Pompeii. Part 25

Ruso came at her in a rush, their ch.o.r.eographed movements forgotten and the fire of self-preservation in his eyes.

Even in the fury of battle, Ariella's sense of Cato's every expression did not waver. He stood now with hands on his hips, as though angry at the entire proceeding, and a deep channel furrowed between his brows. She could smooth out that furrow if she could end this farce.

A flash of yellow behind a thick column revealed Isabella watching. Ariella swished her net toward Ruso's feet, ashamed that the girl should see her once again degraded.

The guests had gone silent with antic.i.p.ation and only the sc.r.a.pe of sandal sounded in the atrium.

And then she heard the laugh. That shrill, discordant laugh that she reviled.

Though she knew it to be a mistake, she looked toward the sound, as one who looks at a dead animal on the roadside or at a public execution. She could not help herself.

Her eyes swept Valerius's fine-boned features, saw that he had not changed at all, then pushed past him. To the young man at his side. A slave.

At the slave's features, a heat like lightning blazed through her body and seemed to spark from her fingertips. Her feet stilled, then her arms. Silence swallowed the atrium, and her mind, and her heart.

Micah.

Her brother.

Ruso's panic swept him across the stones toward her.

A moment later she hit the pavement on her back. Her helmet smacked the stones and air whooshed from her chest. The stars shone down through the roof opening above, cold and harsh.

Ruso's sword point was at her throat. She heard the cheers and waited for death.

Another yell. Cato's voice. Then Cato's feet and legs at her head. He shoved Ruso backward.

Valerius crowed. "An ign.o.ble end for your gladiator, Portius Cato! Beaten by an untrained slave!"

She felt the odious man patter toward her where she lay.

"At least we must see his humiliation!"

Before she knew what he was about, Valerius reached down and yanked the helmet from her head.

Cato was there, stepping between them, full toga shielding her. But it was not to be. He could not protect her from the circle that closed upon them, from the toes that prodded her to stand.

And in truth, she wanted to stand. Wanted to stand and turn and look upon the face that she had longed to see for nine torturous years, never knowing if he were dead or alive, fearing the worst and not daring to pray for hope.

It was Micah alone that she saw when she stood and lifted her eyes. His lips parted in sudden recognition. She felt the tears spring to her eyes, and then they were in each other's arms, the embrace of two who had believed they were forever parted.

"How?" Micah's voice was a whisper in her ear.

"I did not know where to find you-" Oh, for a hundred years to sit and talk with him.

But the voice she hated trilled from behind them.

"Well, this is most surprising." Valerius circled the two of them like a beast admiring its prey. "The gladiator is not only a woman, but she is a woman who belongs to me!"

Cato stepped between them, facing Valerius. "Not any longer. She is my slave now, purchased from the gladiators where you sold her."

The guests had gone silent, like an audience before an impromptu theater performance.

Valerius laughed, the sound high and juvenile. "Is that what she told you?" He patted Ariella's cheek, and she jerked away from his touch. Her brother circled her waist with an arm.

But Valerius was not put off. He leaned in close. "Lovely as always, despite the hair." He turned to Cato, whose face had gone as dark as a summer storm.

"I did not sell her, Portius Cato. Why would I part with such a beauty? No, I fear you were duped into purchasing a runaway slave. And as such, she must be returned to her rightful owner." He clapped his hands together like a delighted child. "And that is me!"

The heat that had coursed through Ariella at the recognition of her brother drained away, leaving her icy.

Cato's eyes were on her, inquiring. Pleading, even. She had to look away.

"What will you take for her, then?" Cato's voice was edged with something like fear, and it hurt Ariella to hear it.

Again the sick laughter. "I would not take all the wealth in the world for her, my friend." He lifted Ariella's chin with his fingertip. She kept her eyes trained downward. "The little Jewess and I have unfinished business, do we not?"

He turned from her, giving Cato his attention. "I knew that when I found her brother, it was a good omen. She could not be far behind. But I must admit, I did not expect to find her in Pompeii."

"Her brother!"

Ariella met Cato's eyes, and a moment of exultation flowed between them. It meant everything to her to find Micah, he knew that. Without taking his eyes from her, Cato spoke to Valerius. "I will purchase them both from you. At whatever price you name."

Valerius clucked his tongue and elbowed Ariella. "It would seem your illegitimate master is as taken with you as your rightful one, my girl." She was going to be sick, and grasped Micah's hand for strength. Valerius shook his head, then spoke to the group at large. "You are all my witnesses. Portius Cato is in possession of my property and I am reclaiming it." He clapped his hands. "We shall not be guests in this house. I fear that Cato's affection for my slave would overcome his good judgment and I should not find her still present in the morning. Micah, fetch the other slaves and my things."

Cato grabbed his arm. "I must speak with you of other matters, Valerius." He eyed the other dinner guests, as if weighing his options. "The reason I brought you here."

Valerius waved away Cato's words. Ariella watched the drama play out, too stunned to think. Her brother disappeared, obedient to his master.

"I know, I know. You are opposing Nigidius Maius and you want information that will damage him." He chuckled. "Really, Cato, you must think me an idiot. Would I come all this way without knowing why?"

Cato's voice was low. "Will you help me?"

"Will you let me take my slave girl and leave?"

Ariella's breath shallowed. The election, his sister, these were objectives Cato would not surrender. Not for a gladiator-turned-slave. She watched his face drain of color.

Valerius smiled. "Ah, but I will save you from making a choice, Portius Cato. For you have no choice. She is my slave. And Nigidius Maius, for all his cowardice, is my ally."

His slaves rushed into the courtyard, carrying his baggage. Valerius took Ariella's arm and yanked her toward the door.

Behind them, Cato called out. "Stay the night, Valerius. You cannot leave for Rome at this hour!" Ariella heard the desperation in his voice and it shredded her heart.

"Oh, but we do not go to Rome, Cato." Valerius's words dripped with sweetness. "We go to the home of Nigidius Maius."

With that, he pulled Ariella into the night street where slaves and chariot waited. She glanced over her shoulder, back into the torch-lit atrium, for a last look at Cato framed by the doorway.

It seemed to her that he had aged ten years since the evening began.

CHAPTER 38.

Ariella gripped Micah's hand as they ran behind Valerius's chariot through the dark streets of Pompeii. One of his other slaves held the horses' reins, but the other two ran behind the brother and sister, keeping them penned.

She ran on wooden legs, numb to both feeling and thought. Only one truth sustained her: she had found her brother and he was alive. Everything else had crashed like the basilica's columns after the quake.

The road to Maius's house on the outskirts of the town led upward, through the eerie Street of Tombs, toward the mountain barely visible in the night sky. They arrived at the huge estate breathless and weary and were prodded through the doorway on the heels of Valerius.

Ariella had not faced Nigidius Maius since the last time in Rome, when he had visited Valerius. She has seen him only from a distance since coming to Pompeii. But she would have known him anywhere, and when his florid face appeared in the atrium, she swayed on her feet in the rush of unwelcome memory. Micah released her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was like a nightmare, all of it.

"Clovius Valerius." Maius held his arms wide in welcome. He was clearly intoxicated, and his lascivious lifestyle had aged him. "I had heard you planned a visit to our little town. Welcome, welcome."

The two men gripped arms. Joined by a common depravity.

"It has been a fortuitous arrival already, Gnaeus." He turned on Ariella and she shrank back. "I have found a runaway slave girl, whom I have been longing to recover."

Maius turned drunken eyes on her, and she could see his confusion at her gladiator's costume. He looked at Micah. "Hmmm. A matched pair, it would seem."

Valerius c.o.c.ked his head. "Yes, they are much alike, are they not? Let us hope she continues to give as much pleasure as her brother has."

At this, there was a first stir of awakening, and the hair at the nape of her neck p.r.i.c.kled with dread. Micah's grip on her tightened and she felt the tension of his body.

Hashem, what has happened to him?

"Come, come." Maius beckoned the group to follow. "You have arrived perfectly. We are just beginning the Feast."

Valerius grinned. "And I expect a better celebration than I received in the home of Portius Cato."

Maius's face darkened. "Cato." It was not a question, but a statement of betrayal.

"Fret not, Gnaeus. Cato's desperation marks him as your inferior, even if there were nothing else to disparage him."

A smoldering anger sparked to life in Ariella's chest.

Maius bowed. "Then let us enjoy the evening as it should be enjoyed."

Valerius followed the larger man, then glanced backward at his other three slaves. "Bring the two."

They were herded through Maius's fantastic estate, past the courtyard garden, down a long hall, and through another smaller atrium. The home seemed to continue forever, as another hall bent and led toward the west. The sounds of celebration wafted on an odor of cooked flesh, and Ariella slowed, only to be prodded from behind by one of the slaves.

A small portico opened at this edge of the house, and they rounded the corner onto it, catching a breath of the night air. To her left, a large triclinium adjoined the portico, and the room was crowded with celebrants and lit by an abundance of flaming torches.

But it was not the many guests, nor the lavish spread of rich foods, that stopped Ariella and held her captive where she stood. It was the paintings.

The three walls of the room were painted from floor to ceiling with panels of plaster frescoes, each one its own scene, divulging a horrific story that was both the stuff of legend and the truth of her past.

Ariella's mouth went dry, then flooded as though she would be sick. Confronted so visually with the events of her life, her legs trembled and her stomach rebelled.

It was all there. The panicked female initiate, the G.o.d Bacchus sprawled naked, the priestess ushering the terrified girl toward her descent to the underworld. Satyrs, nymphs, the winged G.o.d Eros, the man-horse Silenus-all looked down on the proceedings with approval. Even the final scene of the now-wiser girl being whipped by the priestess. All of it, wrapped around the room in color and details so real, for a moment she felt again the trance-inducing effects of the Kykeon, the wine that brought on frenzied hallucinations.

Ariella became aware once again of her surroundings. The humiliation of her memories came to life before Micah. She looked to him, hoping he would not understand. But when he turned his face to her, she saw more than understanding. She saw the pain of a shared humiliation.

He knew. He knew too well.

Her anger flamed, building as though fanned by a hot wind. The stupor that had numbed her since leaving Cato's house began to lift, washed away with a wave of hatred.

They were pushed into the triclinium behind Valerius, and pulled to a couch on his left and right, his private pets chained to his side. The eyes of the guests barely registered the newcomers, so far gone were they with their drugged wine. The room smelled of body odor and a sickening sweetness-a smell Ariella could not identify that soured in her stomach.

Valerius was commenting on the paintings.

Maius laughed from his place across the room. "You were my inspiration, of course, Clovius. My time in Rome with you was most-enlightening."

Valerius reached across to the table in front of them and lifted a lump of sausage. He brought it to his mouth and bit off a chunk, then pushed it against Ariella's lips. She turned her face and leaned away, but he would smash it against her lips and so she at last opened her mouth, and considered biting off his fingers. Not yet. Her time would come. The sausage was vile in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed.

The Feast of Vulcan had given each of the guests reason enough to indulge in excess, if indeed any reason was necessary, and the night wore on with lively music played by flutes in the corner and half-dressed women brought in to dance in the center of the three tables. Knowing her brother watched, Ariella felt her face flush at their explicit display. But the night had only begun. The partygoers had barely begun to indulge their flesh, and her vision blurred at what was still to come.

Some of the guests still retained enough sobriety to speak of politics, and it was not long before Cato's name was mentioned. Valerius raised a cup to Maius. "He is young and eager, Maius. Are you a.s.sured of victory?"

Maius grinned and reached out to yank at the arm of one of the dancing girls and pull her down onto his couch. "I am making certain of it even as we enjoy the evening, Clovius." He pressed his full lips against the girl's mouth, then pushed her away and stuffed a date between his teeth. "I have spent the day writing letters and sending messages." He spoke around the date, chewing it with an open mouth. "It would seem that our Portius Cato has made some unfortunate allies. Christians."

Valerius's hold on her tightened. Could he feel her racing heart?

"Christians! Why would he do such a thing?"

Maius shrugged. "His foolishness is my gain. By the morning, everyone who matters in this town will know if it." He swallowed his mouthful. "If I can manage it, I will bring some charges against him, and toss him into a cell next to his sister. With the blessing of the G.o.ds, we will see him executed before the election even arrives."

Sweat dampened Ariella's tunic under her leather and her shoulders tightened.

Valerius indicated the paintings once more. "You are planning initiation rites soon, I expect?"

"Indeed." Maius waved the dancing girls away, clearing the s.p.a.ce between himself and Valerius. "At the next new moon." He swept a hand around the room. "Everyone is in great antic.i.p.ation."

"You will be Bacchus?"

Maius shrugged with false humility. "Of course."

"And your initiate?" Valerius leaned against her. "Who shall play the part of Ariadne?"

Maius smiled and rubbed his lips. The room quieted, as though his guests also wished to hear who would be the female initiate in the ritual marriage. "My daughter, Nigidia."

Ariella's body jerked. To use a slave in such a way was contemptible, but one's daughter? Incest was frowned upon, even in Rome's depraved society. The guests around the tables held their silence, and the moment seemed suspended on bated breath.