It was the first time Semni had ever heard Arruns’s Phoenician name. His first master had given him a Rasennan one. It made her realize how little she knew of his history. He’d always kept her at bay, granting only glimpses to her.
The new father handed their son back to her. Propping Nerie on her hip, she slid her arm around Arruns’s waist, expecting him to make another announcement. “Tell them our news.”
Without replying, the lictor removed his necklace and slipped the simple bronze pendant over Nerie’s head. The charm clicked against the amulet that had been placed around the boy’s neck when he was born. “May this bulla protect you forever from the evil eye. May all the great and almighty Rasennan gods and those of Canaan watch over you.”
Nerie pulled at the locket, peering at the figure engraved on it, and then showed it to Semni. It depicted a naked woman crowned with a crescent moon and holding a bow.
“Who is she?”
“The divine Astarte. Goddess of love and war, death and rebirth. She is the evening star who watches over us. She is worshiped by the Rasenna on the coast as Queen Uni. Others call her Turan or Aphrodite, goddess of love.”
Semni smiled, comforted the foreign deity was so revered. “Then she’ll be a mighty protectress for our child.”
The servants clapped, calling out their well wishes. Semni nodded, waiting expectantly for Arruns’s next declaration. Again he failed to mention there would be a wedding; instead, he thanked those around him and bid them go back to their chores.
Semni squeezed his bicep. “Aren’t you going to tell them we are to be married?”
The piper began playing again. Routine returned. Arruns led Semni by the hand into the hallway. Nerie toddled after his parents, sucking his thumb.
The Phoenician halted, standing inches from her. “I’ll marry you when we can lie together as man and wife. Until then it’s best we live apart.”
“Why? I did what you said. I confessed. You said you would wed me. You said you loved me. Or is it because you want another woman now that you can’t . . . ?”
Lacing his fingers through her loose knot of hair, he pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. Then he kissed her, his lips hard against hers. It was the first time he’d embraced her since they’d made love six weeks ago. She stirred with need for him. She echoed his movement, her hands cradling the back of his skull. She felt his heat, wanting to stroke the muscled body beneath his uniform.
“Me!” Nerie tugged at her skirts. The lovers broke apart, staring at each other, Arrun’s dark resinous eyes intense under the hooded lids. Ignoring the boy, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really think we could share a bed without breaking our vow to the master? It could be two years until the princess is ready to be weaned.”
Semni knew he spoke the truth, but all she could think about was that she’d only lain with him once and wanted more of him. “The king’s decree is unfair. I want to bear your baby, Barekbaal.”
Arruns smiled at the use of his birth name but shook his head. “Not until this siege is over. It’s enough that Nerie was born into war. I want no more of our children to face the threat of death at the hands of the Romans. Perhaps the gods have done us a favor in preventing us from lying together.”
“Me! Me!” Nerie’s persistence distracted her. She hoisted him onto her hip. “A woman cannot fall pregnant when her milk is flowing.”
Arruns’s face resumed its somber lines, his feelings once again masked. “Well, we can’t test whether that’s true without disobeying the master.” He stroked Nerie’s head and then turned to leave. “It’s time for me to return to Lord Mastarna.”
Resentment surged as she watched him go, thinking the gods were punishing her for a past wrong that she’d righted. Then she remembered the fury of the king, and what might have been her fate. She hugged her son.
The tightness in her breasts told her she needed to feed Thia. She headed for the nursery, but as Semni rounded the corner into the living quarters, Cytheris barred her way. She could smell the strong scent of aniseed on the maid’s breath.
Semni averted her gaze as she tried to pass.
Aricia’s betrayal had caused threads of gray to grow in Cytheris’s ankle-length plait even though she was only in her thirties. To know her daughter had been faithless to Lady Caecilia had caused her much sorrow. Today she’d learned Semni’s act of bravery in thwarting Aricia’s plot had been built on deception.
“I need to put Nerie to bed and then feed the princess.”
Cytheris placed her hands on her hips. “Thia can wait a little longer. I want you to know the mistress may forgive you, but I never will.”
Semni shifted Nerie’s weight. The boy was drowsy after all the excitement, his head against her shoulder. “I said I was sorry. What more can I do? I will not make the same mistake again.”
“Well, I don’t believe you. You’ve always been selfish and careless. You were early ripe and you’ll be early rotten. You cuckolded your old husband and bore him a bastard. Then you drank yourself silly and slept with any manservant who’d have you once you were given a chance of a new life by the mistress.”
Semni winced at hearing her sins set out in plain sentences. “Nerie was born from my worship of the wine god at the Winter Feast of Fufluns. It was a sacred union. And I’ve changed—you know that. I was chaste and sober after I saw Arruns would never have me while I was wanton.”
“And now you’ve snared him.”
Semni shoved past her, angry now. Cytheris dogged her heels. “I could scarce believe it when the mistress told me yesterday Aricia had not left the city. Every day I live with the shame of knowing my daughter placed Master Tas in harm’s way. And now I learn that you had the chance to stop her and did nothing?”
Semni swiveled around. Cytheris bumped into her at the sudden change in direction.
“I made a mistake. I was scared and stupid. And now I’m being punished. Isn’t it enough for you that Arruns and I are to be separated?”
“Forgoing pleasure for a time is a mild punishment compared to what you deserve. You are fortunate the mistress is kindhearted—and can sway her husband.”
“Then be satisfied my admission hasn’t made me happy. Arruns won’t marry me until Thia is weaned.”
Cytheris’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t need to be your husband to bed you.”
The Greek woman’s lack of sympathy only doubled Semni’s annoyance. “Aricia told me that you were also a wet nurse. And you opened your legs for your slave master in Latium. Then fell pregnant with her as proof of your adultery. You were little more than a girl yourself and acted foolishly just like I did. You’re a hypocrite and always will be.”
Taken aback, the handmaid grew shrill. “My past is irrelevant. You don’t deserve clemency. Lord Artile is an evil man. Young Tas was under his influence for far too long while you could have saved him. Lord Mastarna should have thrown you into the street with the stripes on your back fresh and bleeding.”
“Just like you did to Aricia?”