Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(19)
In the chilliness of the autumn dawn, she was grateful she’d been spared the fate of shivering in the streets. As wet nurse and chief nursemaid to a king’s daughter, she was privileged. She remembered when it was her job to do the laundry for the upper maids, a servant serving a servant. How she used to resent it. Now she was wearing Aricia’s clothes.
She lit a taper from the firepot and then the wick of a small terra-cotta lamp. She hoped a slave boy would soon appear to replace the nearly extinguished braziers.
Baby Thia was awake and had squirmed loose from her swaddling. Her head moved from side to side as she sucked her fists. Impatient, the infant searched for the teat as Semni offered her breast, which was tight-packed with milk. She winced as the urgent mouth latched on. Both her nipples were sore and cracked, but at least she had not fallen ill with milk fever. She needed to rub on more castor oil to ease the pain.
For so little a child, Thia had a powerful suck. It was a relief to feel the milk let down after the initial pain of the tug and draw. The little girl was intense, guzzling, and greedy, her eyes closed in concentration, her hands gripping the breast. When Semni shifted in her seat to get comfortable, the infant grew irritable, mewling at having to pause in her feed.
This one will be demanding. She already knows her own mind. Lady Caecilia would have to be careful her husband did not overly pamper his little princess. Having a strong will was one thing. Being a brat was another. Yet it was good to see the babe feeding so easily. Thia’s first few weeks of life had been one of constant hunger and fretting. After a difficult birth, Lady Caecilia’s milk had dried up. It had taken some effort to convince the mother to relinquish the job of breastfeeding.
Semni glanced across to Nerie as he nestled under the warmth of the bedcovers. He was so different from Thia with his placid and affectionate nature. It worried Semni that she must wean him in order to have enough milk for the princess. Her son had to be satisfied with goat’s milk other than one feed per day. She couldn’t bring herself to lose that time with him. He didn’t complain. Nerie rarely did.
A glow of light from the doorway caught Semni’s attention. The curtain was pushed aside, and Lady Caecilia entered, her path illuminated by a slave boy who held a candelabra. Another wheeled in a freshly stoked brazier. Semni tensed at her approach, anxious after yesterday’s drama in the throne room.
The queen bent and kissed Thia’s head. “Good morning, Semni. How’s my little girl today?”
“Hungry, as always, mistress.”
She smiled and sat down in her armchair.
Semni breathed a little easier. “Thank you, my lady, for persuading Lord Mastarna to show mercy.”
“Thank Arruns. Both of us owe him our lives. It’s only right we acknowledge the blood debt.”
“I’m sorry for what I did.”
Lady Caecilia reached over and stroked Thia’s cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s forgotten now. We need not speak of it. People shouldn’t be condemned for making mistakes for which they atone. You saved Tas. That’s what is important.”
Semni’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, mistress.”
“Tell me, how long have you and Arruns been lovers?”
The girl blushed. “Only once. After the Battle of Blood and Hail. And I promise we’ll wait until Thia is weaned.”
Caecilia paused in caressing her child. “Ah yes, Lord Mastarna’s edict. I’m sorry, Semni. I’m not sure there is much I can do. When it comes to Thia, he’s besotted. Even though I have doubts milk can curdle from lying with a man.” She gave a half smile. “If that were true, my sons have swallowed many a sour mouthful and yet flourished.”
Semni blinked, surprised at the joke. Lady Caecilia was always reserved with all the servants except Cytheris. It didn’t surprise her, though, that Lord Mastarna was ardent. The way he gazed at his wife made it clear he’d not yet tired of her in his bed.
Semni lowered her voice. “Arruns will not marry me until Thia is weaned.”
The queen frowned. “But he has claimed your son?”
“Yes. Nerie now belongs to us both.”
She patted her hand. “Take heart. Lord Mastarna may yet soften his stance. And Arruns is an honorable man. In time, he will marry you. He will make a good husband, too.” She picked up a tortoiseshell lyre from the side table and began plucking the strings with a plectrum, the notes plaintive and sweet.
“My lady, Arruns has never told me in full how he came to save you from the bandits.”
The queen ceased strumming the lyre, placing her hand against the strings to stop their vibrations. “Yes, he’s a man of few words, isn’t he? It happened on the day after I had married Lord Mastarna in Rome. My dowry cattle and goods were being transported to Veii. When the caravan halted outside Fidenae to deal with a lame ox, I wandered down to the river. Gaulish brigands attacked.” She shivered. “It was the first time I’d seen a man killed.”
Semni murmured. “By Arruns?”
She nodded. “Lord Mastarna had sent him to watch over me. And he’s done so ever since.” She bent her head toward Semni in a conspiratorial manner. “I think I was almost as afraid of him as the Gaul. His tattoo and his silence were foreboding.” She straightened again. “I’ve since grown very fond of him. I admire him for his loyalty. I’ll never forget how he leaped twenty feet from the wall to save his master in the battle. How he hurled a spear to knock down my husband’s assailant.”