Etruscan Blood Read online

  ***

  The sun rose, its clear yellow light chasing away the blurred grey of dawn. Tanaquil was grateful for its warmth, but even more for the way light seemed finally to dispel the wavering images of the night, the uncertainties and fears. Slowly, painfully, she stood; her left leg nearly buckled under her, sending lightning bolts of pain through her nerves. She massaged it hard with her knuckles, hissing curses. Then, limping slightly, she made her way to the priest's house.

  There was already a pot of furmity on the fire; most priests rose early, and this woman was no exception. As Tanaquil came in, the priest looked up from blowing on the embers; her lips began to form a question, but she bit it back, and instead, bent back to blow the fire again. Tanaquil sat, composing herself, folding her hands in her lap. The priest remained silent, waiting for her to speak. There was no sign of Lauchme.

  “I'd be glad of some furmity,” Tanaquil said. Neither of them mentioned the vigil or its results. The priest reached for a small cup, dipped it into the pot, and handed it to Tanaquil; it was warm, thick, sweetened with apple juice. Tanaquil drank.

  “It's good,” she said at last. “Thank you.”

  “Most women sweeten it with honey. I prefer the juice myself; it's less heavy, there's a tartness to it.”

  Tanaquil nodded. “You live well here?”

  “Not luxuriously, but well enough. I have a couple of hives, and an orchard, and a small garden, and there are offerings from Veii and the nearby villages.”

  “No servants?”

  “I have a man here, most of the time, but I've sent him to Veii for more grain. And I was training a young girl for Menrva, but she's decided to marry instead, so I'm on my own now, till I find another student. Or till another student finds me.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a while. Tanaquil could feel the furmity slowly warming her; she cupped her hands round the cup, feeling the heat of the clay. The priest took a cup herself, and dipped it in the furmity, and drank.

  “There's honey if you want,” she offered.

  “Perhaps I will; I'm chilled through.” Besides, she thought, it would hardly be polite to refuse; the priest obviously felt defensive about the shortcomings of her hospitality. When the pot of honey came, she wound its syrupy strands round the stick, and laid tracks of honey across the top of the milky broth, watching the milk slowly swallow it up.

  Yesterday, Tanaquil had looked forward to being with another Etruscan woman; today, she realised they had little to talk about. The priest turned out to have no real knowledge of politics - odd, Tanaquil thought, since most of the priests she'd trained with had been expert politicians, as augurs needed to be. And she was so far out in the wilds she had no idea of the fashions in Veii, let alone Tarchna, which Tanaquil would have been interested in hearing about. Besides, Tanaquil wasn't about to let her know about her dream; something warned her to keep it to herself. Even Lauchme, perhaps, shouldn't know the whole of it.

  The priest excused herself for a while, to take care of the morning libation; still no sign of Lauchme. He must have stayed with the horses, Tanaquil thought. She dozed a little in the warmth of the fire, her chin rested on her hands, and woke to a backache as the priest returned.

  “You're not from Veii?” the priest asked.

  “From Tarchna, but we're living in Rome.”

  “You'd know my cousin then, Nerinai Camna?”

  Of course; that was the woman she'd known in Tarchna. The heavy, dark eyebrows were the same, though Thanusa's mouth was different, her lips fuller.

  “She's a little older than me; I didn't know her terribly well. But yes, yes I know her. She must be married now?”

  “Married and with a child, young Laris. Not her parents' first choice, but I think they were glad she didn't marry a Greek, anyway.”

  Tanaquil stiffened, but she kept her talons leashed for the moment.

  “Your retainer is awfully restless, by the way. He slept here, but he was up before me this morning, and he's got the horses groomed already.”

  “And harnessed?”

  “Not yet. But he seems to want to be gone.”

  Not surprising, Tanaquil thought; even though Lauchme had learned some of the Discipline in his youth, he was never quite at ease with the Etruscan gods. The more so at a shrine dedicated to Menrva, the hunter; the god of wisdom, but it was a female wisdom, the knowledge of weaving and the spinning of fate, and so Lauchme would be doubly uneasy here. She, on the other hand, was loath to return to Rome, despite the decision she'd taken earlier that morning; she felt as if her spirit could expand here, when in Rome it shrank, like a caged bird hunching itself up on its perch. She might have nothing much to talk about with this priest, but at least she didn't feel the pressure of the Roman women's surly disapproval, on the one hand, or the Etruscan ladies' relentless chatter, on the other.

  So she was not completely glad when Lauchme came to the door, and she saw that he was already dressed for travel.

  The priest looked up, and smiled. “Ah! Your retainer seems ready to whisk you away. You may need to instruct him better.”

  Tanaquil assumed the blandest expression she could, and said, evenly, “My husband; Lauchme son of Demaratos.”

  She saw the priest's eyes narrow, and her mouth tighten; give the girl her due, apart from those tiny signs she didn't show her shame, and when she next spoke, her voice was steady.

  “Well met, Lauchme son of Demaratos. Well met, Tanaquil... wife of Lauchme.”

  Spurinna, Tanaquil thought, you can't deny me my blood; Spurinna, through and through, and not 'wife of' anybody, that's the Roman style. But then she gave as good as she got, this priest; and perhaps she'd deserved it. And chuckling to herself, she thought; that's why I like being with Etruscans. They keep you on edge; they keep you on your guard.