Time Raiders: The Seeker Page 8

  Servilia’s aura now swirled with pink, silver and blue tones, indicating she was past whatever had caused her upset. Trying not to sound too curious, Delia said, “My lady, is there a special holiday to the goddess Diana here in Rome that I do not know of? Is that why you want me to accompany you tonight to this ceremony?”

  Sipping the wine with obvious pleasure, Servilia smiled. “You have not forgotten any ceremonies to our beloved Diana. No, this is a meeting of the strong and powerful women of Rome.” She raised her chin and gave Delia an imperious look. “Do you know of Diana’s arrow?” she asked in a low voice. “Do you know the legend of this magical object?”

  Stymied, Delia shook her head. “My lady, the goddess is famous as an archer. She brings down stags with just one well-placed arrow.”

  “True.” Servilia laughed a bit giddily as she drained her goblet. Setting it on the table, she leaned forward and whispered, “What if I told you there is an arrowhead the goddess has given us, and it has magic? That if you are in the same room with it, you feel the magnificent power that radiates from it?”

  “I—well, my lady, I would believe you. But I did not know such an object existed.” Delia’s mind spun. Was this the fragment from the Karanovo seal? Unsure, she searched Servilia’s narrowed eyes. They gleamed with laughter and triumph.

  “I came into possession of this magical arrowhead through a woman historian from Pompeii. Her name will remain secret. It is enough to know the Cult of Diana holds this magical weapon.”

  “I see….” Delia knew she was talking about Argenta, who had written the Ad Astra journal.

  “You do not, but you will.” Servilia sat up and patted Delia on the shoulder. “Tonight, shortly after dusk, as a high priestess of our secret cult I will bring it out of hiding, and you will see its power.”

  “I shall be happy to go to Diana’s temple with you.”

  Servilia looked at Delia’s soldier garb. “I want you to wear women’s clothing, a tunic with a palla. See my head seam-stress and tell her to create one for you this morning.”

  Nodding, Delia murmured, “As you wish, domina.”

  Chapter 7

  T he gathering of Roman matrons from all over the city occurred after night had fallen. Delia stood behind Servilia, who was dressed in a dark blue tunic topped by a light blue stola. An oval brooch of lapis lazuli set in gold held the stola in place over her shoulder. Her hair had been curled and set with plaits at the back, a fashionable arrangement for a female aristocrat of Rome.

  Delia herself was dressed in a pale pink tunic that fell to her ankles, and a cream-colored palla. Beautiful as the garments were, she felt naked without her sword and dagger nearby. Her hair, naturally curly, fell around her shoulders instead of being pulled back and clasped at the nape of her neck. Servilia had approved of her feminine apparel.

  Delia tried to look relaxed and nonchalant in the group of women. The jewelry and fine fabrics they wore were rich and beautiful, the colors reminding her of a rainbow.

  They stood in a small alcove off the main temple of Diana. The thick oak door was shut and only women of high rank were allowed entrance. There were more than twenty present and the room was filled to capacity. In the center was a small marble altar. Spread across the flat white stone was a gray wolf pelt. And upon it, wrapped in red silk, was something small and rectangular.

  From her position behind Servilia, who was welcoming everyone with a smile, Delia studied the object. Whatever was wrapped in that red cloth was powerful. She could feel ripples of energy emanating from it, like small tidal waves. A silvery radiance throbbed around it like a small sun.

  Delia reined in her curiosity when she saw Servilia turn toward her. Each matron had introduced herself, and now it was her turn to be recognized by the group. Delia realized that the older women in the room were wives or daughters of senators, or from old Roman families. Though they ranged in age from thirty to sixty, they all looked to Servilia as if she were a goddess herself. Clearly, Julius Caesar’s mistress enjoyed her exalted position.

  “And now,” Servilia was telling them as she wrapped her bejeweled hand around Delia’s upper arm and drew her forward, “you have heard how this young woman and her brother saved my life recently. I have asked Delia of Delos, whose family is in the olive oil business, to join us. Her line descends from Apollo. And she has agreed to join our clandestine efforts to bring power back to women and wrest it from the men, who daily steal it away from us. Delia?”

  Stepping forward, Delia bowed and murmured, “May the goddess Diana bless all of us, domina. I live to serve her and you.”

  Murmurs of approval rippled through the gathering. Delia returned to Servilia’s side. “Thank you for allowing me to be among you. I am a woman warrior, and proud of it,” she declared. “I take advantage of who and what I am. When I decide to marry, it will be on my terms and conditions.”

  Applause erupted.

  “And if I decide to bear a child, I will pray to Diana that it be a girl.”

  The women shouted passionately.

  Servilia smiled smugly as she turned to her friends. “Did I not tell you that Delia of Delos would be a fine addition to our society? Does she not come straight to the point, like the goddess Diana’s arrowhead?” Servilia laughed with delight.

  The women agreed, voicing their praise and approval.

  For a moment, Delia felt the warm camaraderie of the matrons. Servilia had gathered the most powerful women in Rome into this small, cloistered room lit with four braziers. Too bad no one in history knew of her feminist movement or that she’d been leader of a matriarchal revolution.

  Glancing at the altar, Delia saw the red-wrapped ceremonial item glowing more brightly. It had become ever more responsive to the women and their emotions. Now, it positively gleamed, shooting out rays of energy from the red silk fabric it was wrapped within. Whatever was in there was palpably felt by all the eager participants. Delia was absorbing waves of energy, and obviously so were all the others, for their collective gazes were locked on the small altar in the center of the room.

  Servilia looked up. “Lock the door,” she demanded throatily.

  A younger priestess turned and shot the brass bolt across the door. The sound reverberated throughout the room.

  “Our ceremony has now begun,” Servilia intoned, her voice cracking with emotion. “Let us women, who are the real power, touch the goddess Diana’s arrowhead and allow it to imbue us with another month’s blessing….”

  The songs of the women gathered in the temple of Diana were low and passionate. The fragrances of rose and myrrh filled the dimly lit room.

  When the singing stopped, all gazes traveled once more to the altar in the center of the room. “And now,” Servilia said, “let us thank the goddess Diana for her arrow.” She moved forward and removed the red silk wrapping. Delia saw the silver radiance suddenly flare as Servilia picked up the box beneath. Instantly, as the matron held it up, Delia saw incredible bliss come over her drawn, aging features.

  “Ahh, the arrow of Diana once again works her magic,” she murmured.

  Delia heard all the women sigh. There was an incredible sense of excitement swirling within the warm room. What with the oil from the braziers and the myrrh and rose fragrances, it was hard to breathe.

  The high priestess of the temple, Hermina, stood next to Servilia as she opened the box. Her silver hair was caught up in a gold net at the nape of her neck. Her long tunic was pure white, woven of the finest of cotton. Her stola was a light blue and draped across her thin shoulders.

  “Allow the goddess to fill you with purpose for all women,” Servilia intoned, taking a small, wedge-shaped object from the box and holding it up for all to see. And then, with a flourish, she placed it in the hand of the high priestess.

  Delia’s eyes narrowed as she watched what happened next. The object was small and she couldn’t see much about it, or tell if it was indeed a part of the Karanovo stamp. But she saw the silver emanations
flash and change in brilliance as the high priestess held it in her left palm. As her fingers closed around it she pressed it to her heart, closed her eyes and uttered a sigh of absolute joy.

  “Oh, I live for this night every month,” Hermina whispered in a tremulous tone. “The light and energy of the goddess Diana is filling me once more….”

  Delia could see that it was. The silver aura around the piece was flaring outward like the corona of a mighty sun. The radiance was so intense she could literally feel rivulets of energy pulsing rhythmically through the room and filling everyone’s aura.

  Stealing a look around, Delia saw that all the women had their eyes closed, their hands crossed over their hearts as they absorbed the profound warmth and energy. Following suit, she placed her hands across her heart.

  Servilia stood next to the high priestess, wearing a smug look on her proud features, a smile that said the matron knew what she had in this “arrowhead.” Delia had a hundred questions, but compressed her lips. Would she get to hold the piece, too? Was it really an arrowhead? She wasn’t sure, because the room was so shadowy. The braziers gave off light, but not enough for her to see the object clearly. Not yet, at least.

  “And now,” Servilia announced, “I am going to gift our latest sister, Delia of Delos, with Diana’s blessing to women who know we are powerful.” Servilia stepped in front of her and said, “Our goal is to once more elevate women to our rightful status as equals to men. We are not beneath them, as they would like to think. Each woman here is charged with supporting our gender to attain all that has been taken away from us. By holding this arrowhead you are promising to aid all womankind in regaining our equality.”

  Delia nodded and opened her left hand. As Servilia pressed the metal piece into it, she got her first look at it. The object wasn’t perfectly wedge-shaped, but had jagged edges. Seven dots were stamped into it, and a line scored into the metal beside them. Dark and old-looking, it appeared to be made of bronze, though she couldn’t be certain.

  The energy from the disc flooded her hand. Delia saw the silver radiance suddenly balloon, filling the entire room as never before.

  “Wonderful!” Servilia cried, lifting her hands upward. “Do you feel that, my sisters? Do you see that Delia of Delos is indeed one of us?”

  Cries and murmurs of appreciation echoed in the room. Delia stood there, rocked by the power of the fragment. Surely this was a piece of the stamp! She found it nearly impossible to think, for the energy flooding her body sent wild, warm tingles down to her feet and then upward like Fourth of July sparks throughout her whole being. Delia sagged against the wall of the temple, the sensation was so overwhelming.

  Laughing, Servilia said, “Look! Diana’s arrow has claimed Delia as her own!”

  Feeling almost faint, Delia curled her fingers around the metal. Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t out of fear—it was joy. Her happiness was so intense she felt she might explode. Gasping for breath, she clung to the fragment as visions started to come to her. What she saw stunned her. And scared her.

  “It is time,” Servilia murmured, gently opening Delia’s hand. “You have just married the goddess Diana and you are one of us. You are now Sister Delia of the Cult of Diana….” And she removed the object from Delia’s sweaty palm.

  Moving back to the altar, Servilia took her place next to the high priestess. She closed her eyes and pressed the metal fragment against her heart.

  Delia fought the faintness and turned her attention to Servilia as she held the vaunted object. The matron’s face, usually drawn and tense, was now glowing with a youthful radiance that belied her age. The silver emanations still pulsed like broad beams of sunlight throughout the room, clear through the matron’s swaying form. Delia heard Servilia moaning with pleasure, her body rocking back and forth in rhythm with the fragment. She saw the high priestess gently place her hand on Servilia’s shoulder to help her remain upright.

  Yes, there was no question that this metal object was powerful. Every woman in the room had a glowing face, eyes bright and glistening with happiness. Clearly, the circular pattern of dots emblazoned on the piece meant something.

  Unable to think clearly, Delia finally pushed away from the wall and straightened. Though she still felt wobbly, her knees weak, there was such a profound sense of peace and love flowing through her that she hardly noticed. She brushed the curls off her brow, feeling shaky and tearful.

  Every woman present still had her hands clasped over her heart, and now Delia understood why. Pressing her palms to her own thudding heart, she could no longer escape reality. Whatever the small fragment of metal was, it had forced her to confront what she did and did not love in her life. The magical object had made her see all her heartbreak and heart triumphs, as if there were a movie in her head showing her the whole of her life up to this point. Jake played a part in the movie, maybe one of the most important roles.

  Pursing her lips, Delia closed her eyes and pressed her hands tighter to her thudding heart. Her love for Jake was overwhelming. He was a control freak, and couldn’t open up emotionally, but despite those things, she continued to love him. Up until the moment she’d held the fragment, Delia had lied to herself. The stamp stopped the lie and made her face the truth.

  Opening her eyes, Delia swung her attention to Servilia, who was now placing the metal in the next woman’s outstretched hand. Each woman would be able to hold the sacred object and, Delia was sure, receive some kind of healing.

  Gulping, she tried to reconcile all that had happened to her. After they returned to Servilia’s home, what was she going to tell Jake?

  “What did you find out?” Jake purposely spoke in a low tone, in English. He sat expectantly on Delia’s couch. She had just closed the door after coming back from the ceremony. Two braziers were lit, chasing the gloom from the apartment, and though her face was in shadow as she turned and walked toward him, he saw a strange look in her eyes.

  “Plenty.” Delia reached for a leather pouch at her waist and opened it. Pulling out a paper, she spread it flat and handed it to him. It held a drawing of the complete Karanovo stamp. Digging again into the pouch, she withdrew a small but powerful lithium flashlight and snapped it on. One of the things Professor Carswell had developed for a time jump was a special pouch for the mission specialist to carry. It contained many useful twenty-first-century items that would never be found back in the era they were visiting.

  Settling next to Jake, Delia narrowed her eyes as she studied the paper. “Bingo!” She placed her index finger on the drawing. “This is what I saw. Those seven dots in the shape of a circle. That’s what was on the object they all referred to as an ‘arrowhead.’”

  Jake enjoyed having Delia so close to him. The fact that her arm brushed his, that her hip and thigh were so near, robbed him of his focus. Her cheeks were ruddy from the walk back to the house, and he could smell the cold air still trapped in her tunic and hair. “You found it! Great job!”

  Feeling pleasure over his compliment, Delia secretly enjoyed the contact with Jake—way too much. Taking the paper, she refolded it, put it back into the pouch and got to her feet. Standing in front of him, she kept her voice soft so only he could hear. “It’s the real McCoy, Jake.” And she told him about the ceremony.

  Jake listened intently for the next ten minutes. When Delia finished she ran her fingers through her dark, curly hair, pushing it away from her face.

  She was so beautiful his heart ached. Sizzling heat purled through his lower body. There was no question he wanted her but he knew Delia didn’t feel the same about him. Rubbing his stubbled jaw, he asked, “Where do you think they keep the fragment?”

  “I don’t know. The high priestess put it back into a small wooden box stamped with gold. She was the first to leave and Servilia the last. I couldn’t run out and follow the high priestess to see where she took it.”

  “Could you see emanations from the box, though? Wouldn’t that help us in the search?”

 
Snapping her fingers, Delia said, “Yes! I saw silver rays shooting out all around the box as she held it. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You look a little dazed,” Jake observed drily. “Even now, your eyes have a faraway look in them, as if you’re not really all here yet after the experience of holding the fragment.”

  Nodding, Delia went to the table and poured some water into a wooden cup. “You’re right. I feel like I’m in two different places at once. I know I’m here, but damned if I know where else I feel a part of right now. I just feel…as if someone cut me in half.” After drinking deeply, she set the cup back on the table. Giving Jake a searching look, she said, “A good night’s sleep will help, so wipe the worry off your face, okay?”

  “Concern, not worry,” Jake corrected with a slight grin. “But your spacey feeling is understandable. You held something that none of us knows anything about. You’re a psychic bloodhound and that fragment has a powerful energy, judging from the way it affected you.”

  Delia nodded, feeling exhaustion creeping up on her. She sat down in a chair, folded her hands in her lap and propped her feet up on the couch near where Jake sat. “All the women were glowing after holding that fragment.” She rubbed her face. “I wonder if it affected us all the same way? Or differently?”

  “Servilia hinted that it would give you energy of some kind for the coming month?”

  “Yes. Right now, I feel wiped, and parceled out to who knows where. That’s not a great sensation, let me tell you.”

  “Maybe the fragment interacted with you differently? As a time traveler?”

  Delia shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to see what influence it has on me.”

  “More mystery. We have more questions than answers,” he rumbled, propping his elbows on his thighs. “So how do we get to this object and steal it?”

  “We need time,” Delia muttered, looking around the shadowy room. “We can’t do anything tomorrow because of the banquet Servilia is throwing for Julius Caesar. We have security detail all day and then we’re escorting her tomorrow night. That leaves us no time to reconnoiter the temple and find out where that fragment is kept.”