‘I will not let him touch you.’
She turned back around and stared at the shore. ‘He will touch me and soon. I agreed to it. This was my decision and now I must live with it.’
‘Will you not even look at me?’ he asked.
‘I cannot look at you. You know I cannot. This thing between us, it can no longer be.’
He was shaking his head, having none of it. ‘When I saw you standing beside Lepidus, I nearly shouted with happiness.’
And so did I. She shook her head. ‘Happiness is fleeting. Freedom is the prize.’
‘Vita...’ His hand grazed hers, but she pulled it away. Curses, it was still there. The heat.
‘You must understand that I am doing this to survive,’ said Vita. ‘Magnus tried to kill me yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘I barely escaped Rome with my life.’
She saw his hands squeezing the wood of the rail, his fingers white with anger. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘It was my fault.’
She shook her head. ‘That is not true.’
‘He caught you trying to pick the lock. Tell me if I am wrong.’
Vita said nothing, but she sensed the heaviness of his regret. ‘Please do not blame yourself, Ven.’
‘Why not, if it is my fault?’
‘I would not have tried to pick the lock if I had not wished to,’ she told him. ‘It was my choice.’
He shook his head and closed his eyes. ‘I do not deserve you.’
‘And you do not have me,’ said Vita. ‘I belong to Lepidus now. We must not speak alone again. Do you understand?’
Ven nodded, but she sensed his resistance.
‘My contract with Lepidus is the only hope I have for survival now,’ she explained. ‘I have lost everything. I am a desperate woman and have therefore made a difficult promise.’
‘You will not even converse with me, then?’
‘I must lie with him, Ven. Do you know how trying that will be? To lie with another man, when all I can think about is...’
‘Is what?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. It does not matter. The time is past. You must go now and leave me alone. Always.’
They were the hardest words she had ever had to say. But there was only Lepidus now and the next five years of life her life stretching out before her like the never-ending sea.
‘Please, Ven, just go.’
* * *
Soon after their ship had departed Ostia, the wind had come up from the north and the heavily loaded vessel had spent hours tacking against its teeth. Instead of taking a few hours to reach the port of Centumcellae a few miles up the coast, it had taken many and, by the time they arrived, it was too late to find lodgings.
Most of the passengers slept on the deck that night, the collective hum of their snores blending with the rhythmic whispers of the waves.
Thankfully, Lepidus did not ask Vita to join him on his sleeping mat below deck. He slept alongside the Scythian while Ven and Zia joined the other slaves in a small area beside the galley.
Lying on deck beneath the stars, Vita was able to finally relax and was seized by a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
When she awoke the next morning, the ship was already pulling away from its port. Heading for the stairs, she nearly crashed into Zia carrying Lepidus’s chamber pot. Vita plucked the chamber pot from the woman’s arms and emptied it over the deck herself.
‘Gratitude, Domina,’ said Zia.
Vita cringed. ‘Please do not call me Domina.’ She glanced about the deck. ‘At least not when we are alone.’
But they were not alone. There was Ven, only steps away, watching them.
‘Excuse me, women,’ he said, addressing both Vita and Zia at once. ‘I wonder if either of you knows where I may find a metal brazier for cooking?’ Ven made a gesture with his hands for Zia’s benefit, but Vita knew that his question was all for her.
‘I believe I saw one among a family near the bow,’ Vita said, nodding in that direction.
She moved to go below deck, but Ven gestured for her to stop. ‘Would you mind leading me to them? It is just that Lepidus has requested a roasted chicken for his breakfast and I must prepare the fire quickly, lest he grow angry.’
Vita bit her lip. He had outmanoeuvred her, the clever fox. She had no choice but to lead the way.
‘I apologise for this,’ Ven said as they walked together towards the bow. ‘I believe I know how you may avoid Lepidus’s bed.’
‘The brazier is just there,’ Vita said, pointing to the small metal container. She stepped around him to leave and as she passed by his side, she whispered. ‘How?’
‘Tell him you lost the contract.’
‘I did lose the contract. I burned it.’
A rare smile traversed his lips. ‘Tell him that you insist that another be drawn up and that it be properly signed and witnessed. Tell him it is a matter of honour.’
There was no time for another word and soon Vita was below the deck, making her morning salutation to Lepidus. ‘Can you not bring me a cup of water, Vita? My throat is parched.’
‘Of course,’ said Vita. She found the fresh-water amphorae in the rear of the hull and filled his cup, returning with it. ‘My shoulders are rather sore,’ he said, drinking down the liquid. ‘Can you rub them for me?’
‘Yes.’ While Vita went to work rubbing his shoulders, the old man motioned to Zia, who was soon rubbing his feet.
He laughed bitterly. ‘Just look at me—a paterfamilias of equestrian rank, receiving his morning massage on the floor. I should have stayed in Ostia and waited for a larger ship.’
‘The time will pass quickly,’ Vita reassured him.
Lepidus snorted. ‘I have a weak stomach. No time passes quickly for me aboard a ship. It is the reason I must pass most of my time below deck.’ He rubbed his bald head as if to consult it. ‘But as soon as we reach the port of Narbo, we shall consummate our arrangement in the comfort of a proper bed.’
Vita drew a breath. ‘Good Lepidus, before I can perform the task I have committed to, I must ensure that our arrangement is legal. Without a contract, signed and properly witnessed, my reputation would be in question, you see. I am sure you understand the need for the formality.’
Several moments passed and Vita was not sure if Lepidus was thinking or waiting for the right moment to throw her overboard.
‘Of course,’ said Lepidus at last.
‘I apologise for the inconvenience,’ she said.
‘I admire your chastity. It is the primary reason I selected you after all.’ He spouted a laugh. ‘It was certainly not for your good looks and slender figure!’
Vita leaned into her work, wondering at how little his insult had hurt her. Perhaps it was enough consolation to know that there was one man in the world who did desire her. It only happened that she could not look that man in the eyes ever again.
‘Lower,’ Lepidus commanded and Vita rubbed down his back.
‘I should like to know what kind of weather is expected today,’ continued Lepidus, ‘and at which ports we will be stopping. I am also wondering if any of the other passengers might be in possession of an extra pillow. Could you find out?’ asked Lepidus. ‘I would ask Ven, but the two of us will be busy with work all day and this Dacian of mine is useless with Latin.’
Zia made no response, though surely she could understand that she had just been insulted.
‘Of course, Lepidus,’ said Vita, a vision of her future flashing inside her mind—an endless stream of work and criticism. Had she really expected anything different? She stood to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Lepidus.
‘To find out the information you requested.’
‘Not yet, stupid woman! First finish rubbing my back.’
&nbs
p; Vita obeyed—what choice did she have?—and soon Ven appeared carrying several scrolls.
‘Are those the milecastle drawings?’ asked Lepidus.
‘Yes, Dominus,’ Ven said. ‘Shall I leave them with you?’
‘I would prefer that we go over them together,’ replied Lepidus. ‘Vita, will you light our oil lamp?’
* * *
Thus the first leg of their journey passed in a blur of activity as Zia and Vita took turns fetching Lepidus’s water and preparing his food, rubbing his limbs and then washing them, emptying his bedpan, cleaning his dishes and accompanying him in strolls on deck.
Meanwhile, Ven went about serving Lepidus in other ways, including many hours spent poring over scrolls. Whatever architectural work was being done, Ven seemed to be doing the bulk of it.
This left Lepidus with more time on his hands than Vita would have liked, for in his spare moments he seemed compelled to point out Vita’s faults.
‘You are too slow in your movements.’
‘You have not washed my tunic properly.’
‘You have incorrectly peeled this grape.’
The man was an exacting taskmaster, yet it seemed he could do nothing on his own. Vita’s only solace was that she was not alone, for she had Zia.
A shared language was not necessary—she and Zia recognised that they were fighting the same enemy: misery. The battle plan they developed was simple: one would attend to Lepidus while the other rested and attended to her own needs, then they would switch places.
Still, because Zia could not speak Latin, it fell to Vita to keep Lepidus’s mind stimulated when he was not working—a formidable task, since the man did not seem capable of a moment’s repose.
‘This boat was constructed with interlocking timbers. You probably did not notice that, did you, Vita?’
‘Why do you wear your hair in such a mess?’
‘We must get you a new tunic.’
‘Those clouds obviously portend rain. Do you know why?’
He salted his diatribes with unanswerable questions.
‘Why do the days grow shorter?’
‘Why is the sky blue?’
‘Why are some sails made of linen and others of hide?’
When Vita would attempt answers, he would shoot them down like a birds from the sky.
‘You obviously know very little. Then again, you are just an uneducated woman.’
* * *
‘How well can you read, Vita?’ he asked one afternoon as they strolled about the deck.
‘Passably well, I would say. Why do you ask?’
She spent the rest of the journey reading to him from Pollio’s four-hundred-page treatise De Architectura, the leatherbound copy of which Lepidus apparently kept with him at all times. By the time they arrived in the port of Narbo, Vita knew more about pediment styles, raised foundations, and decorative plasterwork than she ever could have hoped.
* * *
As they readied themselves to disembark, Ven leaped off the boat ahead of their party, intent on hailing a carriage for them.
The loading plank was lowered, and Zia was the first to travel down it, carrying the largest of Lepidus’s bags. Vita and Lepidus went next, walking arm in arm down the platform, while the Scythian followed like a shadow behind them.
‘You must count yourself rather fortunate, Vita,’ Lepidus mused. ‘It has not been a nundinum since we set out on this journey and already you have acquired much of the knowledge necessary to assist a great man.’
Vita nodded in agreement, though she was rather distracted by the small struggle in which Zia was currently engaged further down the dock. She had briefly stopped to rest and now was attempting to hoist Lepidus’s large travel bag upon her back once again. The exhausted woman could not seem to clear her own knees.
Reaching the dock, Vita ran to Zia’s aid at the same moment that Ven appeared at the other end of the dock and did the same. The three converged at once, and Vita and Ven nearly crashed into each other as they each seized a handle of the bag.
Zia laughed, then so did Vita and finally so did Ven. Glancing back at Lepidus, Vita released the handle she held, but not before the flash of Ven’s smiling eyes sent a lightning bolt of longing into her stomach.
She nearly fell backwards into the water and, as she turned to join Lepidus, she had to feign frustration as an excuse for her rising blush.
‘You are quite a helpful woman, Vita,’ observed Lepidus.
‘Gratitude, Lepidus. I try to be.’
‘It was not meant as a compliment.’
Already accustomed to Lepidus’s criticisms, Vita bowed her head in contrition. ‘Please tell me how I did wrong.’
‘You act as if you are a slave yourself. You are not a slave, however. Your function here is to serve as my companion and feminine representative. You are the Gaia to my Gaius, dear, not a penniless pleb.’
‘Yes, of course, Lepidus. My apologies.’
‘I know that you count yourself fortunate to be with me—any woman would—but you must not let that transform you into an obsequious little hen. Remember your dignity.’
Vita nodded. She did count herself fortunate, though not for the reasons Lepidus believed. She felt fortunate for Zia and her wordless companionship, and for the food and transport Lepidus provided them. She felt fortunate for Ven who kept his distance, yet seemed to be looking out for her at every second. She also felt fortunate that she had not yet been obliged to share Lepidus’s bed.
Still, she marvelled at how quickly she had grown accustomed to her life with Lepidus, which was essentially no different from her life with Magnus. She wondered if it was human nature to see the good in things. It seemed to be an important skill—a means of survival—yet it was that same stubborn good cheer that could trap a person in the wrong kind of life.
‘I look forward to guiding you in the fine art of pleasing me tonight,’ Lepidus remarked as they approached Zia at the end of the dock. ‘The Roman mansion here in Narbo is said to be rather luxurious.’
‘I look forward to fulfilling the terms of our contract,’ said Vita, ‘but I must remind you that it is not yet signed.’
Lepidus’s eyes flared, but he quickly veiled his anger. ‘In that case, I will use the Dacian to fulfil my needs tonight. I will have the matter of the contract seen to tomorrow.’
Vita saw Zia’s lips purse with alarm. The woman had understood everything. She lifted her hand to adjust her grip on Lepidus’s bag and Vita saw that it was trembling. It was then that Vita truly understood the weight of the woman’s load.
‘It is not necessary to call upon Zia tonight, Lepidus,’ Vita blurted. ‘I am certain we can find some compromise to meet your needs. It is my duty, after all, and I would hate to neglect it.’
Vita swallowed back the bile in her throat. The thought of giving herself to Lepidus was appalling, but she knew she did not have a choice. It was the price of her passage—of any woman’s passage—in this man’s world in which they lived.
Chapter Nine
That evening Vita sat on the edge of the bed in her freshly cleaned tunic and listened patiently as Lepidus laid out his expectations.
‘I should tell you that I do not kiss,’ he said, removing his own tunic. He glanced at her lap. ‘And I shall require you to keep yourself shaved in the manner of the Egyptians.’
‘The Egyptians?’ she answered. ‘Have you been to Egypt?’
‘I have, in my younger days.’
‘The land of Egypt fascinates me. Is it true that there are pyramids so high that they scrape the sky?’
‘Three very large ones and hundreds of a smaller variety, yes. I studied them for a time.’
‘You studied the pyramids?’ Vita gasped. She clapped her hands together. ‘Lepidus, you never cease to surprise me! Tell me, what are they like?’
&
nbsp; Vita listened in rapt attention as Lepidus dived into a detailed description of the pyramids, which had never seemed so truly wondrous to Vita as they did just then, as the moments swept past. His description lasted for the better part of an hour.
‘Pardon me if I am prying, but how is it that you were able to travel to Egypt at all?’ Vita asked, summoning all her energy.
‘Well, that is a story,’ said Lepidus, diving headlong into another long explanation of his illustrious education and the apprenticeship that landed him in Alexandria and later Thebes.
Vita congratulated herself as she feigned her fascination. It seemed that she had discovered Lepidus’s Achilles heel: talking about his own illustrious past. ‘You must have been quite talented to have been selected for such a journey.’
‘Very talented indeed,’ he waxed. ‘Have I told you that Mother once said that I was sired by a god...?’
On and on he continued until after many hours he became exhausted, and the two lay down together on the thin mattress and swiftly went to sleep.
* * *
The next day, Lepidus had Vita’s contract drawn up as promised—two copies, following her request—and they signed the documents in the presence of a local magistrate.
Soon they were journeying overland in a small carriage along the Via Aquitania, an old provincial road that lead to Burdigala on the northern coast of Gaul. The long idle hours gave Vita time to contrive an array of excuses and by that evening she had settled on her best hope.
‘I am afraid that my courses have arrived,’ she informed him.
‘There are other ways I may take my pleasure,’ he replied.
‘To take pleasure with a woman during the time of her courses invites the wrath of Juno, did you not know?’
Lepidus shook his head in frustration. ‘In that case send the Dacian in.’
‘I am afraid Zia is experiencing her courses as well,’ explained Vita. ‘It is something that happens frequently when women travel together.’
The Roman Lady's Illicit Affair Page 12
