Pandora Gets Greedy (20 page)

“Honored nobles,” he began. “Senators.”

Then he raised his right hand in the air and swept it over the room.

“Romans!”

A cheer went up from all the guests. Caesar paused for effect, then lowered his hand and brought it to his heart.

“Friends.”

“Oh, Pluto's teeth,” mumbled Lucius.

“The time for celebration is drawing to an end,” Caesar said, quieting a groan from the crowd with his hands. “And we must turn our focus to the great empire which is Rome. It is not enough to conquer countries and gain lands if we here at home are not mindful of all the citizens who make this city the finest, the noblest, the wisest, and the most powerful in all the world!”

Another louder cheer from the crowd. Even in her panic, as she hunted around the well for the lost
pitcher, Pandy wondered what Caesar could be saying to get such a rise from the guests.

“I am going to further the highest seats of learning, build the most beautiful arenas for our games, and create the safest streets for our populace. And for this I shall rely on your continued cooperation, my friends. Because I cannot fulfill my plans, my hopes, and my dreams for Rome alone. I can do nothing alone. Alone, I
am
nothing.”

“No! No!” shouted the crowd.

“Got that right,” Lucius muttered.

“It is only by your grace and generosity that I occupy such a lofty position. One, I dare say, that is directly below that of the gods themselves.”

Jupiter and Zeus looked at each other. Hera and Juno also exchanged a glance and a smile.

“But you have bestowed it upon me, unworthy though I am, and honor it I will. To that end, I have minted the aureus, as you all know. The coin that will always bear the likeness of he who leads Rome! And it is on this occasion that I shall give all the senators, to show my gratitude, a fair share of the empire's bounty.”

At this point, two large slaves appeared from another room, each carrying a large tub full of bulging sacks. Lucius sat straight in his chair and stared at the tubs. Hera and Juno took a moment to squeeze each
other's hands. The crowd's excitement was growing but Caesar held his hand high once again.

“Later, my friends! Later. Now, let the feasting and celebrating continue. I believe we have some special entertainments in store,” Caesar said as resumed his seat. “Senator Valerius?”

Alcie stopped her fanning, letting the feathers settle onto Jupiter's platter, as she searched for any sign of Iole being brought in.

Lucius wasn't moving or speaking. It was as if he were deaf and blind to everything but the coins he knew were in those sacks. Finally, Varinia tugged on his robes.

“What?” he shot out.

“Rufina. Her dance,” Varinia said.

“Oh … yes,” Lucius said, rising. “Mighty Caesar and honored guests, my daughter shall now perform for you a dance.”

“Interpretive,” murmured Varinia.

“An interpretive dance,” said Lucius.

He clapped his hands and Rufina, in a cloud of white silk, lumbered into the hall. Now, almost twice as wide as a horse, the sweat was beginning to form on her upper lip as she waddled across the floor to the dais where her parents sat with Caesar, whose eyes were wide with horror.

“Great Caesar …,” she huffed. “Hang on. Just a moment … need to catch my … breath. Okay. Well,
that
was a long walk!”

“Kill me please,” Varinia said, under her breath.

“Now,” Rufina went on, “it is my pleasure to perform for you my thoughts, various emotions, and ultimate sadness as I reflect, in dance and song.”

“Song?” Caesar said, shaken out of his shock at the giant snowball with the tuft of black hair standing—assuming she
was
standing—in front of him.

“Yes, song … upon the final entertainment of the evening: the terrible but well-deserved punishment of Iole, the Vestal who has fallen from grace and brought shame to our household. Musicians, play!”

With that, the entire assemblage became riveted by the terrible spectacle of Rufina as she rolled around on the floor, gesticulating, panting, warbling, and stepping on her white silk scarves, tearing them to shreds.

Now in the food-preparation room, Pandy was knocking things over and onto the floor trying to find Lucius's special pitcher. Balbina hurried over with a tray of braised and candied apple slices.

“What's wrong, Pandora? Why are you destroying what's left of my little kingdom?”

“Wrong?” Pandy said. “Now that you mention it, everything.”

“You must trust in the gods to see that all happens as it should,” Balbina said.

“Yeah, well, that's sorta the problem. They're all here and they're not doing anything. Just sitting there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, Balbina. I have to find the master's water pitcher. Have you seen it?”

Just then, Pandy spotted another slave coming in from the well, holding the pitcher.

“Gotta go!” she said, heading across the room. But so many people were hurrying to and fro that she was knocked around and shoved aside for a time before she got to the area where the slaves were adding water to the wine. Pandy saw the slave set the pitcher down after emptying its contents into a wine vat. Immediately, Pandy picked it up again and turned to go to the well as the slave was holding a cup of newly watered wine out to Gallus, the burly household food taster.

“Taste,” Pandy heard the girl say.

“Excellent,” said Gallus. Then, unseen by Pandy, a look of shock crossed his face, as if he'd just seen the spirit of his long-dead mother. “Wait … give me some more.”

“You've had enough,” laughed the slave.

“I said
give me another cup, you stupid girl
,” said Gallus in a tone that made Pandy stop; it was the same tone—exactly the same—that Lucius used with her on a regular basis. Pandy turned just in time to see Gallus strike the slave girl, sending her sprawling onto the floor; the tasting cup flying out of her hand. That's when time and motion suddenly slowed for Pandy, as if she had been meant to witness this scene in every detail all along. The people in the background almost seemed to stop moving completely. Oh-so-slowly, Gallus grabbed the cup in midair and plunged it into the wine vat. Then he brought out the cup and drank as if his life depended on it. Pandy watched as his throat bulged and contracted with each gulp.

Her mind racing but her movements trancelike, Pandy walked back toward the wine vat as the slave got up off the floor. Without looking at Gallus, the slave took hold of a nearby pitcher and began to fill it with wine. Roughly, Gallus knocked her down again.

“Nobody gets any of this wine,” he said as time, to Pandy, sped up to normal.

Slaves began to stop what they were doing and stare.

“It's bad. It's poisoned,” Gallus said.

Her curiosity was bubbling again to the surface and, without thinking, Pandy—who had never dared drink any water from Lucius Valerius's special
pitcher—caught a droplet hanging off the lip of the pitcher in her hand, and brought it to her mouth.

Instantly she wanted another taste. It was just plain water, but she had to have more, and more, and
more
! She would do anything to get it; she would fill herself up like a water skin if she could. And beyond that, she wanted food and silks and money and comfort and things! She couldn't even name them all, but she wanted a lot of things. She hurried to the door leading outside to the well and had just stepped out into the night air when Hermes and Mercury blocked her path.

“Hello, Pandora,” Hermes said.

“How are you feeling, maiden?” Mercury said.

“Out of my …,” Pandy began, not caring how fatally rude she was being.

“Oh, there's been a change in her, Brother,” Mercury said.

“I would say definitely so,” Hermes said, seeing the look in Pandy's eyes and the defiant way she clutched the pitcher. Quickly, he ran his finger around the rim then brought it up to his nose. He looked at Mercury and nodded.

“I'm thirsty. I want …,” Pandy started as she tried to edge her way around them to the well.

“I know what you want and why,” Hermes said, stopping her with his little finger; although the gods were
smaller in size, they still had all their strength and powers. Already Pandy felt the bruise blooming under her skin from where he'd only touched her.

“Ow.”

“Deal with it and stay there,” Hermes said, then his brows knitted together in deep thought for only an instant. “Pandora …”

“Look, you can stop me all day and all night long if you want, but I want more water,” she whined, truly not caring who she was speaking to. “And I'm gonna get it. It's water. What's the big deal?

Hermes cleared his throat. “I have a message. From your father.”

That one sentence instantly stopped her fidgeting and froze her to where she stood. Once again, she felt like she'd been hit in the face with a cooking stone. Hermes was the one god who had surprised her, threatened her, and been both generous and petty with her more than any of the others. Threats and pettiness aside, he'd looked out for her most of the time and was, more often than not, honest. But there was
no way
her father had gotten better; hearing her voice on the other end of a shell hadn't cured him, she was sure of that. And Hermes was a trickster—super smart and cunning, just like her dad. Her dad! Her
dad
? She didn't know whether to cry or jump for joy. So she began to yell.

“
You do not!
”

“Easy, maiden,” cautioned Mercury.

“His message is this, Pandora: think.”

“
Think?
What kind of message is that?”

“Think. Think about why you're here, what you seek, what you feel, and what you
hold
.”

“My dad didn't say all …”

“
Think!
” Hermes shouted, which almost made her lose control of her bladder. Then she saw Hermes arch one eyebrow and, still aching for everything she wanted in the world—and more—it hit her like one of Zeus's thunderbolts.

It had been in her hands—her dirty, nail-bitten hands—the entire time!

Greed.

The pure, unadulterated source of Greed. The sixth evil that needed to go into the box. She didn't know if it was the pitcher itself or simply something inside that leached into ordinary liquid, turning it into an infection. It didn't matter. She'd held it in her fingers for weeks but had been too blind and off course to see it. Now, everything made sense. But she was rooted to the ground; her feet wanted to move her body in one direction and her mind was heading in another. The battle in her brain began to overwhelm her: find the box and put the evil inside, or get more of anything, everything.
Miserable and unable to move a muscle, she managed a stricken look to Hermes.

“Help me,” she whispered.

Hermes' face softened.

“Together, Brother?” Mercury asked.

“It will take our combined powers to combat her contamination, yes,” Hermes answered.

Mercury placed both hands on Hermes' arm as Hermes raised his other hand and slowly rotated his forefinger in midair. Slowly, Pandy felt herself turn; her feet lifted off the ground and, step by slow step, she walked back into the food-preparation area. Though the battle in her head still raged, she tried to focus on getting to the box.

“A message from her father?” she heard Mercury asking Hermes.

“It was the only thing she could hear,” Hermes said. “She's infected; I hoped her ‘greed' to see her family again would override her greed for everything else.”

“Good call,” said Mercury as the two gods disappeared.

Pandy fought her way back toward the wine vat.

“Stop saying that,” Balbina was saying to Gallus. “It's
not
poisoned. You're still standing. Fill the pitchers.”

Just as the taster was about to knock down Balbina
herself to prevent her from taking his precious wine, a sandy-haired youth came stomping into the room.

“Hilarius,” Balbina said, turning from Gallus. “Why aren't you preparing your jokes? Varinia was very clear on this: ‘The comic performs after Rufina to get the sourness out of everyone's mouths.' Rufina should be almost done!”

“Well, the order has changed now, hasn't it?” Hilarius spat. “Caesar became so insulted, so distressed at Rufina's wallowing white-hot mess, he cut her performance short and made it known to Valerius that he'd like to see something killed just to make himself feel better. So they've moved up the Vestal punishment. And he's gonna give out the gold.”

Hilarius sighed. “Mother told me not to go into comedy. I'll be lucky if I get a five-minute set at the end!”

At the mention of Iole's punishment, Pandy's mind cleared for one instant and she stopped in the middle of the bustling room. Iole's death was imminent and she was now faced with an entirely different choice: save Iole
immediately
by any means possible without knowing what that might be, or get Greed back in the box, which might lessen the effect the evil was having on Lucius Valerius, thereby softening him in regard to Iole's punishment. But having Iole's execution called off was highly unlikely; Greed or not, the severe fate of a
wayward Vestal was tradition, not to be dismissed. She watched a solid-gold platter, piled high with smoked eel, as it was carried out into the main hall; for a moment, she ached to grasp it, hold it, possess the beautiful, luminous metal. Then she physically slapped herself, hard, on her cheek, fighting against the lingering effects of Greed. She needed to put the pitcher someplace safe until she could get to her leather carrying pouch in her room. But where? Then the perfect solution flashed into her mind: the safest place of all would be in the hands of Valerius himself, and that would also give her the best vantage point from which to figure out how best to save Iole.