A Voice in the Wind

  Marcus didn’t approve of Calabah, either. In fact, he despised her. Thankfully, he was traveling in northern Italy on business and would be gone for several months. With him away, Father occupied with business, and Mother unaware of life beyond the walls of the villa, Julia could do as she wished. To be considered Calabah’s friend was a great honor and one that gave Julia a heightened sense of importance. Calabah made it clear to all who attended her that she favored Julia. Yet, Julia found Calabah’s gatherings nowhere near so diverting as Caius Polonius Urbanus.

  Caius was often at Calabah’s villa, and Julia was in awe of his powerful, virile presence. He had only to look at her and her mind turned to forbidden thoughts. Octavia told her he was Calabah’s lover, but that bit of unwelcome information only added to his charisma. What sort of man could satisfy a woman like Calabah? Surely one far more male than any other. And if he belonged to Calabah, why did he stare at her? Then, too, there was the fact that Octavia was obviously smitten with the man— a fact that only spurred Julia’s interest in Caius.

  Even now, his dark eyes teased and caressed Julia until she longed to escape the tumultuous feelings he aroused in her. She fanned herself and tried to concentrate on Calabah’s diatribe, but her mind kept wandering to the most sensuous thoughts. Caius rose from his couch. As he came toward her, her body flooded with warm tingling. Her heart beat so fast and hard she feared he would hear it.

  Caius smiled slightly as he sat down on her couch. He could see she was nervous and half-frightened; her innocence drew and excited him. “You agree with everything Calabah says?”

  “She’s brilliant.”

  “No wonder she likes you.”

  “You don’t think she’s brilliant?”

  “Indeed, she is far ahead of her time,” he said. As they talked about Calabah’s ideas, Caius realized how little Julia really knew Calabah. He could tell Calabah’s young friend was limited in her perception of those outside her world, and, of course, Calabah only revealed what she wanted people to see. She was shrewd. Caius had no doubt Calabah had plans for the young Valerian, but he didn’t know what they entailed. He did know Calabah never groomed anyone without a purpose, and she was drawing Julia into her inner circle, treating her with a warmth that roused jealousy in others of longer acquaintance.

  “I would think Octavia more to your liking, Calabah,” he had said to her the other evening, mindful of the fact that he had begun pursuing Octavia as a diversion. “She’s pliable.”

  But Calabah wouldn’t be drawn. She merely smiled secretively and pointed out the practical aspects of why he should think about pursuing Julia. “Her family has money and position, Caius. They have no real political connections, except through Marcus’ friend Antigonus. You will remember he gained a position in the curia a year ago. A liaison with her might do you good.”

  “If Marcus Valerian disapproves of you, I hardly think he would approve of one of your discarded lovers.”

  She laughed at his sardonic humor. “I haven’t discarded you, Caius. I’ve freed you. You know very well you were becoming restless. Have you noticed the way Julia looks at you?”

  His mouth curved in a predatory smile. “How could I not? She’s quite delectable.” Changing his attention from Octavia to Julia Valerian would not be a difficult task.

  “Julia’s family could be quite helpful to you.”

  “Trying to get rid of me, Calabah? Did I frighten you the other evening with my passion?”

  “I’ve never been frightened of anything, Caius, least of all a man. But what excites you doesn’t excite me. I’m trying to be generous and think of what’s best for a dear, dear friend. I’m not the woman for you, Caius. I think Julia Valerian is.”

  Caius knew Calabah never did anything without ulterior motives, and he wondered now why she was so ready to hand him one of her lovely young followers like an offering on an altar. He was intrigued.

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Watch her at the games. She has depths of passion no one even suspects. Not even Julia herself. For you, she is unbroken ground just waiting for the till. She’s hungry for life. Plant whatever seeds you desire, Caius, and watch them grow.”

  Calabah was never wrong about people. He watched Julia with new interest. She was young and beautiful. She attended Calabah’s gatherings in secret, which meant she acted in disobedience to her parents and brother. She was also bored by tedious intellectualism and was dying for excitement, a heady combination when Caius could give her more excitement than she could even imagine. He had felt desire grow as he watched her, knowing she felt his perusal. She looked at him and he smiled. Her lips parted softly, and he almost felt the heat of her reaction across the room.

  She was attracted by him, but she didn’t accost him as Octavia did, nor brood like Glaphyra, nor pretend indifference like Olivia. Julia Valerian looked at him with unveiled curiosity. When he looked back at her, she waited expectantly rather than playing coy games like the others.

  Caius wanted to see if Calabah was right about her. He wanted to see how far she would go.

  “Walk with me in the garden,” he said.

  “Would Calabah approve?” she said, blushing, though the darkness in her eyes was promising.

  “Do you need Calabah’s permission to do as you wish? Perhaps we should test the sincerity of her philosophical outlook. Doesn’t she say a woman must make her own decisions, take her happiness from where it emanates, create her own destiny?”

  “I am her guest.”

  “Not her slave. Calabah admires a woman with a mind of her own. One who takes what she wants.” He ran his hand lightly up her arm. Her skin was warm beneath the soft wool of her pale yellow palus. He heard her soft inhalation and felt the telltale tension of her body. He smiled into her doe brown eyes. “Oh, and you, sweet Julia, want to take the bull by the horns, don’t you? Come out into the garden and see what magic we make together.”

  Color swept her cheeks again.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” he whispered back, teasing her. He saw she was too embarrassed to say, and said it for her. “Calabah might become jealous and then you wouldn’t be welcome here again.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You can rest easy. I’m only one of Calabah’s many diversions. We have an understanding.”

  Julia frowned slightly. “You’re not in love with her?”

  “No,” he said simply and leaned down until his lips were almost against her ear and whispered. “Come out into the garden with me, so we can be alone and talk.”

  The darkness of his eyes held a frightening passion, but still she wanted to go with him. She relished the swirling heat that flooded her and the rush of blood through her veins. His touch made her forget where she was even as her mind warned her there was something dark and hidden about him. She didn’t care. A sense of danger only made her excitement that much greater. But still, she worried over Calabah. She didn’t want to offend her and make a powerful enemy.

  She looked at her and saw that Calabah had noticed Caius’ defection. For the briefest instant, Julia felt a wave of some powerful emotion flooding from Calabah’s being, and then it was gone. She was smiling as though to encourage them. Julia saw no sign of jealousy or even annoyance darken those mysterious eyes or harden the serene features. Julia gave her a half-pleading, half-questioning look.

  “Julia needs a breath of fresh air, Caius. Would you escort her into the garden?” she said, and Julia felt relief bursting inside her, which was replaced by a wave of heat as Caius took her hand and said it would be his pleasure.

  “So you received her blessing,” he said as they went outside. “Come over here under the arbor.”

  When Caius took her in his arms, Julia stiffened instinctively. Then he kissed her and the rush of pleasure drowned all resistance. His hands were strong, and she melted against him. When he drew back slightly, she was weak and trembling.

  “With me, you’ll
feel things you never dreamed you could feel,” Caius said hoarsely and grew bolder. Some small cry of conscience rose within her at the liberties he was taking.

  “No,” she gasped softly. “You mustn’t touch me like that.”

  Caius only laughed softly and pulled her back. He kissed her again, silencing her protest and inflaming her passion.

  Julia spread her hands against the fine wool of his toga and felt the firm ridges of muscles beneath. The brush of his spice-scented breath raised goose bumps along the curve of her neck. She moaned softly, helplessly, as he kissed her again.

  He was hurting her, but Julia didn’t care.

  “Did Claudius Flaccus make your heart race like it’s racing now?” Caius asked. Julia thought she would faint with the intensity of what she was feeling. “If he were alive now, I’d take you from him, even if it meant killing him,” he rasped. The tone in his voice both thrilled and terrified her.

  Julia knew as she looked up into his dark, glowing eyes and felt the fever in her blood that she had to be with him, whatever the cost. “Oh, Caius, I love you. I’ll do anything you want, anything . . .”

  With that, Caius had his answer of how far Julia would go. Of course, he wouldn’t push her now. Time enough for that when she was within his full power and retreat was impossible.

  He smiled. Calabah was right about Julia Valerian. This girl was made for him.

  Chapter 18

  Hadassah felt foreboding as Julia’s wedding day approached. From the moment Decimus Valerian agreed to a coemptio marriage, Julia seemed more settled and happy. Even as Hadassah wondered why the master suggested bride-purchase rather than the binding confarreatio, Julia stood before the gathering of friends and made the traditional statement, “Ubi tu gaius, ego gaia.” “Where you are master, I am mistress.” Upon her pronouncement, Caius Polonius Urbanus kissed her and sealed the engagement with an iron ring.

  Hadassah could understand why Julia was in love with him. Urbanus was a handsome man with a vital presence and charming manner. Decimus and Phoebe both approved of him. Still, though Hadassah had no facts or foundation for what she felt, she was convinced something dark and sinister was beneath the man’s smooth facade. Whenever Caius looked at her, she felt chilled by that dark, unblinking stare.

  She had no one in whom she could confide her feelings. Marcus had gone away on business and wasn’t due home for another month. If he were here, she might gather the courage to talk to him about it. But by the time he returned, it would be too late. The priests had already been consulted and a lucky day set for the wedding. Julia would be married before her brother returned home.

  “Surely you want your brother to be at your wedding,” Hadassah said.

  “Of course I would like him to be at my wedding,” she said. “But the priests said the second Wednesday of April is our lucky day. Delaying the wedding would defy the gods and risk disaster. Besides, I can’t wait another week, let alone a month. Marcus could be delayed. Or he could change his plans.” She sank down into the warm water of her scented bath and smiled. “Besides, Marcus has seen me get married once already. He was bored at my last wedding. I don’t imagine he would find this one any more interesting.”

  Everyone seemed so pleased with the arrangements that Hadassah began to wonder if she was misjudging Urbanus. He spent hours with Decimus, discussing foreign trade and politics. They seemed to agree about almost everything. As for Phoebe, she was charmed by her future son-in-law. Even the household slaves thought the gods had smiled on Julia by making Urbanus fall in love with her.

  Yet, it was as though Hadassah’s soul caught a glimpse of something malevolent and dangerous hidden beneath the polished manners and good looks.

  The morning of the wedding, Julia was tense with excitement and determined to look more beautiful than she had ever looked before. Hadassah spent several hours arranging her hair in an elaborate style of curls and braids interwoven with a strand of rare and expensive pearls. Julia’s wedding palus was of the finest white flannel, and encircling her small waist was a woolen girdle fastened with a Herculean knot for good luck. Hadassah slipped the orange shoes on her mistress’s small feet.

  “You are very beautiful,” Phoebe said, and her eyes misted with tears of pride. She took her daughter’s hand and sat with her on the bed. “Are you afraid?”

  “No, Mother,” she said, amused at the worry she saw in her mother’s eyes. If only she knew. She was eager for Caius, so eager she could hardly bear it. It was not her unwillingness that had kept her from his bed, but Caius’ own sense of honor.

  With tender care, Phoebe arranged the orange veil over Julia’s head so that only the left side of her face was revealed. She gave her three copper coins. “One for your husband and two for your household gods,” she said and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “May the gods bless you with children.”

  “Oh, Mother, please. May the gods wait on that blessing.” Julia laughed happily. “I’m too young to be tied down by children.”

  Hadassah stood at the back of the gathering in the temple as Caius and Julia’s hands were joined. She could hear the keening squeal of the terrified pig as it was dragged before the altar. It thrashed violently as its throat was slit, and its blood poured down over the altar as a holy sacrifice for the bride and groom.

  Feeling faint with nausea, Hadassah fled outside. Shaking, she sat down upon the high step near the door, where she could hear the marriage contract read, but not see or smell the blood. She put her head on her raised knees and listened to the droning voice of the priest as he read the documents that had more to do with dowry obligations than a lifetime commitment to love one another. Hadassah was saddened. Clenching her hands, she prayed fervently for her mistress.

  As the procession of guests passed she rose to follow. Most of those attending the wedding were there purely out of social obligation to Decimus Valerian, their patron. Few who knew Julia had any fondness for her.

  The guests accompanied the couple to Caius’ villa on the far side of the Palentine, where his slaves had prepared a feast. Julia rubbed oil on the doorposts and hung up a garland of wool. She presented Caius with one of the copper coins. He gave her an offering of fire and water, thus relinquishing control of his household to his new wife.

  Hadassah helped serve at the elaborate feast that followed, marveling at how different the atmosphere was from the celebratory meal of Julia’s first wedding. Caius’ friends made ribald comments, and there was much laughter. Julia was radiant, blushing and laughing when her new husband leaned close and whispered in her ear. Perhaps everything would be all right. Perhaps she was wrong about Urbanus.

  Summoned to the kitchen, Hadassah was handed a silver tray of goose liver molded into a horrific beast with exaggerated genitals. Mortified at the obscene offering, she clanged the tray back onto the counter and drew back from it in revulsion. “What’s the matter with you? If you’ve done damage to my work, I’ll have the hide flogged off of you. The master asked expressly for that dish. Now take it out and serve it to your mistress.”

  “No!” she said without thinking, horrified at the very idea of offering something so grotesque to Julia. The blow the cook gave her sent her back against the cupboard.

  “You take it,” he ordered another who obeyed with alacrity. He turned on her again and she drew back with a gasp of fear, her face throbbing with pain. “Pick up the tray over there and serve it to the guests, now.”

  Trembling, she went, relieved to see it was only a large tray of a dozen small partridges, browned and glistening with a honey and spice glaze. Her head was still ringing when she entered the large banquet room. Guests laughed and encouraged Julia as Caius dipped his fingers into the dragon and offered it to his bride. Julia laughed gaily and licked it from his fingers. Sickened, Hadassah turned to the guests farthest away from the scene and offered the partridges.

  Several men called for the bride and groom to be sent off to bed. Caius caught Julia up in his arms and carried her
out of the room.

  With Caius and Julia gone, some of the guests began departing. Drusus helped an ashen and tearful Octavia from her couch. She was drunk and scarcely able to walk. Decimus rose from a couch of honor and helped Phoebe to her feet. She beckoned Hadassah.

  “You’re returning to the villa with us. Caius told us he’s arranged for servants for Julia already and has released you from your duties to her.” She touched her arm. “You needn’t look distressed, Hadassah. If Julia needs you, you know she will send for you. In the meantime, I’ve duties in mind for you.”

  Hadassah settled quickly into her new duties, and she delighted in serving Phoebe. They enjoyed spending hours in the gardens working in the flower beds or in the weaving room with the looms. Hadassah loved working in the garden the most, for she enjoyed the pathways and trellises that were budding with the coming spring. She loved the feel of the soil beneath her hands and the scent of flowers drifting in the fresh air. Birds flitted between the trees and pecked at the seed Phoebe placed on open feeders for them.

  Decimus joined them occasionally, sitting on a marble bench and smiling wearily as he talked with Phoebe and watched her work. He seemed somewhat improved, for which Bithia claimed credit. However, he was not regaining his strength. Phoebe felt he was improved because he was under far less strain now that Julia was happily settled with a husband. But he was not cured from whatever ailed him. Phoebe lost faith in the Egyptian girl’s healing arts and stopped summoning her to minister to Decimus. She called upon Hadassah instead.

  “Sing to us, Hadassah.”

  Hadassah stroked the small harp and sang psalms her father had taught her back in Galilee. Closing her eyes, she could pretend she was back there again, with the smell of the sea and the sounds of the fishermen calling to one another. For a brief time, she could forget all the horror of the things that had happened since that last journey to Jerusalem.

  Sometimes she sang lullabies her mother had sung to her and her little sister, Leah. Sweet Leah, how she missed her. At times, when the night was dark and silent, she would think how Leah had closed her eyes and mind to the horrors of this cruel world and gone peacefully to be with God. She would remember the piercingly sweet memories of running free through the lilies of the field with her little sister, laughing at how Leah bounded through the high grasses like a rabbit.