Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(127)

Marcus headed into an internal corridor to find the living area. His temper flared when he noticed the air was hazy from smoke. Camillus would be unhappy if he had to sift molten gold from a charred building.

Coughing, he held his forearm to his nose and hurried along the passageway until he reached the entrance to a large chamber with a terrace beyond. He was relieved to see the area was deserted, the floor devoid of corpses, especially tiny ones.

Laughter distracted him. A group of hoplites were tearing apart the royal bed chamber. His bellow startled them. “Go and find some water to douse the fire. The general wants the palace intact. And start securing prisoners.”

For a moment, he thought avarice would make them forget discipline. They glared at him. Camillus had given them a right to the spoils. Who was this tribune to deny them?

“Others have already been here, sir. It’s our turn now.”

Marcus held himself rigid, his stare icy. The men saluted and then backed out of the chamber. He could hear them protesting to each other at being deprived of their swag.

Marcus ventured into the bedroom. Smoke had not yet penetrated inside. He surveyed the patterned ceiling of tiny flowers and walls with heavy horizontal lines of red, green, and blue. Chests of expensive wood were flung open, clothes strewn across the floor. Robes had been ripped from wall pegs. A lyre fashioned from amber lay with broken strings. Caskets of silver and bronze had been tossed aside, their lids scattered. All of them were intricately engraved, with clawed feet. He peered inside. Any jewelry had long been stolen. There were boxes of cosmetics, too, proof of the whorish appearance of Caecilia.

The bed was tall and wide with a plush mattress. The plaid cover had been ripped, the pillows scattered. The footstools pushed over. This is where his cousin had lain with her Veientane. Marcus felt the awkwardness of intruding on a place of intimacy as well as passion.

He crouched and searched under the bed, thinking it unlikely he would find a frightened prince. He spied an ornate silver mirror that must have slid across the floor. A man and woman embraced each other, gazes locked, lips almost touching. Their names were incised beside them in strange Etruscan script.

Marcus moved through to the terrace. There were no small persons huddling amid the garden or behind the fountain. He stood at the wall to look at the Roman camp opposite. How many times had Caecilia gazed at the people who had become her enemy?

He returned to the main chamber and headed into the corridor again. The cradle in the nursery was vacant except for a tiny doll. He glanced inside other rooms that had been abandoned, their occupants roused from sleep and fleeing. He felt a surge of relief there was no blood on the sheets. He smoothed his hand along the cloth. It was cold. Warm bodies had risen to leave some time ago.

Where had the princes gone? Havoc awaited them outside. Even with the Phoenician to protect them, he doubted they could be saved. At least if they were hiding in the palace, they could be identified as royal.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. He couldn’t waste any more time combing through the residence. He owed nothing more to Vel Mastarna or his cousin.

Adjusting his balteus, and with hand on hilt, he turned back to the courtyard. Now his duty was solely to Rome. He broke into a run. A city waited below to be conquered. It was time to find some warriors to kill.





FIFTY-NINE



Semni, Veii, Summer, 396 BC

Rung after rung, Semni descended, easing down each time, worried the timber might break, not sure if she would make a misstep. The jewelry clicked and tinkled beneath her clothes. The climb was tortuous as Perca struggled and whimpered with pain. To Semni’s relief, she saw a faint light below her, then felt her foot hit earth. In front of her was a low-roofed tunnel. Dropping to her knees, she crawled through it.

A huge arm encircled her waist as Arruns hugged her. Nerie wrapped his arms around her neck. The moment of reunion was brief as her husband broke from her and gave her their son to hold.

Semni gazed up at the sheer cliff towering above her, holly trailing across its surface. She felt giddy for a moment as she realized the height from which she had descended through the shaft. Black smoke billowed above, sullying the pale-blue sky. She was surprised to see the sun was far from its zenith. She assumed ages had passed but it was still early morning.

Beyond her lay a ravine covered by a scrub of new-growth oak and beech. A short distance away, they would find the river carving a path through a series of valleys. How were they going to traverse such terrain?

The group of fugitives clustered around Arruns, frightened to step away from the circle of his protection. Semni could not help feeling despondent. Surely four children, two women, and an injured girl were too many for one man to rescue?

Arruns was surveying the scenery, too. The anxiety she’d glimpsed in the cavern had gone. “Let’s go. We need to reach the river,” he said. “I plan to steal a boat. There are traders who carry supplies for the Romans along the river. They may take us north if we pay them.”

Her eyes widened. “Or betray us. And the enemy patrol the north as well.”

“There are Romans everywhere, Semni. We can only try.”

“What about the forts?”

“There aren’t as many on this side because of the depth of the ravines and the way the river runs so close to the wall. But I’ll warrant most outposts will be unmanned. If the soldiers are allowed to claim booty, then every hoplite around here will be in the city stealing as much as he can. We need to hurry.”