Authors: Michelle Styles
‘And my duty lies with my people. It always has done. To think any other way was misguided. I’m sorry. It should never have happened.’
Tullio peered deep into her eyes, trying to understand what she was saying.
‘The offer is there. I want to help you, Helena. Let me protect you.’
‘I have all the protection I need. Androceles has helpfully stationed some of his seafarers here to aid in the transition
process.’ She shook her head and indicated the shadowy figures standing behind her.
Seafarers. Pirates.
Tullio’s guts twisted. She’d made her choice. She’d avoided them for so long and now this. She had been content to go with him when she had thought there was no hope of advancement. But she had embraced the seafarer’s offer very quickly.
He had trusted her, and she had betrayed him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much he was hurt. All he knew was that she had spurned his offer and him.
‘I wish you all the joys of your new post. You are well suited for it.’
‘It is something I trained for years for. I hope to be a credit to my people.’
‘I am sure you will be.’
He wanted to crush her to him, and ask if last night’s promise meant nothing. His hands clenched as he hung on to his temper with the narrowest of threads. He had lost her. He had never really had her. There was a great gaping hole in his middle. He wanted to think he could survive this, but he knew his life would never be the same again.
‘My formal investiture will be in forty days on the Calends,’ she said with quiet certainty.
‘Why so long?’
‘It will give me time to prepare, to ensure that I am properly ready to meet the goddess.’
Helena watched for signs that Tullio understood what she was saying. But he stood, forearms crossed, the very picture of the immovable soldier. She wanted him to take her in his arms. She wanted to go back to the closeness they had shared, but it was impossible to speak freely.
She had to trust that he could understand her coded words and that he would help her, but his face looked remote.
She wanted to tell him how she needed him. How much she wanted to leave with him and turn her back on this island but, in the end, how she couldn’t. She had to try to save her aunt and everyone else’s life. She had to try to prevent the seafarers from attacking the Italian coast and harming women and children.
The very walls of the temple had become spies for Androceles and Kimon. Helena knew if she made one mistake, she would be killed before her reign could even begin.
There was no choice. To keep Aunt Flavia alive, she had to become the sibyl. Then to save both their lives, she had to hope that Tullio understood what she was trying to say to him, that he could look beyond her rejection of him to the wider stage and see what had to be done and why.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the seafarers with their crossed arms and curved swords hanging from their belts. She had very little time. He had to understand what she was telling him.
‘I wish you good fortune for that day.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate that. Please think of me then.’
‘If that is what you want…’He bowed stiffly. His voice was colder than the snows on Mount Olympus itself.
Helena’s heart plummeted. He had not understood. He thought she wanted this.
‘I refuse to abandon my people in their hour of need.’
Don’t abandon me, Tullio, her heart whispered. Find a way to rescue me.
‘Easy words.’
Helena stamped her foot slightly. He was deliberately choosing to misunderstand her. She might not have another
chance to speak to him in private. He had to understand what she was asking.
‘I wanted to thank you for all your help.’ She emphasised the word help and did not dare look into his increasingly cold eyes. ‘The chiefs of the seafaring houses will be impressed when they arrive for the investiture.’
No response from him. Helena bit her lip. There was no point in making a stand now, but surely he could see what she wanted him to do.
A long low blast on a cornu filled the temple and he tilted his head.
‘Another of the seafarers arriving? With goods that don’t come from pirate raids?’
Helena winced. She longed to tell him that she believed him now. She was certain of everything, but there was no time for explanations. The Fates had run out of wool on this particular spindle.
‘The tribute ship has arrived. I hope that all the money will be there.’
‘Down to every last
as.
My men and I hope to spend no more time than is absolutely necessary on this rock.’ He bowed again. ‘You will give me leave to depart. I must tell them the good news.’
Helena watched him go. She had to hope that when he got beyond the pain, he would see what she had asked.
‘I hope we will meet again. Some time in the future,’ she said, making one last attempt.
‘That, my lady, I sincerely doubt.’
Tullio thanked Jupiter for the familiar weight of his mail coat and helmet. Things to remind him who he was and why he was here. His men were all assembled on the quayside. Not
much remained to do and then they’d set sail for the nearest Roman port.
He stared at Androceles with intense dislike. The pirate’s mood had lightened considerably since he saw the strongboxes being unloaded off the trireme.
Helena, with the gold mask firmly in place, stood next to the pirate captain. The wind ruffled her gown, moulding it to her legs. She showed no sign of nervousness or regret.
Tullio regarded her. Why he had thought she’d be different, he didn’t know. She had made her choice. It was quite clear where her sympathies lay.
‘You are free to leave, Tribune,’ Androceles said, testing a final
denarius
with his teeth and throwing it on the pile with the rest of the tribute.
Tullio raised his hand and started to give the order for his men to embark.
‘Halt! We have a traitor in our midst.’ Helena’s voice cut through the quayside sounds and made every nerve in Tullio’s body tense.
Had she changed her mind? What was her game now? She had played him expertly, but what did she want?
Tullio motioned for his men to keep quiet.
‘You wish to say something, Sibyl?’ There was a contemptuous curl to Androceles’s lip. The respect of a few weeks ago was gone. Tullio could almost bring himself to feel pity for Helena, but she had chosen this life.
‘Yes, I have something to say. Here is the traitor.’
She snapped her fingers and two guards dragged her maid out. Galla’s wrists were chained together and her face bore the bright red mark of a slap. She gave a terrified shriek as the guard made her kneel before Helena and Androceles.
‘I have discovered this woman has betrayed us. She fed the
Romans special food, gave them medicine. She has gone beyond what was required by Kybele.’
‘And what do you propose to do about this?’ Androceles asked.
‘I will allow no treachery on this island. No one who fraternises with Romans shall remain here while the purification ceremony takes place.’
Tullio lifted his head and met Helena’s eyes. There was more to this. She was up to something. Why was she getting rid of her most staunch ally? Then he had it. The terrible noble thing she was doing. His insides twisted. She was not trying to punish Galla. She was trying to save her. He grabbed Quintus’s elbow and held him there, preventing Quintus from moving and alerting Androceles.
Galla fell to her knees. ‘No, I beg you, my lady. I repent of my mistake. I swear it. I will never betray you again.’
‘Get up.’ One of the seafarers prodded her. ‘You should have thought of that earlier.’
‘There are other ways of punishing the maid.’ Androceles licked his lips.
‘She goes with the Romans. I will not have her on this soil…not when there is an investiture to plan for.’
Tullio reached out and touched Galla’s arm, raising her to her feet. Her icy hand clutched his.
He glanced at Helena and saw her eyes held a satisfied look before she turned her head.
Utter despair washed over him. He had wronged her. Helena was sacrificing herself to save Galla, to save her aunt. He should have seen this before. What had she tried to tell him before? He winced. She had tried and he had not wanted to listen. He had been so wrapped up in his pride and hurt that he had not paid attention to the hidden meanings.
‘We will take the woman and gladly. Rome does not forget its friends.’ Tullio plucked a handful of gold coins from his arm pouch, and tossed them at Helena’s feet. ‘That should pay for her with interest. Does that satisfy you, Captain?’
‘I’m impressed, Sibyl, at your negotiating skill.’ The pirate captain picked up the coins and ran them through his fingers. ‘Profit before revenge. We will get on well.’
I will return, Tullio vowed silently. I’ve wronged you, Helena. There was much I should have said when I had the chance.
Tullio jammed on his helmet, saluted Helena and marched on to the ship. He did not trust himself to look back.
Helena reached the top of the turret in time to see the last of the trireme disappear over the horizon. She raised an arm and waved.
He was gone. Truly gone.
Her insides were hollow, a great black hole in her middle.
On the quayside she had been tempted to give in to her desires and run to him, cling to him and beg him to take her with him. But she had held back. A coward. She should have declared herself the traitor, and departed.
Tullio looked so different and remote in his armour. If only she had had more time.
Helena swallowed hard. The scene swam before her. She blinked once. Twice. Three times. She refused to cry.
The shouts and sounds from the quayside floated up. Somewhere a goat bleated and a goose honked. Normal sounds. Helena choked back a sob growing in her throat. Nothing would be normal again.
She had never felt so alone, not even when she faced the goddess. Then, there had been hope, expectation. Now there was nothing.
She closed her eyes and thought of Tullio’s last blazing look. Did it mean something?
She made a line on the stone. Day one.
Forty days until her investiture and her next trip into the black cave. Her mind shied away from the black mist. This time, the pirates would surely guess. Fortunata would fail her.
There would be no Tullio to rescue her.
Did he understand the message she had tried to send him?
She had to trust him and to trust Galla. She hated how she had treated Galla, but, if she had known, the maid might have objected. She had had to get Galla out of danger. The Roman centurion would look after her. He had said that he wanted to buy her. Galla was better in Roman hands when the seafarers discovered how much Helena had duped them, when it became apparent that the goddess did not speak to her.
She drew a shaky breath.
Forty days. It wasn’t much time. Helena tried to think how long it would take to get to the nearest Roman settlement and to get the men Tullio would need. If he understood the message. If he would come back to her.
It wasn’t enough time.
It had to be enough.
Helena went down on her knees and prayed for a miracle. On the floor next to her hand a silver disc lay. Helena picked up and turned it over. It was a medal stamped with a laurel crown. Tullio’s? She tucked it into her pouch. This was her new talisman.
She had to believe help would come.
‘Y
ou want to do what? Marcus Livius Tullio, you have lost your mind!’ the tribune shouted.
Tullio tightened his jaw and stared straight ahead, ignoring the receding-chinned tribune. It was just his luck that the prefect for the garrison was away and he was left with this imbecile. He had explained the situation three times already.
There had to be something more. Something he had forgotten. He had to find a way to save Helena and her aunt. He had gone over and over the clues that Helena had given him. He should have listened. He should have asked questions then.
‘The pirates are massing for the investiture of the new sibyl.’
‘Are you sure of your information?’ the tribune asked with an arched brow. ‘It hardly seems credible.’
‘I know it for a fact. We can strike a blow at the heart of the pirates’ enterprise.’ He waited for a breath. ‘It is for the good of Rome.’
For the good of Rome. Tullio hated that he had to lie. This was no longer about the good of Rome. It was about rescuing Helena, pure and simple. It was about asking her to take
another chance with him. His pride had got in the way. He wanted to rectify his mistake.
There were things he had to tell her. If he had said that he loved her, he was certain it would have made a difference.
‘Tell me the true reason, Marcus Livius. Why do you want to commit the men and the ships? It is not in Rome’s best interest at the moment. There is unrest on the Spanish peninsula, we have problems with Mithridates in the near East. Why should Rome care about the riff-raff?’
Tullio spotted an amphora standing in the corner. From where he stood, he could see a distinctive blue patterning on the top.
He nodded, understanding. The mark of Androceles’s house.
‘Rome does not take kindly to those who traffic with known pirates.’
‘I…that is to say…’ the tribune’s ears grew red ‘…by Hercules, Marcus Livius, everyone does it.’
‘Not everyone, and not everyone trades with a senator’s murderer.’
‘He murdered a senator.’ The tribune’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He bore a distinct impression to a fish gasping for water.
‘I need men and ships.’
The tribune was silent. He made a notation on his papyrus scroll. Tullio forced his body to stay rigidly to attention.
‘I will think about it.’
‘You will do more than think.’ Tullio grabbed the stylus out of the startled tribune’s hand, and forced him against a wall. ‘For six days, you have been telling me that you will think, consider and I need to come tomorrow. But tomorrow never arrives. Guess what? Tomorrow has arrived!’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘I just have.’ Tullio leant forward. ‘Now, are you going to
get me the ships I need or am I going to tell the legate just where you have been obtaining all that fine Falerian wine?’
Thirty-nine. Helena made one more mark. Forty. Forty lines on a stone wall. So many lines, so quickly.
She rose from her knees and stared out towards the still harbour. The triremes bobbed in the gentle breeze. More ships than she had ever seen before. But not one of them Roman. The hunting eyes on the prows of the ships no longer a comfort. Helena knew exactly what these ships did and what Androceles intended to do. She had been blind before.
Her hands tightened on the battlements. She had never expected it to take this long. The first few days and nights had past in a blur of activity and ritual. She could not expect him back. It would take time to get men.
Then on the tenth day she had begun to hope. She found every excuse to look at the horizon. Each new sail caused a tightening in her belly, hope springing in her heart. She’d raise her hand to shield her eyes against the sun’s glare, imagining Tullio standing on the prow, chain mail gleaming, and sword held aloft. But it remained a dream.
By the thirtieth day, she had stopped running to the battlements. She forced her hands to continue to their work. Each day brought a new purification ceremony. Aunt Flavia insisted the robes be made from the finest wool, and be sewn only by the sibyl. A time-consuming process, but one that kept her busy.
Each new sunrise brought greater loneliness. Particularly when her time of the month arrived and she discovered that she would not be carrying Tullio’s son or daughter. She knew she should feel relief, but a small part of her wished for a baby, something to bind her to him. It made her realise that a child was not a disgrace. A child was a blessing from the gods.
Helena took one last look at the harbour. He was not coming. He had promised she would not have to face the cave alone and he had not returned. Only now she realised how much she relied on his promise, how it had carried her through those meetings with Androceles, Kimon and Uncle Lichas.
‘I wondered if I would find you up here.’
Helena turned towards the steps at the sound of Aunt Flavia’s voice.
‘I thought to have some time to myself.’ Helena moved in front of her tally of days.
‘You are up here watching for Roman ships.’
‘How…how did you know?’
‘Instinct.’ Aunt Flavia dropped a hand on Helena’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be concerned. No one will have guessed. Remember, the goddess moves in mysterious ways. She has her own time. Marcus Livius Tullio is a good man.’
‘The goddess does not speak to me, Aunt.’ Helena stared directly into Flavia’s eyes and watched them widen. ‘I nearly died in the cave. I would have died if Tullio had not rescued me. When I put on the mask, I feel nothing.’
Aunt Flavia’s face grew grave. Helena shifted on her sandals. She had to make a clean breast of everything.
‘I was coming to tell you the day I was made sibyl. I was coming to tell you that I was leaving. I was going to go to Rome and start a new life. I have no desire to be a sibyl.’
‘Niece, everything happens for a purpose. If the goddess did not intend you to be sibyl, she would not have made you one.’ Aunt Flavia’s clawlike hands caught Helena’s. ‘You need to trust her and to trust your heart. You have a good heart, Helena. You will do what is right. That is what your mother said to me on the night she made me sibyl and I have lived by it.’
Helena’s mouth dropped open and she hurriedly closed it.
Aunt Flavia had experienced the same doubts and fears as her. She always thought Aunt Flavia a tower of strength. The goddess spoke to Aunt Flavia. She was positive of that. The enormity of what she was about to do made Helena’s knees weak.
‘I can never be you. I can’t wield power in the way you did. Day by day I see the seafarers, in particular the ones from Cicilia like Androceles, gaining power. Kimon swaggers around the temple, bragging what he will do, the raids he plans on the mainland. He is careful to couch it in bland terms, but I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The Falerian wine they gave the temple. It came from an earlier raid. The rings they wear came from the same raid. Tullio told me, but at first I did not want to believe.’
‘Are you sure of this, niece? You need to be positive. A cursing is not a matter taken lightly.’
‘I know it is true.’ Helena squared her shoulders. ‘At first I didn’t want to believe, but now I do. I see Zenobia becoming closer than ever to her distant kinsmen. She will pervert and use this temple for her own ends.’
‘What do you think they are planning?’
‘They intend launching a major raid on Rome. Women and children will die, Aunt, and I have to find some way of stopping it.’
‘Lichas should never have married into that clan.’ Flavia’s mouth held a bitter twist. ‘It was an evil day when we made an alliance with that family.’
‘Is there anything we can do? Is there no way you can continue as sibyl and issue an edict against them?’
‘Do you think they’d listen?’ A green spark showed in her aunt’s eyes, making her look younger. ‘Do you think they’d pay attention to me? A woman who is a mere shadow of her former self?’
‘The other chiefs would. They respect you still, Aunt Flavia, despite what Zenobia says.’
The hope that had sprung in her aunt’s eyes died. Her hands fell to her sides.
‘The last bout in Kybele’s cave took my breath away. My hands are useless claws. It is time for me to pass on my robes, mask and sword. If not to you, then who?’
Helena put an arm about her aunt’s shoulders. She felt as fragile as one of the doves. Helena did not trust herself to speak. Another dream gone. She had had a faint hope that Aunt Flavia would simply agree to stay on as the sibyl, that she understand what a horrible mistake had happened.
‘What is left for me to do?’
‘The only thing left to us, you and me, is to be as strong as possible. I will guide you as much as I can, but you must listen to your heart. It may be that the goddess is speaking, but you are not listening.’
‘I pray you are correct.’
Aunt Flavia withdrew a sundial from her pouch and held it up.
‘It is time to begin the purification, Helena. We cannot delay any longer.’
The brown and green coast appeared as a line on the horizon. Tullio’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. They were here. On the appointed day. In time, he hoped.
A smaller battle group than he would have liked, but he prayed that it would be sufficient. This time, it would be the pirate chiefs who were caught off guard.
‘You’ll lead the attack, Quintus, once the
corvus
has been lowered.’ Tullio nodded towards the plank with a long spike on the end. Its main purpose was for boarding ships and
allowing the infantry to cross easily carrying their shields. ‘Once you are on shore, have some men torch the triremes, but take the bulk to the temple.’
‘And what will you be doing, sir?’
‘I’m going a different way to provide a counter-attack.’
‘But Galla told me the only way on or off the island is through the harbour. Come with us. We will go the back way, the way the sibyls use.’
‘There is another way. It is how I planned to get Helena off the island. Now, I will use it to get me on.’
Quintus grasped Tullio’s forearms, preventing him from moving. ‘Seven men. You are only taking seven men with you. Are you sure that is enough?’
‘It will have to be. The shore is not very wide there. I don’t want to risk anything more than a small boat. You will wait until you hear a loud horn blast. This will be the signal for your part of the attack to begin. If the pirates start to swarm out of the harbour before then, block them.’
‘What horn?’
‘The horn of Neptune. I intend to deliver a lesson to the pirates that they will never forget.’
‘But how can you be sure?’
Tullio stared out over the sea. Small waves danced in the sunshine. All peace and tranquillity.
‘I am more sure about this than I have ever been about anything.’
‘Should I not make it, you will ensure that Galla gets my veteran’s settlement.’ Quintus touched his hand to his chest. ‘I promised her I’d marry her and become a farmer after the remaining five years of my service is up.’
‘You’ll make it, Quintus.’ Tullio clapped his centurion on the shoulder. ‘We’ll all make it.’
‘It was a noble thing that Helena did—getting Galla out like that. I hadn’t expected it. Galla is the sort of woman I could spend my last days with. I feel I owe Helena an apology.’
‘Helena acts in the most unexpected ways.’ Tullio kept his eyes on the island drawing steadily closer. He did not trust himself to look at his centurion.
‘Don’t you worry, sir, Helena will be fine. Galla told me that she has been training for this all her life. It is what she wants.’
‘Yes, I know that, centurion.’
‘Sir, I wanted you to know—it has been an honour and privilege serving with you.’
Tullio’s jaw tightened as he stared at the island’s shore. Helena had been training to be sibyl all her life and he was about to launch an attack that could potentially destroy her life. But if he did nothing, she’d die. He felt that in his bones. He woke up in cold sweats. He knew he should never have left without telling her how he felt about her, without pleading his cause. He had to tell her that his life was nothing without her.
With each passing wave, each breath of wind, the ships sailed closer.
‘It is time, Helena. The drums have started. The heads of the seafarers are all in place.’
Helena rose slowly from her chair. She allowed Aunt Flavia to fasten the gold belt about her hips, to slip the bronze hands over her fingers and to fit the mask on to her face.
Tullio was not going to come. He had failed her. The heads of the seafaring houses would dispose of her once they knew the truth, but she had this little piece of time to try to do some good. She would accuse Androceles and Kimon of their crimes and bring them to some sort of justice.
Tullio had said that they killed his ex-wife in a raid. She had not wanted to believe then. She could believe now. She had peeped out through a curtain and had seen Androceles, resplendent in purple with a multitude of rings on his fingers. And the Falerian wine with the markings. Tullio was correct about that as well.
She would do this for Tullio and he would never know. He was right. Someone had to stop Androceles. She had to hope the goddess would help her—somehow.
She felt the weight of the mask bear down on her face, and struggled to breathe. Then she came through it and felt a kind of peace. She could do this.
‘Sound the drums to begin the ceremony.’
Tullio stood ankle deep in seawater, pulling the boat on to the rocky beach when he heard the boom of drums. A solemn sound. His hands stilled.
‘By Hercules’s club,’ Rufus exclaimed. ‘The sound sends shivers down my spine.’
‘I will be happier when I hear the sound of the
gladii
hitting the shields as our men advance, but for now the drums will do.’ Tullio cocked his head and listened again to the slow steady rhythm of the drum. ‘They are calling people to worship, not to war. We have landed undetected.’
‘Having landed here, what do we do now?’
‘We climb.’
Tullio spat on his hands and slung his shield over his shoulder. His
gladius
, a short sword made in the Spanish fashion, was at his side. Unlike the one he had lost to the pirates, its hilt was only smooth wood and its blade had never been tested in battle, but Tullio prayed it would serve him well.