Authors: Marianne Curley
Ethan’s shoulders lift, and to Livia he says, ‘If it pleases, my lady, I would like Sempronia to remain by
my side. She is already trained in preparing medicinal formulations, and I have many uses for her.’
Livia glances from Ethan to Rochelle. Patting his arm, she looks at him with amusement. ‘I’m sure you have, Petronius. It will be as you wish. The three of you shall lodge in the guest quarters.’ And to her slave she says, ‘See to it, Wanjala.’
The matter thankfully closed, Livia speaks to one of the female slaves that have gathered in the atrium, asking where her son can be found.
Cornelia, a small young woman, explains, ‘Wanjala carried him to a bed in the courtyard, my lady, to give Julia some time to go to the market.’
The courtyard is located in the centre of the house. As we walk there Livia explains that Julia is the boy’s nanny.
We find Tiberius sleeping in a shady corner, while his younger brother, Drusus, plays quietly around his couch. Without even feeling the boy, it’s clear from his brightly flushed cheeks that he’s running a temperature. But I have to be careful to maintain my disguise as Ethan’s assistant. I’ve already spoken out of turn once. So I wait for Ethan to examine the boy first. His training helps him bluff his way through the examination. At last he calls me to assist, explaining how the boy’s chest is internally inflamed and must be kept warm while he listens for the presence of damaging fluid. ‘Lay your hands here,’ he says to me, placing them directly over the boy’s lungs.
Within seconds I have a clear picture in my head. The boy has pneumonia, his lungs struggling to inflate. One in particular is on the verge of collapsing. ‘It might be easier on the boy if he were to sit up,’ I suggest.
Ethan understands that I want to get my hands on the boy’s back. As we move the child into position, and I begin working on healing the severe chest infection, Ethan tries to distract the household. ‘We will need several medicinal herbs to prepare the boy’s medication.’
Livia quickly comes to our aid. ‘The household is well stocked, but if there’s anything in particular you desire, I will send for it immediately.’
Ethan sends Rochelle to check the stores, giving her an opportunity to look for suspicious items. He then hands me a small vial of coloured liquid he has in his tunic. ‘In the meantime this medicine will start the recovery process.’
As the slave, Cornelia, shows Rochelle where to go, I give the boy the coloured liquid to drink. It’s a good idea, even though the ‘medicine’ is probably only water or syrup. Ethan knows it won’t take me long to heal the child. All the same, it mustn’t look as if he was healed by magic. And to heal him completely would be a mistake, as we’re supposed to be doctors, not miracle workers. A real herbal mixture should be enough to return him to full health in a few days.
His temperature reduced, Tiberius feels better and grows restless. He wants to play with his brother, but Livia orders him to keep resting. While she is distracted by her suddenly energetic son, Ethan leans down to whisper in my ear, ‘Was it poison?’
As soon as he asks a sinking feeling hits me deep in my stomach. Tiberius’s illness
wasn’t
foul play, but simply a chest infection. Glancing at the boy, I try to shrug off an eerie feeling I’ve done the wrong thing. How could healing a child of something he would eventually overcome anyway be wrong? Would my
action be considered as tampering with the past? Suddenly I’m confused. I try to recall what Mr Carter’s instructions were.
Soon a bustling sound from inside the house gets my attention. Slaves are running all over the place. Livia, in a wonderful mood now that her son is looking better, doesn’t even realise it’s her husband, Octavius, who has arrived home.
He walks into the courtyard. She sees him at last, and announces his presence using his full title of Gaius Julius Caesar Octavius. He stands still, strong eyebrows lifting. My eyes are drawn to him. His presence is very magnetic, standing there, not particularly tall, but seeming so in his white tunic and toga, his manner calm but purposeful, his hair fairer than I imagined. And there’s something about his eyes that seem almost … divine, in the literal sense of the word, strange as that may sound.
Rochelle comes back holding a selection of herbs. She sees Octavius and gasps softly. He simply smiles, apparently used to this sort of reaction. Livia takes him by the arm, and brings him over to meet us. Introducing Ethan and me, she goes on to explain how much better Tiberius is feeling since Petronius’s consultation.
From the corner of my eye I see Rochelle stare at the small boy jumping up and down on his bed.
Octavius claps his hands three times. ‘Wonderful,’ he says. ‘For your excellent work, the two of you must join us this evening for a sumptuous meal.’
Rochelle is not invited, but as a slave, she wouldn’t be, and there’s not much Ethan can do about that. A quiet moment later I find myself alone with her in our room.
‘So what was wrong with Tiberius?’ Rochelle asks, unfolding a blanket.
‘What do you mean?’
She smirks. ‘You healed him, didn’t you?’
Her tone is full of accusation. ‘He had an infection. I helped clear it up. It won’t make any difference, OK?’
The blanket in her hand drops to the bed. ‘Yeah, right.’
Her attitude irritates. ‘It just happened. Healing has become such a natural act lately.’
She picks up the blanket and spreads it over the bed. ‘You’d best learn how to control your instincts. Sometimes the smallest mistakes have the largest impact.’
‘Well thanks. I feel so much better now.’
She snorts and finishes making up the bed in silence. And I can’t help thinking if Arkarian had co-ordinated this mission, I wouldn’t have made that mistake with Tiberius, no matter how large or small it could prove to be. His instructions were always so clear. But I really haven’t the right to blame Mr Carter either. I simply should have known. I just hope nothing will come of it, and that I’m worrying myself stupid for no reason.
I try to take my mind off Tiberius’s sudden good health by asking Rochelle if she minds being on her own tonight, while Ethan and I attend the dinner with Octavius and his family.
She’s quick to answer, snapping at me, ‘I can handle myself.’
‘I know that,’ I tell her. ‘It’s just, I don’t like any of us being separated. I’ve got this weird feeling we’re being watched all the time.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’
‘Do you recognise anyone?’ I ask this doubtfully. To
recognise someone who doesn’t belong in the past, she would have to look deeply into their eyes, which might put her own identity at risk.
She shakes her head. ‘I’m not going to stare into anyone’s face for more than a brief second.’
‘Just be careful,’ I warn her. ‘My sixth sense has shot into overdrive at the moment. I’m getting one eerie vibe after another.’
The boy, Tiberius, suddenly runs into our room at full pelt, swinging around the two of us and dragging on our tunics. His cheeks are flushed again, but I get the feeling it’s more from play than any lingering chest infection.
I pull him round to face me. ‘What’s going on? Didn’t your mother tell you not to leave your bed?’
He looks to the door, his eyes laughing, his mouth an impish grin. ‘But I’m feeling much better!’
Rochelle figures out his game. ‘I bet your mother doesn’t know where you are.’
‘She sent Drusus and that demon woman to look for me.’
‘What “demon” woman?’ Rochelle asks.
He giggles as his younger brother shoots across the open doorway. ‘I can’t see him anywhere, Julia,’ Drusus calls out to his nanny, who runs past in hot pursuit, looking very flustered.
Tiberius, spotting his nanny, quickly searches the room with his eyes. ‘Hide me, please. That woman is a witch.’
Rochelle exchanges a look with me, then says, ‘We’ll hide you from your nanny, but only if you promise to go straight back to bed.’
He agrees and I point to a wicker basket meant to
hold our clothes. ‘Here. Jump in.’
I lower the lid over him just as Drusus charges in, with Julia heaving behind him. ‘Have you seen my charge?’ she asks in a cold commanding voice. ‘He’s supposed to be taking a nap! If he’s well enough to run around he should be doing chores, or working on his lessons.’
Rochelle and I exchange a secretive look. Drusus runs around the room looking beneath our beds and under clothes lying around. As he goes to lift the lid of the wicker basket, I grab the back of his tunic, stopping him just in time. ‘You won’t find your brother in this room.’ I send him back to the heaving chest of his nanny.
She grabs the boy’s arm in a firm grip, leading him to the door. ‘If you see the little rascal, tell him if he doesn’t get back to bed, his next lessons will be double in length.’
‘Of course. I’ll make sure he hears every word.’
She gives me a lingering look before taking off with her smallest charge. Tiberius peaks out from beneath the lid of the basket. ‘Is it safe? Is the witch gone?’
I lift the lid. ‘All’s clear.’
He climbs out of the basket, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. ‘Oh thank you,’ he says with great relief. ‘If there is anything I can do for you in return …’
Rochelle motions for him to come closer. ‘You can start repaying us right now by telling us why you think your nanny is a witch.’
His small body vibrates with a shiver that starts at his head and descends all the way to his bare toes. ‘She makes things with herbs and other powders.’
He has our attention immediately. ‘Sempronia makes things with herbs too, but they’re good medicines. Why do you think Julia makes bad things?’
‘Because she makes them in the middle of the night, with him, the big man.’
Rochelle and I exchange worried frowns over the top of Tiberius’s head. ‘Do you mean Wanjala?’ Rochelle asks.
Tiberius’s eyes grow wide. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘Have you spoken with your mother about them? Maybe you could ask her to have them dismissed.’
If these two are working for the Order, dismissing them could be one solution – a means to getting them out of the house until the portal to this time period closes.
‘She thinks I don’t like Julia because she’s strict. I’ve had a lot of nannies.’
‘Really?’ I ask. ‘So Julia hasn’t been with the household for long?’
‘She came only last week, the same day as Wanjala.’
Rochelle frowns. ‘He has such an authoritative manner, I thought he must have been here for a long time.’
Tiberius looks back at us blankly. I pat his chest. ‘Well, you’d better go now – straight back to bed. You don’t want that fever coming back, do you?’
‘Yes, my lady. I mean, no, my lady,’ he says as he backs towards the door. ‘And thank you again.’ He bows dramatically, and when he lifts his head his eyes are sparkling, his grin huge.
I can’t help smile at the boy as he runs from the room.
Rochelle, it seems, has the same feelings about him.
‘The little charmer.’
Ethan walks in and we explain what we just learned about Wanjala and Julia.
‘I wonder what they’re brewing together,’ he says.
‘Well, whatever it is, we’ll have to work fast at finding out, if we’re going to have any chance of stopping them.’
‘If they suspect us,’ Rochelle says. ‘And no doubt they do by now, they’re going to speed up their plans. They’re going to make sure they finish their job before we even work out what they’re up to.’ She looks at Ethan. ‘Where have you been? Did you find out anything useful?’
His shoulders lift. ‘I’ve been with Caesar, discussing his latest problems with Mark Antony. There was so much I could have told him, not least how successful he will ultimately be with this man.’
‘That’s not up to us,’ Rochelle reminds him – unnecessarily. While it would be tempting, and so easy, to say or do something that could reassure Octavius about his future successes, an inappropriate word or action could have the effect of changing history, and ultimately the future. But Ethan, of all people, knows this.
‘Remember we took an oath,’ Rochelle says, adding to her insult.
He snaps. ‘What do you think I am? An idiot? I’m not going to do anything that could jeopardise the future. I learned that lesson from my father’s problems with Marduke.’ Looking straight into Rochelle’s eyes he adds, ‘I don’t cave in to temptation.’
I cough to clear the air, but it doesn’t work. They keep staring at each other with daggers for eyes. ‘Look you two, fighting is not going to get us anywhere.’
‘Tell
her
,’ Ethan says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Rochelle goes to the door, exhaling a long breath that sounds more like a mournful sigh. ‘Why don’t we split up?’
Ethan slips past her, and without looking at either of us, walks straight out the door, mumbling, ‘Great idea.’
The afternoon passes quickly. Rochelle disappears to the kitchen, looking for evidence. Ethan sticks with Octavius, closer than a bodyguard, while I try to keep a general eye out for anything suspicious. But nothing unusual or extraordinary happens. Drusus gets some free time and chats with me in the courtyard while his brother looks on with amusement from his bed. It eventually grows dark, and the slaves of the house rush around preparing the sumptuous meal Octavius promised. Finally we go inside.
The children lead me to a large room, where three long couches on high legs, and a long table, sit in the form of a square. The couches are covered in cushions. Ethan and I are shown to a couch opposite Tiberius and his step-father, Octavius. Livia and her younger son, Drusus, share the other. Slaves soon bustle about bringing food to the table, some carry platters, which they offer to each of us.
It feels strange eating food in this manner – lying on a couch! But I try to look comfortable, as if I’ve done this all my life. Rochelle, in her role as slave, has offered to help with the food.
As I sit and listen to the conversation passing from Livia to her husband, and Ethan by my side, my thoughts turn to the brew Tiberius has seen Wanjala and Julia mixing. It has me wondering what on earth
they could be making. Mr Carter’s words come back to haunt me as I recall him saying it will be something big.