The Champion. Carla Capshaw
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tutors that gave you the mistaken impression that your opinion counts the same as a man’s,” he sneered. “However, if you were wise, you’d understand that at eighteen years old, you’re well past a ripe marriage age. A girl is a drain on her family if she doesn’t marry for connections. Since no acceptable man will have you, I’m taking you to the temple of Opis tomorrow—”
Both girls gasped in unison. Tibi’s heart kicked with alarm. Her appalled gaze darted to her father’s angry visage. As she expected, his narrowed eyes radiated his antipathy.
“Father, please.” Tiberia, silent until now, rose elegantly from a bench placed beneath one of the archways leading to the garden. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? Perhaps Antonius—”
“Quiet! If I want your counsel I’ll ask for it, daughter. Your husband has already done all I can expect of him by arranging this gathering tonight. Even with his far-flung and lofty contacts, Tibi’s reputation for humiliating men precedes her. It was no simple task for him to snare Lepidus’s interest.”
Like Jupiter condemning mankind from the summit of Olympus, Tiberius jabbed his index finger in Tibi’s direction. “That…that girl has embarrassed me for the last time. If she won’t bring honor to this house through marriage, I’ll see that she fulfills her duty to this family another way and buy her a position as a priestess. Who better for her to serve than the goddess of abundance and fertility? She can attempt to garner blessings for all of us. Who knows? She might even be able to correct your failure as a wife and wrangle a child for you in the bargain.”
Tibi’s stomach churned. The threat of having to perform fertility rites caused her palms to begin to sweat. The room seemed to swirl. “No—”
“Cease.” Tiberius pinned her with a livid glare, his full cheeks bright red with fury. “How dare you presume to say no to me? I’m your father. Not some wretch you can chase off with your contrary ways.”
Horrified, Tibi watched him stalk toward her, an unnatural gleam in his eyes.
“Get to your room before I club you,” he ordered, his lips almost purple in his rage. “And don’t come down until you’re sent for. I can’t bear to look at you a moment longer.”
Brimming with resentment, she forced herself to keep silent before glancing toward the front door and the freedom beyond the heavy stone portal.
Tiberius lunged toward her, his fist clenched. She sped past him and up the stairs to her room. A servant had lit a fat candle on the dressing table in the far corner. Careful not to slam the door for fear of invoking more of her father’s ire, she closed the wood panel behind her and collapsed against it. Her heart was racing as much from her father’s threats as from her own anger. At times like this she missed her mother most. Not that Cornelia would have gone against her husband’s dictates, but she would have been a shoulder to lean on until Tibi’s punishment was carried out.
Despondent, she crossed to the dressing table and removed the diadem of sapphires and gold pins from her blond hair before braiding the long tresses into a single plait that hung to the small of her back. The candlelight illuminated the polished metal mirror hanging on the wall in front of her. She studied the distorted reflection of herself.
Unlike her dark, classically beautiful sister, she was an oddity, not only in looks with her light hair and pale skin, but in her thoughts and deeds as well. A proper woman was meant to be meek, to thrive only in the shadow of her husband and accept his opinions as her own. Little wonder no man had been willing to put up with her when what she longed for most was to be appreciated for herself.
A knock sounded on the door. “Open,” Tiberia called. “Father ordered me to stay with you until morning.”
Tibi gritted her teeth. She flung the door wide and glared at her sister. “From senator’s wife to prison guard all in one evening, Tiberia? How proud you must be.”
Tiberia rolled her dark brown eyes. “By the gods, Tibi, you cause your own misery.” Her regal sister strolled into the room. The glitter of her jewels and the opulence of her red silk stola declared her status as a woman of wealth and social importance. “I’ve been telling you for years if you’d guard your tongue and do what’s expected, life would flow more smoothly for you.”
“You believe I should have allowed Lepidus to molest me?” Tibi asked sharply.
“I think it would have made no difference.” Tiberia drifted across the room to Tibi’s dressing table and began to straighten the perfume bottles and jars of cosmetics into a line. “The marriage contract was ready to be signed. Once you were wed, you would have belonged to him to do with as he liked anyway.”
Tibi bristled with indignation. She’d expected as much from her sister, who was a firm believer in the established order, but it hurt that her own flesh and blood couldn’t be counted on to side with her.
“However, it seems that the matter is neither here nor there,” Tiberia continued. “Your chance to marry walked out the door along with Lepidus. Father was serious about offering you to the temple tomorrow.”
“I was just as serious about not going,” Tibi said, her spine taut. “He doesn’t believe it, but I want very much to wed and have children of my own someday.”
“One would never know by the way you cast off suitors.”
She considered the long list of fortune hunters, old men and toads like Lepidus her father had wooed on her behalf. “I realize I’m no prize,” Tibi said. “But surely there’s at least one man in the province who will want to wed me for me and not Father’s wealth or your husband’s social rank.”
“You speak of love?” Tiberia’s tone mocked her. “How did you become so fanciful?”
“I’m talking about respect.” Tiberia’s attitude annoyed her, especially when her sister’s marriage had been celebrated as a rare love match. “When did you become a cynic?”
“I’m not cynical. I’m realistic enough to accept the world for what it is. I was fortunate to marry a highly acceptable man who returned my affections, but even if I’d despised him, I’d have wed him. Marriage is for personal and familial honor…social position…security…legitimate children. Much more serious issues than simple emotion.”
“That’s easily said when you have all that you hope for.”
“No one has all they hope for. Why should you be different? Father has no son. I have yet to give my husband his longed-for heir. My husband’s desired advancement within the Senate is far from certain.” Tiberia’s jaw tightened. “Listen to me. Respect can be earned and love is fleeting, Tibi. Men who fall in love can fall out again just as quickly. If lasting love and respect are what you want, join the temple. Do your duty to your family, bask in the affections of the goddess’s patrons, then seek your passions later wherever you happen to find them.”
Caught between the reality of her choices and her heart’s desire, Tibi shook her head emphatically. “How can I enter the temple when I’m not even certain I believe in the gods—”
“Say no more!” Tiberia fumbled the glass bottle she held, but caught it before it crashed to the floor. “It’s bad enough you’ve disgraced us all tonight, but do you want to invoke the displeasure of our ancestors and the deities as well?”
Tibi stood from the bed and began to pace the rectangular room. The floor tiles were almost as cold as her father’s heart toward her. The walls seemed to be closing in like a trap.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve followed Pelonia’s bad example and become one of those Christians.” Tiberia shuddered delicately. “You know I love Pelonia with all my heart. I can’t wait to see her when she arrives in Rome tomorrow, but her choice of religion and husband leaves much to be desired.”
Tibi stopped by the window. The cool night air ruffled the flaxen curls framing her face as she looked blindly into the night. Hope flickered inside her