Sword of Rome

by Constance O'Banyon

“We know her summons will not be long in coming.”

  He closed his eyes. “To let you go will be like tearing away my own flesh.”

  She sighed, turning her lips against his neck and feeling the pulse beat there. “Would that I never had to leave you.”

  He flipped her over onto her back, and this time he was not gentle as he drove into her body. She met his thrusts with her own, wishing this night would never end.

  Adhaniá fell asleep in his arms, and night turned to dawn. She rose quietly from his bed and pulled on her robe, moving silently toward the garden. She paused to glance back at him and watched him sleep for a long moment. He had breathed life into her soul, he had given her joy and she had saved his life—at least for one more night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Marcellus opened his eyes, stretched and smiled while joy poured through his heart. He rolled to his side, expecting to see Adhaniá beside him. But she was not there.

  His first inclination was to dress and go after her, to bring her back, but he reconsidered. If he saw her again, he’d want to take her back to bed, and that would not be wise. They both had a lot of thinking to do after last night.

  Even now he wanted her.

  He could never have enough of her. He felt guilty because she was probably sore today. He had taken her virginal body too many times.

  “Sweet Adhaniá,” he said, closing his eyes and inhaling the intoxicating scent of jasmine blossom that still lingered in the air. “You will soon belong to me alone.”

  He rolled to a sitting position, allowing his mind to dwell on what had happened between him and Adhaniá. She had satisfied a need in him no other woman had touched. He loved her in the deepest depths of his heart.

  Standing up, he stared down at the rumpled bed where he had made love to the one woman for him. Glancing at the ceiling, he frowned. He would have trouble claiming her for his wife. But he would fight for her if he had to.

  “Planus,” he called, heading for the bath, though he was loath to wash the smell of Adhaniá from his skin, “lay out my armor.”

  He needed to see Antony at once.

  The day was long and seemed to drag on forever for Adhaniá. Her body felt different, she felt more alive—and she ached to be in Marcellus’s arms again.

  Time was running out for them both, and last night was all they would ever have. Ramtat would never allow her to marry Marcellus. And even though he had bedded her, Marcellus might not want her as his wife.

  What man would not take what was so willingly offered?

  Adhaniá lingered near the ornamental pool, which had become her favorite place in Marcellus’s garden. She had been told he’d ridden away early in the morning. And now she waited in hope that he would come to her tonight.

  She lingered in the garden, refusing to eat. Both Layla and Thalia watched her with concern. Neither of them had asked about her night with Marcellus, and she had told them nothing. Her feelings for him were private, and she would keep them locked away in her heart.

  By early afternoon Marcellus still had not returned, and Adhaniá worried that something might have happened to him. She tried not to think about the assassins who had been sent to kill him the night before. Surely they would not attack in daylight. Should she have told him about the plot before she’d left his bed?

  Just as Adhaniá had decided to return to the house, she heard Layla talking to someone, and she frowned when she saw the servant who had come to her the day before. She tried to breathe but couldn’t. Had the woman come to tell her Marcellus was dead?

  “You failed to tell me your name yesterday,” Adhaniá said, searching the woman’s eyes. Oh, please, she thought, do not bring me ill tidings.

  “I am called Durra, mistress. And I have come again at my mistress’s bidding.”

  Adhaniá breathed easier. If Marcellus were dead, the woman would have told her right away. “You may inform your mistress, Durra, that her son did not leave the house last night. He is safe.”

  Durra bowed to Adhaniá. “My mistress asks me to thank you, and to tell you how grateful she is for your help.” Durra bit her lip as if she were hesitant to go on. At last her earnest gaze met Adhaniá’s. “My mistress seeks your help once more on a matter too important to delay. She begs you to meet with her and hear what she has to say.”

  “Can you not tell me?”

  “My mistress said I could reveal this much to you: She has heard of a plot against Caesar’s life.”

  There was sincerity in the woman’s eyes, and Adhaniá believed her as she had the day before. “How can I be expected to stop this evil? Surely your mistress can find someone more able than I to carry the warning to Caesar.”

  “My mistress is being watched.” The woman dabbed at tears that swamped her eyes. “She is risking her life to meet you. Please do not turn away from her.”

  Adhaniá felt as if a heavy hand had landed on her shoulders. “Where does she wish the meeting to take place?”

  “By the fountain at Trajan Forum. It will have to be later this afternoon. She will tell you everything at that time.”

  “Why so late in the day? Is this some kind of trick?”

  “Nay, oh, nay! My mistress is always under prying eyes. The master has spies watching everything she does, and she fears him. I beseech you to help her!”

  Adhaniá understood the woman’s fear of Senator Quadatus. Just the thought of him filled her with dread. “I will find a way to slip out without being seen,” she said, knowing if Heikki found out about the meeting, he would prevent her from going. “How shall I recognize your mistress?”

  “She will linger near the large fountain. Look for a woman wearing a white-hooded cloak and this silver broach I have on.”

  “You may tell your mistress I will be there if I can get away.”

  It was late afternoon when Layla dressed Adhaniá in one of her own linen gowns and placed her own woolen cloak about her mistress’s shoulders.

  “I beg you to reconsider. I do not think it is wise for you to venture out alone on the streets of Rome, mistress. Do not forbid me to accompany you.”

  “She won’t be alone,” Thalia said. “She will be with me.”

  Adhaniá could not help smiling at the brash child. “Do not be concerned for me, Layla.” She nodded at Thalia. “As you see, I have a capable guide.” Momentarily, she felt fear, and wished she would have Heikki’s strong sword arm at her side. “Should Tribune Valerius return, go to him at once and explain where I have gone and that I am meeting his mother at Trajan Forum.”

  Since the Forum was no great distance away, Adhaniá decided she could get away more easily if she did not call for the litter. Just as the sun was sinking low in the western sky, she and Thalia slipped out the open gate, hoping no one would notice them leaving.

  The child was ever watchful for trouble, and since she knew the city so well, she took Adhaniá by back streets and dank alleyways until the Forum was in sight.

  Thalia pulled Adhaniá into the shadowed archway of a bakery, and then led her out the back door, explaining that it would confuse anyone who might be following them.

  At last they entered the Forum plaza. Since it was so late, few people strolled about. Adhaniá noticed there were several temples around the square and a platform where the populace could gather to hear speeches. The woman at the vegetable market was packing away her produce for the day, and many shops were already closed.

  “We should wait here against the wall until we locate the woman,” Thalia suggested. “You will not want to draw attention to yourself.”

  Adhaniá nodded in agreement. Minutes passed with the slowness of hours as she searched for Marcellus’s mother near the fountain.

  “That must be her,” she told Thalia, spotting a woman in a white cloak who was nervously surveying those about her.

  When Adhaniá would have rushed forward, Thalia tugged her back into the shadows. “Mistress, there might be those who watch. Allow me to approach her first.”


  A short time later, Adhaniá was horrified when she watched the little scamp artfully dash around a flower cart and, without missing a step, snatch a cluster of bright yellow flowers. Then, as casually as if she were strolling for pleasure, Thalia sauntered away with her stolen bounty.

  “Mistress,” Thalia said, bowing graciously to the woman with the white cloak, “flowers to brighten your bedchamber?”

  Sarania shook her head. “Nay. I have no need of flowers today.” Her gaze swept across the faces of those who passed her. “Another day perhaps.”

  Thalia was persistent. “I believe you will want these flowers, mistress,” she said, spying the silver broach. “My mistress has come to speak to you. Follow us into the alleyway, where it will be safer. Walk some distance behind us.”

  Sarania absently took the flowers. She licked her lips nervously and nodded, pulling her hood lower across her forehead, watching which way the child headed. When she saw Adhaniá, she moved in her direction.

  Thalia led them down a shadowed alley that twisted and turned in such a way that Adhaniá was not sure she could find her way back.

  At last, when they reached a cluster of vacant buildings, Thalia halted. “We should be away from prying eyes here.”

  Adhaniá waited for Marcellus’s mother to approach. When Sarania pushed back her hood, Adhaniá understood why Marcellus was so handsome—his mother was a beautiful woman with smooth skin and the same luminous brown eyes as her son.

  “I saw you the night you danced for my husband and his guests. Although we have not been properly introduced, I have come to trust you,” Sarania said, glancing nervously behind her. “How can I ever thank you for saving Marcellus’s life last night?”

  Adhaniá wondered if the woman could guess what she had done to keep Marcellus with her. “There is no need to thank me. I would not want to see anything happen to Tribune Valerius.”

  “Once again I must infringe upon your time and ask for your help. There is nowhere else I can turn, and no one else I can trust.”

  “I am not yet certain I can trust you,” Adhaniá remarked candidly. “You are married to a man who tried to have Tribune Valerius slain, yet you did warn me in time to save him.”

  Sarania’s hand went to her throat, and she grew pale.

  “There is more to the sad story than either you or my son can guess, but now is not the time to mention it.”

  “Tell me why you asked me here. Your servant said it had to do with Caesar.”

  Sarania looked crestfallen. “I wish I could have told my son … but he … Marcellus—” She shook her head. “He did not want to talk to me. And he would not believe anything I said.” She held out her hand to Adhaniá. “You must believe me, or Caesar will be assassinated tomorrow morning!”

  Adhaniá gasped. “Surely you are mistaken?”

  “I wish I were. Take what I tell you as the truth. My husband, Cassius, Brutus and others will do the deed the moment Caesar reaches the Senate. Believe me—it is the truth. You must warn Marcellus and make him believe you.”

  Adhaniá heard voices and watched as a man walked toward them. He did not seem threatening until he was joined by two others. They were too far away to see clearly in the shadows of the alley.

  “Let us turn our faces away,” Marcellus’s mother advised. “Let them pass us by, and I will tell you all I know.”

  Adhaniá’s heart was beating with fear as she began to understand the danger involved in this secret meeting. She watched several other men join forces with the first three. Her gaze met Thalia’s, and she saw the child edging farther back into the shadows.

  “Nay—oh, nay!” Sarania cried. “They are my husband’s guards! They must have followed me here!”

  “Run,” Adhaniá cried, pushing Thalia toward the gaping door of the vacant building. “Hide yourself until they leave—save yourself.”

  “I will stay with you,” the girl protested, taking up a protective position beside Adhaniá.

  “I order you to leave—hurry, they are almost upon us! You are my only hope of rescue. I fear I have been betrayed by this woman.”

  Only at Adhaniá’s pleading did Thalia melt into the shadows, where she lingered nearby so she could watch what happened.

  With disappointment Adhaniá faced Sarania, whom she now believed had lured her to the Forum on false pretenses. “I was too quick to trust,” she stated furiously. “How could you do this to—”

  Now the men were almost upon them, and Sarania stepped protectively in front of Adhaniá. “I only stopped to ask this woman for directions. I am ready to return home with you now,” she told the captain of Quadatus’s guards. “She knows nothing about me, or who I am.”

  The leader was tall and broad, with thick lips that settled in a smirk. “Think you I do not know the dancer? I was told to take you both.”

  “Nay,” Sarania said, dropping the flowers she was still clutching and pushing the man. “You will not take her. Run!” she commanded Adhaniá. “Save yourself!”

  But they both knew it was impossible to escape. Two men forced Adhaniá’s hands behind her back and bound them tightly, while another forced Sarania forward. Neither of the women protested because there was no one to come to their aid.

  They were both led none too gently back down the alley toward the Forum. Adhaniá twisted to glance over her shoulder, glad the guards had not seen Thalia.

  “Please let her go,” Sarania pleaded. “She has done nothing wrong.”

  “Not another word from you!” a harsh voice warned.

  Night shadows encroached, and shopkeepers were locking up. Sitting atop an ox cart was a menacing-looking man with a long scar down his cheek. He jumped down from the seat and opened the small door at the back of the cart. Adhaniá twisted, trying to escape when she realized they would be locking her inside.

  “It’ll go easier with you if you don’t struggle,” the scar-faced guard warned her.

  Adhaniá twisted and turned, unwilling to give up so easily. The man doubled his fist and struck her hard across the jaw, and darkness closed in around her.

  When Adhaniá slowly opened her eyes, she felt blinding pain. For a moment she wondered where she was, and why her jaw hurt.

  With realization came panic.

  She could tell by the swaying movements she was inside the ox cart. When she tried to sit up, it was too difficult because her wrists were bound behind her. At last, she managed to brace her shoulders against the cart, and it helped her to remain upright. She had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious. She heard mounted guards riding on both sides of the cart.

  She had to think, to plan. Inching her body toward the door, she kicked against it with all her strength, but it held fast. She would not be escaping in that direction.

  Where could they be taking her?

  She heard the sound of running water. It could be a stream, could be a river. Could be the Tiber River. Leaning back, she tried to think—there was something important she needed to remember.

  Caesar!

  Marcellus’s mother had not betrayed her—she had been telling the truth, or the guards would not have taken her prisoner. She dreaded to think what it had cost the woman to meet her at the Forum. They were two women who loved the same man. Both of them now had information that would shake Rome to its very foundations, and neither of them was in a position to help Caesar.

  Wearily she leaned back, her head swaying with the groaning of the ox cart. She would not abandon hope. She would wait and watch for the right moment to escape.

  But even if she could escape, where would she go?

  Despair settled heavily on her shoulders, and she was frightened. She thought of Marcellus and held his image in her mind, hoping it would help lessen her fear. It didn’t.

  The wheels bumped over the road, and Adhaniá tried to brace her back against the splintered wood. Caesar’s life might depend on what she did tonight.

  “Oh, Marcellus,” she whispered, “I am s
o frightened. Please come and find me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Antony sat behind his desk facing Marcellus. “I can see you have something on your mind—why don’t you just say what it is?”

  Marcellus lifted his brow. “So you can read minds.”

  “You are transparent at the moment, and you’re making me dizzy, pacing the floor, sitting down and then getting up and pacing some more.”

  “I want permission to marry,” Marcellus blurted out in agitation. “I want permission to marry Lady Adhaniá.”

  Antony frowned and shook his head. “Permission denied. You know the law; such a union is forbidden. You are a high-ranking Roman officer—Lady Adhaniá is Egyptian.”

  “She is from a prominent family, and a princess in her own right.”

  “Nonetheless, she’s not Roman.”

  “You could intercede for me with Caesar. He will listen to you, and he has the power to overrule the law.”

  “Don’t you think if it were possible to overturn the law without drawing the citizens’ outcry, Caesar would already have married Queen Cleopatra and presented her to Rome as his wife? If Rome would have accepted the queen, Caesar would have divorced Calpurnia without guilt.”

  Marcellus was frustrated. “He could have married her according to Egyptian law while he was in Alexandria.”

  “Which would have caused him no end of trouble when he returned. The marriage would never have been recognized by Rome.”

  “I would prefer to marry Lady Adhaniá by Roman law so she will be legally tied to me. I want the right to protect her and take her out of the situation in which you and Queen Cleopatra have placed her.”

  “I will not put this before Caesar,” Antony stated forcefully.

  Marcellus stood and continued pacing. “I have sweated blood for Rome. I have done everything Caesar asked of me—I ask only this one thing in return.”

  “Nay. Speak of it no more.”

  “Then I shall follow Adhaniá to Egypt, give up my Roman citizenship and live in her country.”