Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(22)

Artile was eyeing Marcus surreptitiously. Pinna suspected the Etruscan was a mollis, a soft one who loved only men, never women. She thought how ironic it was that the junior officer also hungered for male touch alone. Yet Marcus had never been caught in the bed of another freeborn soldier. Threat of execution was sanction enough to make him wary.

Camillus thumped his desk. “I’m running out of time, priest! Do you understand? It will soon be winter, and I must resign my command. It’s been six weeks since you claimed you could tell me the secret of Lake Albanus. And yet you prevaricate.”

Artile remained unruffled. “It takes time to consult the gods on a matter of such importance.”

Camillus snorted. “What about those sacred books of yours you hauled away in your wagon? You said you already possessed the key to the correct expiation rites. I think you’re a fraud.”

The Veientane bristled. “You do well to treat me with respect, Furius Camillus.”

“And you do well to remember I can surrender you to a brother who hates you!”

Artile stiffened. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Convince me why not. You’re little use to me at the moment!” The Roman thumped his desk again, forcing Pinna to stop massaging him.

The priest smoothed his arched eyebrow with one finger. “Because Veii needs to placate the gods by punishing the traitor among them.”

Camillus leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his palms flat against its surface. “And you are that traitor.”

The priest’s shoulders relaxed, his smile arrogant, his tone oily. “Yes, I am that traitor.”

“So it’s against my interests to hand you back to your brother for execution?”

“Precisely.”

The general gestured Pinna to continue her ministrations. “You’ve yet to tell me why there’s enmity between you and Vel Mastarna.”

“It’s a family matter.”

Camillus’s eyes narrowed. “I need to understand your motives for deserting Veii. If there’s no candor between us, how do I know you won’t double-cross me?”

The priest settled himself on a stool. “Believe me, Furius Camillus. I don’t take treason lightly. My brother is a hypocrite. He’s been crowned even though he sought the downfall of the last two kings. The Veientane people should be cautious of him.”

“Sounds like jealousy is talking.”

The haruspex flinched. “I have reasons enough to hate my brother, but it’s not because I covet his position.”

“Yet the king is the high priest of Veii, isn’t he? Godhead, general, and monarch all in one.”

“My brother is far from holy.”

Camillus smiled. “Or maybe he doubted you were. Did he question your powers as a seer?”

The soothsayer pressed his lips into a straight line. “He’s irreligious. And he’s high priest in name only. It was I, Artile, the chief priest of the Great Temple of Uni, who was revered. Servant to our city’s divine guardian. For that you should be grateful. The goddess is unlikely to favor my brother over me.”

“And yet haven’t you also deserted Juno? I think that makes your position precarious, don’t you?”

The Etruscan fell silent, his arrogance wavering. Camillus continued to press him. “Tell me why you hate Mastarna. And why you’re prepared to see your kin and people fall because of your ‘family matter.’”

Artile paused, his gaze moving between the general and Marcus before deciding to give his explanation. “My brother accused me of leading his wife astray. And he forbade me to mentor his adopted son to be a priest.” His deep voice rose in pitch. “That bitch persuaded Prince Tarchon to alienate me.”

Camillus appeared bemused. “You led Aemilia Caeciliana astray? What does that even mean?”

The priest hesitated, fiddling with one of his many rings. “A matter of religious instruction. I discovered that Caecilia is pious albeit misguided. Mastarna didn’t approve when he learned she wanted to convert to Rasennan beliefs.”

Pinna was shocked, her fingers digging into the general’s flesh so he turned to frown at her. She relaxed and continued to stroke his neck. Caecilia was worse than the concubine imagined. She had not only abandoned Rome but forsaken its faith. The woman deserved condemnation.

The general’s voice also revealed his disgust. “She’d already been led astray—by a guilty passion. But now it appears her corruption is absolute.”

Artile glowered. “You’re not the only one who despises her. She’s now caught between Rome and Veii. My people are suspicious of her motives.”

Camillus signaled Pinna to stop her massage and rose. Marcus also stood in deference. The haruspex remained seated. Pinna wondered how the Etruscan could deign to consider himself of equal or higher status to his captor.

With his coiffed, shoulder-length hair, Artile was a far cry from the bedraggled prisoner hauled into the general’s tent after being caught fleeing the battle. Face and lip bruised, he’d been drenched with rain, kohl streaking his face as though he were weeping soot. However, today he was no longer wearing the sheepskin-lined cloak or the peculiar twisted hat she’d learned marked his profession. Nor was he allowed to carry his crooked staff. Camillus insisted the seer be inconspicuous when in sight of Veii. The general did not want Vel Mastarna to know his brother was under Rome’s control should any spies manage to infiltrate the blockade. The priest’s chin was now covered with a beard instead of clean shaven. And he was dressed in the humble tunic worn by leves, although no Roman light infantryman would be soft skinned and pudgy.