Author's Note: This chapter was unbelievably stubborn. After much revision, it turned out to be less abstract than the previous installments. I do hope you find it enjoyable.
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Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Stephenie Meyer's work.
Chapter Five
Didyme is alone in her chambers. It is a breezy evening and the streets of Volterra are alive with the music of a late summer festival. Her brother has taken Marcus and Caius into the city to celebrate the harvest. And fat, well-fed peasants are a rare delicacy these days. Together, the triumvirate will hunt, donning masks to disguise themselves as revelers as they sate their gluttony on the blood of Tuscany's blushing youth.
It is a night for trickery. And lies. And the indulgence of dark desires.
Didyme herself finds the spectacle garish. Instead of attending, she plans to watch the fireworks with Athenodora from the tower. And with some luck, she hopes to charm prickly Sulpicia into joining them. Her unspent maternal instinct has been triggered by the guard's indifference, and she cannot understand what it is that makes her so unhappy.
"Perhaps you ought to send her back to Egypt," Didyme suggested to Aro earlier in the day. "I cannot bear to see that Sulpicia so wretched--I fear she will wither away in this tower. Are you not concerned for her?"
Aro, although polite, was quick to dismiss his sister's advice. "I can manage Sulpicia," he told her, boisterous and confident as ever. "Do not let her misery distract you."
But it does and Didyme wants only to help her. With her brother gone, she invites Sulpicia to her chambers, a place where guards rarely trod or are welcome.
Sulpicia comes, more out of duty than enjoyment. She is a startling figure in her apathy. Her hair is wild and curling, her long, clever fingers compulsively clenched. Didyme greets her warmly and kisses those same nervous hands that had so lately brought Heaven's music from a simple lute.
"Dear Sulpicia," she says, her high cheekbones illuminated by branches of candlelight, "I have a gift for you."
There is wry curiosity in Sulpicia's expression. Her eyes are heavily hooded.
"You are too kind, Mistress Didyme," she replies in a flat tone.
Didyme wonders at her complete is lack of interest, but is undeterred. She brings the guard a package wrapped in a silk cloth. "A musician should have a proper instrument."
Sulpicia unwraps the cloth, revealing a lute. It is a beautiful thing, made of polished rosewood and strung with sheep's gut.
"Felix found it for me in the workshop of a master luthier," Didyme says. "There is no better in the courts of the richest mortal kings. I do hope it brings you pleasure."
Sulpicia lets her fingers ghost over the frets, her lips puckering slightly. At length, she looks at Didyme.
"Your brother has made me his whore."
The frankness with which she speaks causes Didyme to reel backwards. Sulpicia stands still as stone, perhaps expecting to be punished or reviled. For a moment, the silence between them is colored only by the echoes of the festival from the city below. Citrus spices the air.
Didyme clutches the casement behind her for support and slowly pulls herself up. "My brother?" An unbecoming gasp shoots past her teeth, but she quickly composes herself. Her brother. Of course.
"Did he force himself upon you?" She is disgusted by the words even as they leave her lips, but sadly, she knows Aro is capable of such violence.
Indignity suffuses Sulpicia's regal countenance, which lends itself to the days of patrician Rome. "Of course not." With brisk and calculated efficiency, she places the lute on Didyme's writing desk and covers it with the silk cloth. "But I am uncertain of my position in this household. I did not come to Volterra to be a…concubine. Master Aro, I daresay, would vehemently disagree with me."
There is a lilting note of respect in the guard's voice when she mentions Aro's name, markedly accompanied by the vibrato of fear.
Didyme is bewildered. How foolish of you, brother! she thinks, although she cannot be surprised by his lust. Though what a horrible way he has chosen to indulge it…
Sulpicia, at the very least, is aware of its indecency. But suddenly, she seems reticent. Her shoulders hunch and she looks at Didyme warily, saying "Perhaps it was unwise of me to trouble you with this matter."
Didyme reaches forward and grasps the sleeve of her grey mantle. "No! Please do not think that, my dear." And she embraces Sulpicia, hoping to offer her some measure of comfort.
Sulpicia accepts the circle of her arms awkwardly, her muscles tensing.
"I am sorry for my brother," Didyme mutters, both horrified and shamed by the situation.
Sulpicia emits a snort, slipping from the embrace. "I am not sure an apology is needed…yet." Nervously, she touches the smooth space between her eyes. "The city is crowded with noise tonight. It wears on me…"
In a futile attempt to soothe her, Didyme closes the shutters over the casement. The chaos in the streets is muffled, but not to Sulpicia.
"I asked Master Aro for his permission to leave Volterra," she says. "He refused."
Didyme frowns. "I am not surprised by that. And he must see promise in you."
Sulpicia offers her a look of distraction. "I think he may love me."
A reply freezes in Didyme's heart and her tongue cleaves to the roof of her mouth. For once, she is speechless.
"Forgive my sentimentality," Sulpicia continues thoughtful, "but there is a certain music to love. But never having heard it, how can I possibly identify it?"
Didyme's gains control of her tongue once more, though her mind is galloping ahead.
She cannot imagine Aro falling in love.
Sulpicia's face pinches. She appears overwhelmed.
"I will help you," Didyme says fervently, "and so will Marcus. You must not fear us."
"There is very little I fear," Sulpicia replies stubbornly.
Didyme smiles at her. "I do not doubt that. But my brother, he fears much, I'm afraid, and he can be rash."
Sulpicia exhales sharply through her long nose. "So I was given to believe. He will not let me leave…" She trails off, rubbing the space between her sharp eyes once more. "Can you not hear it?" she says, a certain hysteria rising in her voice, "the music in the streets….the flutes, the drums, the singing, the screams."
Didyme hesitates. Poor Sulpicia. Poor, tortured creature.
Sulpicia's seems to be far away, lost to the darkness she has made her own. "But the silence is more frightful. The silence of the grave. And this place is a tomb. He will not let me leave."
Suddenly, she clasps Didyme's hand and wrings it. "Enough! They are coming."
"Who, my dear?" Didyme asks kindly. But then she hears her brother's voice on the stairs. His footsteps. His ringing laughter.
Sulpicia casts her a final guarded glance. "You are too trusting, Mistress Didyme," she says, before fleeing the chamber. "I cannot thank you."
She leaves the lute behind.
Marcus is pacing, his feet heavy on the floorboards, one hand pressed against his temple. Didyme sits upon their bed. She watches him patiently.
For the first time, he cannot bear his wife's gaze upon him.
"I am sorry, beloved," he says. "Sulpicia should have held her tongue. She should not have not brought this business to you."
Didyme raises a brow and shakes her head, her mane of raven hair whispering across her shoulders. "How can you be so unkind, Marcus? Who else should she have turned to for help? Caius?"
The incredulity in her voice makes him smile ruefully. The truth, although masked, is painful.
"She did not come to us for help, dear one."
Now his wife is on her feet. Her gown trails across the floor as she matches his step, equal to his stride and height. And deepest convictions, he reminds himself.
"I do not pretend to understand her heart," she replies slowly, "but I can sense sorrow. Surely, that cannot be feigned!"
"Nor anger. Did you not sense that as well?" He is antagonizing her and he hates to do it. But she must see, she must understand as he does…
Didyme frowns. Behind her, the first light of dawn leaks through the open casement, along with the departing nighttime wind. The scent of dying fires mingles with the earthy odor of horses and the summer harvest.
The festival has ended. The masquerade is complete. The hour for unmasking has come.
Marcus has sensed this coming. Sensed in it in Sulpicia's wiliness and Aro's mounting desire for her. And he had warned his brother, advised him to stay away…away from that woman.
"Because she is he equal," he says.
Didyme shakes her head in confusion. "What can you mean?" She is anxious, her movements fluttering and quick. He knows how this weighs on her heart, how she cannot stand to see such discordance amongst those she loves.
But Sulpicia does not deserve her love and concern. She is…
Dangerous. Powerful. Aro's match.
"What he has been seeking." Marcus flicks his tongue along his lips, tasting the echo of his last meal.
Didyme sighs, somewhat more sharply than is her nature. Her hand comes to rest on his tense shoulder.
"Marcus," she says and his name is a charmed thing, coming from her, "please, tell me."
He stops his pacing and takes his wife, his darling, darling wife in his arms.
"Something is not right," he tells her.
Her fingers nest in his hair, curling against his shoulder. "Can we not help her?"
Marcus meets her gaze firmly and holds it. "Sulpicia did not come to you for help, Didyme," he says. "She only wished to test the waters of your compassion. It would be unwise of her to accept Aro's favor without first deciding whether or not her presence would be viewed as a threat by us. And now you see why your brother loves her, yes, loves her, dear Didyme. She is so very clever!"
Didyme stares at her husband sharply, skepticism skewering her face until she looks more like her brother. But then she softens.
"I agree with you, Marcus, but I still…I still feel the need to help her. Surely, you can appreciate my intentions?"
He studies his wife closely, every inch of her skin which promises porcelain instead of marble. If only Aro shared his sister's gift.
"There may be a way," he says at length, resting his forehead against her clear, pale brow. "Did you not say she wished to leave Volterra?"
Author's Note: For the record, I don't think Didyme is naïve. On the contrary, I think she must be quite intelligent and sharp…just not as wickedly clever as Sulpicia.
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