Chapter 2

‘Yes.’ Marcellus nodded with a smile that meant everything was proceeding normally, just as if they were leaving on a hunting excursion. ‘Yes, dear—all ready to go.’ There was another longer interval of silence.

‘Of course, you don’t know—yet’—said Lucia—’when you will be coming home.’

‘No,’ said Marcellus. After a momentary hesitation he added, ‘Not yet.’

Suddenly Lucia drew a long, agonized ‘Oh!’—wrapped her arms tightly around her brother’s neck, buried her face against his breast, and shook with stifled sobs. Marcellus held her trembling body close.

‘No, no,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s see it through, precious child. It’s not easy; but—well—we must behave like Romans, you know.’

Lucia stiffened, flung back her head, and faced him with streaming eyes aflame with anger.

‘Like Romans!’ she mocked. ‘Behave like Romans! And what does a Roman ever get for being brave—and pretending it is fine—and noble—to give up everything—and make-believe it is glorious—glorious to suffer—and die—for Rome! For Rome! I hate Rome! Look what Rome has done to you—and all of us! Why can’t we live in peace? The Roman Empire—Bah! What is the Roman Empire? A great swarm of slaves! I don’t mean slaves like Tertia and Demetrius; I mean slaves like you and me—all our lives bowing and scraping and flattering; our legions looting and murdering—and for what? To make Rome the capital of the world, they say! But why should the whole world be ruled by a lunatic like old Tiberius and a drunken bully like Gaius? I hate Rome! I hate it all!’

Marcellus made no effort to arrest the torrent, thinking it more practical to let his sister wear her passion out—and have done with it. She hung limp in his arms now, her heart pounding hard.

‘Feel better?’ he asked, sympathetically. She slowly nodded against his breast. Instinctively glancing about, Marcellus saw Demetrius standing a few yards away with his face averted from them. ‘I must see what he wants,’ he murmured, relaxing his embrace. Lucia slipped from his arms and stared again at the river, unwilling to let the imperturbable Greek see her so nearly broken.

‘The daughter of Legate Gallus is here, sir,’ announced Demetrius.

‘I can’t see Diana now, Marcellus,’ put in Lucia, thickly. ‘I’ll go down through the gardens, and you talk to her.’ She raised her voice a little.

‘Bring Diana to the pergola, Demetrius.’ Without waiting for her brother’s approval, she walked rapidly toward the circular marble stairway that led to the arbors and the pool. Assuming that his master’s silence confirmed the order, Demetrius was setting off on his errand. Marcellus recalled him with a quiet word and he retraced his steps.