Jars of Clay (7 page)

“May I help you,” she said. Her voice was as pleasing to his ears as a brook splashing over the cobbles.

“Uh, yes, um two figs, please. And a pomegranate.”

He watched her move gracefully as she gathered the goods, weighed them and declared the price. Her lips were red and full, but not sensual. Though beautiful, Priscilla wasn’t flirtatious like the other girls he knew. She was sensible like Helena. Maybe that was why he was attracted to her.

“My name is Cassius,” he blurted, not wanting to lose her attention.

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“I quite agree.”

She didn’t talk like one who was uneducated, and this pleased Cassius. For although he knew she was a member of a lower class family, perhaps she was not quite so low that his father would object.

“Well, I’ll see you again,” he said.

“I hope so.”

He left for home happy. She seemed to like him well enough.

Cassius hadn’t seen the perplexed look on her face when he left, nor did he notice the sign of the fish on the window of her home.

Chapter Eighteen

HELENA

Gordian was returning to the army, so their father called a family dinner. Helena couldn’t be happier to see her brother go. Ever since his threats to her in the alcove, she had studiously avoided him, dodging the blackness that settled on the room the moment he entered.

He was already lounging in the dining patio when she arrived. Of course, he would be early for his own farewell party. He wore his armor—the strips of metal that over-lapped each other like the shell of an armadillo made his shoulders appear unnaturally wide, and chainmail peeked out from underneath.

Helena found his outfit pretentious. He was dining, not going to war.

The oil lamps cast eerie shadows across the room, across Gordian’s face. His eyes bore into hers and she felt a tremble of fear as he assessed her. Had the gods given him the ability to read minds? Did he know her thoughts? Even though she had determined not to see Lucius again, try as she might, she was plagued with endless thoughts of him.

She must not show her fear. She straightened her back and took a step to the table that her father had purchased for her mother, back when Marcellus was still alive. Had it really been that long ago?

She ran her fingers along the cool tiles of the table’s mosaic image. In the center was a large skull hanging from a straight plumb line attached to the top point of a level scale. On one side of the scale hung the accoutrements of the wealthy. On the other side, the poor. The rich man was represented by the mantle of royal purple and the scepter of an emperor. The poor man was depicted by a wander’s staff, cloak and pouch.

“Death is the great leveler,” said Gordian. “Rich and poor, young and old, all are made equal by death.”

“Too bad we must wait for death before we are granted equality,” Helena said.

Before Gordian could offer his rebuttal Helena turned her back on him. Cassius and Brutus had entered the room.

“Father!” she said warmly, greeting him with a kiss. His presence comforted her; she was safe from Gordian’s probing questions as long as Brutus was there.

Cassius sat on the lounge opposite her, and snapped his finger to one of the slaves.

“We are ready,” he said.

Immediately the food arrived via the slaves and kitchen servants, and a feast was laid on the table before them. Roast duck, figs, olives, cheese and bread, and plenty of fish sauce to enhance the food. And of course, lots of wine made with grapes grown by Brutus himself.

Brutus motioned to Annia. “Where is my wife?”

Annia’s gaze remained on the floor. “She asked me to offer her regrets, but she is not well.”

Helena noted how Gordian slumped slightly, a shadow falling on his dark eyes. His own mother had refused to attend his farewell dinner.

Brutus stood abruptly, startling Helena.

“Bring her down! She can rot away on her own time, but today she will be part of this family!”

Annia bowed and quickly left the room. Helena wondered how long it would take for her mother to make an appearance, but she had no doubt that she would show. Brutus was
pater familia
after all.

Brutus returned to his meal, engaging the boys in conversations of business and gossip at the senate.

Felicity brought in a dish of rice sweetened with prunes. Helena avoided her eyes, still embarrassed that Felicity knew about her private meetings with Lucius and wondered if Lucius confided in her as a friend. How much did she know?

Did she know about the kiss?

Though she refrained from watching her slave, she noticed that Gordian had no qualms. His eyes followed her as she moved through the room and back to the kitchen.

Anger rushed through her, eclipsing her fear. Then it turned into something else. Hatred? Could she really hate her own brother?

Virina finally arrived on the arm of Annia.

“Mother,” Cassius said, standing. “Let me help you.”

Her mother looked gaunt, Helena thought, but not so unwell that she couldn’t attend to the family.

Helena offered her a sprig of grapes. “Here, Mother, you must eat.”

Virina accepted the fruit but remained silent. Helena couldn’t miss the look of contempt Gordian threw his mother’s way.

What had happened to this family? Helena thought. She remembered days when she was a child, running through the atrium, laughing and playing games with her older brothers. Father would pretend to scold them and then close his office door, and though Mother would leave them in the care of their nanny, she still gave instruction and oversight to the household staff.

It seemed like just yesterday Gordian and Cassius were baby-faced and mischievous. Now they had sharp jaw-lines and straight noses. And though both towered over her in height, Gordian’s stint in the army had broadened his shoulders, and shaped his biceps, making Cassius look frail in comparison.

Now they sat like strangers, ignoring the long awkward pauses.

Finally, Brutus called for the flutist and they were able to focus their attention on the musician rather than each other.

Once Brutus had his fill of food and wine, he called the festivities to an end. It was time for them to say their farewells to Gordian, and their father led the way to the front door.

“Gordian,” he said wrapping his oldest son in a hug. “Be safe. May the gods be with you.”

Virina offered a weak good-bye and then allowed Annia to escort her upstairs. Cassius extended his hand, which Gordian reluctantly shook.

Helena stepped forward and kissed her brother quickly on the cheek. He grabbed her arm, squeezing tightly.

“Stay in the villa, sister,” he whispered tersely.

She pulled her arm loose but remained silent.

Gordian blessed the gods of the doorway as he left and Helena felt a breath of relief escape her. Brutus returned to his office and Helena couldn’t miss the stiffness in his stride. When had that come about?

Cassius approached her from behind. “May I have a word, Helena?”

She looked at him curiously but followed him through the atrium. The slaves were busy cleaning up the dining patio, so they chose a couch in the living room. Colorful banners and wall murals of Roman life decorated the area, along with the luscious green house plants and the marble statues.

“What is it Cassius?”

“Who are you meeting in the brushes?”

Stunned by the question, it was a moment before she could answer. “What are you talking about?”

“A fortnight ago, I saw you running away from a secluded spot on the property, in the foliage beyond the olive grove.”

First Gordian now Cassius?

“Are you spying on me now?”

“No. I was merely out to inspect the groves. When I saw you sprinting away, I took it upon myself to investigate. I found the place. It was obvious you’d been meeting someone there for a long time.”

Helena turned away. Her face grew hot with anger. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I? Gordian doesn’t think so.”

Curse Gordian for opening his mouth to Cassius!

“And Father doesn’t think so.”

“Father?” He hadn’t told Brutus, had he?

“Don’t worry, sister. I never gave your secret away. I did recommend, however, that he make plans to marry you off sooner than later. You can break the news to your lover.”

“Cassius!” She breathed in deeply. She must stay calm. “I beg you not to interfere.”

Cassius stared carefully at his sister. She never dropped her gaze. “I thought I knew you,” he said.

“And so you do.”

“Why have you not confided in me then?”

Helena remained silent. Some things were not meant to be shared.

“I see,” said Cassius, sighing heavily. “Whoever he is, he’s a coward and an imbecile.”

“Cassius! You know not of what you speak!”

“Perhaps that is because you have not told me. At any rate, a worthy man would not sneak around and thereby shame the master of the house. If he truly loved you, he would come forward like a man of honor should. Father will choose a better man.”

“Please, it’s not like that. I beg of you. Don’t put ideas into Father’s head. I… I’m not ready.”

He forced a brotherly smile, “Oh, I’m afraid you’re more ready than you think. By the gods, you will be married soon.” He encased her hand in his. “It is for your own good.”

Chapter Nineteen

HELENA

Stay in the villa.

Those were Gordian’s parting words, and the very reason Helena was now headed toward the slave and servant compound. She had sent Felicity ahead to inform Lucius of an alternate meeting place.

Her father’s estate was vast, surely big enough to hide them from prying eyes. When Helena asked Felicity if she knew of a secluded place on the property where she and Lucius could meet, Felicity mentioned an abandoned well, on the southeast side of the slave housing. It was hidden from view by the overgrowth, and though not as convenient as the alcove behind the olive grove, Helena hoped it would suffice.

Her path brought her much closer to the slave compound than she’d ever been. In the distance, she spotted a little village of small huts made of reddish mud bricks, nothing like the grand limestone blocks from which the villa was built. Did Lucius live in one of those huts? She frowned. He must.

The breeze picked up, blowing her hair loose. A strand tangled itself in her dangling gold earrings. She stopped to free it and wrinkled her nose. A foul smell greeted her and for the first time she noticed the
baa
-ing of sheep and the clucking of chickens.

Though she’d only walked mere minutes, she felt she had entered a foreign world.

Felicity had given her clear directions. Helena spotted the abandoned well and hesitated. Nervous excitement rippled through her body. Desperation to see Lucius tightened her chest. Would he be there?

She needn’t have worried. Of course he would be there. It was his duty to obey her.

He stood with his hands at his sides, his eyes wide, questioning. The last time she’d seen him, he’d kissed her. Today, his tunic was muddied, his arms rough with dirt and scratches.

“I was shearing sheep,” he said.

Helena suddenly felt self-conscious in her brighter-than-white tunic with golden bands that wrapped under and across her bosom, and with her gold jewels that adorned her ears and twisted through her hair.

They couldn’t be any more dissimilar.

She got right to the point. “You should know that my brother has found us out.”

“He didn’t see me.”

“Not Gordian. Cassius. He saw me leave the grove, and when he investigated, it was plain I had not been there alone.”

Lucius’s shoulders slumped. “He knows of me?”

“He is convinced that I have a lover.”

Emotion flashed through Lucius’s eyes. Affection? Pain? Helena knew then that her words were not too far from the truth. She knew Lucius loved her.

“He knows not your name or your face. And of course, there is no proof. It is not a crime to teach a servant.”

Lucius’s eyelids fluttered, and his jaw tensed. She had caused him pain with her words, and she immediately regretted being so harsh. She searched for something to say to soften her meaning, but it was more obvious to her than ever before that they were from two different worlds. They could never be more than master and servant.

“So this is to be the end?” Lucius said, beating her to it. “The final good-bye?”

Helena tore off a stalk of tall grass and twisted it, thinking of Gordian and her hurt and anger.

“It needn’t be. It’s up to you, Lucius. Meeting with you, discussing our studies, has become the highlight of my day.”

“And mine, also.”

“If you wish to continue, we can meet here, though we must be very careful.”

Lucius’s lips tugged up slightly. “I would like that.”

“There is a condition,” she said, wrapping the weed around her finger.

“And it is?”

“You must not love me.”

Lucius met her eyes. She felt her knees buckle and straightened her shoulders to compensate.

“What you ask is a difficult thing,” he said softly.

“I know.”

And she did. Even more, she was uncertain as to the purity of her own motivations in continuing to teach him. It would be wiser and safer to cut the relationship off completely.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again. She only hoped her decision wouldn’t bring them pain in the future.

A rhythmic pounding of footsteps in the grass startled them and instinctively Lucius grabbed Helena’s hand, pulling her into the ditch behind them. He draped his arm over her shoulders protectively, and his closeness frightened Helena—and tantalized her.

“It’s Felicity,” a voice called out in a loud whisper.

“Felicity,” Helena said, moving from underneath Lucius’s arms and straightening her tunic. She swallowed hard, stepping away from him. “You scared us to death.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still panting.

“Well, what is it?”

“Commodus is dead.”

“What?” Lucias said. “Tell us what you heard!”