Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(125)

Sharp, loud knocking on the other side of the cover startled her. Perca screamed. The children babbled in terror.

The rapping grew frantic. “It’s me, Aricia! Let me in!”

The door was wrenched open. The acolyte was on her knees in the passageway, her lamp burning low in front of her.

The novitiate crawled into the vanth’s room. “I was trying to come and warn you but the way was barred.”

Tas threw himself at her, hugging her. “Where are Apa and Ati?”

Aricia drew away and clasped Tas’s hand. “I don’t know what happened to your parents, my pet. The Romans climbed into the temple through the shaft beneath Uni’s statue. I was in the workroom. I escaped through the tunnel.”

“Then they are dead.”

“Is Ati dead?” Larce wailed.

“Enough,” said Arruns, cutting off hysteria. “Aricia says she doesn’t know. But your father is a great warrior. He would expect you all to be valiant.” He turned to the girl. “Do you know any other way to escape the citadel?”

Aricia nodded. “Follow me to the Great Gallery. Keep one hand on the shoulder of the one in front of you. Be careful, the floor will slant downward as we move underground.”

The human chain began its journey. Giving the torch to Arruns, Semni murmured a prayer, knowing her own courage was also being tested as she followed in Aricia’s wake. She thought she would have to crawl; instead there was room enough for her to walk with her head bowed. She held Nerie’s shoulder as he toddled in front of her.

The flames wavered, a draft catching them. Semni stepped into a large circular cavern and joined the boys in a semicircle around Aricia. She scanned the rock walls. There were entrances to other tunnels with different symbols above them. Tas pointed to two of them. “That one leads to the temple, and that one to our old house.”

Aricia moved to the far side of the cavern and crouched. Her lantern revealed a rectangular opening in the floor. “This shaft leads to the bottom of the arx on the eastern side. From there we can access the river.”

Semni shivered as she peered into the hole. There were wooden rungs inserted into niches in the sides. She could not see to the bottom. They would have to descend into pitch black by touch of fingers and toes. “How do you know that’s where it leads?”

“Because Lord Artile told me.”

Arruns edged next to her and gazed into the hole. Sweat streamed down his face. “How far down?”

“Perhaps a hundred feet.”

“It’s narrow.”

Aricia studied his broad shoulders. “You’ll fit.”

He was hesitant. “How old is this shaft? Could any of the rungs be rotten? What happens if one breaks because I’m too heavy? ”

Aricia rose, grimacing. “I don’t know its age. And I don’t know if it’s safe. But what choice do we have? We’ll have to risk it.” She placed the lamp on the floor. “I’ll need both my hands free to climb down and check.”

She backed down into the hole. Soon, the black ringleted head vanished. They waited, all peering into the shaft, heads touching. And then they heard a faint voice from below. “The rungs are sturdy.”

Sweat dripping from Arrun’s chin, he hoisted Nerie onto his shoulders. Semni placed her hand on his forearm, aware he was anxious about descending into the maw. “I’ll go before you if you want.”

“No, I will. You go after Perca and the boys.”

He stepped into the hole. Nerie gripped his forehead, whimpering as he disappeared from her sight.

Arnth pushed forward. “Me first.”

Larce stood silent, not wanting to compete. Tas thrust out his chest. “I’ll go first. I’m heir to the House of Mastarna. Apa would expect it.”

Semni gestured to Perca as soon as all three princes had begun their descent. “Your turn.”

She shook her head, weeping again. “I can’t. I’m scared. I’m hurt.”

Semni placed her hand on her shoulder. “Come, I’ll be right behind you,” she cajoled. “You don’t want to be left here in the dark, do you? Why don’t you whistle?”

Shaking, the girl edged into the shaft, emitting the tremulous, low-pitched noise.

Semni took one last look at the cavern. The torch had gone out; Aricia’s was guttering, the lantern barely illuminating the stone floor. A sense of suffocation surged in her at the thought of being confined in blackness and stone. Then she reminded herself that Nerie was waiting for her. She slowed her breathing and edged her foot down onto the wooden rung, willing herself to reach for the next, and the next, and the next.





FIFTY-EIGHT



Marcus, Veii, Summer, 396 BC

Marcus strode from the portico into the temple precincts past its enormous podium and altar. He avoided checking the fire pit where Vel Mastarna’s body burned. He needed no reminder of what he’d done. He found himself unable to control his trembling hands, rage and bitterness surging in him. He couldn’t believe how Caecilia had caused his world to splinter.

The moment of Drusus’s death was seared into his memory. If not for her, his friend wouldn’t have been consumed with rage; if not for her, Drusus would never have disobeyed orders; if not for her, Drusus wouldn’t have attacked him. And now he was dead. And he was his murderer.