A Voice in the Wind (35 page)

Laughing, Julia hurried after her. “You were the one that wanted to go shopping!”

“To look. Not to buy everything in sight.”

“You haven’t bought a thing!”

Octavia gritted her teeth at Julia’s remark, annoyed that her friend could afford to buy so many things without the least thought, while she had no money whatsoever. She ignored Julia’s pleas for her to slow down. She had no intention of admitting the truth to Julia. All she could think about were the necklaces in Julia’s little leather pouch. With all Julia’s money, one would think she would buy a gift for her friend. But no, she thought only of herself!

“Octavia!”

Stifling her resentment, Octavia paused and waited. She lifted her head grandly. “Everything is so cheap and tawdry down here. I haven’t seen a thing I want.”

Julia knew very well that Octavia had admired the crystal necklaces, but she was not going to be coerced into giving her one after having to push her way along the crowded street to reach her. She looked at her as coolly as she could. “A pity. I was thinking of giving you one of the pendants,” she said, knowing Octavia had wanted, but could not afford, one for herself. Marcus said Drusus was one step ahead of financial ruin. Suicide would be the only way to save what little honor he had left.

Octavia glanced at her. “You were?”

Julia kept walking. “Well, not anymore. I wouldn’t want to give my best friend something tawdry and cheap.” She glanced back, satisfied by the expression on Octavia’s face. She was tired of her patronizing ways. “Maybe we’ll find something to your liking later.”

They were both tired when they reached the Field of Mars. Julia didn’t want to sit beneath a shady tree. She wanted to sit out in the open, as close to the drilling soldiers as possible. Octavia wished she hadn’t suggested coming to watch the legionnaires. They all seemed to notice Julia in her lavender palus and paid little attention to her in blue. Annoyed, Octavia pretended to be bored. She didn’t like being overshadowed by Julia. She used to be the one people looked at when they were together. Perhaps she should lose weight or change her hairstyle or wear more cosmetics. Then Julia would fade into the background again.

She glanced at Julia and knew that wouldn’t happen. The differences between them were widening.

Life wasn’t fair. Julia had been kissed by the gods. She had been born into a family with wealth and all the power and prestige a fortune could buy. Then she was married off to a rich old man who conveniently broke his neck before their first year of marital bliss was over, leaving poor little Julia with a fortune— though she was too much of a fool to know how to take control of it. Octavia would know.

Looking at Julia having such a good time, Octavia was torn by envy. Bitterness ate at her. Her father was always making excuses to his creditors. He was spending more and more time with his patrons and searching for others who would add to his depleted coffers. She knew his journey to Pompeü was an excuse to get away for a while. He had shouted at her yesterday, accusing
her
of spending too much money. He said he hated “begging” from patrons. What did he suppose she felt every time she had to beg her own father for money? If they were so poor, perhaps, he should give up betting at the games. He never had been able to pick a winning charioteer.

Why did she have to be the daughter of a fool? Didn’t she deserve all the things that Julia had? The one thing she had been able to boast of was her personal maid, the daughter of an African tribal king. She remembered the first time she brought her to Julia’s home and saw Julia so ashamed of her ugly little Jewess. It grated now that even that one small triumph had gone awry. Her African princess was arrogant and intimidating and needed constant beating to make her obey, while Julia’s humble little Jewess served as though it was her sole delight.

Octavia’s gaze fell upon the exquisite amethyst necklace circling Julia’s slender neck. The matching earrings caught the sunlight. Envy twisted Octavia’s stomach again and turned the beautiful day into an ordeal. She almost hated Julia, whose leather pouch of jewelry purchased for so dear a price only a few hours ago lay forgotten on the grass.

A young centurion rode by on a sorrel stallion and grinned roguishly, not at her, but at Julia, who blushed like a virgin, which made her look even prettier. Octavia’s irritation grew.

“Did you see the way he looked at me?” Julia breathed, dark eyes glowing with excitement. “Wasn’t he handsome!”

“And probably as dumb as an ox,” Octavia said. Piqued at being ignored by a man, she rose. “I’m hot, hungry, and bored, Julia. I’m going to Calabah’s.”

Julia came quickly to her feet, dismayed that she wouldn’t be able to watch the soldiers any longer, but eager for whatever Octavia had in mind. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m not sure you’d like her. She’s much too sophisticated for you.”

“But you said earlier—”

“Oh, I know what I said,” Octavia interrupted with a wave of her hand. “But you’ll be quite out of your element, Julia.” It was true, though it was not the entire reason she was dismissing Julia. Of course, it might be fun to let Julia come along. Calabah would probably make fun of Julia’s provinciality. Octavia looked forward to that. Perhaps Caius Polonius Urbanus would be visiting as well. The intensity of his dark eyes and touch of his cool hands made her insides shiver. She had heard the rumors about him, but they only made him more intriguing and dangerous. She was certain he was growing interested in her.

Julia picked up her leather pouch of necklaces and the packages of perfume, oil, and powder. Octavia seemed determined to exclude her from everything exciting. “If you take me to meet Calabah, I’ll give you one of the necklaces I bought.”

Octavia turned on her angrily, her cheeks on fire. “What sort of a friend do you think I am?”

“You wanted one, didn’t you?” Julia said, just as angry, but covering her feelings with a practiced smile of tearful vulnerability. “Well, I’m offering you whichever one you want.” Juggling her purchases, she held out the leather pouch. “I was going to give you one earlier, but you were being so cruel, going on and on about Claudius,” she said.

Octavia hesitated, and then took the pouch. “You were really going to give me one?”

“Of course.” Chakras had many more necklaces. Whichever one Octavia chose, she could send Hadassah back to get another to replace it.

“Well, then,” Octavia said, opening the pouch and taking the necklaces out. “I want the alexandrite.” It had been the most expensive. She took it out, unwrapped it, and put it on, discarding the white cloth.

She would take Julia to Calabah’s. It would be fun to watch Calabah subtly mock her. She frowned for a moment, considering again how beautiful Julia was and the way the centurions had reacted to her earlier. Caius loved beautiful women, and Octavia certainly didn’t want any interference with what she was sure was the beginning of something between herself and Caius. Then she shrugged… surely Caius wouldn’t be interested in a cosseted child like Julia.

She turned to smile indulgently at Julia. “Calabah’s isn’t far from here. She lives just up the hill from the baths.”

16

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Marcus entered the house and found it thankfully quiet and cool. Enoch took his red cape. “Are my father and mother resting?”

“No, my lord. They went to walk in the park.”

“And the Lady Julia?”

“She left with the Lady Octavia.”

Marcus frowned. “With my father’s permission?”

“I don’t know, my lord.”

Marcus looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t know,” he said dryly. “Come, come, Enoch. You know everything that goes on in this household. Did she ask my father’s permission and, if so, where did she go with Octavia?”

“I don’t know, my lord.”

Marcus grew impatient. “Did her slave go with her?”

“No, my lord. Hadassah is sitting on a bench in the peristyle.”

“I’ll speak with her.”

Marcus smiled slightly when he saw Hadassah sitting quietly on a marble bench near the wall. Was she listening to the fountain and the birds singing? She looked troubled, and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap as she sat on the marble bench. He watched her for a few seconds longer and realized she was praying again. Because of her devotions, he was hesitant to approach her.

His mouth tightened in anger at himself. What was the matter with him? Hadassah was a slave. Why should he care if she was disturbed from her prayers or anything else? It was his will that mattered, not hers. He strode toward her purposefully. She heard him and rose. When she looked up at him, he felt an odd sensation in his chest. Annoyed, he spoke harshly. “Where is my sister?”

“She is out, my lord.”

“Out where?” he demanded and saw the slight frown flicker across her brow. He could almost read her thoughts. She didn’t want to betray Julia. Silent, she lowered her head. Her loyalty to his sister made him want to be more gentle with her. “I’m not angry with you. I’m concerned about Julia. She’s supposed to be in mourning for another three months, and I doubt Father gave her permission to leave the villa with Octavia. Am I correct?“

Hadassah bit her lip in indecision. She didn’t want to lie and she didn’t want to disobey Julia. She let out her breath softly, troubled. “She said she was going to the temple of Hera.”

Marcus gave a dry laugh. “Octavia wouldn’t be caught dead in the temple of Hera. She worships Diana or any other god or goddess that promotes her promiscuity.” Even as he said it, he faced the hypocrisy of it, for he did much the same thing himself. Anger flooded him. It was different for a man than it was for a woman. It was especially different when it concerned his sister.

“Tell me where they went, Hadassah. I know you want to protect her, but is it protection to allow her to do something rash and stupid? Octavia is known for both. Tell me where they went! I’ll find Julia and bring her home. I swear it.” Even as he said it, he wondered why he was explaining himself to a slave girl, or even swearing an oath to her.

She looked up at him. “They were going shopping, and then to the Field of Mars.”

“To watch the legionnaires,” Marcus said in disgust. “That’s just like Octavia, though her taste runs more to gladiators. Did they say anything else?”

“The Lady Octavia said she wanted to visit a friend.”

“Do you remember the name of this friend?” he said, thinking it was probably some man.

“I think her name was Calabah.”

“By the gods!” Marcus exploded in anger. Calabah was worse than any disreputable man Octavia might take Julia to meet. He paced angrily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Julia doesn’t even know what she’s walking into.” He had to bring her back— quickly.

He stopped before Hadassah and gripped her shoulders. “Listen and obey me. When my father and mother return, avoid them. Hide in the kitchen. Do whatever you have to. If they summon you and ask where Julia is, you will tell them she went to worship Hera just as she probably told you to say. That’s all. Don’t mention Octavia. Don’t mention the Field of Mars or anything else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord, but what about Enoch?” Hadassah said, knowing he would be only too willing to tell Decimus Valerian everything. He had no great affection for Julia, nor did any slave in the household. “He will feel duty-bound to tell your father she’s left the villa,” she added quickly, not wanting to bring trouble on his head.

He let her go. “You’re right,” he said and swore under his breath. “I’ll send Enoch on a long errand. An important errand that demands his personal attention.” He glanced back at her and saw her relief.

“My lord, you came in answer to my prayers.”

He laughed. “You prayed for me to come to you?” She blushed and lowered her head, stammering a reply. “What did you say, Hadassah? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I was praying for help for Julia, my lord, not for you specifically.”

His mouth tipped ruefully. “A pity. And here I thought I was the answer to a maiden’s prayers,” he said, amused at her embarrassment. He tipped her chin up and saw the color heighten even more. “How am I the answer to your prayers, Hadassah?”

“You’ll bring my lady back safely.”

“I’m pleased to know you have such confidence in me.” He chucked her lightly under the chin the way he did his sister and smiled mockingly. “Maybe between the two of us, we’ll find a way to keep Julia out of too much trouble.”

His platonic manner broke her tension and, with a soft exhalation, she laughed. “From your mouth to God’s ears, my lord,” she said.

Marcus had never heard her laugh before. Looking down into her small, happy face and hearing the sweet sound, he almost cupped her face and kissed her. The change in her filled him with disturbing warmth. It wasn’t lust; he was all too familiar with that emotion. This was something else. It was something deeper, more mysterious, something that had less to do with his senses than his spirit—or his soul as she would call it. She tugged at his heart.

He realized how little he really knew about her. “I’ve never heard you laugh before,” he said and regretted his words immediately when her light mood fell away.

She lowered her head, once again the slave girl. “I’m sorry, my lord. I—”

“You should laugh more often,” he said gently. When she glanced up at him in surprise, he looked into her eyes. A hundred questions came to mind, followed by impatience. He didn’t have time for this and he didn’t need any more complications in his life! Hadassah wasn’t Bithia. She wasn’t simple to understand, easy to dismiss.

“Stay out of sight of my parents until my return. If you’re unavailable, they can’t ask questions.”

Hadassah watched him go. Why had he looked at her that way? Hands pressed to her racing heart, she sank down on the bench and closed her eyes. What was this she felt every time he came near her? She could hardly breathe. Her palms grew damp, her tongue sluggish. He had only to look at her and she trembled. And just a moment ago, she had felt so relieved at his manner that laughter had bubbled out of her. What must he think of her?