Chapter 1

Decimus, whose instinct advised him that his young mistress was displeased, retreated to a safe distance. The twins, who had now finished laying the table, were standing side by side awaiting orders. Lucia advanced on them.

‘What are you called?’ she demanded, her tone still laced with annoyance.

‘I am Helen,’ squeaked one of them, nervously. ‘My sister is Nesta.’

‘Can’t she talk?’

‘Please—she is frightened.’

Their long-lashed eyes widened with apprehension as Lucia drew closer, but they did not flinch. Cupping her hands softly under their round chins, she drew up their faces, smiled a little, and said, ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t bite you.’ Then—as if caressing a doll—she toyed with the tight little curls that had escaped from Helen’s cap. Turning to Nesta, she untied and painstakingly retied her broad sash. Both girls’ eyes were swimming. Nesta stopped a big tear with the back of her hand.

‘Now, now,’ soothed Lucia, ‘don’t cry. No one is going to hurt you here.’ She impulsively abandoned the lullaby, drew herself erect, and declared proudly: ‘You belong to Senator Marcus Lucan Gallio! He paid a great price for you—because you are valuable; and—because you are valuable—you will not be mistreated…. Decimus’—she called, over her shoulder—’see that these pretty children have new tunics; white ones—with coral trimmings.’ She picked up their hands, one by one, and examined them critically. ‘Clean,’ she remarked, half aloud—’and beautiful, too. That is good.’ Facing Decimus, she said: ‘You may go now. Take the twins. Have them bring the food. My brother will have breakfast with me here. You need not come back.’

Lucia had never liked Decimus very well; not that there was any particular ground for complaint, for he was a perfect servant; almost too deferential, a chilling deference that lacked only a little of being sulkiness. It had been Lucia’s observation that imported slaves were more comfortable to live with than the natives. Decimus had been born in Rome and had been in their family for almost as long as Lucia could remember. He had a responsible position: attended to all the purchasing of supplies for their tables, personally interviewed the merchants, visited the markets, met the foreign caravans that brought spices and other exotics from afar; a very competent person indeed, who minded his own business, kept his own counsel, and carried himself with dignity. But he was a stranger.