Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(3)
She pointed to the enemy camp. “How long before you think assistance will arrive? General Camillus sits on our doorstep. It’s been almost two seasons now since fresh supplies have reached the city. I thought our northern commander, Thefarie Ulthes, would’ve marched from Falerii by now to relieve us.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what’s delaying him. The Roman bastard has squeezed us so tightly that not even spies have made their way through with news. But I will not give up hope. Veii cisterns are full, so we will not die of thirst. And it’s clear our wall won’t be breached. No enemy has ever done so. Veii is impregnable. This citadel sits astride a high cliff. Two rivers gird us in their embrace.”
“Walls can protect us, but without food, what use are stones?” She stared into the distance. “Camillus means to starve us out.”
Mastarna also surveyed the Roman camp. “He’ll be gone in winter. The Romans elect new consular generals each December. Once he’s no longer in office, a different, lesser commander will be in charge. Perhaps that’s what Thefarie is waiting for. A chance to attack once Furius Camillus no longer holds command. Wait and see. He’ll break through the siege lines in winter. We need to keep our resolve.”
“And if Thefarie reaches us? Will you then consider attacking Rome? Unlike Veii, their wall can be easily stormed.”
He turned to her. “There’s little prospect of that until this siege can be stopped. Let’s pray to Nortia, goddess of Fate, this is what she wants for Veii.”
Caecilia felt a familiar sense of guilt rise in her but suppressed it. She knew she could not continue keeping secrets from him much longer. “I believe Nortia wants Rome to fall.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “All I know is that I’m grateful the deity brought us together. I believe she did so for a reason. And one day we’ll live in peace together.”
Her stubbornness emerged. “Only when Rome bends its knee to Veii.”
Mastarna searched her face. “Where’s the frightened girl forced to wed me?”
Caecilia straightened her shoulders. “Long transformed. You and Veii have taught me courage.”
He smiled. “A warrioress indeed. But you never were such a hawk. I thought you only wanted concord.”
She stroked his smooth-shaven cheek, enjoying the scent of sandalwood on his skin. “Remember how you once told me Rome and Veii are like two unrequited lovers? Only twelve miles between them across the Tiber. They’re but a god’s footstep apart. Both desire to possess the other—only Rome wishes to be the husband and make Veii submit as the wife.”
He reached over and cupped her chin between his fingers. His touch was tender. “A Roman wife perhaps but not a Veientane one. You are my equal.”
He swept the hair from her neck and kissed the tiny curls at the nape. His mouth was warm, his lips gentle. His hand traced the curve of her spine and buttocks beneath the soft, fine wool of her chiton. She felt herself stir. Even after ten years, her husband could make her knees buckle with desire. “I want you, Bellatrix.”
She pressed his forehead to his. “Soon, Vel. The birth of our daughter was hard. I’m not yet healed. Aren’t you happy with what I can do for you in the meantime?”
He kissed her brow. “I’m sorry to be impatient.” Stepping back, he placed his hand on his sling. “And I want to be able to carry you to bed. We both have wounds that need mending.”
Caecilia smiled and clasped his hand. “It’s time to get ready to visit the Great Temple.” Then she laughed. “No more stalling. I must paint your face.”
They moved inside. Semni had finished feeding Thia and was rocking her against her shoulder to burp her. “I’ll go now, mistress.”
“Wait,” said Mastarna. “Let me hold my little princess.”
The nursemaid handed the swaddled baby to the warrior who cradled her in the crook of his uninjured arm, careful the child’s head was supported. The seven-week-old was tiny against the scarred flesh of his forearm. He bent and kissed both of the child’s cheeks, crooning. The tenderness was incongruous in such a hardened man. Caecilia had never seen Vel dote so on his sons.
Thia’s mouth curved upward.
“Look, she’s smiling, Bellatrix.”
Caecilia nodded, glancing to Semni while Mastarna’s head was bent over the babe. The women exchanged a smile. Neither would dare tell him it was more likely to be wind.
He touched the silver amulet fastened around the baby’s neck by a fine chain with the figure of the huntress Atlenta embossed upon it. It had once been Caecilia’s; now her daughter wore the talisman. He kissed Thia’s brow. “May this charm always protect you from the evil eye.”
“Come, Vel, your daughter needs to sleep.”
Reluctantly, he surrendered the infant to Semni. “Take care of my princess.” His deep, resonant voice was soft. The baby stared at him, enrapt.
Caecilia led Mastarna to his chair and sat opposite him. Dipping a brush into the red lead, she smoothed the pigment across his face. His features were rugged and scarred. She’d once thought the almond-shaped eyes of the Rasenna people strange; now all of her children except Arnth were graced with them.
She could hear a familiar clicking noise as she tended to him. He was fiddling with the two golden dice he secreted in the sinus fold of his tebenna cloak. They were his talismans. Old and worn and smooth. He would jiggle them when he was worried, the sound marking his tell. She laid the brush aside and placed her hand on his to still his fidgeting. “What troubles you?”