by Teri Barnett
Oh, why did she have to be the one to tend to the stranger? The other servants had warned her about witches and their evil spells. Clarus shook at the very thought of getting close to her. Why couldn’t Stella have listened to her for once? Of course, why should today have been any different? No one paid much attention to anything she said.
Clarus, deep in her thoughts, quietly led the woman called Valerie down the long corridor to the back atrium where the house’s private bathing area was located.
“Where exactly are you taking me?” Valerie asked, breaking into the Clarus’s musings. “Are we going to the Forum?”
“Of course, not.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. The walking stick was doing just that—helping the witch to walk. At least she wasn’t trying to cast a spell. She let her breath out slowly. “Master Christos likes his slaves to keep themselves presentable. Where else would I be taking you but to the bath?”
“But we aren’t going outside,” Valerie said. “I thought the Roman bath houses were all located in the central part of the city.”
Clarus turned around and continued to walk backward. She sighed and threw her hands up, much the same as she had seen Stella do on many an occasion. Didn’t this woman know anything? “Master Christos is very wealthy. He doesn’t need to go to the public baths. He has one right here, in the house.”
“I see,” Valerie answered as Clarus spun on her heel and faced forward again.
Valerie felt a warm breeze brush against her cheek as they approached the bath. She finally found its source at the end of the passageway, enclosed in a peristyle garden. Here, the construction of the atrium was similar to the front one. Decorative downspouts were located to spew forth rainwater for collection in a well.
“See that small tub in the corner over there?” Clarus asked, pointing. “That one’s for the servants. We’re only allowed to bathe early in the morning, and we can never enter if the Master is in here. Master and his guests use the large tub over there.”
“And his guests?” The image of the petite blonde woman crept into Valerie’s mind. “Male and—and female?”
“Of course.” Clarus turned around. “There is nothing wrong with washing together. Besides,” she shrugged, “it saves water during the dry months.”
Valerie shook her head. This concept was not new to her and she really shouldn’t be in the least bit shocked. In her studies, she had learned that the ancient Romans often shared their bathing rituals with friends and family.
Clarus shifted from foot to foot
“What is it?” Valerie asked, sensing the girl’s distress.
“Is it true? Are you really a witch? Will you cast a spell and turn me into a snake if you don’t like me?” the girl asked, the questions rushing out of her.
Valerie considered the girl. The poor child looked like a frightened rabbit. “Of course, it isn’t true. I’m not a witch, nor do I know how to turn young girls into snakes.”
“You don’t?”
Valerie chuckled, the sound echoing off the columns. She cupped the girl’s shoulders. She wasn’t much taller than dear Reggie. “I promise.”
Clarus smiled, soothed by Valerie’s words. “Please sit here and I’ll help you.”
Valerie sat on a marble bench near the servant’s area. The girl knelt and removed the leather shoes. “I’ve never seen foot coverings like these before. We’ll have to get you some sandals.”
“Sandals do sound more practical, but I’m not certain they’ll work well with my foot.” Valerie crossed her left leg over the right. “See. I don’t think I’d be able to keep them on.”
“Maybe not. It will depend on the lacings,” Clarus said as she helped Valerie out of her stockings. The young girl winced in sympathy at Valerie’s gasps as the thin fabric pulled away from where it was stuck to the sores. “I’ll ask Stella for some ointment for your legs. They don’t look too good where the chains were rubbing against them. Maybe she’ll know of someone who can help your foot, also.”
“It was damaged when I was very young. There’s really nothing that can be done for it. But thank you anyway.” Valerie smiled gratefully. “You’re quite smart for your age.” She watched the tow-headed girl for a moment. “How old are you?”
“I’ll soon be eleven.” She leaned toward Valerie. “And someday I’m going to marry Master Christos.” She sighed. “He is so handsome and kind.”
“Does he know of your plans?” Valerie asked, suppressing a smile. The girl was so serious, she didn’t want her to think she was making fun of her.
“Well, no. It would not do for a master to marry his slave. But someday, I will buy my freedom. Then I will surprise him with a wedding.”
“I see.” Valerie tucked a lock of the girl’s hair behind her ear. “Has the master ever been married?”
Clarus nodded. “Yes, but his wife died while trying to birth their son. I will be very strong and will bear him many sons without dying. You won’t tell, will you?”
Valerie felt a pang of sadness. How terrible to have lost both a wife and a child at the same time. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your marriage plans a secret.”
Clarus smiled, then began humming a simple tune as she helped Valerie out of the sack cloth.
“You get in the bath and I’ll get the ointment and some clean clothes,” Clarus bade.
Valerie watched as the child left, and then lowered herself into the water. She was surprised to find it was very warm. She leaned over the side and saw where lead pipes were plumbed into the tub itself. Running heated water? In ancient Rome? Most English houses didn’t even have such a luxury. Valerie shook her head and eased back with a sigh, allowing the stiffness to soak out of her muscles.
The tinkle of a woman’s sweet laughter tickled Christos’s ears. Following the melodious sound, he leaned over the balcony and peered into the atrium below. Just off to the side, he could see the woman he had bought today. He smiled as dear little Clarus helped her out of her clothing. But his smile quickly faded as the dusky light of evening brushed the woman’s form. It touched her full breasts and caressed her buttocks when she turned. He felt a stirring as he watched her settle into the water, her shimmery chestnut hair spreading out around her. Maybe she really was a witch after all.
“Gravia has arrived, Christos.”
“Hmmm? Did you say something, Julius?” Christos asked absently, his eyes never leaving Valerie.
Julius looked below and chuckled. “Looks like she’s cleaning up quite well,” he commented.
“Quite well, indeed.” He shook himself free from his thoughts. “I’ll meet Gravia in my room. Have the girl bring up our dinner.”
“Do you think that’s wise? You know how jealous Gravia can be.”
Christos smiled crookedly and winked. “I know.”
“Now, see if you can balance this tray with one hand.” Stella placed the bronze serving platter on Valerie’s outstretched hand.
Next, she piled on some bread, honey, and two golden goblets of warm wine. “Can you manage this?”
Valerie took first one tentative step, then another. “I think so.”
“All right, then. Go out this doorway and into the atrium. You’ll see the stairs. The master’s bedroom is upstairs and at the far end of the corridor, near the bath.”
Valerie made her way to the stair, then paused, trying to decide exactly how she was going to manage to climb it with cane and tray in hand. Just then, Clarus ran up beside her. “Give me the tray.”
“Thank you, Clarus,” Valerie said as she handed over the tray. She followed the girl as she made her way to the second story. Once they reached the floor, Clarus handed the tray back to Valerie.
“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I’m not supposed to.”
“Why not?”
Clarus shrugged. “We’re only to tend to our own tasks, not th
e tasks of the other servants as well. But I’ve decided I like you. If you need me, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve already done for me,” Valerie said. She smiled at the girl and thanked her again for tending her cuts and bruises after the bath. And how, so gently, she had worked the tangles out of her long hair with a wide toothed comb, then braided it for her. “If ever there’s anything I can help you with, please ask as well.”
Clarus nodded, then scampered back down the stairs.
Valerie walked the remaining distance to the end of the corridor, balancing the tray with one hand and balancing herself with the cane. Glancing over the handrail, she noticed the bathing area was in full view.
Was it possible Christos had seen her?
A woman’s laughter broke into her thoughts. Shaking off her musings, she lifted her cane and tapped on the door.
“Enter,” the woman called out.
Valerie walked in, careful to keep her eyes lowered as Stella had instructed. She might not like being a slave, but it would be foolish to disobey. She could not afford any more ill treatment. If she was beaten, she would not be able to escape. “Where would you like me to put the tray?”
“Look at me,” Christos bade.
Valerie raised her eyes to meet his. The desire she saw in the dark depths completely disarmed her. Never had a man looked at her so. Not even Thomas before he found out the truth about her foot. Thinking of Thomas sobered her. He had called her undesirable. She wasn’t appealing to a modern man, so why had the foolish idea so suddenly entered her mind that this man from ancient Pompeii might find her so?
“I’m pleased to see I was right about you. Your appearance has vastly improved now the grime has been scrubbed away,” Christos commented.
Her cheeks grew hot as his eyes moved over her body. With cane in hand, she awkwardly tugged at the side of her tunic.
“Put the tray down next to the bed.” Gravia gestured imperially with one hand from where she lay on a couch next to Christos.
Christos rose and took the tray from Valerie. She pulled her eyes away from his and ventured a look around the room. Up a few steps and near the center of the expanse was a large bed, carved of ebony, and covered with multi-colored striped bedding. Sheer white silk draped around the bed partially concealing the flicker of the oil lamps positioned near the headboard. She felt her cheeks grow even hotter as she scanned the painted images on the walls of nude men and women engaged in all manner of private activities.
“What is that you’re wearing?” Christos asked.
“Is there something wrong with it?” She glanced down at the flowing white fabric. “It’s the clothing I was given.”
“Slaves aren’t supposed to wear long stolas, just short ones. Someone may mistake you for a free woman. Clarus didn’t forget to tell you, did she?”
Valerie frowned, remembering how she had been shown to dress by Clarus. She was supposed to wrap a short stola around her so that everything below her thighs would remain bare. The girl wasn’t the least bit happy when Valerie had asked for additional pieces of fabric, insisting on covering herself completely. She hoped she hadn’t gotten the child in trouble.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I insisted on dressing like this. In my time—I mean country—women don’t walk around with bare legs.”
“Have them both beaten,” Gravia huffed. “I will tell you, Christos, these slaves of yours are much too impertinent. You must starve them for a while, then take the whip to their backs. They will be much more obedient.”
“Oh?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. “Is that how I should treat you then, my dear? Will you mind me better if I have a whip in hand?”
“Perhaps,” Gravia answered as she rose slowly. She moved to where Christos stood and rubbed her body against his. She shimmied up and down, spreading her legs and running one hand along her inner thigh. “We shall have to try it sometime.” She grabbed Christos head and pulled it down to hers.
Valerie took a step back as Gravia’s tongue flitted in and out, licking Christos’s mouth. Christos glanced in Valerie’s direction. He sighed, pulling away from Gravia. “You haven’t yet told me your name. What are you called?”
Valerie cleared her throat. “V–Valerie.”
“Valerie,” he whispered as his hands cupped Gravia’s buttocks, forcing her against him.
Gravia moved away from Christos’s embrace and unfastened her gown. Letting it drop to the ground, she revealed her nakedness. Valerie’s head swam. She shifted nervously. My God, didn’t these people care that she was standing right here? “Please, may I leave now?” she whispered.
Gravia returned to Christos. “Send her away. I want you to myself tonight.”
Christos walked away from Gravia and toward Valerie. He grabbed her long braid and pulled her to him. “Please, let me go,” Valerie pleaded. Was he going to rape her, here and now, in front of this woman?
He ignored her plea. “You do know you’re mine, don’t you, Valerie?” Christos lowered his mouth near hers and she was filled with the same feeling of anticipation she had felt earlier with Thomas. “I own you.”
She put a hand on his chest, knowing she should fight him. But, for one fleeting instant, she wondered what it would be like to be kissed as she had seen him kiss Gravia—with so much passion.
Christos took advantage of her hesitation and his lips met hers. Slowly, he caressed her mouth with his warm, moist kisses. Valerie tingled where his hands moved over her arms, brushing them softly with his fingertips. His kiss grew more urgent and he forced her lips apart. Just as Valerie had seen Gravia do, Christos now licked her, pushing his tongue into her mouth. The warmth of it filled her and she leaned against him, wantonly answering his need with her own. What was this passion he was bringing to life within her? How could she feel so strongly about someone she had only just met? Someone who now owned her. Why, it was positively decadent.
She opened her eyes slightly and found Christos staring into hers, his half-closed with passion.
“Christos!” Gravia called from where she stood. “I’m growing cold, if you follow my meaning.”
Christos raised his head and sighed. “I’m coming.” He looked down at Valerie and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Would you like to join us, little Valerie?”
Valerie’s eyes flew wide open. “J–join you?” she repeated. “Wh–what do you mean? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Gravia laughed bitterly. “She’s a stupid crippled child and I don’t want her ugly form in my bed. Send her away.”
Christos tensed. “Perhaps I should send you away, Gravia,” he growled. “Your evil tongue wears on my nerves.”
Valerie wrenched herself free from Christos’s embrace, an angry flush covering her face. Stupid child, indeed. Valerie limped out into the hallway and slammed the door behind her, not wanting to hear anything else the woman may have to say.
For heaven’s sake, what was becoming of her? She had been here only a short time and had already forgotten her morals. She paused at the atrium railing for a brief moment to steady the fast beat of her heart. Heaven help her, but part of her wanted this Christos to chase her down, stop her from leaving him. She wanted him to take her into his arms, send Gravia away, and finish what he had begun…
She wiped roughly at her tears with the back of her hand. She should be angry and disgusted, not desirous of a man she had only just met, a man who had purchased her at a slave market.
I must avoid him as much as possible.
That was the only way to keep safe.
She made her way back down to the kitchen, haunted by the sound of Gravia’s laughter as it echoed through the atrium.
Christos sat at his desk, unable to keep his thoughts focused on the household books. How many days had it been since he’d brought the woman
from his dreams into this home? Four days? Five? He shook his head. He was usually better at keeping track of such things.
Witch or no, she has bewitched me for certain.
The scent of garlic and onion reached him, and his mouth watered. Christos made his way down to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. There she was, her back to him, washing dishes at the sink. He paused and took in her shape, her slender curves. As if she felt the scrutiny, she turned around.
“Oh my,” Valerie said, hand to her heart. “You almost scared the life out of me.”
He chuckled. “Apologies.”
“No need.” She dried her hands and lifted the heavy lid from the pot on the stove, picked up a large wooden spoon, and started stirring. The movement magnified the delicious aroma. “Hmmm. I wonder if this is what brought you to the kitchen?” Her eyes twinkled.
“If you would be so kind, I fear I’ll perish from hunger if I don’t have a bowl of whatever that is.”
“Laundry.” Valerie stared at him. “It’s laundry.”
“Excuse me…?”
She laughed and the sound filled the room. “I’m teasing you. Of course, I’ll fill you a bowl.”
He scanned her body as she worked. The bruises were fading, and her ankles were healing nicely. “I was concerned for a moment that the household linens had set my mouth watering. I feared I’d be forced to figure out how to make them into small enough pieces to chew.”
Valerie handed him the food. He stared at her.
“What?”
“I’m grateful you’re healing. In truth, I was concerned whether or not you’d recover. Physically and mentally.”
“Well, we Brittanians are made of stronger stuff than you Pompeiians can throw at us.”
