The Wedding Shroud - A Tale of Ancient Rome by Storrs Elisabeth

Author:Storrs, Elisabeth [Storrs, Elisabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Cornelian Press
Published: 2012-07-25T07:00:00+00:00

‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ he said, eyes narrowing. ‘But how many monsters will you bear before bringing forth an heir?’

Artile watched her calmly as she struggled to take even small gasps of air. He bent near to her. His face was close-shaven, not stippled by the shadow that touched Mastarna’s jaw by afternoon. She closed her eyes, thinking of her husband. Caught between the image and the presence of these two men.

‘Sister,’ he said, his deep voice enticing. ‘Would you like to defer such a fate?’

Caecilia slowly opened her eyes. ‘Mastarna says you cannot cheat Nortia.’

He laughed. ‘For once I must agree with my impious brother. I cannot alter destiny nor indeed would I wish to. But, sister, the gods do not just control the space around us. If we supplicate ourselves, we sometimes succeed in persuading them to speed up or slow down time.’

Caecilia stared at him, finally comprehending. ‘Do you mean the Rasenna can postpone death?’

‘If the rituals of the Book of Fate are devoutly followed.

‘The Book of Fate?’

He nodded. ‘And if you follow my guidance piously I can call down lightning as proof that Nortia has answered your prayers.’

Thunderbolts again. Dangerous and beautiful.

Caecilia felt as if they had risen far above the world, far away from the odour of the liver boiling in a pot of bubbling water near the altar, the sound of the novice scraping dried blood off stone.

Suspended in space. Time slowing.

When Cytheris knelt beside her Caecilia jumped in fright. The maid tugged her arm, whispering urgently not to listen to him.

Grabbing the Greek girl’s plait, Artile yanked it to make her stand. Cytheris whimpered as strands of her hair came away in his hand, her mouth with its missing dogtooth agape in pain.

‘Go,’ he growled. ‘Wait for your mistress outside.’

The servant did not wait for a countermand but ran from them, weeping, while Caecilia anxiously called after her.

The spell was broken. Cytheris’ fright engulfed her. It was as though she had waded into a river and too late found herself struggling for a foothold in sudden depths.

And yet she did not drown. Artile’s calm was as forceful as drawing a deep breath. It made Caecilia think that she could breathe even if the waters rose over her.

‘Forget your slave and listen to me,’ he said firmly. ‘Your people think Rome will exist forever provided they act like soldier ants; single-minded and joyless, building and protecting their nest. Know instead that every person, every city—indeed, even the Rasenna nation itself—has a limited lifespan. Ten sacred saecula is all the time our race has been allotted and it is no different for people.’

‘So what is the length of a postponement?’

‘Seven years of life may be prorogued at a time until a man reaches three score and ten.’

‘And you claim Nortia might delay other parts of your destiny?’

‘Yes, you may pray to delay any element of your fate or indeed of another person’s. Don’t forget, though, that destiny cannot be cancelled or averted.’

The haruspex leaned nearer, mere inches away.

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