Authors: Michelle Styles
‘I warned you what would happen if they tried to escape.’ She poked a finger at his chest. ‘Do you know what danger these men have put the temple in? Everything my aunt and I have worked for over these past years gone!’
His hands drew her into his arms, held her against his chest, his strong arms like bands of iron. She struggled briefly, then stood still.
‘I was trying to tell you what had happened when we were interrupted,’ he said into her hair. ‘If the guard had not called you away, I would have told you. I wanted to make sure you heard the news from me first.’
Helena shivered. Her body wanted to lean into him. She broke free of his grasp.
‘You should have warned me. You gave me your word. You had a duty to obey your promise.’
‘My men felt they had a duty to escape.’
‘That is no excuse. I trusted you.’
‘And now?’
‘Why should I?’
He gave a military salute. Gone was the man who held her gently, in whose arms she had woken, and in his place was the perfect soldier, upright, unyielding, single-minded in the pursuit of Rome’s glory. ‘I will rejoin my men.’
Helena stared at the place where the men had lain. All she could see was Tullio’s body, broken like those three. Had he known about the escape plan? Was that why he had attempted to keep her away from the temple? And all she could do was worry that one of those bloodied bundles might have been him.
‘You have taken your time, niece. I had expected a report of the damage before now. The wind and rain kept me awake for a long while last night. Tell me what has happened.’
Helena pinched the back of her neck and stared at her aunt, who was seated in a woven chair. Her snow-white hair was gathered at the back of her neck. She wore plain white robes tied with a gold belt at the hips. Other than the slight drooping
of her right eye, her aunt looked as healthy as she had the day before Helena had found her. Several scrolls lay by her side. The box containing the sibyl’s mask was on the table in front of her.
‘There were things I had to attend to.’ Helena shifted from sandal to sandal. She did not want to reveal the real reason that she had avoided meeting with her aunt—her aunt’s eyes were too sharp, too likely to guess what had passed between her and Tullio.
‘I understand you spent the night out on the mountain.’
‘I went looking for Niobe. I thought she might have become trapped by the storm. You know how she hates storms.’
‘It is commendable you wish to look after the innocents, but did you ever consider that there are others under your charge? We have had this discussion before. The temple must come first in all things you do. And here you have hopes of becoming the sibyl when my powers desert me.’
Helena traced her toe along the mosaic flooring. Aunt Flavia was right. She always was. Even here, confined to her apartments, she knew more about what was going on in the temple than Helena did. Aunt Flavia already knew about the escape. The way Tullio had duped her. She had given him her heart, her trust and he used her.
He had to have known when he came to her in her room. It was all an illusion. Her mouth twisted. Everything was an illusion.
‘At the time, I only thought of Niobe and the danger she was in. After the thunder and lightning started, I knew I had to take shelter. There was a flash flood and I had to wait for it to subside. We…that is, I came back as I quickly as I could.’
Aunt Flavia inclined her head. She placed her scroll on the small table and raised her gaze to meet Helena’s.
‘At least you showed more sense than your mother.’
‘I trust and pray I learnt the lesson of my mother’s death.’
‘And what was that?’
‘The gods are not to be tempted.’ Helena looked straight ahead at the frieze. The words took her back years. How many times had her aunt drummed that particular lesson in her head? Too many. ‘You should not mock the gods. You must only ask when you can be sure of them answering.’
‘Ah, some things I attempted to teach you have made an impact. There have been times that I wondered.’
‘Uncle Lichas returned just before the storm hit. His trireme is damaged.’
‘Word reached me.’
‘Zenobia would like you to perform a re-dedication service.’
Her aunt sat, her brow furrowed with concentration. Helena waited and willed her to succeed. Her aunt lifted her right hand and tried to make a fist. She allowed the hand to fall back on her lap. ‘Annoying things.’
‘Be patient, Aunt Flavia. You will be able to perform the ceremony.’
‘There is much you don’t understand, Helena.’
‘I’m trying, Aunt. There is much you’ve hidden from me.’
A lop-sided smile crossed her aunt’s face, but her eyes looked distressed. Helena awkwardly patted her aunt’s shoulder. Comforting the older woman was something new. Aunt Flavia had never been one for sentiment or comfort. As a child, whenever Helena had banged a knee or bumped an elbow, she had gone to Galla for hugs and cuddles.
‘I shall have to tell the seafarers of my infirmity. I understand what you have tried to do, but it is the only way. Too much has happened, Helena.’
‘We’ll find another solution. You are too important.’
Her aunt’s smile widened and became genuine. ‘You
already have many things to think about. I fear my recent illness has become a burden.’
Helena knelt down and caught her aunt’s hand. So small and frail, more like bird’s claw than a hand.
‘You are not a burden. You are the heart and soul of this temple.’
Her aunt stroked Helena’s head and she started at the unaccustomed gesture. She reached up and touched her aunt’s withered cheek.
‘Aunt, what should I do about the Romans? My uncle and the other chiefs are sure to demand swift punishment, but these men have been beaten and have been returned to the temple’s care.’
‘Your care.’
‘My care?’ Helena stared at her aunt. Those men were not her sole responsibility. They were under the temple’s protection. She had thought that her aunt would have a sensible idea about how she should behave. ‘How can you say that?’
‘You were the one responsible for bringing them here. You are now the one responsible for making that decision.’
‘But what should I do?’ Helena could hear the pleading note in her voice and cringed. Her aunt had taught her to stand on her own feet. And now, facing her first major test, all she could do was beg for guidance and help.
‘Your heart will tell you what to do. When in doubt, I always find it useful to listen to my heart. It is where the goddess speaks.’
Her aunt closed her eyes and Helena knew she had been dismissed. She hesitated, and wondered if she should confide in her about Tullio. She pressed her lips together. This was one burden she would not share.
She waited until she heard her aunt’s soft breath. Then she
walked with quick steps towards the hospital and, she hoped, some sort of resolution.
The stiflingly sweet scent of incense intermingled with acetic acid assaulted her nostrils. The three would-be escapees were there, battered, bruised but alive. One of the acolytes glided over and gave her an account of what they had done for the men.
Helena expelled a breath. All the men should live. The question was what to do with them. They had already been beaten. It would be weeks before they would walk properly again, she was certain of that.
Chains?
If they couldn’t walk, how could they escape? She hated the sight of chains, but probably it was the only option. Something to show her uncle and Captain Androceles when they called in the morning.
It was a blessing they had not called before now, but she had to assume checking the status of
guests
was far down the priority list. But once they had finished assessing the damage, then their attention would turn to the temple. Helena shivered and drew her shawl tighter about her body.
‘Helena,’ Galla called in a low voice. Helena turned to see Galla sitting on a low stool next to the most badly beaten of the Roman soldiers. ‘This is all my fault.’
‘How so?’
‘I…I told Quintus to go to the harbour…to look for you and to see what the commotion was about. I showed him the secret way the sibyl uses. I was so worried about you.’
‘Why wasn’t I told this earlier?’ Helena stared at her maid in disbelief.
‘I was afraid. I…I had gone to look for them when Androceles arrived.’ Tears streamed down Galla’s face. ‘If I had told
you earlier, then none of this would have happened. The seafarers are going to station guards in the temple, aren’t they?’
Helena felt sick to her stomach. The men were innocent? They had been searching for her? Oh, Kybele!
‘Galla, you should have told me earlier. Something could have been done then.’
‘She lies,’ the figure on the pallet croaked out.
He struggled to raise his body on his elbows. Galla tried to get him to lie back down. Impatiently he pushed her away. Galla gave a little cry and covered her face with her hands.
‘Your maid lies. This was my fault and mine alone.’
Helena moved closer. Her heart started to thump in her ears. She wanted to believe the centurion. She knew she was grasping at slender pieces of wool, but she needed hope.
‘What are you saying, centurion?’
‘I wanted to escape. I thought I could. Galla knew nothing about it. Tullio forbade it, but I would not listen. I planned it. I slipped out and placed that shawl. Your maid has nothing to do with it. We were going to attempt to escape that night. I had it all planned.’
‘Where did you get the shawl?’
‘I stole it when that girl came to see Tullio. He has befriended her and was trying to teach her to speak.’
‘And Galla had nothing to do with it?’
Quintus shook his head, but he reached out, captured Galla’s hand and brought to his lips, then released it.
‘In my stubbornness and pride, I thought that I knew best,’ Quintus said. ‘I was wrong. My eyes were on the grass crown and other honours, not on my duty. If you must punish someone, punish me. Your maid was innocent. I used her. And I cannot let another take responsibility for my actions.’
‘Marcus Livius Tullio knew nothing?’
‘No, my lady.’ He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. ‘In fact, he forbade any attempt at escape. When we return to Rome, no doubt I shall be disciplined. In my arrogance, I broke my military oath. For that I am deeply ashamed.’
Helena pressed her hands to her forehead, seeking to relieve the pain. Her stomach turned over. She’d never have suspected Galla. She had wronged Tullio. She had thrown all sorts of accusations at him, and had not listened to the explanation. She had wanted to believe everything but her own heart.
‘You have given me much to think about.’
Quintus reached out a hand. ‘My lady, speak to him. Convince him that I have suffered enough. My retirement is coming up in a few months and I was hoping for a good settlement, but my former tribune is dead and I now must hope.’
‘He said he would buy me,’ Galla said with a trembling voice. ‘I don’t believe him, of course.’
‘Jupiter and Saturn as my witness, I planned to. And if I survive, I plan to.’ Quintus’s voice rang out through the hall. ‘She was prepared to speak for me. For me? Can you believe that? And she makes honey cakes. I want her by my side for the rest of my days. I mean to marry her.’
Helena saw Galla grow bright red. Her heart twisted. Somehow Quintus had conquered Galla’s natural mistrust of Romans. She also knew that, if Quintus did offer, her aunt would refuse. Galla was too important to the temple. But looking at Galla’s shining face, and tender smile, Helena also knew that such a refusal would be wrong.
‘When that day comes, I will be the first to wish you joy and happiness,’ Helena said and swept from the room before she gave way to tears.
S
ilver clouds skittered across a yellow moon making the world look a strange and different place. Although Helena knew every crevice and foothold on the way to the tower, she had to stop several times and once missed a turning. In near pitch-black darkness she had to grope her way back.
The night-time scent of the jasmine that twisted and clung to the tower walls was cloying and oppressive. So heavy that, with every breath she took, the scent seemed to fill her lungs, pressing down on her, making this part of the passage more difficult than usual.
A scream welled up within her as her fingers touched a gecko, who scuttled away. Its claws dug into her hand before scraping the stone. She had never liked the little lizards who inhabited the crevices and cracks of the temple walls. She liked them even less when they ran over her toes and hands.
She had decided to go to the tower when sleep evaded her. Back in her bedroom, she’d closed her eyes and all she’d seen was Tullio’s face. She’d gone over and over the words she had hurled at him and she knew there was no way to retract them. He had tried to explain and she had refused to
listen, preferring to believe the word of a man she knew was a cheat and liar.
The top of the turret was her place of refuge, the place where she always went. Up there, surrounded by the air and sea, she could think out her problems and decide what to do next. Her head always cleared there. For as long as she could remember it was her special thinking spot.
If she could, she would replace the sands of time. Then she’d listen, not only to his words but to how he said them. Before she had listened with her ears and not with her heart. Somehow, she would have to find a way to apologise. Then she would get on with her life and stop wishing for things that could never be.
She had strong feelings for the Roman tribune. Feelings that grew by the day, by the hour. She knew that. It was impossible to deny. She admired his clear thinking. Niobe trusted him. She appreciated the way he helped the temple, asking for nothing in return. He had come looking for her when no one else had dared.
Twice.
But could she trust him? Truly trust him? He must have known his men had escaped, and he had not warned her.
After today, she knew that, despite his feelings for her—and she had to believe he had feelings for her—he would side with Rome.
That hurt.
It pained her to her very core. Her heart had shattered. She could not get away from the fact that she had trusted him, and he used that trust to betray her.
Except he hadn’t. He had been manipulated in the same way as she was.
Now, instead of being the injured one, it looked as if she
had betrayed him. She had taken the first opportunity to denounce him. She’d denied him a chance to explain. Her prejudice blinded her. She’d ruined everything.
Although things could never be the same between them, she had to find a way of letting him know how sorry she was.
She turned the last corner and stared at the battlements before her. She blinked twice in case it was a trick of the moonlight.
Standing with his back to her, his face turned firmly towards the sea, was Tullio. His crimson cloak was black in the moonlight, making a contrast with the pale skin of his just visible forearms.
Helena stopped and stood, unable to do more than stare.
It was one thing to think about Tullio and to plan her apology. It was quite another to actually have the courage to make it.
Why was he here? Had he sought her out? But he could not have known where she’d be.
She turned to go as silently as she came. However, an invisible thread seemed to connect them. As she turned, so did he.
‘Helena.’
A single whispered word, no more. A question. A plea and so much more was contained in that one word.
It was enough.
Helena stopped and went into the silvered moonlight. ‘I wasn’t expecting to find anyone here,’ she said around the sudden lump in her throat.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said.
His face looked remote, stern and unyielding. The lines were more pronounced than ever, his eyes black stone. Helena’s heart contracted. She thought of all the accusations she had heaped on his head. Never once had she paused and asked what she might do in a similar situation. All the warmth seemed to have vanished from him as if it had never been.
‘I’m worried about my men.’ His hand pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. ‘The pirates ill treated them.’
‘It is right to worry.’ She bit her lip and wished she could unsay those words. They sounded so unfeeling, almost threatening. She was no better than Kimon. ‘They will survive. I have been assured of that. Galla is taking a personal interest. And she has snatched patients from the very jaws of Cerberus.’
He raised an eyebrow. Helena waited and mentally prepared a light remark. Something that would lead into her apology. He shifted slightly. She thought she detected a relaxation of his crossed arms.
‘That is good to hear.’
‘Galla seems quite taken with Quintus,’ Helena tried again.
‘That is no concern of mine. Quintus knew what he was doing.’
He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. One small gesture and she’d run to his arms. Helena knew that. She adjusted her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and let the silence grow.
‘Why you are up here? Your men are in the hospital. There is no reason for you to be here.’
‘I could ask you the same question.’ His face was back in shadow. His voice was soft, lazy, yet she could tell from the way he held himself that he was watching her with a deep intentness.
‘I come here to think. I found it difficult to sleep.’
She forced her feet to move sedately over to her favourite spot. The black shapes of the boats bobbed up and down on a silver sea. The quiet lapping of the waves hitting the boats was clearly audible even in the turret.
There had been less damage than she’d first thought, but enough to keep everyone busy for the next few weeks. A precious few weeks to get her aunt well enough to stand and
perform the blessing. Within a few weeks, everything would have returned to normal.
Within a few weeks, days, he would be gone and she’d be left here to face the future alone.
Helena shivered.
How could she begin to explain any of this to Tullio? With each lap of the water, she felt the time of her destiny was coming closer.
‘When sleep is difficult, this place calls to me. Only here can I find peace.’
‘My commiserations.’ Tullio gave a slight bow. ‘We all have problems.’
Helena pressed her palms together. She refused to get angry. Anger would not serve her purpose. She had to think and to plan. She had to approach her problem with a level head. She turned from the harbour and faced him.
‘I hadn’t expected to find anyone here.’
‘Sleep is impossible, so I came here. I remembered the way from the last time. Perhaps I seek some sort of peace as well. A lasting peace.’ He made a sardonic bow. ‘I came to watch for the tribute ship. It should be here any day. I watch the water and hope.’
Helena hesitated. She did not voice her fears—fears about what would happen when it did arrive or what might happen if the ship perished in the storm. She walked over to the battlements and gripped the stone with both her hands. She listened to the sound of the waves lapping and the softer one of Tullio’s breath.
‘No doubt the ship will arrive soon. And then what will you do?’
‘I will be free to go and will have no obligations here. I will pursue my vow.’
‘Of destroying the seafarers?’
‘Yes. I told you that it is the one thing I live for.’
‘I know you took no part in the escape.’ Helena said the words to the silvered sea. He had moved nearer. She could sense that without looking up to confirm it. Her whole body tingled with anticipation. ‘Quintus confessed.’
His hand reached out and touched her shoulder. Warm fingers against the coolness of her skin. She forced her body to stay still.
‘What has happened to change your mind? You were positive before. You threw it in my face.’
‘I interviewed the men in hospital. Galla tried to say it was her fault, but Quintus refused to let her. He explained what he had done and how he had tricked us all.’ She tightened her grip on the stones until the white of her knuckles showed.
‘The seafarers will wish to see them punished,’ she said. ‘They abused the temple’s hospitality.’
‘And being beaten is not enough? Being forced to fight and make sport is not enough?’ His voice held a note of incredulity. ‘What more do you propose to do?’
‘I said that it was not my decision. I do not speak for the sibyl. You seem to think that I control everything that happens in this temple. It is simply an illusion. I have little power.’
‘Just as I have little control over the determined actions of my men. And yet twice you have held me to account for them.’
Helena stared at him. The moonlight made the planes of his face shadowed and his hair appear blue black. Her hands itched to touch his curls again and to feel them spring back against the pads of her fingers. She wanted to go back to that easier time when there were no shadows between them.
‘What would you have me do?’ she whispered.
Tullio tore his gaze from Helena’s face and the way the moonlight highlighted the curve of her bosom. The light
breeze moulded her thin robe to her body. He remembered how each and every curve had felt under his fingers. He remembered how her skin had trembled underneath his.
He had come up here to think and to get away from the memory of her lips and the way her body fitted against him. He wanted to make sense of what had happened and how he was going to reconcile the feelings he had for Helena with his duty towards Rome.
What Quintus’s escape attempt had shown him was that he had put his own desires ahead of his duty. It was the first time such a thing had happened. If he had stayed, those men would not now be fighting for their lives. Quintus did it because Tullio had vacated his post and gone in search of Helena.
‘It is not up to me to decide their punishment. For this, I thank the gods.’
There was a troubled expression in Helena’s eyes. Tullio hated making things worse for her, but she had to make a decision. She had to decide where she stood—with the pirates or with the rule of law.
‘You had no idea what Quintus and the other two were intending to do.’
‘I was busy attending to other things.’
He lift a hand towards her and smoothed the one ringlet back from her face. Her skin trembled slightly under the touch of his fingers. It felt warm against his cooled hands. Cold? Or something more? Tullio hesitated. He could feel the stirrings of a response to her nearness deep within his body.
‘What sort of things?’ There was a teasing quality to her voice.
‘Just things.’
He used one finger to tilt her chin. He gazed at her face. There were words he wanted to say to her but he was neither
a poet nor a smooth-talking senator. He was legionary, a man who lived his life by the sword.
He had never felt like this about anyone before and it frightened him. This woman meant far more to him than his military oath. He had nearly betrayed his men for her. He had gone to the brink, but now he was back. He had regained command of his emotions.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth inviting.
He bent his head and captured her lips, allowing the touch of his mouth to speak for him. If she rejected him again, he would know that this was the end.
Her lips parted at his first touch. Her mouth opened, warm and enticing. Tullio hesitated, applying the lightest of touches. Her hands reached up, grasped the back of his neck and drew his head closer, deepening the kiss, demanding more.
His arms came around and grasped her, fitting her curves to him. Within a heartbeat, his body hardened, responding to her softness.
She quivered in his arms.
He lifted his mouth from hers and stared into her moonlit eyes. His hands buried themselves in her tangled mass of hair.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, touching his mouth with her fingers, tracing its outline.
‘Sorry for what?’
‘I should have believed you.’
‘It is in the past.’
Tullio ran a finger down the side of her face. He knew what that admission had cost her. He knew he should press forward, demand that she declare for Rome, but this was beyond that, this was between him and her.
Nothing else mattered except the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his.
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Hush, Helena,’ he said, recapturing her mouth.
He heard the moan in her throat.
Her tongue touched his, retreated and returned for a long caress. He pulled her closer, running a hand down her back to the narrow indentation of her waist, crushing her beasts against his chest. Through the thin material, her erect nipples teased him.
He ran his palm down her side, rubbed a nipple with the back of his thumb, and watched her face change in the starlight. Her body writhed against him. Slowly, carefully, his fingers circled her breast, now brushing, now rubbing more firmly. The thrusts of her hips became more frantic, circling. His body grew tighter. He held on to his self-control with the thinnest of threads.
He wanted to give her pleasure, and bind her to him.
Her fingers plucked at his tunic, slipped between the cloth and his skin, ran along his collarbone. A slender hand slipped down and caressed his chest, making the points of his nipples as erect as hers.
With difficulty, he kept the fire beginning to rage within him in check. He had to allow her the chance to explore. She withdrew her hands and then ran them down the side of his body. He drew in his breath.
Her hands hovered at his belt. His manhood tightened to an ache. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to lower her to the ground, part her legs and plough himself into her.
He wanted to be sure. She was too important to him simply to be bedded.
‘Helena, this is not an ideal place,’ he croaked, his voice barely recognisable to his ears.