The Warrior's Princess

  No one in the villa expected the agitated arrival of Aelius that morning as they settled on the chairs with Cerys to sit by the fountain in the warm October sunshine. The man had hovered for a second respectfully by the door, still wondering what he should tell them, then, too upset to wait to be called forward he came to stand behind Caratacus.

  ‘The two young ladies went out yesterday, my lord.’ He wrung his hands in consternation. ‘They did not return last night.’

  Caratacus stared up at his steward, his face blanching. ‘What do you mean they went out?’

  ‘They wanted to go to the silk stalls at the market and then on to the goldsmith who lives behind the Via Sacra.’ He glanced at Pomponia. ‘My son Flavius escorted them with two slaves. They should have been perfectly safe.’ They had all heard about the rioting overnight.

  Cerys let out a wail of fear. She jumped to her feet. ‘Eigon should not have left the villa. She knows she must never go outside!’

  ‘There is no need for despair, lady.’ Melinus stepped forward. ‘I am sure they are safe.’

  Pomponia who had arrived early with a new scroll for Caratacus to read, scowled. ‘Julia is a scatterbrain! She knows Eigon is not to go outside without a proper escort! But she is also resourceful.’ Clearly. To have circumvented Cerys’s clear instructions. ‘Perhaps they decided to stay somewhere overnight. Flavius is a sensible young man. When he saw there was trouble in the streets I am sure he would have seen to it that they were safe.’

  ‘They might have stayed at your house,’ Caratacus said thoughtfully. He looked up at her with a ray of hope. ‘It is far closer to the centre of the city.’

  Their guest shook her head. ‘Alas, no. We have just come from home. They were not there.’

  ‘Then we have no option but to send out a search party,’ Caratacus said. His face was growing more pinched by the minute, his voice weakening as he used up the last of his strength. ‘See to it, Aelius.’

  ‘Sir!’ Aelius retreated.

  ‘Stop crying, Cerys!’ Caratacus ordered. He glared balefully at his wife. ‘I’ve never understood your reluctance to let Eigon go outside in the first place, and this is the direct result of your prohibition. It’s all your fault. She felt she had to go secretly and she’s gone without a proper escort. Aelius will pay for this dearly! He had no business to let this happen!’

  Cerys gazed at her husband tearfully. She could neither tell him the reason, nor ever explain the full extent of the danger. No one knew the secret she shared with Eigon and no one ever would. But that meant that no one else knew that out there somewhere in the city was a man whose vowed aim was to kill their daughter. She shuddered. She and Eigon had never discussed the threat since that very first day in the villa all those years ago and yet she knew it was still there. She could feel it. Eyes watching them, waiting, a cat beside a mousehole, biding its time with infinite patience. Why the man had waited for so long she couldn’t guess, but somehow she knew that he was still out there somewhere, watching.

  The small bedraggled party was escorted back to the villa later that morning by Julius Marinus Publius and a group of his grandfather’s servants and after due thanks and gratitude were expressed and their rescuers had departed, they faced the combined wrath of Cerys and Caratacus. Julia retreated to her bedroom and closed the door firmly to wait until things had blown over.

  Eigon was still with her mother trying desperately to still the storm of tears and anger when one of the household slaves came and sought out Aelius. They had found Vulpius’s body in the orchard. His throat has been cut and his body thrown over the wall.

  Aelius stood looking down at it in horror then he called his son, tight-lipped with rage. ‘How many times have you taken Princess Eigon and Lady Julia out into the city?’ he asked.

  ‘Often, Father. There has never been any danger. No one has ever threatened us. We were perfectly safe.’ Flavius was white as a sheet.

  ‘This is a warning,’ Aelius breathed quietly. His fists were clenched. ‘They knew where he came from. Whoever did this is watching this house.’

  ‘But why, Father?’ Flavius was trying hard not to show his fear. ‘The riot had nothing to do with us. The mob is always rioting about something or other! The Emperor and his friends were winding them up again!’

  ‘Quiet, stupid boy!’ His father glanced over his shoulder even though they were alone in the orchard now. The body had been taken away. ‘Don’t let me hear you say anything like that out loud again. Walls have ears.’

  Flavius bit his lip. The sight of the dead man had horrified him more than he dared admit to anyone, even himself. ‘Surely the likely reason they targeted us is that someone saw us coming away from the goldsmith’s and thought we might have something worth stealing. That’s why they attacked us. Poor Vulpius had nothing on him to steal.’

  Aelius scowled. It was possible that his son was right. But it was also possible that there was something more to this. For a start, how did they know where Vulpius came from? The man was a slave. He had nothing on him to identify him at all. This household did not require its slaves to wear tags with their address and owner’s name. Had he been tortured, he wondered, to give information to his killers, and if so, what information did they want? He sighed. To all intents and purposes this villa belonged to Caratacus who was the head of the household and treated with all the deference offered to a great man. But the fact remained that he was also, though no one seemed to remember it, more or less a prisoner. Nobody, not even Aelius’s wife or his son knew that Aelius had been ordered, when they had first come to the villa, to spy on the king. He turned away thoughtfully and began to walk slowly back towards the house, his son trailing miserably behind him. A sick and acquiescent man was no danger to the Emperor. But if anything in Caratacus’s demeanour changed, then Claudius had wanted to be the first to know about it and no doubt Nero’s advisers would also.

  ‘What did you say to your mother?’ Julia appeared the moment Eigon was alone.

  ‘Just that we wanted to visit the goldsmith.’

  ‘Was she angry?’

  ‘Yes, she was angry.’ Eigon looked utterly deflated. Angry didn’t even begin to cover her mother’s reaction to everything that had happened. Or the news that her daughter had been defying her orders for so long. The news of the death of one of the slaves had been kept from Caratacus who was feverish again and had taken to his bed, but Cerys, after reining in her emotions with such strength in front of her husband had let fly at her daughter the moment they were alone again. ‘I am going to send Julia away!’ she shouted. ‘She has been nothing but a bad influence on you. How could you be so thoughtless and stupid? Does your own safety mean nothing to you?’

  ‘But Mam, nothing has ever happened to me!’

  ‘I forbid you to set foot outside this house again, do you hear? Not even the orchard. There are people outside the walls spying on us. Criminals. Who knows in whose pay they are.’ Suddenly she was sobbing, and Eigon had put her arms around her. ‘Hush, Mam, don’t cry. I’m sorry to worry you so. And I won’t go again, I promise.’

  A quiet knock sounded on the half-open door and Cerys pushed Eigon away. Their moment together was over.

  ‘My lady?’ It was Melinus. ‘I have been looking for Eigon. It is time for her lessons.’ It was a rescue of sorts.

  ‘Of course.’ Cerys sniffed, straightening her shoulders. ‘Go with him, Eigon. But remember what I’ve said.’

  Eigon followed her tutor outside, biting her lip. He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as they seated themselves at the table they had commandeered so long ago for their studies. As the evenings drew in and grew colder they did not work late in the garden any more. ‘So, what really happened?’ His voice was gentle but his eyes were stern.

  She told him everything. When she had finished he sat back thoughtfully and for several heartbeats said nothing. When at last he did it was the last thing she expected.

  ‘How strange that you should have been giv
en shelter by Christians. The Lady Pomponia Graecina and I have been to several Christian meetings. We listened to their teacher, Peter.’

  Eigon stared at him, astonished. ‘But surely you don’t believe in their god? Just one god, when we know that there are gods of every river and mountain and forest.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘Their god, who I think is the god of the Jews in a gentler form, is a powerful god and Peter himself impressed me with his learning and his eloquence. There is much there to think about. He knew this Jesus and travelled with him and was his friend. I would like to speak to these people you met myself one day, but for the time being be content that they are kind and hospitable. You could have chosen no one better to look after you.’

  She frowned. ‘We were saved, but we caused the death of a man.’

  ‘No, princess; the man who killed Vulpius is responsible for his death. But he died in your service and so should be remembered with honour.’ He sighed. His intuition told him there was more to this killing than an attempted robbery or even mob violence. The whole villa knew by now that the body had been thrown over the wall and all guessed that it was a message. But to whom, and why? Pulling a pile of scrolls before him he resolved to concentrate on the matter in hand. Eigon needed the distraction. He hated to see how haunted she looked. Whatever he said she was going to blame herself for this death, whilst the flibbertigibbet, Julia, would probably give it not another thought.

  Will tensed as something moved in the gardens below, catching his eye. He moved sideways behind the half-open shutters and peered down. Was there still someone out there? Crossing the room in two strides he snapped off the light and tiptoed back to the window. At first he could see nothing in the darkness, then he saw the figure almost immediately below on the gravel path. He could see the pale moon of a face as it looked up, too indistinct to make out the features but he was certain it was Dan. Who else would it be? The face disappeared and the figure foreshortened suddenly. He was bending over, looking for something – the ladder Jess said was hidden there? Will smiled grimly. If he was coming up to the window he was in for an unpleasant shock. He waited silently. Nothing happened. Cautiously he looked out again. The figure had moved. He heard the rustle of dead leaves and a muttered curse and suddenly he guessed what had happened. Someone had moved the ladder. In which case, perhaps it was time he went downstairs and had a word with Dan himself.

  Slipping on his shoes he let himself out of the room, closing the door silently after him. He glanced towards Jess’s room. All was quiet. Good. What he needed to say to Dan was best said without her there. Clenching his fists he headed towards the apartment front door, let himself out and padded down the main staircase on silent rubber soles. This much at least perhaps he could do for Jess.

  The street had grown quiet. Glancing both ways Will set off along the wall, guessing the entrance to the garden must be along there somewhere. When he reached the corner he paused and edged cautiously forward to glance round into the pitch dark chasm which was the alleyway between the two tall buildings. He could see nothing. He listened. Was that the faintest squeak of a rusty hinge? He edged closer. There would be a gate at the far end of the alley. Had Dan come through it? Was he too waiting and listening? He held his breath.

  Nothing. All he could hear was the beat of his own heart. There! Was that someone moving? A cautious footstep heading up the alleyway towards him?

  He tensed, ready. It had stopped again. He moved closer to the corner. One inch further and he could see round.

  And suddenly there was an explosion of movement. It seemed to come from behind him, then from all around. An arm clamped round his neck and he heard a breathless gasp. ‘So, Sir Galahad, you thought I couldn’t see you, eh?’ The grip tightened and Will felt himself swept with blind rage. He was the fit one, the sportsman and yet he was impotent. He couldn’t breathe. He felt his neck wrench backwards and for an instant he saw Dan’s face an inch from his own. ‘What were you going to do, Will? Save her reputation? Her life?’ Dan laughed. ‘Make the noble sacrifice?’ He angled his arm higher. Will was beginning to see stars. He clawed desperately at Dan’s arm when suddenly everything went black.

  18

  Jess woke abruptly and lay staring at the ceiling. It was already daylight and the roar of traffic outside was building. The smell of coffee was drifting through the apartment. Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

  Kim and Steph were in the kitchen. Someone had already poured her a coffee when she appeared at last. ‘Dan was here last night,’ she said. ‘He was downstairs waiting for me when I got home.’

  ‘What happened?’ Steph whispered. She and Kim were staring at her.

  ‘He threatened me. Luckily Jacopo came back and he ran off. Then I saw him in the garden. Will saw him too, I forgot we changed rooms and woke him up.’

  Steph grinned. ‘Poor old Will. Well, it proves Dan is still around. I wonder where he is staying.’

  ‘What did Carmella say? Did she mention him?’ Steph asked.

  ‘She was helpful.’

  ‘And?’ Steph raised an eyebrow.

  ‘She thinks I should stay and fight him. Stop being afraid.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Kim nodded approval.

  ‘But Will thinks I should go back to England. Leave Dan here, thinking I’m still around.’

  Steph and Kim glanced at each other. ‘If he’s watching you, Jess, he’d soon realise you had disappeared.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Kim reached for the coffee pot. The phone rang and she pushed back her chair. ‘Pronto?’

  She listened for a moment, then she glanced at Steph and held out the phone. ‘Rhodri Price for you.’

  Steph waved at Jess. ‘You take it!’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because he must want to talk to you, he never talks to me if he can help it!’ Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

  Jess frowned at her. She climbed to her feet and went to take the phone from Kim. ‘Hi Rhodri, it’s Jess.’

  ‘I’m staying at the Hassler and I wondered if you and Steph and your hostess would like to come and have a drink with me on the terrace at the Palazzetto before I head off home. What about breakfast thrown in?’

  Jess grinned. She had noticed the hotel at the top of the Spanish Steps. It was one of Rome’s best. ‘That’s kind, Rhodri. We’d love to.’ She was surprised at how pleased she was to hear his voice again.

  Steph was shaking her head, waving her finger – no!

  Jess turned her back. ‘There’s the three of us and also our friend, Will.’

  ‘Bring him. Bring everyone.’ Rhodri sounded euphoric. Jess glanced at her watch. It was still technically breakfast time by her reckoning. She smiled at Steph as she hung up. ‘You needn’t come. Champagne breakfast at the Hassler is probably not your thing.’

  Steph made a face. ‘I’ll force myself. Just to keep an eye on you two. Shall I go and wake Will?’

  Minutes later she had reappeared. ‘He’s not there. He must have gone out early.’

  ‘Leave him a note.’ Kim stood up. ‘He can follow us if he wants to.’

  On the terrace, Rhodri, relaxed in an open-necked white shirt and cream designer chinos, greeted them with effusive kisses all round and led them to a table which gave them a panoramic view of the Spanish Steps and the Piazza di Spagna below. ‘It’s great to have someone to celebrate with.’

  ‘Celebrate?’ Jess couldn’t resist the naïve question. She took the proffered chair. They were surrounded by urns of white petunias.

  ‘A successful gig! I fly home tomorrow.’

  ‘This was opera in Milan?’

  ‘Of course.’ He grinned broadly as he sat down next to her. ‘You don’t like my kind of singing, Jess, do you?’

  Steph and Kim glanced up from their menus.

  Jess shrugged innocently. ‘Actually I’m beginning to appreciate it more than I used to. I pinched a couple of Steph’s CDs.’ She found she enjoyed teasing
him.

  ‘Oh.’ He beckoned the hovering waiter. ‘May I ask which?’

  ‘Caractacus.’

  He laughed. ‘So, it was research, not a quest for musical enlightenment?’

  Steph raised an eyebrow. ‘You know about Jess’s fascination with Eigon then?’ she said stiffly. Her antagonism towards this man was still there.

  ‘Oh yes!’ Rhodri nodded as they gave their orders. The waiters, they noticed, seemed to treat him as an old friend. ‘I was there. I saw what she could do.’

  ‘Eigon?’ Kim stared at him. ‘You saw her? So, you believe in ghosts?’

  Rhodri considered her question for a moment as the waiter brought their coffee. Another produced a bottle of champagne for his inspection. He nodded and glanced at Kim. ‘I’m a Welshman. We invented ghosts!’

  Jess’s mobile rang as she lifted her glass. With an apologetic shrug, she put the glass down untouched. ‘Will? Where are you?’

  ‘Jess, help me!’ The voice was faint, the line full of static. ‘I’m somewhere near the villa –’ The name was muffled by crackling. ‘Please, come …’

  ‘Will?’ Jess shook the phone. ‘Will, can you hear me?’ The others were watching her closely. ‘Will, are you all right?’ The noise worsened till his voice was inaudible. Then the line went dead. She looked up, her face tense. ‘He’s in trouble.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’ Kim demanded.

  ‘I don’t know. The line was bad. His battery cut out. He said “Help me”.’ She looked desperately round the table. ‘Dan! Dan has done something to him!’

  ‘Did he say so?’ Kim asked sharply.

  ‘No, but what else could it be? Dan was in the palazzo last night. Will must have gone down and confronted him after I went to bed. Oh God, this is all my fault!’

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ Rhodri put in. ‘Will someone explain?’