‘Would you do that? Would you really do that?’ Galla’s eyes shone. ‘Because of the Lady Lydia’s death, no one dares brave the mountain during a storm unless they are forced to.’
‘Without hesitation.’ Tullio tried to ignore the fear growing in his belly. The memory of Helena’s white-robed body in the prophecy cave was too vivid. He needed to find her and convince himself that she was safe. He wanted to discover why she had taken a chance like this, why she had taken the risk. ‘If she is on the mountain, I’ll find Helena and bring her back unharmed.’
‘Then find her.’ Galla clasped his hand with a tight grip. ‘Find Helena and bring her back here safely. May Kybele and the rest of the gods go with you.’
‘Niobe! It’s me, Helena. Come out and we will go to your mother. Niobe, I am here to help you!’
The first large drops of rain splattered Helena’s face. She paused in her climb up the mountain to readjust her shawl more firmly about her head and shoulders. Sweat plastered her hair against her forehead. The temple complex below her looked like a collection of statuettes. She had climbed far and fast, but still no Niobe.
Niobe’s beloved red shawl had clung to a thorn bush halfway up the mountain, fluttering in the breeze, but there was no sign of the goose girl. Helena tried to keep the worry from rising as she scrambled across a dry stream bed. At least, she did not have to be concerned about Niobe being swept away. The rain had not begun to fall, and Niobe was sensible. She knew how swiftly the streams became torrents.
She had to think. No one had ever just disappeared on the island. They were safe from the kidnappings that plagued other communities. The seafarers respected the sanctity of this place. Niobe was somewhere on this mountain.
The wind whipped her shawl across Helena’s mouth. With impatient fingers, she pushed it away. She had to find Niobe before the storm broke. She refused to leave the girl out here defenceless.
The sky had turned an inky black now, making it seem more like the late evening rather than mid-afternoon. Helena knew how the gods disliked anyone to be on the mountain during a storm.
Perhaps Niobe had returned to the temple by another way.
Helena put her hands on her knees and drew another breath.
Her throat ached from calling Niobe’s name. She tried once more but there was no answer.
Helena struggled through two thorn bushes to reach the small trickle of water in another stream bed. She scooped up some water and quenched her thirst. The ice-cold water restored some small measure of calm.
Helena rocked back on her ankles, trying to think logically. Niobe had never come to any harm on the mountain, even when she disappeared during that storm. Aunt Flavia had said it was because she had Kybele’s special protection.
She had to be somewhere, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass. Helena stood up and took one last look around. No sign of any living creature.
The rain started to fall in earnest, coming down in a sheet of water. Helena readjusted her shawl so that her head was better covered. She could feel the cold drops as they seeped through her gown.
No doubt Galla would fuss and force her to drink a cup of hot mulsum wine when she returned. She could almost taste the honey-sweetened drink now and feel how good the warm cup would be in her hands.
Niobe’s quick thinking had saved her a few days ago, and Helena needed to repay the favour. She had to keep looking. Just one more circuit of the hillside…
A large clap of thunder resounded overhead as a bolt of lightning sliced through the sky, throwing everything into a queer white brilliance.
Helena froze.
The memory of the black mist from Kybele’s lair crept over her and she wished she was not alone. It was dark. Too dark. It was easy to imagine the Harpies and Furies rising in their chariots, looking for souls to snatch.
The chill she remembered from the cave began to curl its way around her insides again. She felt its weight pressing down on her.
Helena shook her head to clear it. She locked her hands together and then released them. The action restored some small measure of calm. She was not in the cave. What had caused her to faint then was bad air. The air was clear and fresh here.
She filled her lungs and then expelled a long breath.
She was safe in the open.
Ahead of her was the twisted pine tree, the one half-burnt from a lightning strike years ago. The black charred remains had weathered to a silver grey. Memories of the last time she had been caught out in a thunderstorm swamped her. It became difficult to put one foot in front of the other without thinking about what had happened, and her mother’s screams.
She glanced back at the temple. Its tiled roof and white building were hardly visible through the driving rain.
It was at least a mile away now, and there was very little likelihood that Jupiter’s next thunderbolt would miss.
Jupiter never missed his targets—humans who thought they could consort with gods. Humans like her mother.
Her hand clutched her throat as she sought to control the rising sense of panic. She couldn’t stay out in the open. She had to shelter away from the storm and then she’d return to the temple. When sunlight returned, her fancies would fade.
Niobe would understand.
Helena scrambled a few hundred yards more up the mountain to a shallow cave. The bushes in front of the cave provided some measure of protection. Gratefully she sank to the dry ground and wrapped her arms about her knees, trying not to wince at the rumbles of thunder, trying not to think about what had happened the last time she was out in a thunderstorm.
She blew on her hands and shook the raindrops from her shawl. She gathered a few bits of dry wood and leaves and stared at the meagre pile. The fuel would last barely an hour and then she’d be forced to go out into the storm to gather more wood.
She’d wait until the fire became a necessity rather than a convenience. In the meantime, she’d recite the first six rituals of Kybele as well as going over the duties she’d need to carry out when she arrived back at the temple. Her hand grasped her set of knucklebones and she threw them three times out of habit. Would Kybele grant her a perfect Venus?
Helena gave a wry smile. All of the throws had come up dogs. What more could she expect—playing tali with her forecasting stones?
She pocketed the four pieces of rock crystal and concentrated instead on the tasks she’d have to do when she returned. She had finished with the amphorae, but there was still the incense to see to. Little things to keep her busy…But her eyes kept straying back to the mouth of the cave and the flashes of lightning she could see as Jupiter threw each one.
What had this island done to deserve Jupiter’s wrath?
‘Helena! Helena!’
At first, Helena ignored the shouts, dismissing it as no more than the wind through the trees working on her overactive imagination.
Who could be calling her out in the wind and the rain? No one knew she was here, and no one would look for her. The fear of the storm Furies ran deep within the island. Every child had heard the whispered tales. Three shepherds were taken in a storm last winter, swept away on a sudden flash flood.
Would anyone care that she was out here? Alone? Had anyone even noticed?
She swallowed hard at the thought.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered—liar.
She remembered how Tullio had rescued her from Kybele’s sacred space the other day. He had not hesitated then. She gave a half-smile. Only a lovesick fool would imagine such a thing, and she was anything but that. She sat still and willed the wind’s voice to go away.
She tossed the knucklebones one more time. Venus.
The voice came closer and she realised with a start that it was Tullio. She heard him call her name again and moved closer to the entrance, peering out through the rain. The wind whipped her hair in front of her face. Impatiently, she pushed it away. He should be back in the temple, not ranging the mountain. She had given orders and he ha
d ignored them. She stepped out into the storm.
Tullio had paused about four hundred yards down the slope, sandalled feet planted between two rocks. The rain had plastered his dark hair to his head. His tunic and cloak dripped with water. He looked so real and solid that Helena’s heart skipped a beat. She called his name, but he gave no sign of having heard her.
He raised his hands to his mouth and called her name again.
At the same instant, the sky became white-blue with a lightning bolt. She heard the deafening crack of thunder and saw the forked tree that had been set ablaze only a few feet from where Tullio stood.
Tullio paled, but he did not run or cower. He called her name again, more loudly this time so that the very rocks rang with it.
Helena grabbed the side of the cave and refused to panic. She started forward until she was no more than a few yards above him, separated by a slope and the small stream bed.
‘Tullio, up here. I’m up here.’
She waited and watched as he seemed not to notice. He half-turned to go back down the mountain and called her name once more. She could hear the longing in it.
Helena summoned all her strength. She made her voice carry and prepared herself to run to him if necessary.
‘Tullio, here I am. Helena.’
This time, he heard her, waved to her and started to climb towards her. He stepped into the disused stream bed, bending his head to avoid an overhanging sapling.
Thunder reverberated above them as a bolt of lightning struck the ground.
Helena heard a roaring sound and screamed a warning.
She rushed forward in time to see him lose his footing as the muddy waters broke through a barrier of sticks and rock. He reached up, made a grab for the saplings and found a handhold, clinging on. The tree bent double from the combination of Tullio and the dark swirling water.
Helena scrambled down the bank, half-walking, half-falling as the rain lashed with cold tendrils across her face. Her hand closed on a large branch and she held it out to him.
It didn’t quite reach and Helena uttered a curse.
The water foamed and swirled white against brown in the darkened world. Tullio’s cloak flowed behind him, a thick black on the water. She could see the veins sticking out on his forearms as he struggled to keep hold. The sound of the rushing water filled her ears.
The sapling he clutched bent under his weight, becoming ready to snap. There was a distinct creak of wood. Then it was gone. Tullio flailed his arms, and grasped another sapling a few hundred yards away.
Helena raced along the bank. He was closer this time. She lay flat on the bank, and held out the branch as close as she dared. If he would lunge forward, she knew she could save him.
She refused to think about the men who had been swept to their death in the last flash flood. Kybele’s judgement, her aunt said.
‘Here, grab this.’
He gave her a furious look. He gestured with his head, not releasing his grip on the tree. The water kept rising.
‘Get back. The bank could go.’
‘I’m not leaving.’ She braced her feet against two rocks and leaned further out. This time, the branch touched his shoulder. ‘If you take this, I can pull you to safety.’
‘You will be swept away with me.’
‘Tullio, you must try.’
Time slowed.
She watched as he let go of the tree with one hand and she felt his weight burden the branch. So heavy, she nearly dropped her end.
She grasped it with both hands and tried to pull backwards. Nothing.
‘Hang on, Helena.’
‘Oh, Tullio, I can’t.’
Her hands started to slip on the wet wood. The rain grew thicker. A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky and showed Tullio’s white face as he battled for footing. Her arms screamed with pain and exhaustion.
She had to hang on.
Her shoulders ached until she thought she’d have to let go. The branch started to slip from her grasp. Hand over hand, Tullio climbed forward.
Suddenly, the branch felt light and Tullio dropped beside her. His curly black hair was plastered against his head. Rain and river water dripped off his body, but he was alive.
Helena collapsed against the rock. He was alive. She wanted to touch to make sure he was real, but she didn’t dare. There was too much between them. She contented herself with allowing her eyes to devour him.
When the rain started dripping off her nose, she became aware that she should do something, say something. They could not stay here for ever, staring at each other.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
Tullio moved within touching distance of Helena, his eyes feasting on the way her wet gown moulded to her curves. He didn’t want to think how close he had come to being swept away.
She had risked her own life to save his. He tried and failed to think of another woman who would have done that.
The damp had made her hair curl and little ringlets framed her face. He had spent the last hour imagining her injured or worse and she was fine. He wanted to crush her to him and throttle her at the same time. She could have been the one caught in the water. She could have been swept to her death or hit with one of Jupiter’s bolts. How dare she go off without telling anyone? Particularly after what had happened back at the temple.
‘Is this another one of your duties? What do you think you are doing?’ The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. A sharp intake of breath showed his remark had struck a raw nerve.
‘I have just rescued you,’ Helena replied. ‘The very least I expected was a word of thanks.’
‘Thank you.’ Tullio wiped the wet strands off his forehead. ‘Galla is frantic with worry. I volunteered to search the mountain for you.’
‘I went looking for Niobe. She is lost.’ She placed her hands on her hips. ‘Someone had to find her and the guards were too busy making the temple safe. Galla should know I can take care of myself.’
‘You could have come to me,’ he said quietly. ‘My men and I would have helped.’
‘There wasn’t time.’ She held out a red shawl. He could see the frightened look in her eyes. ‘I spotted this blowing in the wind. I wanted to catch her before she wandered further away. But I can’t find her anywhere. I went in circles, calling until my voice was hoarse. Then the full force of the storm hit and I had to take shelter. I only hope she is safe and dry. Not out there.’
She nodded towards the flooded river, running in full spate.
‘She is with her mother. One of the guards found her and brought her back. Last seen, she was happily making pastry.’
‘You do not know how much that means to me. I was so…so worried.’
Her shoulders sagged with relief and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Tullio forced his hands to curl around his belt, rather than pull her into his arms.
‘All this could have been avoided if you had consulted with someone,’ he said, watching her rearrange her sodden shawl.
‘How did you know where to look for me?’
He shrugged, and tore his mind from his frantic scrambling over the rocks. His legs bore bloody scratches from thorn bushes. Tomorrow they would itch and he would curse, but now nothing mattered except Helena was safe. ‘Instinct. Galla was frightened for you.’
‘She worries too much. I can take care of myself.’ Helena’s laugh sounded hollow and Tullio wondered who she was trying to convince. ‘No one should be scared of a little thunder and lightning.’
‘I have known grown men to cower in their beds when Jupiter becomes angry and starts to throw his lightning bolts.’
Another thunderclap reverberated overhead. Helena jumped and wrapped her arms about her middle. ‘I was once caught in a storm.’
Tullio resisted the urge to draw her into his arms. If she was to trust him, she had to turn to him. His ex-wife’s accusation of being too ready to fight other people’s battles still r
ang in his ears. Before he acted, he needed Helena’s trust. ‘Was the storm as bad as this?’
Chapter Twelve
Helena stared at the rain striking the swollen river rather than looking at Tullio’s face. It mattered that he had not laughed at her or tried to make her forget her fear with false jollity. Long years of practice and her aunts’ attitude towards her mother made her wary, but she had to explain.
‘My mother and I were out walking, and the thunder came. My mother had been laughing about something, I remember that.’ The words came haltingly at first, but picked up speed as she went on. ‘She let go of my hand so I could pick some flowers, the tiny white ones you find dotted among the rocks. She was going to make me a crown. Then there was a flash of bright light. Later I learnt a lightning bolt hit my mother. She died instantly. They said it was divine retribution for her misdeeds.’
‘What misdeeds?’ He had not moved, but she could see the droplets of water gathering on his tunic. ‘Is that why the temple changed allegiance to Kybele?’
‘You know that!’ Helena stared open mouthed. Sometimes Tullio appeared to be in communication with the gods.
‘I notice things.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘The friezes with the snakes on the hospital walls, the statues with their inscriptions altered and the sibyl’s reputation as a healer. Not difficult to figure out. Twinned snakes belong to one god—Aesculapius. Why did it happen? The usual story of the god deserting the island, not answering prayers?’
‘My mother had me and the god Aesculapius stopped speaking to her,’ Helena said in a small voice. ‘She was supposed to be leading her people, but she had me.’
‘And this is a crime? I think any mother would be proud to have a daughter as clever and quick thinking as you.’
‘Not always, but Zenobia claimed she had lost her powers, brought disgrace on this island. She had a great reputation as a healer and she threw it all away for the sake of a man who deserted her and the child she bore. Zenobia demanded we worship her goddess, and Aunt Flavia agreed. In a dream, Kybele came to her and she started to prophesy. That is what the Lady Zenobia told me. Aunt Flavia refuses to discuss it.’
A Noble Captive Page 16
