The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (34 page)

Men were training. Some boxed, hands bound with leather straps. Others circled each other before lunging to wrestle. The hoplites were practicing in two formations, shields overlapping, charging each other. More often than not the sprains and breaks she mended were suffered in practice, not fighting.

Lost in thought, she did not notice Drusus until he stepped out in front of her. At every chance he would menace her. It was always unnerving. Her skin crawled whenever he was near. Pulse sharp and rapid, she tried to pass but he barred her way, his sinewy animal frame looming over her.

“
The general likes you.”

Goose bumps prickled her arms. “I soothe his headaches. I believe him grateful.”

“
You want more though.”

She tried to move on. “There is nothing between us.”

Again he hindered her. “Make sure it stays that way.”

Gaining courage that in truth she was growing closer to Camillus, she became defiant when he continued to block her. If Drusus exposed her secret, then it would be his downfall also. “It made me laugh to hear you bragging about killing Aemilia Caeciliana. Did you know the general despises those who believe in superstition? How I long to tell him you invoked magic to defeat an enemy, then inscribed an enchantment as you blubbered like a child, lovesick for the traitoress.”

He gripped her wrist with his bony fingers. Panicked, Pinna dropped the basket and tried to wrench away, her heart thumping. In desperation she nodded towards the men training nearby. “Do you want them to see you mistreating your friend’s woman? Let me go.”

Turning his body to shield her from view, he held her firm. “You little whore. I should let all know your skin was once ingrained with dirt from fucking men in a graveyard.”

Once again she tried to squirm from his grasp, determined to fight back so she could gain the attention of the other soldiers. “And I’ll make sure Furius Camillus knows you’re the type of man who needs to rape a prostitute.”

Drusus pulled her closer, bending her wrist back. She gasped in pain. She could feel his breath upon her hair. His smell and nearness triggered memories. Just as on that night, she froze, reliving how he held her down. How he made her feel like nothing. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

His lips pressed against her ear, the bristle of his beard grazing her skin. Venom oiled his voice. No stammer. “I should slit your throat after dark.” Then he shoved her so that she stumbled.

Regaining her balance, Pinna kept distance between them, a knot in her belly. As she nursed her wrist, she thought how this man was a brute when he raped her and would be a coward if he slew her.

Drusus attempted to seize her elbow. She shied away. “Please let me pass.”

He glanced over to the training soldiers who had not noticed anything amiss. “I don’t understand why Marcus keeps you.”

“
I’ve already told you. As a reward for my honesty. And he took pity on me for what you did.”

He spat in the dust. “I don’t believe you.”

She stood her ground although her heartbeat still raced and she felt as if she could vomit. “So what are you going to do? Reveal that I was a tomb whore? Marcus Aemilius would not thank you for letting me share his bed for months without such a warning.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or would shaming him give you satisfaction?”

Confusion replaced his scowl. “What are you talking about?”

“
Because whenever Furius Camillus praises him envy crosses your face as transparent as pain.”

He flushed, stutter returning. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“
Are you going to let me pass?”

Drusus stepped aside, no longer looming above her.

Relieved, Pinna picked up her basket and walked on.

*

Marcus was organizing his kit when she entered their tent. Pinna hastened to help him, her hands quaking after the effort of being brave.

He put down his shield. “What’s the matter? Your face is so pale. And you’re trembling.”

Pinna struggled to calm her voice as she massaged her chafed wrist. “Claudius Drusus. He loathes me.”

Marcus lifted her hand to examine the redness. “But he has hurt you. I will speak to him.”

“
No! Please don’t. It’s nothing. It looks worse than it is.” She dared not tell him how sick his friend’s hatred had become. That now he spoke of murder.

Marcus’ expression remained troubled. She knew Drusus had expressed his disgust and puzzlement to him that he had taken her as his army wife, and that he doubted his explanation.

“
Why did he accost you?”

“
He still remains unconvinced as to why I’m your concubine. He wants to expose me as a whore but knows that would harm your reputation.”

Marcus frowned and Pinna sensed his concern for her had changed to disquiet for himself.

“
Do you think he suspects the real reason?” His anxiety deepened. “You aren’t thinking of telling him the truth, are you?”

Pinna sighed, tired of being the key to these men’s secrets, the cipher to their fears. “No, Marcus. I’ll never tell him of your feelings for him.” She moved across to his kit. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let me help you with your armor.”

As she assisted Marcus to don corselet and greaves, she thought how fond of him she had grown. He emulated Camillus. Like the general he was popular with his men: fair when disciplining them, brave when leading them, and asking no more of them than what he asked of himself.

Yet he remained reserved, wanting only the camaraderie, not friendship, of the other soldiers to ensure there was no temptation to seek out those who shared a similar secret. For holding their gaze for long seconds could lead to doing what he dreamed of with Drusus. And the consequences of succumbing and being caught would mean humiliation then execution.

In keeping with their sham, she always arranged their pallets close to each other. It was strange to sleep beside a man all night instead of briefly sharing a bed for coupling. Yet after a while what was odd became normal. It was pleasant to have someone next to her upon waking. She’d not had such company since Fusca. And she was grateful to him. She no longer had to service men every night. No longer risked catching the pox. And her womb pain had abated.

He lay with no one. Not even servant boys. The irony amused her. Both of them feigned sharing their bed and bodies but in truth were celibate and chaste. At dawn, though, he would satisfy himself by hand when he thought she was sleeping: working himself in small furtive movements, holding his breath, stifling sound. She thought the guilt trapped inside him was a sickness. She wished she could offer comfort but he asked for none. She guessed he would not welcome it either. The self-loathing with which he was consumed was distressing. He resorted to purgatives and mutilation, inwardly and outwardly punishing his body for the betrayal of his soul. She would often clean and bandage the small cuts he inflicted upon his wrists. He would pretend they were scrapes from skirmishes or training. She would not challenge this other than to comment that he was lucky his blood had not been poisoned.

Now, tightening a buckle on his corselet, she felt a twinge of pain. Seeing her wince, Marcus took her hand. “I’ll strap this for you before I go. Mind you, I don’t have your magic touch.”

A surge of tenderness welled in her at a warrior being prepared to act as nurse to a woman. And suddenly she needed to understand his desire for his brutal friend. “Tell me, why do you love him?”

He let go of her hand.

“
It’s just that I don’t understand how one who is kind could want another who is cruel.”

When he said nothing she grew nervous that he was so angry he’d lost the power of speech. Then, to her surprise, he collected their two stools and arranged them side by side. “Bring me a bandage and I’ll see to that wrist.”

He began wrapping the strip of cloth around her hand. His touch was gentle, his fingers nimble. “Drusus was wrong to treat you the way he did. But on that night he was upset at being unfairly branded a coward.”

She controlled her irritation at his defense of his friend, not wanting to discourage him continuing. She kept her voice even. “Are you telling me I am the only whore he has ever mistreated?”

At her question, he became clumsy. Unwrapping the bandage, he bent over the task as though avoiding eye contact would make it easier to talk. “I know you think Drusus harsh. But he was not always so. He has grown bitter because of my cousin. He loved her, you see. He wanted to marry her but his father would not allow him. Cilla’s mother was an Aemilian but her father was a wealthy plebeian. Claudius Drusus Senior did not want his son to marry a half-caste.” He paused, shaking his head. “Poor Cilla, if only she’d been allowed to wed Drusus.”

The register in his voice when he spoke of his “Cilla” hinted at melancholy. It gave her pause after the oath he’d sworn that day to see her die. And to learn Drusus had considered a commoner for a wife intrigued her. His patrician arrogance was another reason she despised him. “But did she love him?”

“
I think, in the beginning, she did. And so Drusus thought she wanted to come back to him when she ran away from her husband. He was prepared to marry her despite the blood taint she bore for being an Etruscan wife.”

Pinna remembered hearing how Drusus had shouted his intention to wed the traitoress to the world. Pity for the Claudian edged into her thoughts. Drusus had been twenty at that time. Her age now. She doubted she could ever feel such passion. “But she didn’t love him after all.”

Marcus shook his head. “Something broke inside him when she decided to go back to Mastarna. He could not understand why when she’d only just returned to Rome. For a long time it was easier for him to claim that the Veientane had abducted her.” He split the end of the strip of cloth and tied it off before finally looking at her. “But as time wore on he could no longer deny that she’d chosen Mastarna over him. I worry that his heart is scarred and will never mend.”

Pinna didn’t comment. She also doubted Drusus’ soul could be repaired. “And you? Did you ever think her husband kidnapped her?”

“
No. I knew the Etruscan did not take Cilla against her will. To say that is like believing a virgin with a swollen belly protesting she had never lifted her skirts. I saw my cousin’s distress when she thought Mastarna was lost to her forever.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Mastarna should have left her alone. He broke his word. He’d divorced her in front of ten witnesses. And Cilla promised me she would accept the life of a Roman woman again. She promised me, too, that she would never dishonor my father and our family.”

He was agitated now, his voice ragged. Finally, given a chance to vent his frustration, he needed to purge himself. “My cousin gave these assurances and then she broke them. She should never have returned to Veii. She has disgraced the Aemilians and her father’s clan, too. She has been a traitor to all Romans. For that I can never forgive her.”

As he finished his tirade he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes with the fingers of one hand. Pinna rested her bandaged hand on his arm. “Do you really hate her? Want her executed?”

He stiffened, his face coloring. Pinna sensed she had pressed too hard. Yet after a pause, he lowered his defenses at last. “She should never have been married to Mastarna in the first place. I was angry at our politicians for treating her badly. Her father had died and she was vulnerable. And my own father took advantage of the fact she was half plebeian and patrician. He made her a symbol of unified Rome. A cynical move to try and end the class war so that poor soldiers would not balk at joining the levy. In truth, though, she was just a scared young girl sent to live with a foe.” He squeezed his eyes again, removing any trace of sadness. “She was my friend. I confided in her things I could not tell others.” He met her gaze. “As I do you.”

Pinna smiled. It was the first time he’d acknowledged their friendship. It pleased her he was revealing memories he’d suppressed for years—of Drusus and the traitoress she’d been encouraged to revile. Was she wrong to condemn Aemilia Caeciliana? She touched his shoulder. “Yet you swore today to seek retribution.”

He straightened his shoulders as though steeling himself. “I’m a Roman soldier, Pinna. My duty is to the state. There is no other choice. Her decision to return to Mastarna shamed my family. And I can’t forget the torment she has caused Drusus.”

Hearing his concern for his friend, Pinna wished she could tell him the Claudian still loved Caecilia even though he spouted words of vengeance. It also confused her that the man of whom he spoke was far removed from the vicious one who’d assaulted her. It made her even more curious as to why Marcus desired Drusus.