Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] Read Online Free

on him through the thin cloth of the veil and he shivered in anticipation. A fine fat sheep with brightly coloured ribbons tied in its wool was led, bleating piteously, to an adjacent part of the precinct where the priest waited. They watched as the
victimarius
cut its throat and opened it so the priest could study the entrails. A worried murmur went up from the slaves as he consulted the glistening coils and steaming organs for what seemed an inordinately long time. Valerius caught Olivia’s eye and sawa hint of amusement on her lips. She knew her brother well enough to be sure he’d arranged the proper outcome.
    The priest rose from his inspection shaking his head in amazement at what he’d discovered. ‘I have never seen such an auspicious day,’ he announced to an enormous cheer. ‘The name Verrens will live long in the annals of the Empire.’
    Valerius felt a nudge and Titus whispered, ‘Nicely done, brother, I couldn’t have arranged it better myself. By the way, my father asks you to attend an audience. Noon in three days.’
    Valerius stiffened. It could be anything. Vespasian had let it be known he valued his opinion, but in Valerius’s experience any visit to the Palatine, where the Emperor had taken up residence in preference to Nero’s more ostentatious Golden House, contained an element of risk.
    But he couldn’t think about that now. This was the moment. He took a deep breath and tried to swallow, but his throat was as dry as a Parthian salt pan. He should be blissfully happy; instead his mind was a turmoil of contradictions. Apart from occasional fleeting relationships he’d been alone for so long he wasn’t quite certain how to feel. What kind of husband would he make? Oh, he knew the ideal of the Roman husband. Stern and unyielding, the master of his house and all who dwelt in it. By marrying him, Tabitha became his property, to be taken or discarded at will. But he didn’t feel like that. Most Roman men married for position, or power or wealth, not love. But Valerius and Tabitha’s love had been forged in the heat of the Syrian desert and the flames of the Great Temple of Jerusalem. Just the sight of her made his heart swell to fill his chest. He felt sure it was a real love. A lasting love. And Tabitha was not the usual subservient Roman bride. She was a princess of Emesa. A follower of the Judaean faith who had agreed to accept her husband’s because her children would grow up, not just as Roman citizens, but of the patrician class.
    Lupergos, Olivia’s partner, had decorated the pavilion as a woodland bower with tree branches, blossoms and colourful tapestries. Now Olivia led Tabitha to Valerius’s left side and he felt slim fingers entwinewith his. There was a current fashion for longer ceremonies with various innovations, but together they’d decided they would marry in the old style, in a way Valerius’s father would have approved. They spoke only the traditional words, and Valerius felt his heart thunder in his ears as Tabitha’s nervous, husky voice whispered: ‘
Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia
.’ In as much as you are Gaius I am Gaia.
    Valerius lifted the veil of the
flammeum
and for the first time that day looked into the enormous, sapphire blue eyes that had captivated him since the first moment they’d met.
    ‘I love you,’ he whispered. She smiled and her honeyed flesh seemed to glow, but a small tear rolled down her cheek. He lifted his fingers to brush it away, but before he could reach it Olivia took them both by the hand and led them to a fleece-covered stool to make the sacrifice to Jupiter. The traditional spelt cake tasted like ashes in Valerius’s mouth and suddenly all he wanted was for the ceremony to be over. To be alone with Tabitha.
    But first they must endure the feast, a lavish affair because it was expected and Valerius was now a rich man. The cellars of the Great Temple of Jerusalem had proved to be filled with gold, and even a Judaean merchant’s most