LITMIR.BIZ

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      Then her reports had ended, and at night she knew that the rhythmic victory chants echoing across Rome were not from the throats of the First-Born.

      Metella reached up to her shoulder and took hold of the strap there, lifting it away from her skin. She shrugged it off and reached for the other. In a moment, her dress slipped into a puddle of material and she stepped naked from it, her back to the gates as she walked through the arches and doors, deeper into the house. The air felt cooler on her uncovered skin and she shivered again, this time with a touch of pleasure. How strange it was to be naked in these formal rooms!

      As she walked, she slipped bangles from her hands and rings from her fingers, placing the handful of precious metal on a table. Marius' wedding ring she kept, as she had promised him that she would never take it off. She loosed her hair from the bands and let it spill down her back in a wave, tossing her head to make the crimps and curls fall out.

      She was barefoot and clean as she entered the bathing hall and felt the steam coat her with the tiniest trace of gleaming moisture. She breathed it in and let the warmth fill her lungs.

      The pool was deep and the water freshly heated, the last task of the departing slaves and servants. She let out a small sigh as she stepped down into the clear pool, made dark blue by the mosaic base. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and thought back over the years with Marius. She'd never minded the long periods he spent away from Rome and their home with the First-Born. Had she known how short the time would be, she would have gone with him, but it was not the moment for pointless regrets. Fresh tears slid from under her eyelids without effort or any release of tension.

      She remembered when he was first commissioned and his pleasure at each rise in rank and authority. He had been glorious in his youth and the lovemaking had been joyous and wild. She had been an innocent girl when the muscular young soldier had proposed. She hadn't known about the ugly side of life, about the pain as year after year passed without children to bring her joy. Each one of her friends had pressed out screaming child after child and some of them broke her heart just to look at them, just from the sudden emptiness. Those were the years when Marius had spent more and more time away from her, unable to cope with her rages and accusations. For a while she had hoped he would have an affair and she had told him that she would even accept a child from such a union as her own.

      He had taken her head tenderly in his hands and kissed her softly. ‘There is only you, Metella,’ he had said. ‘If fate has taken this one pleasure from us, I won't spit in her eye.’

      She had thought she would never be able to stop the sobs that pulled at her throat. Finally he had lifted her up and taken her to bed where he was so gentle she cried once more, at the end. He had been a good husband, a good man.

      She reached over to the side of the pool without opening her eyes. Her fingers found the thin iron knife she had left there. One of his, given after his century had held a hill fort for a week against a swarming army of savages. She gripped the blade between two fingers and guided it blindly down to her wrist. She took a deep breath and her mind was numb and filled with peace.

      The blade cut and the strange thing was it didn't really hurt. The pain was a distant thing, almost unnoticed as her inner eye relived old summers.

      ‘Marius.’ She thought she'd said the name aloud, but the room was still and silent and the blue water had turned red.

      Cornelia frowned at her father.

      ‘I will not leave here. This is my home and it is as safe as anywhere else in the city at the moment.’

      Cinna looked about him, noting the heavy gates that blocked off the town house from the street outside. The house he had given as her dowry was a simple one of only eight rooms, all on one floor. It was a beautiful home, but he would have preferred an ugly one, with a high brick wall around it.

      ‘If a mob comes for you, or Sulla's men, looking to rape and destroy …’ His voice shook with suppressed emotion as he spoke, but Cornelia held firm.

      ‘I have guards to handle a mob and nothing in Rome will stop Sulla if the First-Born cannot,’ Cornelia replied. Her voice was calm but, inside, doubts nagged at her. True, her father's home was built like a fortress, but this belonged to her and to Julius. It was where he would look for her, if he survived.

      Her father's voice rose almost to a screech. ‘You haven't seen what the streets are like! Gangs of animals looking for easy targets. I couldn't go out myself without my guards. Many homes have been set on fire, or looted. It is chaos.’ He rubbed his face with his hands and his daughter saw that he hadn't shaved.

      ‘Rome will come through it, Father. Didn't you want to move out to the country when the riots were going on a year ago? If I had left then, I would not have met Julius and I would not be married.’

      ‘I wish I had left!’ Cinna snapped, his voice savage. ‘I wish I had taken you away then. You would not be here, in danger, with …’

      She stepped closer to him and put her hand out to touch his cheek.

      ‘Calm, Father, calm. You will hurt yourself with all your worries. This city has seen upheavals before. It will pass. I will be safe. You should have shaved.’

      There were tears in his eyes and she stepped into a crushing hug.

      ‘Gently, old man. I am delicate now.’

      Her father straightened his arms, looking at her questioningly.

      ‘Pregnant?’ he asked, his voice rough with affection.

      Cornelia nodded.

      ‘My beautiful girl,’ he said, gathering her in again, but carefully.

      ‘You will be a grandfather,’ she whispered into his ear.

      ‘Cornelia,’ he said. ‘You must come now. My house is safer than this. Why take such a risk? Come home.’

      The word was so powerful. She wanted to let him take her to safety, wanted very much to be a little girl again, but could not. She shook her head, smiling tightly to try to take away the sting of rejection.

      ‘Leave more guards if it will make you feel happy, but this is my home now. My child will be born here and when Julius is able to return to the city he will come here first.’

      ‘What if he has been killed?’

      She closed her eyes against the sudden stab of pain, feeling tears sting under the lids.

      ‘Father, please … Julius will come back to me. I … I am sure of it.’

      ‘Does he know about the child?’

      She kept her eyes closed, willing the weakness to pass. She would not start sobbing, though part of her wanted to bury her head in her father's chest and let him carry her away.

      ‘Not yet.’

      Cinna sat on a bench next to a trickling pool in the garden. He remembered the conversations with the architect when he had been readying the house for his daughter. It seemed such a long time ago. He sighed.

      ‘You defeat me, girl. What will I tell your mother?’

      Cornelia sat next to him. ‘You will tell her that I am well and happy and going to give birth in about seven months. You will tell her that I am preparing my home for the birth and she will understand that. I will send messengers to you when the streets are quiet again and … that we have enough food and are in good health. Simple.’

      Her father's voice was cracking slightly as he tried to find a note of firmness. ‘This Julius had better be a good husband to you – and a good father. I will have him whipped if he isn't. Should have done it when I heard he was running about on my roof after you.’

      Cornelia wiped a hand over her eyes, pressing the worry back inside her. She forced herself to smile. ‘There's no cruelty in you, Father, so don't try and pretend there is.’

      He grimaced, and the silence stretched for long moments.

      ‘I

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