Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(17)

Cook laughed and nodded toward the corner of the room. “He’s discovered the dormice.”

The boy was squatting before an earthen pot, his eye pressed to one of the holes that were punched at intervals across the terra-cotta. When Semni lifted him, he protested, leaning his weight forward, arms outstretched.

“Very well.” She lifted the lid. “You may look for a moment.”

Both mother and son peered inside. Curled asleep on tiers spiraling around the interior was a family of dormice. The furry creatures did not stir despite the light illuminating their den. Seeing them so at peace, Semni felt sorry the offspring of the breeding pair would be roasted and dipped in honey and poppy seeds. Nerie leaned down, determined to touch the animals hibernating within.

Arruns appeared beside them and took the squirming child from his mother. As usual, she was struck by her son’s blond hair against the swarthy features of the Phoenician.

Seeing it was the lictor who had wrested him from his fascination, the toddler stood on the guard’s broad forearm and jigged up and down as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. “Roons!”

Arruns smiled and tousled Nerie’s hair before grasping Semni’s hand and turning to face the others. Her heart raced with anticipation.

“We need witnesses.”

The piper ceased his tune. Cook tutted at being delayed in the meal’s preparation. The others looked up curiously.

Semni never thought this day would come. One year ago, a bloodied Arruns had helped birth Nerie on the edge of a battlefield. A bond had been formed that night by the light of a flickering bonfire. One that had been tested by misunderstandings and her own foolishness.

Arruns hoisted Nerie with straight arms above his head, making the boy squeal. “All present, bear witness that I claim this child as my son, as though he were from my loins. He will be called Nerie, the son of Barekbaal, also known as Arruns, and Semni Vulca, his mother.”

It was the first time Semni had ever heard Arruns’s Phoenician name. His first master had given him a Rasennan one. It made her realize how little she knew of his history. He’d always kept her at bay, granting only glimpses to her.

The new father handed their son back to her. Propping Nerie on her hip, she slid her arm around Arruns’s waist, expecting him to make another announcement. “Tell them our news.”

Without replying, the lictor removed his necklace and slipped the simple bronze pendant over Nerie’s head. The charm clicked against the amulet that had been placed around the boy’s neck when he was born. “May this bulla protect you forever from the evil eye. May all the great and almighty Rasennan gods and those of Canaan watch over you.”

Nerie pulled at the locket, peering at the figure engraved on it, and then showed it to Semni. It depicted a naked woman crowned with a crescent moon and holding a bow.

“Who is she?”

“The divine Astarte. Goddess of love and war, death and rebirth. She is the evening star who watches over us. She is worshiped by the Rasenna on the coast as Queen Uni. Others call her Turan or Aphrodite, goddess of love.”

Semni smiled, comforted the foreign deity was so revered. “Then she’ll be a mighty protectress for our child.”

The servants clapped, calling out their well wishes. Semni nodded, waiting expectantly for Arruns’s next declaration. Again he failed to mention there would be a wedding; instead, he thanked those around him and bid them go back to their chores.

Semni squeezed his bicep. “Aren’t you going to tell them we are to be married?”

The piper began playing again. Routine returned. Arruns led Semni by the hand into the hallway. Nerie toddled after his parents, sucking his thumb.

The Phoenician halted, standing inches from her. “I’ll marry you when we can lie together as man and wife. Until then it’s best we live apart.”

“Why? I did what you said. I confessed. You said you would wed me. You said you loved me. Or is it because you want another woman now that you can’t . . . ?”

Lacing his fingers through her loose knot of hair, he pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. Then he kissed her, his lips hard against hers. It was the first time he’d embraced her since they’d made love six weeks ago. She stirred with need for him. She echoed his movement, her hands cradling the back of his skull. She felt his heat, wanting to stroke the muscled body beneath his uniform.

“Me!” Nerie tugged at her skirts. The lovers broke apart, staring at each other, Arrun’s dark resinous eyes intense under the hooded lids. Ignoring the boy, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really think we could share a bed without breaking our vow to the master? It could be two years until the princess is ready to be weaned.”

Semni knew he spoke the truth, but all she could think about was that she’d only lain with him once and wanted more of him. “The king’s decree is unfair. I want to bear your baby, Barekbaal.”

Arruns smiled at the use of his birth name but shook his head. “Not until this siege is over. It’s enough that Nerie was born into war. I want no more of our children to face the threat of death at the hands of the Romans. Perhaps the gods have done us a favor in preventing us from lying together.”

“Me! Me!” Nerie’s persistence distracted her. She hoisted him onto her hip. “A woman cannot fall pregnant when her milk is flowing.”