Ness looked at Aquilus. His hard eyebrows cut down to his firm cheekbones, which rose above his stiff jaw, no softness anywhere. She’d disgraced him in public. He could easily return the favor.
He motioned her to enter first. First? Her shallow breaths came in gasps as her guts revolted. Ness pushed one foot forward and sympathized with gladiators entering the arena. Her sandal made a noise against the tile.
Every head in the room turned, or so it seemed.
Disapproving stares pierced her, slashing through the curtain behind her. Then the whispers started.
“Yes, that’s her.”
“Did you hear?”
“Absolutely scandalous, I say.”
Bernice stood near an ornamental fern. She turned to her neighbor. “Told you barbarian women have loose morals.”
Gaze dropping to the floor, Ness pressed back against the curtain. Her heart pounded against her skull, trying to break out. The urge to retch twisted at her guts.
Aquilus would expect her to greet the host. The room in front of her blurred as she looked out over it. An expanse of floor lined by staring eyes paved the way to a couple she had every reason to hate—Cassius and his wife.
If only she could feel anger, because at least that emotion could sweep her through this wretched night with pride. Her heart galloped and the berries she’d eaten earlier signaled that their stay was merely tentative.
“Ness.” Aquilus’ voice sliced through the air.
She twisted. Her chin slammed against his shoulder. She sucked in a breath.
He held out his arm.
She shoved back against the curtain, dimpling the cloth. After what he’d planned to do to her children, she was never touching him again.
“Do it,” he ordered, his voice harsh as Britain winter even in a whisper.
Her teeth dug into her tongue as she closed her fingers around dark skin. Then they started walking down the gauntlet of hostile faces.
Passing the quaestor now, she heard the man whisper something uncomplimentary about her. Aquilus closed his other hand over where her fingers rested on his arm, his touch fierce as he stared at the quaestor.
The whisper died in the man’s throat.
The legate from Praetor Ocelli’s house directed a rudely curious stare from the other side. The mass of Aquilus’ body blocking his view felt strangely comforting.
Wait! Aquilus walked toward the man, dragging her along.
“Legate,” Aquilus said with the customary nod.
Legate Servilli carried himself with martial stiffness. “Tribune Paterculi, a pleasure to meet again.” His craggy face almost looked pleasant when he smiled.
“I don’t believe I introduced my wife last time we met.” Aquilus circled his arm around her, his hand pressing hard against the curve of her waist as he pulled her back against him.
The legate acknowledged her with a bow. “Domina Paterculi.”
All around, the condemning glares faded to furtive glances. Ness felt her heartbeat slow as her guts stopped churning.
Aquilus dropped his arm and he moved on with her toward Cassius and his wife. Surprisingly, the older woman didn’t look like a vicious child stealer.
“Pleased to meet you.” Cassius’ wife giggled. With a hand to Ness’ elbow, she drew her a step away from the men. “Let them talk of their politics. We have no need to bore ourselves.”
Ness held her tongue.
“So, you come from Britannia, Domina Paterculi? Why look at me. What am I saying? I can see it in your hair, your face.” The woman gestured at Ness.
Orphans, hundreds of them starved on the street. The woman could have any of those she chose. Not her sons. Ness pasted on a smile.
“And your sons, did they inherit your blond hair?”
The woman looked eager. Ness furrowed her brow. Could she trust Aquilus? He possessed many philosopher quotes against lying, but then she hadn’t believed he’d sell a child either.
“Yes,” Ness said. “My sons look much like my brother. He is five heads taller than me, a veritable giant.”
Cassius’ wife gasped.
“He has the largest blue patches too.”
“Blue patches?”
As the woman’s eyes bulged, Ness almost felt guilt. One glance at Aquilus hardened her heart. “Do you know the stories of Celts in battle with blue war marks?”
Cassius’ wife patted her graying hair. “Faintly.”
“The blue patches are not paint, but late-blooming birthmarks. My brother’s marks were the envy of the county. I’m sure my boys will soon develop the same.”
“Gracious!” The woman’s nostrils spread as her pointed chin sagged.
Ness turned. Now to manipulate politics. Crimson ribbons wrapped Cassius’ marble columns. Bernice rested a hand on one of them. Ness moved the other direction, looking for someone she hadn’t insulted.
“Ness!”
A girl ran up to her. It was the quaestor’s wife, Julia. Two years hadn’t completely erased the baby face. Poor thing, the quaestor didn’t half-deserve her.
“Domina Paterculi.” Grabbing Ness’ hand, Julia pulled her to the edge of the room near the garden. “I’ve been wanting and wanting to see you!”
More pillars barred the room from the garden beyond. Tall torches and monstrous bowls filled with exotic fish decorated the garden paths.
“Tell me.” Ness placed her hand on Julia’s arm. “Who are the people here tonight?”
Looking pleased, Julia rattled off names.
“Then, of course, there’s him.” Julia pointed to a man illuminated by a garden torch. “He’s Lucius Antonius Saturninus, the governor of Germania and a personal friend of the Emperor. His skill quelled the rebellions in Germania five years ago… and quite a few hearts too.” She giggled.
Governor of Germania? Ness examined the man she’d stolen a cart and horses from a year ago on a mountain pass. He looked younger than most governors, and his white tunic hung confidently from a frame that said swaggering soldier rather than disciplined politician.
“Look at the way he carries himself,” Julia fluttered her gaze from the floor to the governor, “and see how strong he is. They say, though, that his hands are gentle as silk with a woman.”
Ness pursed her lips. Surely a governor had enough rank to institute a trade plan, though Aquilus had complained about this governor’s incompetence before.
“Do you think he’s handsome?” Julia asked.
Ness blinked. “The allure of the unscrupulous man? I’ve had more than enough of that.” She flicked her gaze across the room toward Aquilus.
How much more unscrupulous could a man become than to sell his own child? Even after that, her eyesight betrayed her and told her that his eyes were dark, his face chiseled, and that his tunic covered perfection.
Not to mention, how he could turn a phrase and draw in a heart. Ness scowled. He should have been a seducer rather than the faithful husband. Then maybe some other woman would be the one imbecilic enough to be carrying his child.
Julia blinked her baby eyes, which weren’t that babyish if she could talk of governors so. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” How was she to secure an introduction to Governor Lucius? Maybe if she befriended some senators they would introduce her. Perhaps an old one with failing eyesight so he wouldn’t recognize her as the woman whose name had seared across Rome two days ago.
“Domina Paterculi.”
Ness turned.
Gold dripped off Bernice’s honeyed hands. She drew her lips up in a wicked smile.
Ness gave Bernice the smallest of nods.
“Is that what they call the latest style in the provinces?” Bernice spared Ness’ stola a scornful look.
Ness rolled her eyes. The woman’s insult skills had slipped.
“I suppose we should just be grateful you’re not dressed like a woman of infamia tonight.”
Untrue. Ness glared at Bernice. She’d looked like Boadicea that night,
not a harlot.
Julia placed her small hand on Ness’ arm. “Don’t worry. The simpler style becomes you. Equestrians are known for their overdone tastes. Too much paint, too much eye coloring. It’s scarcely chaste.”
Blood heated Bernice’s already red cheeks a deeper color than all her paint.
Ness grimaced. Julia meant well, but she hated Roman class divides. She summoned the most gracious voice she could use toward Bernice without choking. “You may have a point, Bernice. You’ve lived in Rome longer than I.”
Bernice shrugged and turned to Julia. “As for chaste, Domina Julia, do you know of the barbarian lover she harloted with? Cedric, I believe his name was.”
Cedric! A thousand screams tore at Ness’ lungs. How dare Bernice even say that name. Cedric had helped her when she couldn’t drag herself through another day, when her babes screamed, and the fields needed planting, and her back ached. Cedric had said he’d wait years for her.
Speaking of which, she hadn’t exactly waited for him. Guilt twisted at her guts. He must still be waiting then. She’d never so much as written to him. Not that she’d truly had that option. Aquilus hadn’t given her the key to the money box, though she had no doubt that if she asked, he’d give her money for any purpose under the sun. Any purpose, that is, except for writing to Cedric.
Bernice cleared her throat.
Oh, to grab that marble bust of Caesar off the table and crack it over Bernice’s skull for her words. Wait, she raged over nothing. Bernice couldn’t know about what happened in Britain. She was just inventing stories to irritate her.
Ness’ stomach dropped to her feet. Then how had Bernice known the name Cedric?
Understanding flashed through Ness’ mind. Cornelia. Oh, to smash that bust over both their heads. She heard the swish of robes.
Praetor Ocelli strode forward, his long robes flicking up dust. He grabbed Bernice’s arm, his thin fingers digging into her flesh. “What did I tell you about staying away from her? Last thing I need is trouble with the tribune.”
Bernice’s brown eyes widened, a flood of protests rising to her lips even as her fingers trembled.
“Stop. I’d divorce you too if it weren’t for that unsightly dowry.”
Ness watched Bernice’s pale face as the praetor dragged her away. She’d willingly hand Bernice that bust of Caesar to smash over Praetor Ocelli’s head.
Someone to Ness’ left harrumphed. The stout woman plopped on a marble bench, sweating profusely.
Ness moved toward the woman. “Salve.”
The stout woman shook her head and started fanning herself. A strange scent somewhere between mildew and honey clung to the woman’s clothes.
“You’re truly going to feign offense because of what I did at Praetor Ocelli’s domus? You don’t even like Bernice.”
The stout woman dropped her moist hands. “True, but I have a reputation to uphold. You’re scarcely good for reputations these days, young woman.”
Ness sighed. “Hate me then, but could you introduce me to a few senators’ wives first?”
The stout woman rolled her eyes.
“It’s for the Germanian trade plan. Don’t you want to be patriotic, save Rome?”
The stout woman pressed a cloth to her forehead. “I think your husband is the last citizen to still care about the Empire’s fate, beyond financial gain, of course.”
Financial gain? Ness stood straighter. “You have an odor.”
The stout woman jerked out of her slouch.
“Hard to get quality perfume in the market these days, isn’t it?”
The stout woman pressed her jaw tight, scrunching up her nose.
“Perfume’s one of the premier trade goods in Germania. Give me the introductions and I’ll make sure you have access to the first shipment.”
The stout woman hesitated. “First shipment?”
“Yes, just as soon as the trade plan goes through.”
“Very well.”
Good. Ness smiled. Now to hope this party dragged on long enough that she could meet all the dignitaries she needed to get Aquilus’ trade plan implemented.
Leaning against a pillar, Aquilus watched his wife. He couldn’t hear Ness’ words, but she spoke to some women and she appeared angry. Never a good sign. While her attendance at his event, wearing his ring, was somewhat satisfying, he rather feared she intended to blow it up in his face. He did not need a repeat performance of two days ago.
Cassius walked up beside him, a wine goblet in his hands.
“Boadicea bends the neck to Mars?” A smile played on Cassius’ lips as he moved his gaze after Aquilus’. “Tell me how you prevailed and your answer will be worth more to many men than all the trade of Germania.”
Aquilus rolled his eyes and spared Ness one more glance. Never underestimate a Celtic woman; they should teach that in military strategy books. He turned to Cassius and steeled himself for the next unpleasantness.
“Fine party, yes?” Cassius tilted his goblet bottom up.
Maybe he could send the man a note after the party. Cassius smiled, the picture of the content host. Shame to ruin that. Aquilus groaned.
If he detested anything more than a liar, it was a coward and he’d already broken his word without adding cowardice to his faults. “Cassius.”
“Yes.”
Ecce, this would be unpleasant. His father always told him a man’s honor was his word, yet he was breaking his to Cassius. “I’m not going to give you my son.”
Cassius jerked back, his graying eyebrows rising. “What? Why?”
The way Ness had looked when she’d asked this morning played through his wits. “My wife. She couldn’t bear it.”
Cassius wilted. “You’re not much of a Stoic.”
He deserved that condemnation. Cassius turned on his heel. Another political ally turned foe, only, unlike Praetor Ocelli, Cassius had also been a friend.
With a sigh, Aquilus shifted his gaze back to Ness, who now engaged in conversation with a senator.
He still hated her for what she had done to his Germanian plan. Yet, when she’d come to him and begged him not to allow Cassius to adopt one of their sons, pain had carved her face. He’d only needed a moment to know that he’d break his sacred word, alienate his father’s honored friend, and destroy his last chance to institute a trade plan that would aid thousands, all for a woman he hated.
Aquilus sighed again, this time in frustration. A dozen years wouldn’t serve to fix what the last two days had destroyed. Taking a career-ender post in Britannia couldn’t have annihilated his political ambitions more than this week’s events.
At least he got to keep his sons. Turning, he sought out Ness, who for no earthly reason suggested remaining, and left with her.
Pulling the twins high on her hips, Ness entered the slave quarters. She looked over the tidy little couches, the curtains that partitioned off sleeping quarters, and the newly-laid ceramic floor.
“Call the slaves together,” Ness said to the burly housekeeper.
The woman jutted her thick jaw out. “Just slaves or freedmen too?”
“Freedmen?”
“Them that have their manumission papers from the master.”
Ness squinted. All who served here wore the same clothes. She’d always assumed they all were slaves. “How many is that?”
“The majority. The master is kind.”
“You’ve never been married to him.” Letting Wryn slide to the floor, Ness struggled to untangle Eric’s death grip on her hair.
The housekeeper raised a bushy eyebrow.
“Just get them.”
The servant woman inclined her head in a respectful “yes,” but her stiff shoulders said differently. Soon a score of servants gathered.
“Greetings.” Ness spread her feet. “This house is a wreck. The atrium’s filthy, and there’s a hole in the grain bin with a rat in it. Let’s get to work.”
Staring eyes ringed Ness in silence. The housekeeper grunted.
/> “I need wood if I’m to fix the grain bin,” a man with a crippled leg said.
A sallow-faced woman elbowed her way through the others. “The last bucket broke. That’s why the atrium’s dirty.”
“We’re out of oil,” a young girl said, clinging to the sallow-faced woman.
Ness’ eyelashes hit her eyebrows. “Has no restocking been done?”
The housekeeper crossed her arms. “The master’s been busy.”
“Busy ruining my life,” Ness muttered. Aquilus had berated her for running things poorly? “I’ll get the supplies for you.”
Now she truly wished she had those household keys.
She didn’t, so after dismissing everyone, she stopped in the tablinum. Here, unlike the rest of the house, order reigned. Yanking a drawer open, Ness pulled out a tablet and worked figures while Eric and Wryn scrambled about.
Wrong numbers, she bit her lip. Holding the tablet over the fire, she warmed the wax. Drawing the end of the stylus over the warm wax, she blanked the page. A dozen attempts later, she got the numbers perfect.
Slamming the tablet down for Aquilus to find, she went to grab her sons.
The two faced an empty shelf, scrolls scattered across the floor. Eric widened his mouth and reached for a fistful of parchments.
With a cry, she swung him up by the nape of his tunic. “Trust me, if your father would sell you without provocation, you don’t want to eat his most prized possessions.”
Chapter 20
Statues rose like pillars, a sphinx lifting a lion’s paw to support the lofted ceiling, while a wood nymph spurted water into an indoor fountain. Frescoes spread for thousands of paces, rivaling the tiled floor in color.
Ness moved to the center of the imperial palace. She had one goal for tonight: gain an introduction to the Germanian governor.
Julia introduced her to a few quaestors’ wives who in turn produced a senator, the most talkative wife’s cousin, and soon Ness found herself talking to a white-haired man who leaned on the arm of a slave boy.
For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1) Page 26
