To Love Again - Bertrice Small [156]
“Tell me the nature of the danger Cailin Drusus faces from Justin Gabras,” Wulf demanded.
“He will use what has happened, what will happen this night, to discredit the lady Cailin before the imperial court and the patriarch, who will then forbid her marriage to General Flavius Aspar. This is what Gabras seeks. The rest the lady Cailin must tell you herself, if you are of a mind to listen to her.”
“He is Wulf Ironfist, my husband,” Cailin said quietly.
“The gods he is!” Jovian Maxima looked thunderstruck, and then he said, “This is the truth, my lady?”
“That is why I came, Jovian,” she admitted. “When I saw him today in the ring, I was not certain. I had to be certain before I pledged my faith to Aspar. Wulf Ironfist and I must speak together now, and then I must remain in this room till the morning. When the dawn comes, however, I beg you to help me return to Villa Mare. And help Casia as well. If we are clever, we can keep this from Prince Basilicus. She loves him, you know.”
Jovian nodded. “Aye, and the prince loves Casia even as she loves him, but he cannot say it to her. He told me once when he was in his cups. When this night is over, I will tell her. It will give her comfort, I think. Now I must leave you both else Gabras become overly suspicious of why I linger here.”
The door closed behind Jovian, and Wulf set the wooden bar into place, which would protect their privacy. Cailin’s heart was beating very quickly. It was really Wulf! With shaking hands she poured two goblets of wine, sipping nervously at hers as he turned back to her and took up his own goblet.
He drained it swiftly and said bluntly, “So you are to be married. You have the look of a woman who has prospered, and one who is well-loved.”
“And you who loved me for my lands left those lands quickly enough. You told me you had tired of fighting, but perhaps a gladiator earns more coin, and certainly he has better privileges than a mere soldier in the legions,” Cailin countered. She had been mad to come, and madder still to believe there was anything left between them.
“How came you to Byzantium?” he asked her.
“In the hold of a slave galley out of Massilia, Wulf Ironfist,” Cailin said harshly. “I was walked the length of Gaul to get there. Before that my time was spent in a drugged state in a slave pen in Londinium.” She gulped at her wine. “I believe our child lives, but what Antonia did with it, I cannot say. Were you even interested enough to find out?”
“She said that both you and the child had perished in the ordeal of childbirth,” he defended himself, and then went on to tell her of what had transpired when he had gone to Antonia’s villa to bring her home.
“What of our bodies?” Cailin said angrily. “Did you not even ask to see our bodies?”
“She said she had cremated you both, and even gave me a container of ashes. I interred them with your family,” he finished helplessly. “I thought you would want it that way.”
The macabre humor of it struck Cailin, and she laughed. “I suspect what you interred was a container of wood, or charcoal ashes,” she said, draining her cup and pouring herself more wine.
“How is it that you know Jovian Maxima?” he suddenly demanded.
“Because he bought me in the slave marketplace, and brought me here,” she told him coolly. “Are you certain you wish to know more?”
She was not the same person, he realized, but then how could she be? He nodded slowly, then listened, his face alternating between anger, pain, and sympathy, as she told her tale. When she had finished, he was silent for a long moment, and then said, “Will we allow Antonia Porcius to destroy the happiness we had, Cailin Drusus?”
“Ohh, Wulf,” she replied, “so much time has passed for us. I thought you would stay with the lands that were my family’s. I believed you would have taken another wife by now, and had another child of your loins. How could I have ever believed that we would meet again here in Byzantium, or anywhere on this earth?” She sighed, and lowered her head to hide the tears that had sprung into her eyes from nowhere,