Deep Calling Deep by Carole Towriss

Author:Carole Towriss
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McPherson Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sextus bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving.

Another horrendous dream had kept him from sleeping. Crosses, swords, blood . . . everywhere. It was bad enough that during the day he could not prevent his mind from drifting back to that day . . . and to other days he would rather forget. Now the oppressive thoughts invaded his nights as well.

He slipped from bed as quietly as possible, leaving Gaia sleeping peacefully. No need to have her day start out badly.

Gently closing the door to their bedroom, he wandered down the hall to the peristyle. He’d always loved this part of the house. The leafy trees and fragrant blossoms offered a contrast to his life of battle and struggle. It was a part of the world Rome couldn’t dominate. Leaves changed and flowers bloomed on their own schedule, and nothing the senate or the emperor could do or say would ever change it.

Perhaps if he’d had that kind of determination, that kind of iron will to ignore commands and orders and traditions, he wouldn’t have done some of the things he’d done.

But then, the choice wasn’t always easy, or even clear.

He’d silently allowed Nero to pursue his affair with the slave girl, Acte, even as loyal as he was to Empress Octavia. He and Seneca had hoped it would allow Nero to free himself from his mother’s evil influence. And it had worked, to an extent.

From there, it was a series of choices between evil and more evil.

But when the person presenting the options is the most powerful person in the world, in all history, it turns out no one is truly free to decide.

He plucked a long, woody stem covered with needle-like leaves and purple flowers. Most of the shrubs had long passed the flowering stage, but this one presented its tiny blooms all year. He breathed in its aroma, much like that of frankincense, and gathered several more stems—a nice little bouquet for his wife.

Maybe it would make up for some of his recent surliness.

He padded back to his bedroom, and nudged open the door.

Gaia knelt before the bed, her head resting on her hands on the bed.

Was she sick?

He was just about to go to her when she raised her head, and brought her hands to her chest. Her lips moved, but no sound came forth.

He’d caught her doing that a couple other times too. Was she talking to herself? He’d thought she’d been getting better lately, visiting friends, smiling more.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe her mind was even worse than his.

Maybe he never should have told her he was sick. But no, she needed to know ahead of time, before he . . . left her completely alone.

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