Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(80)

The queen looked startled. “Then I was at the last one held.”

“You were? I envy you, mistress.”

Lady Caecilia frowned, then leaned forward. “But you have celebrated the Winter Feast, haven’t you?”

The nursemaid nodded. “Before the Romans campaigned all year round, we could celebrate when the enemy returned home in winter. We would bid farewell to Fufluns, knowing he would sojourn in the Beyond until spring. In times past, the festival marked the laying down of the vintage.”

“I remember it well. The people set light to the abandoned siege engines. Our foe’s war machines became fuel for bonfires. And then the merrymaking would begin.”

Semni was wistful. “I wish I could merge my spirit again. There has been no Winter Feast for two years.”

The queen glanced at the mirror and then back to the girl.

“Tell me, what is it like to take communion with Fufluns?”

“Rapture, my lady, bliss.”

Her answer did not appear to please the princip. She rubbed her temple as though soothing away pain. “But you were married then, weren’t you? To the pottery workshop foreman. What did he think about you lying with other men?”

Semni was taken aback, unnerved at what had become an interrogation. “He was not a believer. He didn’t approve but he didn’t stop me.”

“Didn’t it worry you that you were being unfaithful?”

She reddened, thinking that she was ready to cuckold her old husband without the need for religion. “For believers, coupling with others in worship of Fufluns is a sacred union. You feel the god within you as your heart responds to the beat of the drum. The wine courses through you, strong and unwatered. You’re dizzy as you dance. Filled with elation.”

“You’re intoxicated.”

“You’re possessed by the god’s spirit through the wine’s magic. It’s like being in a trance.”

Again Lady Caecilia paused, digesting each morsel of information. She glanced around her as though checking for eavesdroppers. “So you weren’t whipped?”

Stunned by the question, Semni shook her head. Her father used to thrash her often enough. And it helped her sixty-year-old husband to harden if he birched her. But she’d never suffered pain at a Winter Feast. “No, my lady.”

“And the possibility you might fall with child. Was that not a concern?”

Again the girl was surprised. Surely Lady Caecilia knew Nerie’s blond father was a fellow worshiper? “It was a risk I took. The resin and alum plug failed when I lay with the man with the ram’s head mask.” She smiled. “But I don’t regret bearing a son conceived on the night of the Winter Feast.”

The princip’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize . . . I always thought Nerie was a result of one of your many . . .”

“You mean from sleeping with any man who wanted me.”

This time it was Lady Caecilia’s turn to blush.

“Don’t be embarrassed, mistress. I know I was a slattern before I met Arruns.”

“And if you ever get the chance to reach ecstasy again, won’t he be jealous?”

Her words gave Semni pause. She’d not thought about this. Yet Arruns had never complained that she followed the Pacha Cult.

“Fufluns is not his god, but I believe he sees the feast as part of a holy rite.”

“And what about you? Would you be happy for him to seek epiphany with another woman?”

“You must understand, mistress, it’s different under the mask. You are liberated from fear and care, jealousy and duty. There’s just heat and madness. I’m no longer Semni. And he would no longer be Arruns. If he wished to follow Fufluns, I wouldn’t deny him the chance to ward off death through seeking ecstasy.”

She pointed to the decoration of entwined leaves on the edges of the mirror. “See the ivy? It’s sacred to the wine god. It blooms in autumn and fruits in spring. It grows green in winter when the grape vine is dry and lifeless.” She traced the grape leaves. “Vines give us the fruit of life. They are sunlight and warmth. Ivy is shadow and night. So too is Fufluns. You must accept light and dark when you worship him. And then you can forget mortal bonds for that brief moment in time.”

“You speak with such passion, Semni. You make me understand a little more.”

“May I ask why you ask all these questions, my lady?”

“Because I wish to follow the Pacha Cult as the king has asked. I want Fufluns’s protection for me and my family in the Afterworld. But I revere Uni. I fear she wouldn’t approve of me worshiping Fufluns.”

“Veientane women have long worshiped both deities without being punished. We honor the divine queen as the guardian of our city, but all the Rasenna revere Fufluns. We turn to Uni to protect us in childbirth and give succor to our children, but it is the god of fertility who promises us resurrection.” She pointed to the couple on mirror again. “Do you remember the day you came to the pottery and saw the last vase I ever painted? It depicted Fufluns and Areatha as well.”

“Yes, I do. You were a skilled artisan.”

“Thank you, mistress. I remember how you and Lord Mastarna held each other when he came to say good-bye before the battle.” She ran her finger over the immortal pair etched into the silver. “Just like them, you had eyes for no other.”