A Noble Captive Page 12

  ‘Is it one of your geese?’

  A quick shake of the head. Tullio ran his hand through his hair and wished Helena were there. She always seemed to understand what Niobe wanted.

  ‘Has something happened to my men?’

  The girl tilted her head to one side. She shrugged.

  ‘Are the pirates, Androceles’s men, massing to attack the temple?’

  Niobe’s eyes grew big and she shook her head. Tears of frustration appeared in the corners of her eyes.

  ‘Who then? What has happened?’ But as the words fell from his lips, Tullio knew who. He knew who would cause Niobe concern. Something had happened to Helena. His heart skipped a beat.

  He forced his voice to remain calm. His hands gripped Niobe’s shoulders. ‘Is it Helena? You must tell me quickly.’

  The girl nodded and looked distressed. Her face became white. She mimed walking with her hand and then falling.

  What had Helena done?

  Tullio offered a prayer up to Jupiter or any god that might be listening that he was not too late. That somehow Niobe had got it wrong and Helena was fine.

  ‘Shall we go there now?’

  But as he followed Niobe through the labyrinth of passageways, he started to fear the worst. He urged her to walk faster, even though she was practically at a run.

  Niobe paused at a half-concealed entrance to a cave. From the symbols outside the cave and the small stone altar with a simple offering of broken bread and incense, everything proclaimed it was a sacred spot. Tullio hesitated. His mother’s superstitions returned. He had no wish to despoil a holy place. The vengeance of the gods could be swift.

  The entrance gaped black.

  ‘Are you certain that Helena is there? That she is in trouble?’

  Niobe began to pull him towards the cave’s mouth.

  ‘But there are no guards, no one to help her.’ Tullio bent down, retrieved an oil lamp, lit it and then peered in the dark empty space.

  The moment he stepped in to the cave, he detected a strong, unpleasant odour of sulphur and something else to make his knees feel weak. He could remember tales of miners who delved deep in the ground and who were overcome by the demons of the mine.

  Was something similar happening here? Exactly how did the sibyl communicate with Kybele? What was down in that hidden cave, deep in the bowels of the earth?

  ‘Helena!’

  The echo returned his voice to him, a hundred times over. How large, how deep was this cave?

  He waited, but there was no answering sound. Only silence and a distant dripping of water. His heart constricted. Where was she? He willed her to appear, but nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Niobe’s face crumple. She sank to her knees, her face pleading with him.

  ‘I will find her. She is bound to be communicating with the goddess. Safe.’ He hoped his words were true.

  Covering his face with a corner of his tunic, Tullio took another step forward. Nothing. The cave was deserted. Whoever had been here had left a long time ago. He turned to go.

  A pale form made him stop. At the far side of the cave, a white-robed body lay in a crumpled heap.

  Chapter Nine

  A black swirling mist enveloped Helena, holding her in its grip, preventing her from moving.

  She knew she should go. The goddess had not spoken to her, ignoring all the entreaties. But her feet were heavy as if they had turned to lead. She tried lifting one foot, but it stayed stubbornly attached to the cave floor.

  The icy mist pressed closer.

  Helena knelt and began to crawl towards the entrance. One knee, then the other. A piece of sharp rock cut into her palm. She stopped and brought her hand to her mouth, licking away the faint trace of blood.

  No blood. Never leave any blood. That was the first lesson her aunt taught her. She should stand up, but that took too much effort.

  The mouth of the cave with its shimmering light was further away than ever. It swayed and changed. Helena wiped a hand across her forehead and felt the sticky sweat.

  The black mist curled around her ankles, cold and damp. She attempted to move her right leg, then her left. Each time, it seemed to take more effort and the light never got any closer.

  The black mist covered the entrance, plunging everything into darkness.

  A thousand voices screamed, reverberating, echoing in her mind until she knew her own voice was being torn from her.

  At the sound, the mist came down more firmly, pressing on her chest, sucking her breath from her lungs, pushing her to the ground.

  Air.

  She had to get more air. Her lungs burned with the need.

  Helena concentrated on inhaling. Each time she tried, the mist pressed more heavily against her, squeezing the last drop of breath out of her.

  The ground that had felt so sharp before became soft like feathers. She’d lie down for a little while, then, when she had the strength, she’d try again.

  Her final thought was that she had failed, she was unworthy. Her pride had led her to this and Kybele punished pride. No one knew she was there, no one would help here.

  Still the mist pressed on her, seeping into her very core, making her lungs feel as if they were on fire.

  Unable to fight back any longer, she allowed her body to succumb.

  A voice penetrated the darkness, calling her name.

  Tullio?

  Not here. He couldn’t be.

  It was forbidden. She had to warn him to keep away. He must not be here.

  She opened her eyes, and forced a breath through her lips. She tried to lift her head and answer, but no sound emerged. It took too much effort to keep her eyes open.

  The mist pressed heavy once more. She wanted to close them and to sleep for ever.

  Please.

  Then suddenly she was floating, moving, and her head no longer rested against the cold hard stone. She could feel instead the unyielding softness of muscle, the rough rasp of wool, the steady heartbeat.

  Tullio?

  It had to be him. She knew it was him.

  Tullio had found her? But how?

  She wanted to ask, but her mind refused to supply the words. Did it matter? He was here and the black mist was receding.

  She drew a deep breath, expecting the burning sensation to come back—but nothing.

  Her lungs began to fill with clean air. One breath. Two.

  She gagged and was set down. Without the arms about her, she felt cold, a cold that seeped to her bones. She wanted to stand but her limbs refused to obey her. The horror from the cave returned. She lashed out with her hands, pushing it away.

  A cup was pressed to her lips.

  ‘Drink this,’ Tullio’s voice commanded.

  She opened her mouth. Several drops of fresh water trickled down the back of her throat. Bliss. She tilted her head back and allowed the cool liquid to run down her throat, cleansing her, making her stronger.

  She blinked and his face swam in front of her. A sigh escaped from her mouth.

  Tullio said something. Not to her. To someone else.

  Helena shook her head to clear the ringing noise from her ears. She tried to rise. This time, she made it to her knees.

  His arms went round her again and lifted her up. She turned her head and listened to the reassuring steady thump of his heart.

  Her mind seemed to drift and then she felt herself fall. The arms were abruptly withdrawn. Helena shivered and tried to turn again towards the security and the warmth of his body. His heartbeat resounded in her ears.

  Had it been a dream?

  She had gone to the cave. She knew that much. The mortar and pestle she used to pound the herbs lay by her side.

  She rubbed her eyes and saw Tullio standing at the foot of her bed, a crease between his eyebrows. It was all too easy to remember how his arms felt.

  A dream, surely.

  Her mind swam as the questions buzzed about her head. She raised herself on her elbows, then tried to sit up, but had to colla
pse back down as the room tilted. She saw the swift look of concern on his face as he started forward, grabbed her elbows and pushed her back against the pillows.

  She wanted to lay her head on his chest. His scent filled her nostrils. Warm, spicy, as if he had eaten honey cakes. She reached out her hand.

  What if someone saw her like this? She’d have to explain, and then…

  She glanced over and saw the door was firmly shut. At least she was shielded from any passer-by’s gaze. Her hand fell back and knocked the statuette of Kybele that stood on her bedside table crashing to the floor.

  Tullio bent down and righted it, placed it back so Kybele’s all-knowing eyes stared directly at her.

  Helena turned her head away.

  ‘You are awake. I will leave. They will be releasing the lions soon.’ Tullio’s voice was low and pleasant. Her fingers reached out and touched his warmth. ‘Sleep. Your strength will come back.’

  How long had he been here, watching her?

  She remembered nothing beyond the suffocating pitch blackness of the cave. She was sure she had been there, and had tried to face the goddess. There had been nothing in reply, nothing but blackness. Blackness pushing at her.

  The vague memory of being carried stirred.

  ‘Stay with me,’ she croaked between parched lips, and longed for water. Her mouth felt stuffed with old rags. ‘I need…honey water.’

  ‘I won’t leave you, if you need me.’ He smiled. Then he reached over, poured her a cup of water and held it out to her.

  As she took the cup, their fingers touched, and a searing bolt of heat went up her arm. She nearly dropped the cup in surprise, but recovered enough to take a few sips of honey water. Each sip brought more and more strength. She found it impossible to remember when she had been as thirsty. She held out the cup and he refilled it.

  When she had drained it for a third time, he took the cup from her and set it down on the small bedside table, next to Kybele. ‘It is here if you need more.’

  Helena watched his chest rise and fall. He had rescued her, but she had no idea how he had found her.

  How could he have discovered the cave? Kybele’s sacred place? So well hidden she had not known it was there until her tenth birthday. It was sacrilege for any but the anointed ones to go there. Whoever did faced a certain death, but he had lived. Without him, she would have died. She passed a hand over her eyes. The trembling in her limbs started again and she swallowed hard.

  ‘How did you know I was in danger?’

  ‘Niobe saw you go into the cave, and came to fetch me. I discovered you lying on the cave’s floor.’

  ‘Where is Niobe?’ Helena looked wildly about her, but the room was empty save for Tullio. She started to sit up, the linen coverlet slipping down to reveal her under-tunic and nothing else. With a wild grab, she clutched it to her shoulders. ‘Did anyone see you…carry me?’

  ‘Niobe returned to her geese. She waited until you were back here, then honked loudly. We encountered no one on the way back to your room. Niobe knows all the hidden passages in this temple.’

  Tullio leant forward and his hand firmly pushed her back down on to the mattress. His face was so close she could see the faint bristles on his chin, and the different flecks of colour in his eyes. How many colours did his eyes have? He had impossibly long lashes for a man.

  ‘You must rest. Lie back. The air was bad in that cave. It will have sapped your strength.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Helena propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him in disbelief. Her head felt stuffed with unpicked wool. Tullio seemed to know so much about the dangers of the cave and she, who had lived in the temple all her life, so little. ‘The air there is the same as anywhere.’

  ‘It smelt strongly of rotten eggs. I found it difficult to breathe.’ Tullio’s face grew grave. ‘This is why you collapsed. If you had remained there much longer, you would not have recovered. My uncle owned mines, and had to be careful. He had no wish to lose slaves unnecessarily. When was the last time the cave was used?’

  ‘When I found Aunt Flavia.’

  ‘It could explain why your aunt suffered as well.’

  Helena wanted to believe Tullio’s words. Was it a case of bad air? She too had heard of problems in mines. She bit her lip and straightened her shoulders, ignored the weakness in her arms.

  She knew the truth.

  It had nothing to do with the air in the cave and everything to do with Kybele’s favour. She and Aunt Flavia—maybe the whole island—had done something to displease the goddess. This was the goddess’s revenge. Her way of telling the whole world she needed a new anointed one. Humiliation washed over Helena. She had thought she was the goddess’s chosen one, but she wasn’t. The goddess had no use for her.

  She reached out and turned the statue face down again. This time when Tullio reached out to right it, she placed her hand on his wrist. His hand gave hers a brief squeeze, but he left the statuette where it lay.

  ‘Kybele protects her own.’ Helena fought to keep her voice steady. ‘I did everything right. I took the herbs. I washed in the sacred spring. I should have been safe. It was Kybele’s choice. It had nothing to do with air—bad or otherwise. If Kybele had desired it, I would have emerged unscathed as I have seen my aunt do countless times.’

  The unspoken words hung about them. Helena regarded the frieze of grapes that ran around the top of the ceiling.

  If he said the words, it would make it easier to hate him. To forget in her despair she had called out for him. Called out for a Roman and not for Kybele. And he came, her unruly mind whispered. He saved her from the fate Kybele decreed. She owed him a life-debt.

  ‘I have seen people suffer from underground sickness before. I know what it looks like.’ His voice cut through her as if it were a ritual knife with the sharpest edge. ‘It is not a question of the gods’ favour, but of being sensible, of not taking risks, of not staying where the air is bad. Truly, Helena.’

  He reached out and touched her lips with a gentle finger. The tingles from that one touch infused her whole body with warmth. She wanted to believe his words. Like his touch, they filled her with a warmth. Maybe it wasn’t a judgement. Maybe it was something else.

  ‘Was there nothing the sibyl does that you didn’t do?’ he asked. ‘Is it possible you forgot some small detail?’

  ‘She brings a bird, a dove, but I did not want to call attention to myself. The birds tend to let out a loud cry and all would have come running.’ Helena tapped a finger against her mouth. She tried to keep relief from flooding. Was there a possibility that she had not displeased the goddess? That she had not preformed the ritual correctly and so the goddess never came to protect her? ‘And the sibyl always takes a lit torch, but I did not see the need. I see well in the dark.’

  A shiver ran through her as she recalled the absolute blackness of the cave. She had wanted a light, but it was too late, and the air had begun to move with a rustle of a thousand wings. Then the black mist descended, choking her. The thoughts sucked out the relief she felt and left in its place a great emptiness, a well that needed to be filled. Tullio’s fingers tightened around her hand.

  She withdrew it and he let her go.

  ‘You think there was a reason for such things?’ Helena tilted her head. She had thought them theatrical trappings for her aunt. ‘A true believer who is pure of heart should have nothing to fear from the goddess.’

  ‘In my experience, there is always a practical reason for such things, although sometimes it is lost in the mists of time.’ A dimple showed in his cheek when he said the words. ‘It sounds to me as if the air is bad in that cave and your aunt quite sensibly took precautions.’

  ‘But she is known for the accuracy of her prophecies. The goddess should protect her.’

  ‘A good priest or priestess uses everything at his or her disposal. Not to do so is to refuse a gift of the gods. The rituals are there for a purpose.’

  Helena shifted uncomfortably.
Was that what she done? Refused Kybele’s gift? Had she been too proud, as Zenobia accused her of being? All she knew was that the thought of the cave now terrified her. She had to get her mind away from there. Something, anything that was not about the cave.

  ‘You seem very knowledgeable about the religious craft and practice.’

  ‘As I said before, my mother visited practically every priest, soothsayer and charlatan in Italy, searching for a cure for my sister’s speechlessness.’ Tullio ruffled his hair. He gave a wry smile that made Helena’s heart turn over. ‘She dragged me along until I was old enough to protest. In the end, my sister spoke when she thought my mother was in danger of falling. She made her own miracle.’

  ‘People expect bells and incense. It is faith that counts. Surely it was your mother and sister’s belief that caused the miracle.’

  His face loomed close to hers. The bristles from his shaved-this-morning chin were clearly visible. She ran her tongue over her lips and tried to concentrate on his words, not on the feelings building up inside, clamouring to be heard. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.

  ‘Torches and birds are more than smoke and mirrors, Helena.’

  ‘I…I knew what I was doing.’ She twisted the edge of the blanket around her fingers. ‘Maybe I took a risk but it was for the good of the temple.’

  ‘Do you put the temple’s needs above your own?’

  ‘You put your men’s needs above your own when you put yourself forward for punishment instead of your centurion.’

  ‘I did what I had to.’

  ‘As did I.’ Stung, Helena sat bolt upright.

  The coverlet slithered to the floor.

  It lay there, unheeded.

  Her under-tunic gaped open and she knew from the flicker in Tullio’s eyes the swell of her breast was revealed. Neither moved. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, so loud she thought he must have heard. Her hand touched the neck of the under-tunic, pulling it higher.

  He reached down and picked up the coverlet, tucking it back firmly into place. All she could do was watch him and long for his touch.

  His fingers trailed along the side of her jaw. The gesture of a friend? She wanted more than friendship. She wanted…A burning consumed her, made her long for more than gentle touches. She had been cold before, but now her body was alive with sensation pulsing through her.