"I will take you to Jerusalem—"
Ulrika placed her fingertips on his lips. "No, Sebastianus, you are to continue eastward. You must depart at dawn, as the stars command."
They fell silent, held by the night and by their mutual desire. Longing burned in their eyes, and each knew the other's yearning. But both were bound by duty and oaths spoken long before Sebastianus and Ulrika had ever met.
He found his voice. "I will send Syphax and a contingent of men with you so that you are well protected."
"Thank you," she said, thinking that once again this strong and powerful man had come to her rescue. Ulrika knew Syphax, a stony-faced Numidian from the northern coast of Africa who hired himself out as a bodyguard and mercenary. He had escorted and protected Sebastianus's caravans for six years, and she knew he could be trusted.
Sebastianus added, "He will see that you are safely delivered into your mother's care in Jerusalem." He looked at her for another long moment, and then on an impulse took her by the shoulders, drew her close, and said in a husky voice, "Ulrika, all going well and the gods willing, I will arrive in Babylon within six weeks. I plan not to depart for the Far East until the festival of the summer solstice, for the day after is the most propitious day in the year to begin a long journey. After you find your mother and learn the whereabouts of Shalamandar, join me in Babylon. I shall wait until the last possible moment before departing for China."
"Yes," she whispered. "I will join you in Babylon." She reached up to touch Sebastianus's jaw, and when her fingertips met the fine, bronze-colored stubble of his beard, she saw—
Sebastianus frowned. "What is it?"
Ulrika opened her mouth but couldn't speak.
He waited, wondering if she were receiving a vision. He had witnessed it before, had seen her delicate nostrils flare, her pupils dilate. The color left her face, and the skin at her temples grew taut.
Outside, over the sleeping city of Antioch, a cloud sailed across the moon and bright stars, plunging the rooms of the inn into darkness. Momentarily blinded, Sebastianus and Ulrika felt their other senses heighten. Sebastianus felt Ulrika's warm skin beneath his hands as he continued to hold her shoulders, making him think of the softness of swans and mist. Ulrika smelled the rain still on him, reminding her of verdant forests and meadows. He heard her gentle respirations. She felt his warmth.
And then the cloud sailed on, like a great trireme across the ocean of night, and starlight washed once more into the small room at the inn. Sebastianus saw a pale, feminine face. She saw eyes the color of a meadow.
"There is treachery in your party," she finally said. "One of your men, who is close to you, will betray you."
"Who? Which one?"
"I do not know. I cannot see his face."
The truth was, there was no face to see, for it was not a true vision that had just visited her, but a feeling. As her fingertips had touched Sebastianus's face, the most overwhelming sense of disappointment and disillusionment swept over her. Utter betrayal. Like a physical blow, and it was going to knock the spirit out of Sebastianus Gallus.
"Is it perhaps one of Primo's recruits?"
She shook her head. "He is a friend."
"I trust all who are close to me," he said, "but I also trust you, Ulrika, and your instincts. And so I will be careful and watchful. We will say farewell in the morning, when we depart at the caravanserai."
Ulrika watched him cross the hall and slip into his own room. Closing her door, she stayed with her back to it and whispered to the gods, "Please take care of this man. Watch over him. Bring him safely back to me."
Sebastianus didn't even have to knock. Ulrika already knew he had come back, that he stood now on the other side of her door. She opened it and there he was, the cloak gone, bare chest and arms exposed, a look of hunger and uncertainty on his face. He held out his hand and Ulrika saw the scallop shell from an ancient altar in Galicia. "Take this," he said. "It holds great power."
She took the shell, vowing to wear it always.
"I need to touch you," he whispered.
She looked up into his eyes and felt them embrace her, draw her inside, into his mind and heart. "And I, you," she said.
They reached for each other at the same time, arms gliding perfectly against each other, slipping into and around the right places, with Ulrika delivering herself into a refuge she had yearned for and Sebastianus drawing a sweetness to himself that he had hungered for. Their mouths met in heat and passion. Each tasted the other. Hands hurriedly explored, grasped, kneaded. Words came whispered breathlessly through clenched lips: "I want—" "I need—" "You are—" "We are—"
Ulrika pressed herself to Sebastianus and felt his hardness. She burst into flame, or so it felt, her skin so hot now and damp and wanting to be devoured by the Galician's mouth. And Sebastianus wanted to delve into her, to join his body and life force to hers, to become part of her, making her part of him.
But then they heard a crash, and heavy footfall, and the grumpy voice of Timonides in the next room as he was apparently packing his bags and complaining, and speaking very loudly of the urgency with which they must be going.
Reluctantly, Sebastianus drew back. "It seems we are not to know a moment alone together," he said, glancing toward the wall which almost vibrated with the energy of the astrologer's industry. "Timonides meant it when he said the stars have commanded us to hurry."
Why? she wanted to ask, hating the feel of his withdrawal, the cold air that rushed between them, the awful emptiness that now filled her arms. And the burning of her lips, the tingling on her tongue. She did not want to stop.
"Ulrika," Sebastianus said as he drew her close one last time, "I want to stay with you, be with you. But Timonides is right. I must go. To love you and to enjoy your love in return—such a privilege and luxury cannot be mine, not now that I am under Caesar's command."
He bent and kissed her forehead.
"Ulrika, Ulrika," he said, filling his mouth with her name. "It is said that Eros, the god of love and desire, is continually taking humans apart and putting them back together. And it is true! My former self has been utterly shattered and re-shaped. The man I once was, so guarded in his feelings, so in control of his heart, no longer exists. Why Eros singled me out for this particular joy, I do not know, but I still firmly hold that I am not deserving of it.
"I do not want to leave you! But I must do as the stars dictate, for it is the will of the gods. No man can defy his stars, for they map out his destiny. This I believe most passionately and with all my heart: there is an order to the universe. And if the gods deem we not join again in Babylon, then I pray that you find what you are looking for, and the answers to the mysteries within yourself. And when I come back from China, and surely I will for the stars have promised, I will search for you, and I will find you, my dearest Ulrika."
15
THE PUNGENT SMELL OF lamb's wool and goat hides mingled with the scent from the oil lamp as Ulrika struck a flint and lit the wick.
Flickering light illuminated the tent, which was still dark inside as the sun had yet to rise. Soon, sunlight would flood the tent and cooking aromas would invade the cloistered atmosphere of her private tent.