Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(133)

Caecilia stuck out her chin. “I am no whore but a univira. Faithful to one man.”

He sneered. “I doubt it. But any number of my men can soon relieve you of that distinction.”

The woman behind him gasped. He turned and gave her a stern look.

Caecilia was determined not to show her fear. “I’m proud of who I am. Proud to be Veientane. I have no regrets I chose Veii.”

“Husbands have a habit of dying, Caecilia. That’s why you should have returned to your uncle’s house. You should never have forsaken Rome.”

“At least Vel Mastarna was spared the humiliation of being paraded at your triumph. And strangled at its conclusion.”

Marcus tensed. Camillus also stiffened, looking across to the tribune, then back to her. “Regrettable, but at least I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you executed.”

She clenched her fists to hide her trembling. “Better a traitor to Rome than the martyr you wanted to make me.”

“So you think yourself innocent? That you are some poor scapegoat?”

“No. I sought Rome’s destruction.” She swiveled her head to scan each person in the room. “Gladly.”

“So you confess?”

“As if there will be any trial.”

“You forfeited that privilege long ago. The Carcer dungeon awaits you, as does a view from the Tarpeian Rock.”

As she tried to push thoughts of a brutal death aside, she noticed someone entering the sanctum from the corner of her eye.

She felt as though she’d been stabbed. Artile walked to Uni’s statue and bowed with the conceited mien of the holiest of servants. She wondered how he didn’t stagger with the burden of so many dead dragged behind him.

His eyes rested on her, gloating. Then his gaze traveled to the pool of Mastarna’s blood in front of the altar without blinking. When he spied Tarchon, though, he panicked. He rushed to him, stepping in front of Sethre, and pressed two fingers against the prince’s neck. He relaxed at finding a pulse then glared at Marcus. “You could’ve killed him.”

Camillus barked, “Leave him. I have more concerns than worrying about your pet.”

Tarchon opened his eyes at the priest’s touch. Dazed, he took a few moments to recognize who hovered above him. When he realized, he struggled to sit, shock apparent. Then his face contorted with fury as he tried to break free from his bindings. “You bastard!”

Startled, Artile stood out of his reach.

Tarchon inched closer to Sethre, sliding his palms around one of the youth’s lifeless hands, then defiant, he raised it to his lips.

The seer flinched, anger replacing his dismay.

Tarchon called to Camillus. “Rome must have been desperate to listen to this dog. He’s not only betrayed his city but his own flesh and blood.”

“Lord Artile is now a patriot of Rome. Your father should have taken care not to foster enmity with his brother.”

“I don’t know what lies he’s told you, but he’s a poisoner and pervert. There’s good reason why my father despised him. As do I.”

A look of distaste crossed Camillus’s face. “I have little interest in such accusations.” He beckoned to the haruspex. “Get over here.”

Artile bristled at the command but obeyed. Caecilia was pleased to see the priest had become a lackey. However, the haruspex’s haughtiness was restored when he studied her.

“Ah, Sister, I always told you that your fate led back to Rome. This is what becomes of flouting Nortia.”

She gritted her teeth, hating he was right. “At least I’ll be dragged to Rome instead of slinking there like a rat. I have not betrayed my people.”

The priest scowled. “You’re not Veientane. And Queen Uni chose to abandon her city because of you.”

She frowned, twisting around to stare up at the goddess. “What do you mean?”

Camillus stood, pointing the scepter in one hand at the statue. “I called Uni to desert Veii. I promised her a temple in Rome as Juno Regina. She answered my prayer.”

Caecilia heard Cytheris’s sharp intake of breath and Tarchon’s grunt of disbelief. She hugged Thia. What he said was fanciful, and yet it must be true. The mother goddess had been neglected and was unforgiving. The attempts to placate her had come too late.

Camillus walked around the altar table and knelt before the effigy. “O Mighty Jupiter and Juno Regina, I thank you for your favor. Know that this conquest was not unjust but of necessity to defend my people. Yet if you consider some retribution due for such devastation, I beseech you to spare Rome and let any penance fall upon my own head.”

Wheeling around, he began to rise, but his foot caught in his cloak. Stumbling, he pitched forward, grabbing the edge of the altar to prevent falling. The scepter clattered to the floor.

“My Wolf!” The woman ran to his side, grasping his forearm.

He steadied himself and shrugged her away. “Leave me be, Pinna.” It was clear he was unnerved, taking a moment to recover his composure. Then he straightened his shoulders and smoothed his cloak as he turned to the others with a smile. “My prayer is granted! A slight fall is my atonement for the greatest good fortune.”

The anxious look on the woman’s face remained. As did Artile’s frown. Camillus ignored them. He picked up the scepter and walked around the table to stand in front of Caecilia again.