Blood Games (62 page)

He stared at her incredulously. “It would be different because you had to suffer that on my account. By Charon, Olivia, what else would I mean? Roman virtues are very unimportant to me.” He attempted to laugh. “Why should they be otherwise? A woman leaves my embrace exactly as chaste as she came to it, if penetration is your standard for chastity.” He looked down at her, feeling an overwhelming sorrow. “Olivia, I will miss you as much as I have missed anything in the world.” He regretted his words the moment he said them, for her face went blank with anguish.

"No,” she said from the depths of her soul. “You won't die.” There was a kind of madness in her eyes.

"It is not what I would wish to do, either,” he said, trying again to ease her hurt. “Rogerian is new to me, but he is good-hearted and learns quickly. You will do well to keep him near you. There are precautions you must learn, for later. There is not enough time to tell you all that you must know.” How many hazards she would face, he thought, and how much she would have to accomplish in very little time. “Have one of your gardeners fill a couple of chests with your native earth, and be certain that it is always near at hand. You will need it when you travel. You must travel. Once we change, we age very little, and there are many who notice such things. Give yourself ten, at the most, twenty years in a place, and then move elsewhere. You may always return to the first place later. I have a great number of shipping and importing businesses, and it is a good way to make money, and gives you escape should you ever need it. Don't interrupt,” he said sharply. “Be careful where you live. You will do better in cities than in villages."

"Don't talk like that!” she said wildly. “If I must know these things, I will ask you then."

"But I may not still be with you,” he said. There was a grave tenderness in his dark eyes. “Olivia, this grows difficult. I have no wish to hurt you, but you must hear these things from me, and forget your pain, truly you must. Otherwise I will have failed you more terribly than I failed Kosrozd and Tishtry and Aumtehoutep."

Some of the frenzy left her eyes. “I will listen, Saint-Germain."

The night breeze had sprung up and wafted the charnel smell of the Gates of Death to them. Olivia hated the sweetly rotten odor, and tried to ignore it, to concentrate on the haunted expression in Saint-Germain's dark eyes, to listen to his worn, beautiful voice give her instructions.

"When you come into my life,” he said some while later, “you will be tempted to set aside your humanity. It is easy to do. I did it, for a time. That's an emptiness that leads nowhere but to the true death. Loneliness is better than abuse; you must know that, my Olivia. It is never easy to resist the seductive lure of cynicism, but cynicism is its own little death. Guard yourself against it. Our kind cannot afford to be uncompassionate. You will find it a formidable task of times, when the ignorant and zealous despise you and those you care for shrink from you. It
will
happen, Olivia. When it does, try not to feel contumely. Intimacy like ours is frightening to those who have never known it. Olivia,” he said in another, deeper tone, “I had meant to be with you when you woke, but it may not be possible. If I am not there—"

"Saint-Germain...” she said quickly, wanting to stop what he would say next.

"If I am not there, remember that there is no shame in your desires. And remember that the blood is so much chaff if there is nothing more than blood."

She could not keep her misery out of her voice. “The only lover I want is you.” She knew there were tears on her face and smudged them away with grimy fingers.

"You will want others,” he said with a wise, sad smile. “It is our nature."

"But now?” She knew his mouth was torn, but she kissed it as deeply as she knew. “Don't you want this?"

"Infinitely,” he said wryly. “I have had no...nourishment since our last night in your garden.” He smiled at her shock. “I want that strength from you, I admit it. But more, I want your love.” He swung his arms, grimacing at the pain it gave him. “I can't take you in my arms. I can't caress you. If that is repugnant to you, kiss me again, and then go. I don't think I can stand to have you so near and not hunger for you."

Olivia looked at him, her face possessing a new serenity that she had never had before. “Love me, then.” She stepped next to him and loosened her paenula. The long cape fell to the floor and left her dressed only in a light sapparum, as if she were going to enter in a race or other sporting contest. She saw his brows lift quizzically and glowered at him. “I had to get in here unnoticed,” she said severely. “I thought I'd dress as if I belonged here."

"Very wise,” he agreed. “It becomes you."

Her chin went up, though there were tears in her eyes. “What now?” she asked.

"Come closer, so you can lean against me.” His voice had deepened and some of his private grandeur had returned.

"Lean against you?” she whispered. “But your wrists...I can't, Saint-Germain."

"My wrists will not trouble me,” he lied. “It's because of them that I'm not likely to fall.” He set his jaw and moved his arms in proof of this. He could feel the chafing of his wrists and the hot wetness as the burrs scraped.

She took one more step, and her body touched his. “I want to hold you,” she confessed softly. “But your shoulders..."

"Put your arms around my waist,” he told her, his lips against her hair. She turned her head and their mouths met, this time with fire and reckless abandon. It seemed he had breathed his very soul into her with that kiss, enfolding her in the whole glory of his desire as surely as if he clasped her in his bleeding arms.

TEXT OF AN ORDER FROM THE SENATE AUTHORIZING THE SEIZURE AND DETAINMENT OF ATTA OLIVIA CLEMENS, DOMITA SILIUS.

To the Watch and the Praetorian Guard, greetings:

You are hereby authorized and mandated to find and hold Atta Olivia Clemens, Domita Silius. The woman has left the house of her husband and the house of her father and her present location is not known to us.

There are grave charges laid against this woman, that will be heard in court as soon as she is found and can appear to speak for herself. Of the nature of the charges we are not at liberty to reveal except to inform you that the crimes are capital. For this reason we ask that you treat this woman with great circumspection.

Upon the finding and seizing of this woman, the Senate is to be notified at once, and there will be proper provision for her made at once. If you fail to treat this woman with the honor and respect due to her station and lineage, you will be punished for such actions to the full limit of the law.

For the Senate, by hand and messenger,

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WHILE THE THOUSANDS of Romans jammed into the Circus Maximus paused for an hour, the Master of the Games and many of his slaves were busy putting the last of the tarred beams into place so that the arena could be flooded. The Master of the Games had had a difficult day, what with a disastrous chariot race where three of the four chariots had ended up tangled together, horses screaming, men moaning, while the fourth chariot made all seven circles of the spina. The battle between pygmies and ostriches had gone well, but had not been long enough, which had annoyed the people watching. Three women condemned for murdering their children were staked spread-eagled on the sands and raped by carefully trained leopards. Now there was little more than an hour to get the arena ready for the aquatic venation. He sighed deeply and turned to shout orders at his assistants.

In the imperial box, musicians were playing to the Emperor and his family while they ate a light meal of pork ribs cooked with honey and spices, fruit, and scallops broiled with bacon. Titus and Domitianus sat as far away from each other as they possibly could, saying little.

"You're not being wise, my sons,” Vespasianus said as he licked his fingers. “Rome watches you here, and if they see behavior like this, word will have it by tomorrow that there are plots being laid against both of you. Rome does not like civil wars.” He poured himself a generous amount of wine diluted with pomegranate juice.

"It's awkward, being here today,” Titus said to no one in particular. Sun had browned his body and bleached his hair so that in the softened light under the Circus awning, he seemed to be made of gold, an illusion he chose to enhance by wearing a short sleeveless tunica of brass-colored silk. “Franciscus has been something of a friend to me."

"Clever of him,” Domitianus said with an insinuating smile.

"Because he didn't befriend you—” Titus snapped back, turning on his brother.

"Stop it, both of you,” Vespasianus interrupted them patiently. “The man is a foreigner and there is reason to believe that he could be a danger to Rome—"

"But most of those allegations are unsupported,” Titus protested with a vehemence unusual in him. “If he's guilty, let's find out and settle it quickly, otherwise we're executing him on Domi's whim."

"That's it, isn't it,” Domitianus said, flushing slightly. “It's that I want it done, because I think he's dangerous. If our father had decided that Franciscus was a threat to Rome, you would have gone along with it, but when your younger brother is the one to bring the charge..."

Titus was glaring now. “No matter what he's done, throwing him to the crocodiles is unnecessary. He's not a slave."

"I wish,” the Emperor said plaintively, “that you would find something else to argue about. You're both being fools. Titus, I know that Franciscus did a few favors for you, and I know you don't like it when Domi intrudes into your jurisdiction, but you must admit that the man is suspicious."

"Not suspicious enough to execute this way,” he insisted petulantly. He stared around the Circus, then at the musicians, and he gestured to them as if to prove a point. “Who do you think found these for us? That was Saint-Germain. You can't execute a man with his imperial gifts watching."

Vespasianus chuckled. “It's happened before, my son."

Behind them there was a flurry of activity and a moment later Cornelius Justus Silius stepped into the box. “You sent for me, Caesar?” he said to Vespasianus, nodding to Titus and Domitianus.

"This trouble with your wife is lamentable,” Vespasianus said with a raising of his brows.

"She still hasn't been found. I've set a dozen of my slaves to looking for her. I fear...I fear that she has done something desperate. I have sent messengers downriver in case they should find her."

"Suicide?” Vespasianus said, mildly surprised. “I didn't think that a member of the Clementine House would behave so. If she wanted to die, she would have done it properly, with witnesses, instead of leaving things so uncertain.” He was very definite now. “A noblewoman doesn't throw herself in the Tiber like a common whore. The search must continue. But I warn you, Justus, this must be resolved soon. Lesbia wants a husband this year. It's nothing to me if your wife wants to kill herself rather than be executed by the state, but it must be conclusive.” He tapped the marble arm of his chair. “Submit your complaint to the Senate tomorrow and they will grant you a provisional divorce, and authorize the prosecution of your wife when she's found. That I will approve."

Justus made a sour attempt at a smile. Once again he was being forced to submit to new demands. He gave a quick, covert glance at Domitianus. “I have the documents prepared. All I need do is have them delivered to the Curia."

"Do that,” Vespasianus said cordially, but there was no attempt to make this other than an order.

"Excellent, excellent,” Justus said, trying to make it seem that he was anxious to obey.

"When we find her,” Vespasianus went on, his bright, shrewd eyes meeting Justus’ light brown ones, “I hope that she is well. It is awkward for a man to have two demented wives. It makes others think poorly of his judgment.” The warning was plain, and Justus knew it would be folly to ignore it.

Domitianus came to his rescue. “A woman who has lived the way that Domita Silius has appeared to live must be demented, Father. A woman who lies with slaves and gladiators and refuses her husband, who tries to poison him, what can we think of such a creature, but that she is mad?"

Justus decided to say nothing. He stared at his crossed arms.

"That's for the Senate to consider,” Vespasianus said. “Make sure the documents are sent tomorrow.” This was clearly his dismissal.

"I'm honored that you concern yourself with my welfare,” Justus said slowly.

"That's what you want, isn't it?” Now the shrewd eyes were narrowing, measuring Justus.

"Of course, but as you must know, Caesar, many seek your notice and few achieve it.” Then, in another tone, he added, “I know that much of my good fortune comes through your son, who has been most...kind to me.” The smile he gave Domitianus was as wide as it was insincere.

The need to respond to this cloying sycophancy was eliminated when trumpeters appeared on the spina and raised their instruments to their lips, sounding a fanfare as a way to quiet the enormous crowd and to alert those who had left the stands to return to them.

"Ah.” Vespasianus settled himself more comfortably in the chair, punching at one of the cushions he sat on. “The aquatic venation. Those crocodiles were brought from near the second cataract. I've never seen them capture one of the brutes. I wish I had: I'd like to know how they do it."

"I must return to my box,” Justus said ungratefully when no invitation to join the Emperor's party had been given.

"Fine, fine,” Vespasianus said, watching the Gates of Life, where barges appeared. “I look forward to seeing your complaint."

With ill-concealed irritation, Justus turned and left the imperial box.

"Domi, how you can stand that toad confounds me,” Titus said with disgust.

"He's a fine, respectable man,” Domitianus shot back, ready to take up cudgels with his brother again.

"The venation is beginning,” Vespasianus said, and motioned his musicians to silence.