7: The Seven Deadly Sins

by Bach, Tia Silverthorne

  She could feel the thundering, as if the beats were stamping her palm with affirmation.

  It would be months before she laid eyes on her husband again, and she cringed at the thought of him being so far away.

  He assured her the plan was falling into place, and that he had begun to work his way into Nero’s inner circle. Thomitus told her he would uncover the secrets the Emperor held, and her husband vowed to relay any and all information to the Senate, as was their plan, swearing to keep Rome’s best interests at the forefront of his mind. Equally as important, he promised to keep her in his heart. Always.

  But sometimes, people lost sight of what was most important to them. Even more perilous was when the line they straddled, which was once very clear, blurred.

  ROME, October 19, 67 AD

  Thomitus

  Nero was on a tangent—leaving all of those in his path scrambling to duck their heads for fear of losing them. Three years had passed since the Great Fire leveled three of the fourteen districts in the heart of Rome. In place of those charred homes and businesses, Nero’s great palace complex in Domus Aurea was nearly complete. And, truly, it was a sight to behold.

  Short and portly, with bird-like legs and pockmarked skin from head to toe, Nero’s yellow-blond hair writhed with every jerk of his head and point of his finger. Spittle flew from his mouth as he raged at the artisans. His weak, blue eyes bulged from his red-splotched face when he glared.

  Thomitus stood back, trying to sink into the wall. He’d seen Nero’s fury unleashed many times in the past three years and knew there was absolutely no reasoning with him when he was in such a state.

  Taking it all in, Thomitus blocked out the ranting and gazed at the beauty. To him, it was perfection and exactly what a palace should look like. More than three hundred rooms, none of them appointed with beds, but all with lavish furniture, statues, and artwork. Nero said it was no place to sleep, only to live. And the Emperor and his men lived well. The frescoes alone were so impressively lifelike it felt as if a person could simply walk into them and dwell inside.

  Fountains of fresh water from underground springs were scattered around the property, playing their watery tunes. Some of the fountains were fashioned in the form of great fishes, spouting into pools below. Others were chiseled likenesses of the gods and goddesses, each pouring their good fortunes upon all of Rome. It made him miss the impluvium in his own home. The water there had always brought him peace. He could sit for hours listening to the bubbling.

  Josephine would love to see the grandeur. Despite having been absent from her for over a year, Thomitus thought about her often. In the beginning, he’d been able to sneak home much more often, but Nero wanted him close now, too close. Through it all, Thomitus had kept his promise to her and held her memory close to his heart. Most days, it felt as though he were with his regiment, readying for a great battle, all the while thinking of the comforts of home. But there were no hardships of battle to be found. Servants brought his food and poured his wine. He was bathed every day, and his body was anointed with the most expensive and lusciously scented oils Rome could import. He had no responsibilities beyond being a sounding board for the ramblings of the insane Emperor. No one would die from a command Thomitus issued. He would not have to tell a widow that her husband had perished while expanding the Empire’s borders.

  No, Thomitus had it good. After years of serving his empire, his empire was serving him. He’d fought hard for Rome. He had come to see that Rome owed him the lavish treatment. He deserved to be pampered, to be served. He deserved fine food and entertainment, even more so than Nero—who had never stepped foot on a battlefield.

  And, the next day, Thomitus would see home and his Josephine again. Nero had given Thomitus leave—after such a long time. He just hoped the spoiled man’s sour mood would lighten, and he would keep his word. After Thomitus saw his wife, he would make arrangements to meet with the Senators. He had much to tell them—for the right price.

  But he could not let the Emperor learn of the betrayal. Nero already had delusions someone was trying to poison him. Every man in Nero’s circle was required to drink from his cup and take a bite from his plate before he would. “If I die, you will all die with me,” he would say.

  That was only a small example of the insanity that plagued the Emperor. He’d had Christians burned for practicing cannibalism within the Empire, saying they drank the blood and ate the flesh of their Christ in strange ceremonies. He had men flogged for looking at him in what he called a “suspicious manner.” And no woman who caught his eye, married or not, was safe. He took anything he wanted. His power often went unchecked and unquestioned.

  Because he had angered so many, it was possible the fears of retaliation were not unfounded. Still, it was good to be in the presence of the Emperor. Life was comfortable.

  The two artisans who were plastering the ceilings and inlaying them with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds had gotten the pattern wrong in that particular room. Nero wanted the stones to form the outline of a sun. They had made the pattern of the moon and stars at night.

  Thomitus sighed and leaned back against the wall. It would take hours at that pace, and he was eager to be on his way.

  §

  His sandals clapped on the freshly-cured concrete road. A pebble wedged itself beneath the crease of his middle toe, and he hopped for a second to free it, afraid to lose momentum. The warm evening sunlight cast a golden glow over the land, the great monuments. Lovers walked slowly along the promenades, arm in arm, sharing secrets and laughter. He envied them, but his resentment would not last for long. Soon, the entire land would be jealous of him and Josephine, not only for their great love rekindled, but also for the riches that might come from his plan.

  As he rounded the corner, he could see the curtains of his villa flowing inward as if reaching for his lover, trying to keep her to themselves. Damn those curtains. Josephine was his, and he would remind her of that in only a few more long minutes.

  He quietly climbed the stairs and eased the door of their home open. She was busy preparing the evening meal for herself. The pair had slaves to attend them, but cooking was one of Josephine’s talents and her second love. She insisted on preparing all their food with her own hands. And he watched those hands form loaves of bread, kneading and pounding, punching and twisting. It made him imagine her fingers on his skin, trailing up and down his back, as they lost themselves in one another.

  Flyaway strands of her dark hair flirted with her neck, and he longed to place a kiss just there, to erase the touch with his own. He could never have his fill of her. He had too long been denied her touch.

  Josephine hummed a familiar tune, one she had learned just before their joining, one she said reminded her of him. So busy with her chores and engrossed in the song, she did not realize he was in the room until he reached around from behind her and brushed her cheek.

  Her skin was silken, as it had always been, as he had imagined it was every night he was away. Her hair smelled like sunshine. His pulse quickened, and his groin tightened uncomfortably as he inhaled. It had been far too long.

  Startled, she turned around, poised to strike out. Her eyes widened, and she choked out a strangled sound. “Thomitus?” Josephine felt the contours of his face. They had changed since she last saw him, he knew. Would she still want him, still long for him though he was different?

  Josephine

  She had been lost in a sweet daydream, one she called upon often in his absence. Walking hand in hand with Thomitus through their special vineyard. It was where they met in secret after their studies, and at any other free moment, to steal precious time until they were wed. The vineyard’s grapes were ripe, the succulent globes nearly bursting, and their sweet scent filled the night air. Twinkling stars smiled down upon the couple as the gods blessed their intentions.

  But the touch that fell upon her cheek, the strand of hair that always ran wild to attract his hands, was neither imagined nor expected. Wh
en she turned to find Thomitus standing in her kitchen, cloaked in the light blue toga reserved for Nero’s closest advisers, she burst into tears and threw her arms around him.

  She barely recognized him. The last time Thomitus left their home, left her behind, was more than a year before. She had counted the days: three hundred eighty-six. His dark, brown-black hair was longer, grazing his shoulders, and strands of silver had crept in along the sides. His face was still shaven but was no longer contoured. It had filled in. Pressing her body against his, she could feel that his stomach was soft, having given up the flat and muscled middle she remembered. Josephine did not care. He was home. He had come home to her.

  He clutched the back of her head, holding her tightly against him, and whispered, “You never left my heart. I have held you close for so long… so long. And I have missed you.” She could feel his tears seep into her hair, and hers soaked the cloth on his chest. Sobs wracked them both, the pair shedding the previous year of pent-up frustration, sadness, joy, and overwhelming relief, but mostly of love.

  They kissed, held each other tight, and made love until well after the sun rose, their dinner long forgotten.

  Lying in their bed, Thomitus’s thumb rubbed up and down her arm as he held her. “I need to speak with you about certain things, things that could endanger us both. Do you want to hear them, or would you rather not know?”

  Josephine cleared her throat. “I want to know everything.”

  So, he told her. In great detail, he explained Nero: the man, the paranoia he experienced, and the danger he had been in. Josephine could not fathom how any person could be so entitled and frighteningly unstable at the same time. It had resulted in a volatile situation that threatened both her husband and homeland. A shiver passed over her as the implications clarified.

  Something had to be done, and Thomitus had the opportunity to help end the reign of a tyrant. But something was holding her husband back. He would not meet her eyes when he told her he had never reported to the Senate.

  “Why do you wait? Why not run to the Senate right now and be done with it? This is more information than they would ever need to unseat that mad man and save what little dignity Rome has managed to retain.”

  Thomitus was quiet, seemingly pondering her question. “It is a delicate situation, one that involves our future. I do not wish to rush into things. I have information that the Senate needs. I have placed myself and my wife, home, and our lives in danger. A man should be compensated for sticking his neck out in such a way.”

  He eased his arm from around her and quickly dressed as if to hide his body from her sight, but she was not sure why. “I fear that being in the company of the Emperor has been bad for my health. I have let myself go,” he admitted.

  She dressed as well and met him in the kitchen to prepare their midday meal. “It must be something to behold: the parties and extravagance, the lavishness.”

  Thomitus snorted. “You have no idea. The man has rubies in his sandals and had the workmen place gemstones of every color in the grout between the tiles on the floor. He has commissioned a statue of his likeness so enormous that a new addition must be made to the palace complex just to house it. He just mandated another coin with his visage be produced. It is strange, but I think the man is in love with his own face.”

  Josephine giggled and asked him to tell her more.

  “The Emperor hosts parties every day. There is food in every room, entertainment in the form of dancers, magicians, handlers of exotic animals, so much abundance.”

  Josephine stiffened hearing how Thomitus had spent his days. She wondered how he had spent his nights. “And women aplenty, I assume?” Her eyes carefully watched his reaction. She wanted to claw his beautiful face, wanted to drown him in a fountain of the wine in which he had been imbibing. The thought of her Thomitus with another woman set her afire. It was common practice in Rome for a man to bed several women, but Josephine had made her thoughts on that particular tendency very clear when she first met Thomitus. Back then, he had agreed with her. She only hoped he had remained steadfast, because she was not sure what she might do.

  Thomitus nodded, keeping his eyes affixed to hers. “Nero has his share of willing women. Though some in his circle shared in those festivities, I did not. I swear it to you, on my life. My position has not changed.”

  She swallowed, hoping he was telling the truth. The gluttonous, slothful lifestyle to which he had grown accustomed had changed him, and Josephine was not sure it was for the better. He had information the Senate needed to bring the Emperor to his knees. The Thomitus she married would have given it to them freely, proud to have helped right a great wrong. The man before her wanted riches in exchange.

  Disappointment and anger coursed through her veins. Part of her wanted to keep him in her sights, for fear of him leaving and never returning. The other part wanted him gone. The truth was she wanted her husband back, the brave soldier she loved, and the man who clearly knew right from wrong. She did not want the man who had been around the Emperor so long that feelings of wealth and entitlement corrupted the soul, one who used servants like slaves and would not lift a finger to help someone in need. Perhaps, though, she could remind Thomitus of the great man he once was. Perhaps she could show him how to work with his hands and use the muscles in his body for more than just serving the Emperor. She longed to show her husband how to use his many talents on her once again.

  §

  For two weeks, she had him back. And they had put the awkwardness of his absence behind them; they had moved forward again, as though their life together had no Emperor-sized wedge stuck in it.

  Josephine had heard all good things come to an end at some point. Their fourteen-day respite came to an abrupt halt with two sharp knocks at their villa door.

  Thomitus placed his finger over his lips, creeping toward the door. Shadows of the feet of the person on the other side shifted back and forth, blocking rays of sunshine. When he eased the door open, a wide smile formed on his lips. Thomitus flung the door open and embraced the person on the other side. When he released the visitor, Josephine could see it was none other than Beritus Augustus—Thomitus’s best friend.

  The two had grown up in the city of Rome together, playing chase and picking on the prettiest girls. Being born in the same month, they entered the Roman military at the same time, were assigned to the same regiment, and fought great battles back to back, keeping one another safe from harm.

  She rushed forward to usher Beritus inside, urging him to join them for dinner. And he did. Over the evening’s meal of freshly caught eel, ripe tomatoes, cheese, loaves of fresh bread, and bottles of their best wine, the evening passed quickly. The old friends spoke of Beritus’s wife Aena and their newborn son, of sleepless nights, and long, fall days. Unease fell over the trio when Beritus’s disposition changed from jovial to one of grave concern.

  He cleared his throat. “I wish I could say that I was just here to visit and reminisce, but alas, I am here because of a very troubling matter.”

  “What is it?” Thomitus asked, quirking his left brow—the one that had been split in battle.

  Josephine knew he could always speak freely with Beritus, as one might a sibling, a brother. She was anxious to hear what might be said between the friends. Mindlessly, she played with her necklace, as she often did when worried.

  “The Emperor would like for you to return immediately,” he said before swallowing the last gulp of sweet wine. His gaze dropped to the table. “And he would like Josephine to accompany you.”

  The room was still, save for a fly buzzing about the remnants of their meal. The silence was broken when Thomitus, with one strong swoop of his hand, cleared the table. Glass and pottery shattered. Their ministerium —fine, silver utensils her parents had given the couple when they married—made ringing noises as they clattered across the floor. And Thomitus let out a roar the entire city of Rome must have heard. It probably reached the ears of Nero himself.

 
“No!” Thomitus thundered, jumping up from his seat. “He will not have her.”

  Holding both hands out in an effort to calm him, Beritus nodded. “I truly think he just wants to meet your wife. He is… unsteady, and I cannot be certain, but that is the way it seemed when he dispatched me to find you both.”

  Thomitus would have nothing to do with reason. He paced the floors, raking both hands through the long hair on his head, muttering things about madness and greed.

  Josephine’s stomach filled with dread, churning and boiling with a feeling she could not place. She stood, staring blankly at the mess strewn dangerously across the floor. Why had Thomitus reacted in such a violent manner? He had never struck out before, never been quick to anger. If anything, she had once been impressed by his ability to maintain his cool poise and use his intellect to find a suitable answer to any problem.

  It was not her Thomitus in that room. While the previous couple of weeks had been amazing with him, it was apparent his daily habits and thought processes had drastically changed. But she was determined to remind him of who he had been before he had set his eyes on the Emperor. They had worked in the garden and repaired their home together, though Thomitus had needed to take frequent respites from the work and chugged so much water they had nearly run out. She made healthy, light meals, and discouraged his habit of drinking wine throughout the day, only offering it to him at meals and hiding the bottles until he groaned with frustration and gave up the search for libations.

  Beritus, after much coaxing, was able to calm his friend. “Let us talk about this, but quickly. He is expecting your arrival and will be displeased to wait.”

  “Fine. But I do not trust this. We need to keep her safe at all costs, Beritus. Swear it now.”