Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(76)

“Ati, Ati!” Larce struggled to sit.

“Hush,” she crooned, drawing him onto her lap. “Hush. I’m here.”

“I saw the blue demon,” he sobbed. “He was laughing and holding a hammer. He was going to hit me on the head to make sure I was dead.”

She rocked him. “Ssh, it was just a dream. There are no monsters here.”

“But the blue demon will be there when I die.” He clutched her. “I don’t want to be alone in Acheron. I want you to be there.”

His pleading tore at her. She crushed him against her. Suddenly the Roman spirit world of the Good Ones seemed one of terror and nothingness. How could she tell him he was destined to dissolve and merge with the Shades? Larce needed solace, not dread. She wished Vel were here to hold them. He hadn’t been present at the birth of any of their children. How would he feel to be absent when one died?

She felt the bulla pendant on Larce’s necklace hard against her breast. Calming herself, she eased his arms from her neck and drew the coverlet around them for warmth. She slipped the chain over his head, showing him the tiny gold figurine.

“See Fufluns’s dolphin? Apa gave it to you to protect you from the evil eye. The dolphin will guide you across the Great Sea in Acheron.”

The boy stroked the amulet with his forefinger. “So I will be safe in the Beyond even when I die?”

She brushed the hair from his brow and kissed him. “When you journey to the Afterworld, you will meet all your family at a banquet. Grandmother and grandfather are already there.”

“So we will be together again?”

She replaced the bulla around his neck, patting the dolphin. Suddenly, acknowledging the power of the wine god’s creature gave her hope. If Larce was going to be taken from her, then she wanted to believe she’d see him again. “Yes, Apa and Tas and Arnth and Thia. All of us, forever.”

Larce encircled her waist with his arms, laying his head on her chest. She noticed the rash behind his ears was turning brown. His skin was cool against hers. His fever had broken. Relieved, she murmured a prayer of thanks to both Uni and Fufluns.

“Why are you are shivering, Ati, when your skin is hot?”

She realized she could not stop trembling, her muscles contracting, the rigors uncontrollable. Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “It’s nothing, my love.”

“My lady!”

Cytheris stood at the doorway holding Arnth by the hand. When the servant saw how her mistress was shaking, she hurried to her, lifting the boy to sit on the edge of the bed. He was listless and coughing, his eyes leaden.

Larce crawled over to sit next to his brother. “Ati, Arnth has a paint splash just like yours behind his ear.”

Caecilia closed her eyes, hoping when she reopened them the evidence of the telltale rash on Arnth’s skin would have vanished. Instead the scarlet flush remained. Head aching, limbs achy, she lay down, holding out her arms. “Bring him to me.”

The handmaid helped Arnth lie beside his mother. Even with her own fever, Caecilia could feel his temperature was high. He nestled against her, whimpering. The sound cut like a knife. Her youngest was not one to whine. “Cytheris, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I’m sorry, mistress. His fever has been mild and only worsened today. The rash has visited him quicker than I’ve seen before.” She pressed her palm against Caecilia’s forehead. “You’re ill, too.”

“Don’t worry about me. What of Tas and Thia?”

“Semni’s milk protects the princess. And Tas is yet untouched.”

Caecilia nodded, reassured. Larce sidled back to lie beside Arnth, his brief spurt of energy sapped.

Caecilia coughed, then coughed again. “And the others?”

“Perca and Cook are gravely ill. Semni forced Arruns to go to bed. He refused for a time, but now the sweats have gripped him.”

Caecilia’s guilt worsened. The red scourge was finding other victims she may have infected. Another rigor seized her.

Cytheris drew the quilt over the mother and sons. “Rest,” she murmured. “I’ll watch over you all.”

Caecilia tried to demur, shivering, needing sleep but fearful once again. What if Arnth died before she awoke? What if she was the one to perish? And in that moment, she knew she must worship Fufluns. She needed to ensure she and her family would remain together forever.

The chair scraped across the tiles as Cytheris drew it next to the bed. “Sleep, mistress. I will wake you should Arnth worsen.”

Eyelids heavy, Caecilia murmured her thanks. She was overcome with a yearning for Vel, needing him to be with her. She drifted into a fevered sleep, trying to conjure an image of him in the blackness between closed lid and tired eye.



Caecilia woke. Her mouth was dry. For a moment she was disoriented, wondering why she was sleeping in daytime.

She dug the heels of her hands into the mattress, pushing herself to sit, anxious to find Larce and Arnth. “Cytheris! Where are they?”

Dozing in a chair, the handmaid’s eyes flew open at her mistress’s croaky voice. “They’re fine, my lady.” She hastened to the bedside and reached for Caecilia’s hand. “Larce is playing with Semni. And Arnth is sleeping in his room. The rash has almost faded. I thought it best to give you some peace. The fever has gripped you for days.”