Hey everyone!
Sorry it's been so long! Lots to do. I just can't wait until I can, like Bilbo Baggins, "find a nice place to finish my book."
I'm turning 20 this Sunday so this next installment is my present to you. I really hope you enjoy the twists I added (and as a birthday present to me, please review! :P)
3
A black figure strode purposely towards a small harbor, where several vessels were moored upon the golden sands. The day was fitting indeed to his mood; the clouds were as gray and rain-filled as was his mind with angst and turmoil. "Three weeks," he murmured angrily to himself, "three weeks it has taken me to secure passage to Greece…the wife of Maximinus could be anywhere, anywhere at all after such a time…"
"M-Milord?" Vitus, for it was indeed he, turned at the soft sound of a young woman's voice, close to his ear. He saw not a woman at all however, only a dark blue cloak shrouding a shivering form.
"Who are you?" The girl stepped forward and pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing the face of a cherub, surrounded by masses of golden curls.
"At last, I have found you. My-my name is Albina, Milord." Vitus cast an impatient glace towards the harbor.
"I do not think that we have met, Albina. I am called…" The girl stilled his voice with a flick of her dimpled wrist.
"You know me not, yet I know you. You are the avenger Vitus, and I have seen you—for I am a handmaid in the house of Sylvia…the villa where Calliliana Maximinus once lived. I serve alongside Mara, the woman who spoke last to you before you left." Vitus looked at the maid in bewilderment.
"I see. Then…what business have you here?" Albina looked around furtively, as if afraid of who might be listening.
"Can we go somewhere more discrete, Milord?" Vitus shook his head and started to move away.
"I regret to tell you that I am about to depart for Greece, Albina. I have been purposing to leave for the past three weeks, due to the advice given by your friend, and have been unable to secure a passage…"
"Do not go!" Albina clutched fervently at the black cloak. "You must not, for she whom you seek is not there!" Vitus turned and gripped her by the shoulders.
"Come." The tall man half supported, half dragged the maiden to a small shelter behind one of the boats, then bent down so he could be level with her eyes. "Now tell me, what is this you say?" Albina shuddered and hugged herself tightly against the wet, driving gale.
"I know Mara, Milord. I have worked with her for the past few summers, and I know her to be a very serious creature. She has no passion for anything in this world—save for our master, Antonius." Vitus furrowed his brow.
"What does this have to do with…?"
"Please, let me finish. Mara has loved Antonius and desired his love ever since I can remember. Oh, she tried to hide it from me—but I could tell. Milord Antonius found the girl Calliliana after the death of her husband, I was told, and brought her home with him. It was then the trouble began." The broad shoulders under the black cloak twitched.
"Trouble?"
"I doubt you ever laid eyes upon Calliliana Maximinus, Milord—for if you had, you would not soon forget her face, and you would understand me when I say 'trouble'. A woman as beautiful as the stars, the sun, and the moon she is—I have never seen one like her. It was not long after her arrival before my master fell deeply in love with the woman. Mara saw this of course, and all the passion of her love for Milord Antonius was given in hatred to Calliliana…" Vitus' breath grew heavy and fast, so like an animal-pant it frightened the young woman.
"Are you saying that this wench Mara had ought to do with her disappearance?" Albina bit her lip and cast down her eyes.
"I believe so, Milord."
Calliliana pressed her cold hands against her brow and waited for her breathing to still once more. A secret shelf of books behind the emperor's bed…that would mean, perhaps, that a secret room was there as well…a room like to the one in Agrippa's library…
The woman stood slowly. After what she had read, after what she had seen, there was now no doubt in her mind but that the treacherous Marcus Agrippa meant to slay the emperor while he slept and usurp his crown. "But what can I do?" Calliliana whispered softly, as she rolled the sketch up and carefully concealed it beneath her robe. "How am I ever to give this to the emperor? How can I leave this place?" Another thought struck her then, one more terrible and powerful than the rest. "What if he does not believe what I tell him?"
That was a grave quandary, one which the maiden did not know how to surmount. Agrippa was trusted by the emperor…he might fashion some lie that would cast doubt on her story and remove her…
"Substantiation. Substantiation is what I must find!" Calliliana ran into the room once more and hastily bumped about in the darkness, trusting that her hand would fall upon something useful, something that she could use to prove the validity of her story to the emperor…
And then her ears discerned footsteps.
With a smothered cry of terror she started back abruptly from the desk. A sickening feeling of dread swept the maiden as she felt her hasty fingers brush a small glass vial, and heard it crash to the floor.
The footsteps stopped.
Panting quietly now in her fear, Calliliana gathered what shattered remains of the glass as she could, noted with surprise that upon them remained a powdery substance, and thrust them within the folds of her stola. She slipped softly to the chamber door, saw no one without, and exited with as much of a show of serenity as she could. She closed the door gently, placed her hands upon the shelves as if searching for something to read…
"Here you are, Love." It was Lavina.
Calliliana sighed with relief and pressed a cold hand to her perspiring brow. "You startled me." The slave girl looked at her friend with tender concern in her eyes.
"Forgive me then. Come, Calliliana, I think you must eat something. Not much of course, only enough to…"
"Perhaps you are right, Lavina. I am rather fatigued." So saying, the girl allowed her friend to put an arm about her waist to support her.
"Oh!" The slave drew back in surprise, her head tilted quizzically to one side. "What ever are you hiding under your stola, Calliliana? I believe it just attacked me!" Lavina raised her hand curiously and both maidens saw a small trickle of blood flowing from her callused palm.
"F-forgive me, my friend," Calliliana stuttered in embarrassment, as she drew forth the shattered fragments of glass. "I dropped this vial in the…in the cucina a few hours ago. I didn't know what to do with it or how to repair it…" Lavina took the shards carefully, looked at them for a moment, then sniffed at them. She drew her head back abruptly and cast a bewildered glance at her comrade.
"This vial contained finely milled mushrooms. I do not recall purchasing such a vial, Calliliana…I never cook with mushrooms. They are far too dangerous…"
"Dangerous?" Lavina was taken aback by the icy fire glowing within the emerald depths of the Grecian maiden's eyes.
"Yes, very dangerous…many species of mushrooms are poisonous. They slay their victim quickly…"
"I am sure that purchasing them was a simple mistake then," the girl said hastily, as she snatched the shards from her friend once more.
"Are you…are you sure that you are alright, Calliliana? You do not seem yourself…" The woman laughed bitterly as she tossed the golden sea of her hair behind her shoulder.
"Am I ever truly myself anymore? Come. Let us forget this…perhaps some victuals are all that I need…" As the two maidens left the mysterious room, one thought and one thought alone played itself through Calliliana's mind like a beam of light to a dungeon-bound prisoner:
She had her validation.
She had such fragile, such delicate feet that it was not difficult to discern which sandals she wore. The leather was fine and soft, and the cut of the little shoe was as dainty as the foot it was made to protect. She never dined with the sandals on her feet, as they bothered her while she reclined…she preferred instead to leave them lying within as she supped without in the lovely gardens.
She was doing so with her comrades when he noticed them lying there, so small and so perfect, "Like the woman who wears them," he mused to himself. He lifted one slowly and noted the delicate braiding of the gilded leather which formed the top of the sandal, the soft skin that was the sole…
The sole. His fingers brushed something rough on the bottom of the shoe, and he turned it over curiously. Little shards of glass, embedded as they were into the bottom of the shoe, caught the light of the dying afternoon sun and sparkled like the very treasure-vault of Caesar himself. He lifted the sandal, admired the beauty of the implanted glass fragments for a scant second, then smelt them…
The blood in the knotted veins of Marcus Agrippa began to boil, for then he knew what she had done. He knew what she had found. And he knew that she must pay for her discovery.
Oh yes…she would pay…