Read Online The Raven and the Rose by Doreen Owens Malek - Free Book Online

famous.”
    “Not everyone wants to be famous,” Larthia replied, her tone muted.
    “No?”
    “No, Endymion. Some of us just want to be happy.”
    Verrix shifted his blue gaze from the bustling street to his mistress’ face, but she was gazing into the distance, maintaining her “model” pose.
    “There, I think that should do it,” Endymion said with satisfaction. “We’ll let that set and then if you come back in three days I’m sure I can finish it.”
    “May I just have a peek at it?” Larthia asked.
    “No. You can’t see it until it’s finished.” Endymion recapped his vials of vegetable tints and dropped his fur tipped brushes into a cup. “But I do think you will be very pleased.”
    “Let’s hope the tanners guild will be very pleased. They’re paying for it.”
    “Oh yes, that’s right, I’d forgotten. Are you their new patroness?”
    “My husband was their patron before he died. I’m continuing the tradition.”
    “You don’t sound very happy about it,” Endymion commented, wiping his hands on a cloth and dropping a cover over the painting. The wet paint was protected by a wooden frame which kept the cover from touching it.
    “Every guild in Rome is clamoring for my patronage,” Larthia replied, standing and shaking out the skirt of her gown. “It’s not my name they want, but the Sejanus money.”
    “They want both, Lady Sejana. Finances and publicity are equally important to ambitious tradesmen.”
    “Speaking of finances, don’t forget the discount you promised me for coming to your stall.”
    “You’ll get it. Letting the passersby see you sitting here posing is worth far more to me than painting you in the comfort of your parlor.”
      Larthia nodded wearily, picking up the hem of her diploidion and tossing it over her shoulder. “I will see you in three days, Endymion, first thing in the morning.”
    Endymion bowed.
    Verrix stepped aside as Larthia moved past him, out of the artist’s stall and into the busy street. Larthia walked a short distance and then stopped to examine a pile of silks displayed on a broad wooden table.
    “When did these come in?” she said to the tradesman, a dark eyed Parthian with a curling black beard and a tiered and braided headdress.
    “Just this morning, mistress,” he replied in execrable Latin, bowing.
    Verrix stood behind Larthia, his arms folded, as she examined the bolts of cloth.
    “What color is this?” she asked, holding up a sample of material.
    “Lapis lazuli, my lady Sejana, and may I say you honor my humble establishment with your presence. The cloth is dyed with the ink of the tentacled sea creature called oktopous by the Greeks. The dye is very fast and makes a beautiful shade.”
    Larthia handed the bolt of cloth to Verrix, who looked startled, then sullen as he shoved the rolled material under his arm.
    “And this?” Larthia asked, fingering a small piece of cloth of gold.
    “Ah, a fine choice, you have excellent taste, my lady. That piece was handmade by my wife, interweaving the silk with the gold threads on her own loom.”  
    “How much for both pieces?” Larthia asked.
    “Three sesterces,” the Parthian said rapidly.
    Larthia shook her head.
    “Two,” the tradesman said.
    “One,” Larthia offered.
    “Done.”
    Larthia removed the silver coin from the drawstring purse at her waist and handed it over, then accepted the second bolt of cloth and gave it to Verrix. He added it to the first one, his face set. Larthia walked on to the fruit stall next door and poked a pile of dates to test them for ripeness.
    “From Galilee,” the fruit seller said, hovering. “The most succulent, from the choicest palm trees.”
    Larthia made her purchases, walking along the lane from stall to stall, handing everything she bought to Verrix. By the time she returned to her litter his arms were loaded.
    She climbed into her litter and settled back, pulling the curtains closed. In the next instant the curtain was whipped