Free The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome by Elisabeth Storrs Page A

structure. The fire had eaten holes through the floors and ceilings of each of the four tiers. The rungs of the ladders leading between them were half burned away. She could see where the blaze had spurted upwards, the charred tessellations marking the lick of the flames. She remembered watching the Romans erect it as she stood at the ramparts upon the plateau. It had taken her some time to pluck up the nerve to observe the faces of her besiegers. But when she recognized one of the soldiers laboring behind a wheeled shelter, she’d hastily looked away, the sense of being alien filling her. Where did she belong? Was she truly a traitor when all she wanted was peace?
    She fingered the iron amulet on her wrist with its Aemilian crest. Marcus had given it to her long ago. It linked her to him and to her clan even now. Could she stand by and watch the city of her birth and her tribe annihilated? No matter how much she wished she could feel nothing, the fact remained she would never shuck off her ties to Rome. Even though Marcus was now her enemy, she could not bear to see him harmed. Not when he was the only person there whom she loved. And Drusus? She would not want her former admirer dead either.
    There was a flurry of snowflakes. The line of traffic crawled along, darkness creeping. No sun to make shadows.
    Seeing the snow settling on Mastarna’s head and shoulders, she stepped forward and extended her hand to him; this man she loved but whom she should have hated.
    Mastarna hugged her. “Please, let’s not argue. I’m sorry I upset you.”
    She drew away from him, searching his face. He wore no armor today other than that he used to guard his emotions. “Do you really think Kurvenas should launch an assault?”
    He sighed. “Nothing is clear. There is value in his scheme but he is foolish if he thinks he can attack Rome without the support of the League of the Twelve. And they will never agree if we are led by a lucumo instead of a zilath. Not after King Tulumnes antagonized them.”
    She slid her arms around him beneath his tebenna cloak and leaned against his chest, the wool of his tunic soft against her cheek. “So you don’t regret wedding a Roman? Our marriage has made it so difficult for you.”
    Vel pressed his lips to her forehead. “Of course not. I’ve told you before, Nortia brought you back to me for a reason.”
    “ And can Veii not sue for peace?”
    “ On Roman terms? Never.”
    “ So it will continue.”
    “ Unless other foes distract to the south and east of them—the Volscians, the Aequi. The Latin tribes are always threatening Rome.”
    “ But General Camillus has just succeeded in routing the Volscians!”
    He stroked her cheek. “Then we must hope the Romans turn upon themselves. Patrician against plebeian. General against general. It has happened before.”
    “ But not here.”
    “ No, that is why I won’t oppose Kurvenas becoming the lucumo. I won’t weaken Veii from within.”
    She smoothed her hand along his chest. “Please promise me you will never agree to his plan. It’s too perilous without the assistance of the Twelve.”
    “ I promise,” he said, but his voice was too quiet.
    She gripped the edges of his tebenna. “Because I could not bear that, Vel. Not just because of Marcus. There is no guarantee of success. Veii might be defeated in the attempt.”
    “ Hush.” He took both her hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each in turn. “I promise.” His tone was firmer.
    A snowflake settled on her cloak. She looked up to see a column of snow tumbling from a gap in the roof of the tower. They moved farther beneath the unburned section, accepting they would have to wait a little longer to make their way home. The heavy falling flakes outside blurred their vision to the line of oxen and donkeys.
    “ The snow is early this year,” she said. “Winter will be bleaker if trade is hampered by frozen roads and rivers.”
    Mastarna did not reply.
    “ It will make