not too hard.”

Syra gently grabbed Fiona’s trembling hands. “I shall not fail you in this.”

The gravity of her words in ratio to Lylith’s frivolous demands must have penetrated the cook’s worried mind, for Fiona suddenly burst out in laughter. The woman’s hand flew to her lips, as if surprised that the sound had come from her mouth. Seeming to regain her balance, Fiona smiled at her.

“
I am sure that you will not. But you need an escort.”

“
Horat is down at the Forum.”

“
Then take—”

Neither woman spoke as the name hung unsaid in the air between them. Tiberius had been their constant companion on trips such as this. It was still hard to imagine that they would not stumble over the child who was always underfoot.

“
I will be fine, Fiona. Just make Brutus some lamb for tonight.”

“
Aye. It sounds like he will be needing comfort after the palace.”

With one last squeeze of the cook’s hand, Syra set off.

Behind her, Fiona rattled off Lylith’s preferences. “She wishes them juicy, but not dripping. Red through, but not the color of a bruise.”

Syra was certain that the cook was still listing the qualities of a perfect tomato, but she was quickly out of earshot. In truth she was glad to be out of the house. Since the stable boy’s disappearance, a pall had fallen over the mansion. Brutus seldom came home, and when he did, deep lines creased his face. The Roman had seemed to age a decade in the span of a few weeks.

Now with Lylith’s return, it seemed that there would be no end to the tension. But for now, the sun was setting in a glorious golden orb, and Syra could imagine that she was once more free.

* * *

Brutus repositioned himself yet again in the high-backed chair. This Senate session appeared to be never-ending. Another fresh-to-the-ranks senator was extolling Caesar’s virtues to the packed Curia. But few of his fellow legislators seemed to truly be paying any attention. The whole day had been filled with such filibustering. No serious business had been conducted this day. It was just a parade of Caesar-worshippers trying to convince Cicero to allow a vote on conferring kingship. Even Julius himself had tired of the constant adoration and retired for the day.

Finally, the paunchy man finished, but another equally unsophisticated senator rose to take his place. Brutus groaned inwardly. Would Cicero not stop this madness? Dragging out the debate would get them nothing except callused bottoms. And there was truly no debate. The lines were drawn, and nothing short of violence seemed to be able to end this stalemate.

“
Enough!” Antony bellowed, shocking the entire Senate except for Cicero, who seemed pleased with the younger man’s response. Marc tried to regain his composure, but anger etched his face. “Have you not heard enough of the people’s desire, First Senator? Why will you not call a vote this day?”

Cicero did not even rise from his chair to address the brash lieutenant. “There is much we must consider, Antony.”

“
The gods themselves have spoken!”

“
Aye, fellow senator. And does not Minerva teach us to constrain our haste? When the gods speak, I think it is the most important time to listen cautiously.”

Brutus could feel the heat across the stage as Antony’s eyes flashed.

“
Caesar leaves for Parthia within the week.”

“
Do not fret. The vote will be cast before then.”

Frustration was clear in Marc’s voice. “Then tell me, great Senator, why the delay?”

“
I have been doing my own research, and it seems the stars come into their best alignment for a decision of such magnitude three days hence.”

“
The Ides of March?” Antony pondered out loud. Slowly a smile spread over his flushed face. “Aye. That bodes well. It is a date that shall be remembered. A date that will stand in infamy. You have chosen well, Cicero. May we call this session to a close?”

Cicero nodded, and the gong was sounded before a single breath could be taken. It seemed that the guards were as anxious to leave the Curia as Brutus himself. Not wishing to be cornered by either side, the senator stepped down into the crowd of white robes. Perhaps he could leave the Curia amongst the crush of senators exiting.

There would be no going back to his office. He knew now that Cicero had tipped his hand. The orator would be hounding Brutus to commit to some ill-conceived conspiracy. Wishing to hear none of their rhetoric, he headed away from Saturn’s Temple toward the Sacred Way. Even with Lylith returning soon, his home seemed suddenly more tempting than his office.

The camouflage of white robes and purple sashes lasted less than a hand’s-span of minutes. Up ahead was the Virgin’s young acolyte. There was no doubt whom she waited upon. Brutus did not bother to duck out of the way. The dogged apprentice would search him out. Instead, he headed straight toward the girl draped in white silk.

“
Yes?”

The acolyte handed Brutus a small object. “The Virgin wishes you to have this.”

It took a moment for the Roman to recognize the small necklace that Tiberius had worn since the day they met. A small part of him had wished to believe that the Virgin had been bluffing. But now that he held this tiny token, Brutus could no longer fool himself. The boy was truly dead.

“
If you waver this night, hold tight and remember the course you must walk.”

By the time Brutus looked up, the girl had disappeared into the sea of white robes that descended down Capitoline Hill into the city. What had the acolyte meant about this night? Why would he waver? Brutus did not have to ponder this mystery long, as a boy with chocolate skin walked up. His eyes were lined with the black of the Nile and his skirt was fringed in gold. There was only one place he came from, and only one man he served.