Fated: Torn Apart by History, Bound for Eternity by Carolyn McCray

outline of the dial. “They call him the Green Man, do they not?”
    Syra looked down at the dark figure. How could she explain her homeland’s god to a Roman? The Green Man was not a kind or friendly deity, but he promised life that sprang not from high atop a distant mountain, but from the earth itself. He did not need a temple or a sacrifice.
    No, the Green Man needed only fertile ground and a bit of spring water to grace his subjects. There was all of this to tell and so much more, but Syra was certain that this cosmopolitan Roman would never understand such primitive urges.
    “ That is one of his names.”
    Brutus smiled casually. “This truly is a fine piece. I hope the carver made as much from his work as the merchant said he did.”
    Syra tensed, but did not voice her anger. Yet Brutus must have sensed her change in mood, for his face clouded.
    “ Is something wrong?”
    “ This homage was made by a priest, sir. Most likely as a symbol of protection for a relative.”
    “ Oh. It was meant to be an heirloom?”
    Once again, Syra became frustrated with all of Rome. Could they not understand that items such as this were not possessions with a golden value? Could Brutus not see that this was as much a part of the family as one’s own soul? “Yes, it was meant to be kept at the hearth.”
    “ Perhaps they fell upon hard times or—”
    Syra’s temper flared. “No one would have given this emblem voluntarily.”
    Brutus’ tone quieted. “I am sorry. I did not know this piece had been plundered.” He touched her cheek and turned her face to look into his eyes. “I would not have bought it had I known.”
    Just as quickly as her anger billowed, it blew out. While she gravely distrusted her Roman master, her heart believed the man. Syra found herself opening a bit of her pain to him.
    “ It was not meant to be a sundial. It is an emblem of protection. This…makes it seem…” She could not continue her explanation, as her throat constricted with unshed tears.
    “ I will rectify that.”
    His hand fell away from her cheek, and Syra realized how warm and comforting it had been. She missed it already as he backed away a step.
    “ I am heading to the market.”
    Syra bowed, realizing she was being dismissed.
    Brutus took a single step toward the door, then turned back. “Would you like to accompany me?”
    “ I…” Syra stumbled over her answer as her hands flew up to her tousled hair. She had every reason to say no. She had every reason to stay as far away from this man as possible, yet her lips formed her acceptance. “If you wish. I only need a few moments to prepare.”
    Brutus nodded. “The litter will be waiting.”
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    Dear gods, what had he been thinking? Brutus chided himself once again as he headed to his study. He had meant to slip out the back door and head to the market for his offering to the god, Pan. Tonight was the Lupercalia, a celebration to honor the Greek god of mischief.
    With Horat summoned back to the Temple of Mars to fill out yet more acquisition forms, Brutus was forced to do his own shopping this afternoon. He had planned a very brief trip down the hill, but now the outing took on a far greater scope.
    Brutus had much to do this day, and he had been determined to keep his head clear. Only with a crisp mind could he hope to sort out the mess that the Fates had dealt. Brutus had made a promise to himself and the great goddess Minerva that he would not lay eyes upon the Northerner until his heart was resolved toward Caesar. Yet here he was not half a day later, going to market with the blasted redhead.
    But how could he leave the Northerner like that? Her pain was so sharp that Brutus felt his own eyes sting. Syra had much about her that drew his heart in deeper and deeper. Looking into her eyes for a single second had broken his resolve. His heart wavered, and his tongue had betrayed him. But what stories this slave could tell! He knew her soul’s breadth to