The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (45 page)

Lady Caecilia gestured to the space in front of her. “Stand here.”

The nursemaid curtsied, gulping, and duly obeyed.

“
Tell your mother what you have done, Aricia. Tell her how you have betrayed this house.”

The bracelets on the girl’s wrist jangled as she stood speechless and trembling.

Cytheris stepped over and grabbed a handful of her daughter’s hair. “Tell me what you did!”

Semni found it difficult to watch, a sick feeling in her belly. She wished she could hide and listen instead of being an audience to the drama.

Aricia gasped at her mother’s grip but the rough handling provoked rebellion. “The chief haruspex is my true master, just as Aita is my god. I sought salvation for her sons so they could be one of the Blessed. I performed the rites of the Calu Cult for them because the Roman wouldn’t.”

The Gorgon yanked at the roots of the girl’s curls. “Are you telling me you took them to see Lord Artile?”

Aricia stood on tiptoe, leaning her head to the side to lessen the pain of her hair being pulled. “Only Tas.”

There were two high spots of color on Cytheris’ pockmarked cheek. She continued to hold the girl fast. “How did you manage to hide this?”

Aricia spoke through clenched teeth. “We went through the tunnel leading from the wine cellar. Lord Artile gave me the key.”

“
Cytheris, let her go.”

The Greek woman hesitated at Lady Caecilia’s command, then released her daughter.

Aricia held her hand to her head, rubbing the sore spot as she faced the mistress. “Did you know your son has the sight? Lord Artile recognized Tas’ gift. But he said you would deny the boy the chance of greatness because of your hatred.”

To Semni’s surprise, Lady Caecilia did not shout. Instead, after a chilly silence, the noblewoman unclasped the necklace she always wore. Semni had often admired the craftsmanship of the pendant and the figure engraved upon it—Atlenta the huntress with her bow and sheath of arrows.

Prizing the locket apart, the princip laid it on her open palm. Within it were two locks of hair—a small black curl and a frizzy wisp. Intrigued, Semni glanced at Aricia and her mother, realizing she’d combed the coils of one and mocked the Gorgon tresses of the other.

Aricia stared at the amulet, clearly nonplussed.

Lady Caecilia pointed to the four silver bangles encircling the nursemaid’s wrist. “Do you remember when I gave you those?”

Dragging her attention from the locket, the girl fingered the bracelets. “Yes. It was when you freed Mother and me. On the night you escaped to Rome.”

Lady Caecilia closed her fingers around the pendant. “Why do you think I carry such keepsakes?”

The nursemaid shook her head.

“
Because when I first came here I was scared and homesick and bewildered. Your mother was a comfort to me and still is. She cut off these tresses on that night and gave them to me as mementos. And so I keep them to remind me of such friendship and how, for the first time in my life, I had the power to save a little girl from being taken from her mother.”

She extracted Aricia’s curl from the necklace and tossed it into the fire. “But you repay my kindness by giving my son to the man I detest.”

There was an acrid whiff as the hair incinerated. Aricia watched it flare then turned back to Lady Caecilia, no longer distracted by sentiment. “The chief haruspex has told me everything. Every bad thing there is to know about you. He has told me how you never wanted to bear the master’s heir. You do not deserve to have such a son!”

Lady Caecilia grasped the armrests of her chair as though bracing herself. Semni thought how vulnerable she looked, how frail. The princip’s normally coiffed hair was unloosed and held back by a simple ribbon. The brief flush of color that fury had engendered had vanished, carmine and antimony emphasizing her pallor. The servant sensed that only a brittle resilience prevented the Roman from weeping. When Lady Caecilia spoke, though, her voice was so loud Semni doubted there would be any need among the other servants in the house for speculation or rumor.

“
Do you know what you have done? Lord Artile visited here today. He has given me an ultimatum. Tas or Thia. I must choose one or the other. If I do not surrender my son to him your high priest will expose my daughter!”

Aricia’s insolence faltered. She gaped at the mistress, her aghast expression proof she had not been party to the priest’s cruelty.

Cytheris had been rendered mute, but now she took up a switch from beside the fireplace and ripped Aricia’s chiton from one shoulder. “My lady has given us everything! She does not deserve such treachery.”

Back bared, Aricia cowered as she was beaten. Semni flinched with each hit, remembering what a hiding felt like. How the anticipation of each cut was nearly as awful as the smarting blow.

Lady Caecilia was known for her leniency. Few slaves were whipped at her orders other than those who had thieved or were caught fighting. Yet even though Aricia deserved a birching, the mistress bit her lip as she watched the mother thrash her daughter. After a few strokes, she bade her maid to halt.

Cytheris was deafened by fury. The switch split the skin on Aricia’s shoulders over and over, the white skin webbed by livid stripes.

Above the sobbing came a high-pitched command. “Leave her alone!” Tas raced to his nursemaid at the risk of being hit. Chest heaving, Cytheris stopped, startled by the arrival of the eavesdropping boy.

Aricia embraced him as she sank to the floor.

Face ashen, Lady Caecilia held out her hand. “Come here, Tas.”

The boy clung to the servant. “No! I hate you, Ati. I hate you. I want to go with Uncle!”

His mother stepped over to him, grasping him by his arm. “Be quiet. You do not know what you are saying.”

Tas stamped his foot, golden eyes tear-filled. “I want to be the greatest haruspex Veii has ever known. I want to be a fulgurator and see the future in lightning and thunder.”

Lady Caecilia tried to hold him but he wriggled free, running back to Aricia. Once again, Semni’s guilt pricked her conscience.

The mistress sank into her chair. She was haggard, dark smudges beneath her eyes, lines harrowed between cheeks and mouth. “Arruns, take Master Tas to his room.”

The Phoenician had been viewing the commotion with an impassive face. When the boy would not budge, he wrapped one arm around the child’s waist and hefted him from the chamber. The guard ignored how he tried to kick and hit him. Tas’ shrieks could be heard echoing along the hall.

The noise upset Thia. She stopped suckling, edgy and mewling. Semni placed her against her shoulder, amazed the baby settled when being patted by tense hands and rocked against a thudding heart.

Tas’ declaration of loyalty had calmed Aricia. With painful motion she rose, swaying as she regained her balance. Then, one by one, she pulled the bangles over her hand and threw them at Lady Caecilia’s feet. There was a rattle as they hit the tiles, one rolling until it wobbled onto its side. “Your choice is easy. Keep Thia. Give Tas to Lord Artile.”

Cytheris raised her stout arm again, the birch ready. “How could you do this to the mistress! How could you do this to me?”

Aricia raised her elbow to ward off the blow. “I owe no thanks to the Roman for keeping me with you! All I have ever known is the blunt edge of your hand and the sharp edge of your tongue.”

The Gorgon hit her.

Lady Caecilia stood. “Cytheris, stop.”

The maid paused, rod in midair, then lowered it to her side. Obedience to her mistress had not halted her wrath though. “You are no longer my daughter!”

Aricia glowered. “And I do not want you as my mother!”

Lady Caecilia covered one side of her face with her hand as she sank into her chair. “Be quiet, both of you.”

The roasting rabbits were sizzling. Semni could smell them beginning to burn but she remained intent on the mistress as all waited for Aricia’s sentence. She looked over to her friend, perspiration pricking her scalp when she saw Aricia was staring at her, face devoid of emotion. Semni froze. Did the girl expect her to confess? To show fidelity through sacrifice? “Please,” she mouthed, seeking mercy.

Her blank expression unchanging, Aricia looked away. Semni relaxed her shoulders but her pulse did not quiet.

Raising her head, Lady Caecilia sighed. It was as though outrage had been drained from her and all that was left was heartache. “Aricia, I do not make this decision lightly. You are banished. Salve your wounds and then leave.”

Semni’s stomach lurched. She had not thought Lady Caecilia would go this far. The cosseted, spoiled housemaid would not survive when cast into a starving city.

The silver bangles were scattered across the floor. The princip pointed at them. “Take those. Sell them. They will buy you food and shelter.”

Hunched over, Aricia did not beseech forgiveness. “Lord Artile will take me in. He will train me to be a priestess.”

Lady Caecilia frowned. “Don’t you understand? He is base. Now that you can no longer serve his purpose, he will shun you.”

At the words, Aricia’s posture became less defiant, her demeanor no longer triumphant. Doubt flickered. Fear too.

The rabbits had caught ablaze, smoke billowing and pooling under the ceiling as the kitchen vents clogged.

Cytheris knelt before her mistress. Her eyes were watery. Semni thought it was from the stinging haze until she saw her anguish. “Please, mistress, don’t throw her into the streets. I will beat her daily instead. I will keep an eye on her. Otherwise she will starve, my lady. She will die.”

Distressed by the smoke, Thia gave a choking cry. Lady Caecilia stood and reclaimed her from Semni. Then, as she turned to leave, she paused and rested her fingers on Cytheris’ forearm. “Forgive me. The priest has stolen both of our children.” Her touch signaled sadness. There was regret, too, in her round hazel eyes. “I am sorry. I cannot risk having Aricia under my roof.”

The servant nodded but tears were flowing now. “It must be then. It must be.”

As the princip left the kitchen, Semni stared at the Gorgon, touched by the grief shared by mistress and maid.

One of the slave boys appeared and scurried to the fireplace. There was a hiss as he threw a bucket of water over the burned dinner. As the flames were dampened, an odor of scorched herbs filled the air. Cook followed, flapping her apron to dispel the smoke.

Semni ran and threw her arms around Aricia. The nursemaid gasped, the cuts on her back paining her. Yet she did not shrink from the embrace, laying her head upon her friend’s shoulder. She smelled of smoke and fear and violets.

Cytheris dropped the switch and wiped her tears with a corner of her chiton. Then she moved to examine the welts on Aricia’s back, frowning at the damage her anger had wrought. There was concern in her tone. “I’ll get some yarrow to lessen the bleeding.”

Contemptuous, her daughter shied away, remaining huddled within Semni’s arms. “You offer comfort now? And tenderness?”

Once again, Cytheris tried to reach out to touch her daughter. “You are the only child I have left.”

Semni could feel Aricia quaking as she pushed the proffered hand away. “Then you have lost me just as you did my brothers and sister.”

The sorrow on the Gorgon’s face made Semni glance away.

Cytheris’ long plait brushed the floor as she stooped and collected the bangles. “At least take these.”

Aricia broke from Semni and snatched the bracelets, tossing them into the fireplace. “I will not need them. Lord Artile will help me.”

Cytheris stared at the jewelery lying amid the smoldering ashes and charred carcasses. She was so still Semni thought the woman had turned to stone, as if petrified by Medusa’s glare. Slowly the mother’s plump face sagged, her double chins quivering. “Then I will mourn for you, daughter. Today and on the day news is brought that you have died.”

Glossary

Cast

Half waking, half sleeping, Pinna was in the brothel again. She could hear Genucius.

His voice grew louder.