He laughed, disentangling her fingers. “Go and finish your chores. I have to work.”
She delayed, tracing the scar on his cheek. The needle marks where she’d sewn his wound had almost faded. Surprising her again, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her, the side of his face against her breasts. She kissed the top of his head.
“Perhaps I want you with me because you’ve bewitched me,” he murmured.
She pulled back. “Don’t say that. I don’t use spells on you.”
He fingered the fascinum and Venus shell around her neck. “Yet you believe in magic. Look at all the charms you wear.”
She covered his hand. “All of us need protection, my Wolf. These keep me from the evil eye. You wear no bulla now you’re a man, so I need to watch out for you. I can advise you of the precautions needed should an ill omen befall you.”
He eased his fingers from under hers. “Enough. As you’re a woman, I’m prepared to accept your faith in superstition. But I don’t believe in such safeguards, nor should any soldier.” He guided her from between his legs and turned back to his desk.
She was sorry she’d spoken and lost the chance to linger with him. Yet as she walked outside to return to her washing, she also touched her amulets. In daylight she made a contract with Mater Matuta, promising that if the goddess convinced Camillus to love her, she would double her gifts. And at night, she used her body, lest pleasure instead of prayer was what was truly needed.
TEN
From the moment she passed under the massive rock archway spanning the road, Pinna’s eyes were wide with wonder. She’d been cooped up behind the wooden palisade of the camp for too long. Now she enjoyed the descent into the valley, aware of Veii’s citadel above her, looking forward to seeing the fast-flowing water of the river below.
The cart bounced in the grooved wheel ruts of the road. Artile sat sulking beside her, unimpressed he shared his conveyance with a concubine. He clutched one of his sacred books in his arms like an anxious parent.
Pinna concentrated on the sights around her: pine saplings, and holly covering the tufa walls of the ravine. Her Wolf was encouraging new growth after years of harvesting the forests for fuel and forts.
Camillus rode his horse ahead, while Marcus, as head decurion, organized his turma of thirty knights to form an escort around them. The journey today would be perilous. The road and river were companions, running close by the wall of Veii. Too close, at times. The Roman lines were reinforced in such places but were under constant threat from skirmish and arrow fire.
At intervals, they passed large stone domes. After years of neglect, grass covered the massive Etruscan burial mounds. The abandoned tombs were a chilling sight, with their yawning, darkened doorways. Yet despite her trepidation about traversing through the cemeteries, Pinna admired the size of the tumuli. The sturdy columbaria that housed the ashes of the well-to-do in Rome bore no comparison to these splendid sepulchers.
Camillus reined his stallion to walk beside the cart and pointed to a group of statues seated above the doorway of one of the mounds—gods and goddesses on thrones. “Which deities are these?”
Artile studied the images briefly before responding. “They are not gods but ancestors.”
“You revere women?” The general’s voice echoed Pinna’s own surprise.
“The Rasenna venerate both bloodlines. Our male and female forebears protect our families and clans.”
Camillus said nothing, steering his horse to walk abreast of Marcus. Pinna was less able to dismiss the sight, turning in wonder to view the sculpture of an Etruscan woman who was considered an eternal guardian. And suddenly she couldn’t help wondering about the reputation of Veientane women. How could a mother, daughter, or sister be a heroine as well as depraved?
The sanctuary was situated near a crossroad where there had once been meetings, markets, and commerce. The area was now deserted. Smithy forges lay abandoned. Shops were derelict. The only activity was that of Roman sentries patrolling the area.
Pinna held her breath when she realized that, to reach the sanctuary’s gates, they must pass along a section of the road that ran flush against the city’s perimeter. The tufa blocks were enormous, each one as tall as a man and as wide as a giant. There was no mortar between them. Thick, impenetrable, timeless. Panic seized her as she spied the Veientane’s own sentinels on watch. The wagon driver urged the donkeys to a trot, while the escort of knights clustered around the cart, shields raised to ward off any arrows. No missiles were fired, though. She exhaled in relief as the party passed through the wide portal into the temple grounds, leaving the horsemen of the turma to station themselves around the boundary.
The serenity inside was a shock. Its greenness. After being surrounded by the wasteland around the camp and the stridency of military life, a place of calm and verdure was difficult to absorb.
A three-cell temple dominated the triangular enclosure. Its pediment was resplendent with the figure of a horse with winged shoes among gods and heroes. Pinna tilted her head to scan the roof decorations with medusa faces backed by fluted shells.
Camillus and Marcus stood some distance from the temple portico studying the complex. They were dressed in armor, hands resting on their sword hilts. She hoped the gods would not be offended by the sight of burnished bronze in a place of peace.
Artile beckoned to the general. His pale face was animated as he pointed to four statues on the roof ridge of the temple. The figures were perched on high pedestals, greater than life size, wondrous. “I’ll call the deities by Roman names so you can better recognize them. The sun god, Apollo, stands accosting Herculeus for catching the golden hind of Diana. Mercurius and Latona witness the confrontation. These votives were created by Vulca, the Veientane sculptor who crafted the statue of your Jupiter riding his quadriga atop the Capitoline temple in Rome. On the commission of the Etruscan kings who once ruled you.”
Camillus ignored the barb. “Granted, the tyrants were fond of monuments. At least Rome was spared their tyranny when the Republic was formed, even if their buildings remained.” He pointed to the pediment. “Who is the god accompanied by the leopard?”
“Fufluns. The Greeks call him Dionysus. The god of wine and regeneration. He is brother to Apollo but is wild and primal compared to the reasoned temper of the god of light and healing.”
Pinna marveled again how Rome and Veii shared the same divine rulers. Yet at the mention of Fufluns, she was confused. The god of wine was Liber. She didn’t know him as brethren to Apollo.
Marcus gestured toward a large rectangular pool at the side of the temple. “What’s the purpose of this basin?”