Call to Juno (A Tale of Ancient Rome #3) (18 page)

A blast of chill air swept through the hall, making the flames flare. Pinna heard the porter greet his master. She hastened to meet Camillus, who smiled when he saw her. Yet as he stepped into the atrium, he stumbled.

Pinna gasped, reaching to steady him. He straightened, looking down to check what he had tripped over. Pinna could not see anything that might have caused his misstep.

“My Wolf,” she urged, “it’s an ill omen to stagger on the threshold.”

A look of irritation crossed his face. “Nonsense.”

She touched her Venus shell, uneasy that he should dismiss her. “You must go outside again and reenter. You must utter a prayer to the god of safe passage. There are evil spirits that dwell in doorways.”

Seeing her agitation, he softened his stance. “Very well, I will indulge you this time.”

“And you must step into the room with your right foot.”

He turned and retraced his steps. Pinna only relaxed once he’d safely entered the atrium. She brushed the snow from his shoulders before helping him remove his toga. “Thank you, my Wolf,” she said as she knelt and swapped his boots for indoor sandals.

Rubbing his hands, Camillus scanned the room. “You make me proud, Pinna, but you don’t need to scrub away the paint. My guests will not notice a little dust.”

She smiled but thought him wrong. His guests would judge her for everything tonight. To them, she was masquerading as the mistress of his house: a housekeeper, not a matron, a bed warmer, but not the mother of heirs. She was nervous about meeting his brother Medullinus. And Genucius would be there, disapproving and resentful. As for Scipio, she would grit her teeth to cope with his surreptitious ogling.

Her Wolf stood next to the fire and warmed his hands. “Where’s Artile? In his room as usual?”

She nodded. She hated the sly, creeping creature. Ever since he’d been dismissed by the Curia, he had sulked in the house. She thought the Senate would order him to be expelled. Instead Camillus persuaded them to allow the priest to reside with him. He saw the haruspex as valuable even if his peers did not. “Is Lord Artile to attend the dinner party?”

“No. I doubt any of my guests would welcome him sharing their couch. However, I wish him to address them. I doubt they’ll like what he has to say either.”

She ventured. “What is it?”

He smiled and headed for Artile’s room. “Curious as always, Pinna. But it’s not for your ears. Tell me when the others arrive.”

T
WENTY
-T
HREE

Pinna wiped her palms down the sides of her best tunic as the majordomo ushered Scipio into the atrium. The senator was careful to hide his interest in front of his host. She helped him remove his toga, trying to keep at arms’ length to avoid inhaling his bad breath. The patrician’s liking for fermented fish garum sauce was obvious.

When Lucius Furius Medullinus arrived, she was not spared. He scrutinized her, starting with her feet, then moved upward to linger on her breasts before studying her face. “So this is the concubine I’ve heard about, Brother. I’m surprised. There must be a decent Roman matron you could make your wife. After all, you’re the one who introduced the bachelor tax to encourage men to marry our war widows.”

The ugly way he spoke was galling. Her Wolf was curt. “I haven’t brought you here to talk about my domestic life. Let’s go into the dining room. Pinna, bring Caius Genucius through when he arrives.”

The door knocker clanged not long after. Pinna noticed the fineness of Genucius’s clothes as he entered. They were of better quality than the senators’, despite the absence of purple stripes. The half-blind plebeian was not restricted to being a landowner as members of the Curia were. He could line his pockets with bronze earned in trade.

He removed his brown boots and placed them beside the senatorial red ones. The difference in footwear no doubt rankled. He then pushed his swollen feet into his thong sandals. Thick veins snaked under the skin of his legs, and the inside of his ankles were blue from tiny burst blood vessels. Pinna knew how his feet ached and was glad she did not have to rub them anymore.

“Good evening, my lord. I’ll show you through to the others.”

“Still here, Lollia? Still thinking of yourself?” He leaned closer. “Let’s hope he doesn’t ask you to marry him. I’ll have to speak up then. No matter the consequences.”

She was determined not to feel ashamed at her selfishness. She said pointedly, “My name is Pinna, my lord.”

He sniffed and headed to the dining room.

Pinna hastened to the griddle to check the pork and directed the maid to carry the tray of eggs through to the guests. It was the first of the courses she planned to serve that night.

By the time she entered the dining chamber, the majordomo had lined up the men’s sandals along one wall. The four diners now reclined on three couches set at right angles to each other. Medullinus lay in the place of honor, Scipio in the middle, while Genucius and Camillus shared the third divan. The serving table sat in front of them, plates stacked ready for use.

Every time Pinna delivered a new dish and removed the scraps, she was aware of Scipio’s furtive glances and Medullinus’s judgmental stare. Only Genucius ignored her.

Despite the liberal helpings of honeyed wine, the mood was far from jovial. The apples and dates served for dessert didn’t sweeten the atmosphere either.

By the time of the drinking session, the air was stuffy from the heat and hazy from the smoke of the braziers and torchlights. Pinna served olives stuffed with goat’s cheese. Given the guests’ moroseness, she wondered if it was wise to encourage their thirst with the salty food.

She chose to stay and pour the wine herself rather than ask the majordomo. She was keen to listen to the conversation, hoping the men would forget her if she stood in the corner. She was pleased Camillus didn’t dismiss her until it struck her that he might consider her just a servant after all.

The alcohol increased the tension between the brothers. Her Wolf rarely mentioned Medullinus when he was in camp. It was almost as though he wished to deny his sibling’s existence. There was envy, too. The elder Furian had twice been a consul, while Camillus had yet to gain such power. Nevertheless, the newly elected consular general could not match her Wolf’s fame as a warrior.

“There are still five war fronts.” Camillus counted them on his fingers. “Veii, Capena, and Falerii in the north. The Volscians and Aequians in the south and east. And we need to maintain home defense. The Wolf and Boar Legions are stretched thin.”

Medullinus belched before responding. “And your point, Brother? We have faced such resistance before. That’s why Rome elects six consular generals to lead its armies instead of two consuls.”

Genucius spluttered, “You know that’s only half true, Medullinus. Splitting the legions into six regiments wasn’t the only reason why consular generals were introduced. As soon as the law enabled commoners to progress on the Honored Way, another bill was passed to elect consular generals instead of consuls. It’s no wonder Calvus and the other people’s tribunes are resentful.”

Scipio and Medullinus glared at Camillus in silent admonishment that he’d invited the commoner to dine with them. The host ignored them, signaling to Pinna to pour them all another drink.

Medullinus was not prepared to be distracted. “So you admit Calvus is willing to encourage mutiny, Genucius?”

With the conversation growing heated, Camillus kept his voice even. “Let’s all calm down. The fact of the matter is that all our fine patrician generals have their work cut out for them. Aemilius and Titinius face bolstered forces at Falerii and Capena. And Postumius has neither the brains nor mettle to make headway at Veii. In the south, the Volscians have attacked the garrison at Anxur again, while the Aequians harry our colony at Labicum in the east. Our two legions are splintered and are making no gains. We need more men to fight.”

Scipio scoffed. “Calvus will veto any levy to raise more troops. He doesn’t care if Romans are dying at our enemies’ hands. I, for one, would shed no tears if some accident should mysteriously befall him.”

There was a heavy pause. Scipio picked up a toothpick and fiddled with it, aware he should not have spoken his thoughts. Pinna was shocked. The body of a people’s tribune was sacrosanct. A death penalty awaited those who harmed such a representative.

Genucius sat up and glowered at the skinny senator. “So you’d think of murder now, Scipio? To use a sword in the back to counter resistance?”

The senator also sat up. “How dare you accuse me of conspiracy.”

Still reclining with his weight on his elbow, Medullinus drawled, “Scipio meant nothing drastic, Genucius. I’m sure he only meant it would be advantageous if Calvus was waylaid from attending the Comitium when a law is being proposed . . . perhaps by a fellow tribune.”

Genucius flushed beet red. “I’m no man’s puppet! Don’t expect me to assist you. I’m as incensed as any other commoner that patricians profit from plunder while the plebeians are denied it.”

Scipio laughed. “You’ve helped Camillus often enough by vetoing your colleagues when it suited his aims.”

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, Genucius stood. “I’m not staying to listen to this.”

Camillus sat up and reached across to grab his elbow. “Stay, my friend. It’s important you hear what else I have to say. There is a reason I’ve invited you all to dinner.” He called to Pinna. “Fetch Artile Mastarna. Then you may go.”

She hastened from the room, leaving behind the sound of protests from the patricians about taking audience with the Etruscan. By the time she returned with two pitchers of wine, Genucius had sat down again on the edge of the couch. Artile sauntered to the divans, looking far from a man forced to swallow his pride.

Pinna loitered in the hallway outside, curiosity overcoming caution.

Camillus rose and stood beside the haruspex. “Tell my guests what you have discovered, Artile. How our consular generals have failed in religious matters.”

Medullinus sat up so that the three guests now reminded Pinna of crows perched on a fence. “What nonsense is this?”

Genucius raised his palm. “Let the priest speak. I don’t think we should dismiss him.”

To Pinna’s surprise, Scipio agreed with the plebeian instead of Medullinus. “I’d also like to hear what the seer has to say.”

Artile adjusted his crescent fibula on his cloak. “The rising of Lake Albanus was not just because the sacred rites of Mater Matuta were neglected. The current consular generals omitted including the Votive Games of Latium in the religious calendar this year. It is no wonder your allies are prepared to break the Latin Pact. You have disrespected their gods more than once. Then you refused to drain the floodwaters that have destroyed their farmlands.”

Scipio frowned, glancing across to Medullinus before returning to the priest. “More expiation rites are required?”

Artile fixed his dark oval eyes on the senator. “The error of those currently in office must be rectified. A duly consecrated date for the Votive Games must now be declared by new leaders.”

Medullinus stood, pushing the serving table aside. He ignored Artile and stepped in front of Camillus. “Are you saying there need to be fresh elections?”

“Precisely. You’re the consular general who drew the lot to govern Rome while the others wage war. Declare an interregnum. Vacate all offices. Conduct new elections that observe due formalities, and renew the auspices so the correct date for the games can be set.”

Medullinus spluttered, “This is outrageous! What makes you think I’d listen to this priest? What is his authority for such a declaration?”

Artile was unconcerned at being challenged. “I have scrutinized your religious practices while living here. I have also consulted our Holy Books. Mater Matuta’s temple lies in ruins in Rome. Your allies need to be placated.”

Medullinus refused to respond to the priest; instead he sneered at Camillus. “Tell me, Brother, has this traitor cast a spell over you as has your concubine? You are becoming feebleminded.”

Camillus bristled. “Your hubris will cause Rome to suffer. Admit that you’ve failed in your duty to interpret the sacred calendar.”

“I’m going to wait for the delegation from Delphi. Once the oracle has spoken, we’ll know what needs to be done.”

Scipio was pensive as he studied the Etruscan. “Let’s not be rash. Perhaps the priest speaks the truth. It could take months for the envoys to return. I think we should act now.”

Medullinus rounded on him. “So you can be elected instead of me, Scipio? You missed out this time.”

The senator also stood, hackles raised. “I only think of the good of all Romans!”

Camillus kept cool in the face of rising tempers. “Listen to me. The Latin tribes are obliged to provide us with troops under the pact. But they’re distracted by the damage caused by the floods. If we alleviate the Latin crisis, the soldiers of Latium will be freed to supplement our forces in the south, and we can concentrate on Veii.”

Genucius smiled. “Ah, now I see. There’ll be no need to raise a levy. The concerns about Calvus would be solved.”

Medullinus stopped glowering at Scipio and swiveled around to face Camillus. “‘Crisis’? Oh, so that’s what you want, Brother, to exaggerate calamity by using this fraudulent priest, then claim the means to avert it. You don’t want to be appointed an interrex. You want to be made dictator!”

Genucius spoke before Camillus could respond. “Perhaps six months under your brother’s direction might help Rome to victory. He is our most accomplished general—”

Medullinus erupted. “I’m not listening to any more of this!”

Camillus’s tone remained reasonable. “At least let me travel to Satricum where the great sanctuary of Mater Matuta stands. That city is no longer in Volscian hands. I’ll assure Latium that Rome is aware of its plight. Measures can start to be put in place. Time will not be wasted.”

“No!” Medullinus sat down on the couch and pointed to his bare feet. “Call that woman of yours and tell her to bring me my sandals!”

Pinna retreated, anxious not to be discovered listening. She’d only gone a few steps, though, when her Wolf stepped into the corridor. “Eavesdropping as usual. You heard him; he wants to leave.”

She stooped and picked up the sandals from the row beside the doorway. Medullinus snatched the pair from her, his spite turning to her as he slipped on the thongs. “You do yourself no favors, Brother, by consorting with this peasant girl.”

Pinna tensed, uncomfortable at becoming the center of attention.

Camillus tensed. “She’s the daughter of a veteran who was sold into bondage due to this city’s failure to support its soldiers.”

The consular general rolled his eyes. “Don’t say you’ve become a bleeding heart as well. At least promise me you have no plans to wed her. You’ll be a laughing stock if you do. And threaten your sons’ inheritance if she bears more children.”

Pinna flushed scarlet. She felt trapped, paralyzed by humiliation.

“There’s no law forbidding a senator marrying his concubine. And Pinna is unable to bear children.”

Medullinus’s gaze raked over her again. “Whether you’re plowing a fertile or barren field, you’re still seen as weak to fall for a pretty face and some juicy cunni.”

The consular general headed for the doorway. Camillus grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him around. “I could always best you in a fight when we were young. I’ll do so again if you insult her.”

Medullinus shrugged him away, then gestured toward the Veientane. “You’re bringing our House into disrepute. People are already questioning your judgment.” Not waiting for a response, he stormed into the corridor.