An Echo in the Darkness(98)

She looked presentable. But only presentable. Once she had been beautiful. Everywhere she had gone, men had stared at her in admiration. Women had envied her dark brown eyes and creamy skin, her full red mouth, high cheekbones, and sleekly curved body. Now her eyes were glassy, her skin sallow, her mouth red, but painted so. The high aristocratic cheekbones jutted with the prominence of ill health.

Forcing her lips into a smile, she tried to instill some life into her face, but the image in the mirror became a caricature. She looked what she was: a woman who had lost all innocence.

Turning away from her reflection, Julia rose. Unwinding her toga, she dropped it on the floor and took up the blue palus. Didymas had put the silver belt out for her, and Julia hooked it. It hung loosely about her waist. How much weight had she lost since the last time she wore it?

“Didymas!”

The girl came quickly at her summons. “Fix this belt and put on my sandals.” Didymas adjusted the silver belt and put it on Julia again. Then she knelt and put the silver sandals on Julia’s feet. “The pale blue shawl,” Julia said coldly and held her arms out. Didymas brought it to her and arranged it expertly over her shoulders.

Julia took a coin from her money box and held it out to Didymas. “Tell Tropas to rent a litter for me.”

“He will need more money than this, my lady.”

Julia felt the heat rise into her face and slapped the girl. “Give me the coin!” She snatched it back, shaking with anger and resentment. “I’ll walk,” she said with a jerk of her chin. “It’s a beautiful day and it’s not that far to my mother’s villa.” She put the coin in the box and slammed the lid, putting her hands on top of it. “I know exactly how many coins are in this box, Didymas. If even one is missing when I return, I’ll hold you to account. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady.” The girl stood placid, her face reddened with the print of Julia’s hand.

“While I’m gone, air out this room and find some flowers for the vase by my bed. Steal them if you have to. Or trade favors for them. I don’t care what you do to get them, but get them! Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I can’t bear this dreary place.”

She walked to the main thoroughfare and rested in one of the pretty vine-covered marble fana. The street was crowded with people on their way to and from the Artemision. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the marble pillar and listened to the hum of life passing her by. She was thirsty, but hadn’t thought to bring any money with her, not even a copper to buy a cup of watered wine from one of the street vendors.

She rose and went on.

It had been weeks since she had had any word from her mother. Usually she received a message through one of her mother’s servants: “Would you care to come for the evening meal?” A cordial invitation from a dutiful mother. Julia always sent polite regrets. Yet now she realized how she had grown to count on those invitations. Even though she had refused them, they represented a last gossamer line of connection with her mother and her past life.

Perhaps now that connection, too, was broken.

She had to know.

Having rested, she rose and went on. When she reached her destination, she paused at the base of the stone steps. Julia looked up at the formidable structure of the beautiful villa. Her father had never needed to count the cost of anything, and this house set into the hillside bespoke wealth and position. It was not unlike the villa Marcus owned not far away. Naturally, his was a little closer to the center of the city and hub of commercial activity. How many emporiums did her brother own now? Two? Three? Undoubtedly more than the last time she had spoken with him.

Gathering her courage, Julia went up the steps. She was breathless when she reached the top and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again, her heart beating rapidly within her breast. What would her mother say to her after all this time? Would she be glad she had come to pay a call? Or would that pained look of disillusionment and disappointment seep into her expression?

She recognized the slave who opened the door, but couldn’t put a name to him. Her father had purchased him shortly after arriving in Ephesus. “Lady Julia,” he said in surprise, and she stepped past him, entering the antechamber. As she looked around, the feeling of homecoming weighed heavily on her.

“Tell my mother I’ve come to see her. I’ll wait for her in the peristyle.”

He hesitated, a strange look on his face.

At his hesitation, she lifted her chin imperiously. “Did you hear what I said to you, slave? Do as you’re told.”