Caecilia murmured a prayer that Tarchon was alive, although she wondered if he’d welcome waking to grief. Perhaps Sethre had been the luckier of the lovers to have died first. She gazed down at Vel, thinking the same of him. She felt as though a knife were slicing her insides. She closed his eyelids and kissed them. Then, in an echo of Marcus’s gesture, she placed her mouth upon Vel’s to catch his soul to release it. His lips were soft, no cooler than if she’d greeted him on a winter’s day. She prayed she’d feel his spirit enter and spread through her like a balm. She felt nothing. He was already on his journey to the Beyond.
Her cry was raw and anguished. She closed her eyes, wishing she were dead. Cytheris shuffled close, placing an arm around her shoulders, saying nothing, knowing words were useless.
Thia stood and looped her arms around Caecilia’s neck. Her trembling warmth reminded the mother that she must cease her keening.
The short, frantic blasts of a siren startled her. A pathetic warning signal. Caecilia’s nerves jangled as she heard the Roman war cry and the bloodcurdling screams of women. The hoplites must have reached the forum. The cacophony of slaughter had begun.
FIFTY-FIVE
Semni, Veii, Summer, 396 BC
Semni jolted awake, her heart thumping. Had she heard a muffled scream?
She listened. Another deadened shout through the walls. More distinct. A different register. A man.
She scrambled out of bed. The light was muted in the windowless cell. Nerie was also awake. He made no sound, trembling, eyes wide, lids sticky with sleep. Semni stripped off her nightdress and pulled on her chiton before scooping him into her arms.
Ashen faced, Hathli appeared at the nursery’s doorway. Arnth hovered at the threshold of his room. Larce stood behind him, eyes like saucers, clutching the younger boy’s shoulder. Tas emerged from his chamber. His voice was high pitched. “What’s happening, Semni? Who’s making that noise?”
“I don’t know.” The nursemaid herded all the boys into the nursery where Perca sat upright on her bedroll, whistling. Semni looked around for Thia, panicked to see the cradle empty. “Where’s the princess?”
“The queen and Cytheris took her to the temple.” Hathli grasped Semni’s hand and pulled her to the side. Her fingers gripped the maid’s so hard she winced.
“We need to hide. I’ve heard those types of screams before.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my village was raided by the Romans.”
Semni’s nerves thrummed. “But we’re on the citadel. The Romans can’t get us.” She handed Nerie to her. “Dress the children. I’m going to find Arruns.”
“We need to hide now,” Hathli pleaded.
Semni shook her head. “Not until I find my husband.” She turned to the boys. “Stay here with Hathli and Perca.” She squeezed Arnth’s forearm as she passed him. “Especially you, do you understand?”
He nodded, standing next to the country girl who clasped his hand.
The corridor was dim, the torches burning low in their sconces. The palace guards who had been stationed to protect the family quarters were missing.
As Semni crept along the warren of hallways nearer to the shrieking, a voice inside her told her to run, but she forced herself to go on. She needed to find Arruns. Quivering, she flattened herself against the jamb of a courtyard doorway and peered inside.
Soldiers with conical helmets were racing through the hall. The enemy she’d seen from afar was now in front of her. How had they breached the citadel? There had been no war horns to warn of their approach.
Blood splattered the tiled floor. Dead bodies lay scattered. Dressed in light linen corselets and armed only with spears, the palace guards offered little defense. And their yells were drawing more of their colleagues from their stations throughout the complex. Running straight into their enemy’s hands. A lictor in front of the throne anteroom was trying to extract his ceremonial axe from the bundle of rods. Before he could do so, a Roman sliced his neck.
Two soldiers jostled a housemaid back and forth between them. She sobbed and begged. A third soldier, impatient with his comrades’ sport, grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her face against the wall, ripping the back of her chiton. Semni looked away, only to see another of the servants dragged by her hair across the floor, her skirts leaving a drag mark in the thick slick of blood.
A warning siren was being sounded at last. Semni’s chest hurt with the violent thudding of her heart. She searched for Arruns, scanning the bodies littering the floor. No tattooed corpse. Then she remembered. He’d been ordered to organize the procession. He would be in the stables at the back of the palace.
She turned, feet pounding along the hallways.
The boys and the maids huddled in the nursery. Nerie was whimpering, cheeks shiny with tears, nose running. Semni swung him onto her hip.
“You’re right, Hathli,” she gasped. “It’s the Romans.”
“Then there’s no time to waste. We must hide.”
“Shouldn’t we try to escape the palace?” said Perca.
“They’ll be in the forum. And we’ve four children with us. We need to hide until I can find Arruns. He’ll know what to do.”
Tas tugged at Semni’s skirt. “We could use the secret passageway to the temple. Apa and Ati are there. He will protect us.”
Semni was surprised at his coolness.
“What passageway?” asked Hathli.
“It’s in one of the storage cellars.”
There was a thud at the end of the corridor, shouts growing louder.
Larce squealed, “I don’t want the Romans to get me. I want Ati!”
Semni grasped his hand. “We’re going to play a game of hide-and-seek. Remember, we must be quiet.” She kissed Nerie’s forehead, desperate for him to stop his whining. “Ssh!” Her sharp tone silenced the child. He buried his head into her neck.
Hathli was strong enough to lift Arnth onto her hip. Tas clasped Perca’s hand. “I’ll show you the way.”
The party of women and children ran along the colonnade alongside the terrace, winding through narrow corridors until they reached the steps leading down to the storage complex.
The air was cooler underground, shafts of light piercing the gloom at intervals through small light wells cut into the passage walls. With its huge half-sunken pithoi, the cellar was eerie. There was a ripe smell of hops and a dusty smell of grain. Most of the vessels were now filled to the brim. Semni closed the door behind them.
The Medusa’s glare was hidden by two crossed planks of wood nailed into the terra-cotta cover. Semni gulped. She’d forgotten the portal had been blocked.
Hathli noticed her hesitation as she lowered Arnth to the floor. “Is that the entrance?”
Larce let go of Semni’s hand and ran to the hatch. “It’s locked!”
Tas was studying the gorgon, too. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t used the tunnel, it would still be open.”
Nerie was whimpering again. Semni jiggled him on her hip. She scanned the storeroom, searching for something to force off the slats. There was an iron bar on the side bench used to lever open the stoppers of the pithoi. She eased Nerie to the ground and tried to lift one. It was too heavy for her. Nerie dogged her steps, crying to be cuddled again.
Hathli, farm bred, hefted the bar and wedged the end under one of the boards. It would not shift. “We need a man.”
Semni tried to calm herself. She couldn’t believe they were only the width of two pieces of timber from safety. “I’m going to find Arruns.”
“It’s too dangerous,” said Perca. “He could be anywhere.”