A Noble Captive by Michelle Styles Page A

word.
    ‘Greetings, Niobe. Do you look after the geese? They are very healthy and well fed. I wanted to thank you for the water you brought me and my men earlier. It was you, wasn’t it?’
    She returned his smile and nodded enthusiastically. She gave the imitation of a goose. Tullio attempted a honk and the girl burst out in a fit of giggles. She bowed several times and then raced off to rejoin her flock.
    ‘You have made a friend.’ The pinched look on Helena’s face was gone. Her eyes held a new expression—as if he were some backward pupil who had just completed a difficult conjugation of a Greek verb.
    ‘A little kindness never did anyone any harm.’ Tullio concentrated on readjusting his cloak. Here was no heartless statue. Her concern for Niobe was real.
    ‘The sibyl is of a similar mind.’
    ‘The sibyl exercises great power.’ Tullio stared after the now distant figure of Niobe, rather than at Helena’s lips. The memories of the fights he had fought to protect his sistercrowded in. ‘No doubt there were many in the village who argued for the girl’s destruction.’
    ‘My aunt believes that the gods made each one of us. She has been a great force for good on this island and I intend to keep it that way.’
    ‘But for how much longer?’
    She gave him a panicked look and Tullio knew he had hit a raw nerve. She was less sure about the temple’s position than she pretended. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    ‘The pirates grow stronger in this region of the Mediterranean.’ He leant forward and dropped his voice. ‘How much longer until they decide they don’t need your aunt or her portents? How long until they take what they need with force?’
    Tullio watched her face intently to see if there was any sign that she was listening, that she understood. All he could hear was the distant honks of the geese.
    ‘It is certainly something to consider.’ She pointed back down the track. ‘I believe your men will be waiting for you.’
    Tullio started back. When he turned slightly she was standing there, the breeze whipping her gown about slim legs, a thoughtful expression on her face.
     
    Could she trust him?
    The question reverberated through Helena’s mind as she walked back towards the sibyl’s chambers.
    Niobe, who hid when any strange man approached her, was not afraid of him.
    His assessment of the situation was much the same as hers. As the seafarers grew bolder, their respect for the temple grew less.
    How much longer before they decided to challenge the sibyl’s authority with an attack on the mainland?
    Or, worse, stopped paying tribute altogether?
    The minor insults were clear to anyone who had eyes. Androceles was determined to challenge the sibyl’s authority. Why Aunt Flavia had not chastised him when he first tried to deliver the mouldy grain, Helena had no idea. But each time, the house of Androceles dared that little bit further.
    She hated the fact that Tullio had wakened these fears. She also hated the fact that she kept finding reasons to seek him out. She told herself that it was to make sure he and his men behaved properly but each time she saw them, it only served to show her how wrong she had been.
    Lying on the table was another scroll from Androceles. Helena rapidly scanned it. Like the three that preceded it, Androceles respectfully reminded her of her promise. This time, he asked after the sibyl’s health. A subtle hint that, like Tullio, he had realised Aunt Flavia was not well?
    Helena’s mouth went dry. He was guessing. He had to be. If he had solid proof, he’d have acted before now. But she had to do something.
    ‘We have finished repairing the southern enclosure. What else would you like my men to do? The warehouse looks like its east wall is missing stone.’
    Helena glanced up and saw Tullio standing there. His frame filled the doorway. The sun had tanned his skin to a deep bronze. His tunic touched the mid-point of his thighs. Solid, reassuring and something