by Teri Barnett
I certainly can’t stay when the entire city is bound for destruction in less than three weeks.
Valerie arranged a hunk of fresh bread, goat cheese, and a carafe of warm wine on a bronze tray. She looked closer, then realized it was the same tray she had carried to Christos’s room her first night there. She grinned as she pictured whacking the same tray over the head of a certain dark blonde-haired woman.
“What are you smiling about over there?” Stella asked, her voice sending Valerie’s mental image scattering.
“Oh, nothing really.” Valerie hoisted the tray up to rest on her shoulder. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“Well, stop it!” Stella stared hard at her. “You don’t fool me, you know. You think you’re too good for this work. I’ve seen your hands. They’ve never done a hard day’s labor.”
Valerie carefully placed the tray down on the table. With deliberate movements, she pulled a stool up opposite Stella. Their eyes locked. “I’ve never lied to you, Stella. I came from a wealthy family where we had our own servants. I told you my first day here I didn’t know how to prepare a meal, but I am trying.”
“Trying to make your way right into the master’s bed, as near as I can tell.” Stella laughed and her whole body shook, the stool creaking in protest with the motion.
“Please understand, Stella, that I have no argument with you, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” Valerie stood and placed the tray on her shoulder once again.
Stella grabbed her by the wrist just as she was picking up her cane. Valerie stared down at the woman’s hand, then wrenched her arm free from her grip. Her voice was low as she spoke. “Don’t touch me again, Stella.” Valerie grabbed her cane, then turned to leave the kitchen.
“I’ve seen it before,” Stella called after her, shaking her head. “He buys a pretty young thing like yourself, uses her for his pleasure, then sells her off.”
Valerie followed the sound of clanking metal out into the back atrium. She was surprised to find a pair of heavy wooden doors ajar, revealing a small workshop. As she approached, the hammering stopped. She found Christos bent over a hot fire built in a heavy stone container. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face as he held a sheet of gold in the flames. She put the tray down on a nearby marble bench and approached him. “What are you doing?” she asked, fascinated.
“Working,” he answered as the metal turned a glowing molten red. At the exact moment it threatened to turn to liquid, he dropped the hot sheet over a wooden mold. Valerie watched, captivated, as the gold formed itself around the carving, creating a woman’s image.
Christos put down the heavy iron tongs he had been holding and sat next to the tray of food. “Simple fare for a working man,” he commented as his gaze swept over the bread and cheese.
Valerie shrugged. “Stella said you weren’t to fill yourself up today. She said you needed to save your stomach for tomorrow night’s feast.” She leaned over the jeweler’s bench and explored its contents with her eyes. Vials of colored powder, faceted and cabochon stones, gold, silver, and copper covered the surface. She paused when she found a pair of pink tourmalines carved with delicate intaglios resting near the edge.
“Did you make these yourself?” she asked, running a finger gently over the concave surface.
“Yes, I did,” he answered as he broke off a hunk of bread. “I thought a setting of granulated gold would display them nicely.”
Next to the tourmalines Valerie found a golden serpent armband, its eyes glowing red with rubies.
“Go ahead. Try it on,” Christos urged.
Without hesitating, Valerie slipped it over her hand, pushing it into place above her elbow. She held her arm out and admired the handiwork. He hadn’t missed a detail in designing the piece, right down to the scales along the creature’s back.
“It’s beautiful. I saw one like it once at the museum in London.”
Could it be the same one? Did our paths already cross?
Christos glanced up from his food. “I beg your pardon? Museum?”
“Did I say museum? What I meant was, my father once told me of one like it he had seen in dealing with traders.” She slipped off the armband and placed it back on the workbench. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Is this how you support yourself? By creating jewelry?”
“Hardly.” Christos laughed. “My family has been in Pompeii for generations and I inherited my wealth from my ancestors. The jeweler’s art is more of a pastime, something I learned to do from an uncle when I was very young.” He patted the bench where he sat. “Come, sit by me.”
She didn’t move, recalling their game of one-upmanship after the earthquake a few days ago. Who controls whom? Well, she would not be ordered about so easily by this man. “I’m quite comfortable standing, thank you.”
“You’re an obstinate one, aren’t you?” he observed. “Whatever am I to do with you, dear Valerie? I’m trying to be patient with you. As I’ve said before, I know you’re not used to this kind of life.” He picked up the simple clay goblet and took a drink. “But you are still a slave in my house. And I am still the master. The sooner you accept this simple fact, the happier you’ll be.”
“I won’t be happy until you set me free,” she murmured.
Christos snorted. “And where would you go? You’ve forgotten too soon the good citizens’ reactions to your presence.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Why else do you think you haven’t been allowed outside of the house these past weeks?”
“You mean to say you’ve been protecting me?”
Christos smiled. “I wish you no harm. Surely you know that by now.”
“No harm?” Valerie slowly walked over to him, a tight smile playing about her lips. “The same as you would wish no harm to come to, say—your house or furnishings?”
“Mmmm, I suppose you could put it that way,” Christos answered, the hint of a question hanging in his tone.
Valerie leaned down and pointed a finger in Christos’s surprised face. “To the bloody devil with you, Master. While you may consider my body to be one of your personal possessions, you’ll never own my soul!”
She straightened and looked to the heavens. The sun was high in the sky and beat down on her face, heating it to the point where she felt consumed by a great fever. Valerie shook her head and returned her gaze to his. She remembered what Stella had said. “I actually feel sorry for you and your need to purchase women. You’ll never know true love.”
Christos rose slowly, his eyes were dark and threatening and never left Valerie’s. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I know only too well. I’ve known men like you. You seek only pleasure and the woman be damned.”
Thomas’ snide comments ran through her mind.
You’re undesirable.
The words taunted her. “No wonder your wife took a lover.” But even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Valerie realized she had gone too far.
Christos grabbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into the tender flesh. “You need to learn to curb your tongue, woman.” He spun Valerie around and ripped the back of her short tunic down the middle, exposing her bare skin. He untied the leather belt he wore and folded it in half. With a quick snap of his wrist, he cracked the belt loudly in the air.
Valerie cried out in surprise and struggled to get away from him. Christos grabbed her by the hair. “You will stay and receive your punishment!”
No matter what, she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. She twisted out of his grasp with all the strength she had, the momentum causing her to stumble and fall.
She lay there for a moment, dazed, expecting to feel the sting of leather against her exposed back at any moment. Instead she felt strong hands lift her and help her sit on the bench.
“Please forgive me,” he
whispered. “I would never hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Valerie’s gaze met his and it shocked her to see the shimmer of tears in his eyes and something more —something she hadn’t seen before—remorse. Was his arrogance merely a facade? What manner of man would she find beneath…?
No! He threatened to beat you.
She recalled Stella’s warning that Valerie was only his latest conquest, that he would sell her when he was bored with her …
Valerie’s chest constricted as she fought her inner turmoil, her compassion for this complex man from a different time who could make her feel such passion one moment and then anger the next.
She fought her instinct to offer comfort. She could not allow herself to be used so by this man, by any man. Yes, she might be his slave, but her feelings still belonged to her.
Besides, what would it change?
I need to escape, to find my way back to my own time…
Valerie leaned forward, resting her hands on her cane to steady herself. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice a ragged whisper.
“Go to Hades.” She straightened and went back inside.
Chapter 22
“Hand me that bowl over there,” Stella instructed.
Valerie absently picked up the clay bowl and passed it to Stella, the image of Christos and his tears still etched in her memory. The pain of his wife’s betrayal had shone brightly in his eyes and she understood now it was Segis he’d wanted to lash out at and not her.
But did it really matter what she thought of him and he of her? They were from two different times—two different cultures. She was planning to escape in any case. Pompeii was on a path of destruction. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Christos and what would happen to him after that…
Valerie had started to let go of the bowl before the other woman had hold of it. She grabbed it just in time before it crashed to the ground.
“Pay attention to what you’re about, girl, or I’ll have Julius discipline you! Would you like that?” Stella shouted.
Valerie gave her a sullen look.
“I thought not. Now, put some wood on the fire before it goes out.”
Stooping down, Valerie picked up a sizable log and placed it inside the stone stove. She poked at the glowing embers with a long stick, sending flames up through the gravel covered top. A large pot of water sitting on the iron grate began to boil.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Ma’am?” Valerie stressed the last word, heaping it with sarcasm. If she didn’t escape this house soon, she would not be held accountable for her actions where Stella was concerned. The woman seemed to live for the chance to make Valerie’s life a hell on earth. Emotionally drained after her encounter with Christos, she didn’t have the patience to deal with the older woman.
Stella eyed her. “Hand me that box over there. And this time, try not to fumble.” She shook her head. “You’ll never make a kitchen maid, as clumsy as you are.”
Valerie sighed and counted to ten. As she passed Stella the box, she smiled sweetly. “So, tell me, when are we leaving for the Forum?”
“Not for a while yet. We need to prepare a few items first,” Stella explained.
She didn’t dare ask. If she risked angering the cook anymore, or even acted as if she were anxious to leave, Stella might forbid her to go. “What are we going to cook first?”
“These.” Stella dipped her hand into the small wooden box and extracted a brown mouse. Its nose twitched in fear as it wriggled in her fingers, trying to get away.
“Mice? You’re going to cook mice?” Valerie gasped. “You can’t be serious!” She reached for the creature, recalling all the dear little mice Reggie had collected. He had given each and every one of them a name and paperboard nest.
Stella pulled her hand away and, with one quick motion, broke its neck between her thumb and forefinger. She dropped it into the boiling water and grabbed another one.
“For heaven’s sake, how could you do that?” Valerie’s hand flew to her throat.
“What’s the matter with you? Never had mice to eat?”
“Of course not!” Valerie was beside herself. “Who ever heard of eating mice, unless of course you happen to be a cat. Besides, I can’t imagine there’s even enough meat on them to bother with.”
“Mice are a delicacy. We always serve them at dinner parties. It’s a tradition with the Romans,” Stella explained, her voice growing more and more impatient. “But I don’t suppose you’d know that, would you?” She dropped another into the water.
Valerie knew she’d have to continue to adapt to her new environment until she could escape, but eat mice? She shuddered. Not bloody likely. “What do you do with the poor things after they’re boiled? Surely you don’t eat the fur as well?” She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Of course, you don’t eat the fur.” Stella tossed the last of the mice into the hot water and wiped her hands on her apron. “They only cook for a moment, then you scoop them out. The fur will slip off nice and easy.” She handed Valerie a small wood strainer with a handle attached. “Here, you try it.”
Valerie shook her head, her stomach roiling. “I couldn’t.”
“You’ll do as I ask, or will I have to call Julius.” Stella hoisted herself onto her favorite stool and crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Valerie. “I can’t imagine you’d want a beating, but maybe you’re one of those girls who like to be abused. I’m sure Julius would be quite accommodating.”
Valerie didn’t doubt for a minute Stella would bellow for help. If she had a run-in with Julius, he could forbid her from going to the market as well. And she might not have another opportunity to plan an escape route before the eruption. With a grimace, Valerie dipped the spoon into the pot and extracted one of the mice.
“I thought you might change your mind. Now, grab the fur back by the tail and give it a good tug.” Stella smiled, obviously pleased.
Valerie closed her eyes, composing herself. When she opened them, she took a deep breath and lifted the mouse out of the spoon by its tail. She held it at arm’s length and pulled the fur. She was surprised to find that it did indeed slip off easily, just as Stella had said it would. “Now can we go to the market?” Valerie asked, her stomach churning as she dropped the small pelt to the floor.
Stella laughed, obviously enjoying Valerie’s discomfort. “Not until you finish.” She handed Valerie a bowl of honey. “Now, dip it in here.”
Still holding the creature by its tail, Valerie let it sink into the sticky amber liquid. As soon as it was completely covered, she pulled it out, letting the excess drip back into the bowl.
“Over here,” Stella waved her hand.
Valerie took a step forward and stumbled, a wave of dizziness washing over her. She leaned on her cane. It was so unearthly hot in this kitchen. It felt like the room was closing in around her. Was there never a slight breeze to cool the day? “Haven’t we tortured this poor creature enough? Surely there isn’t anything else that can be done to it.”
“Shows how much you know,” Stella sniffed. “Roll it in these poppy seeds, then lay it out straight to dry.”
Valerie swallowed hard, then rolled the honey-covered animal in the small seeds until it was barely discernible as a mouse. Next, she laid it out straight as an arrow on a tray.
“Good.” Stella grinned so wide, it disappeared into her heavy jowls. “I’ll be in the atrium preparing the benches. Come and get me when you’re done, then we’ll go to the marketplace.”
Valerie watched as Stella left the room, her dress caught between the folds of sweaty flesh. A sudden impulse came over Valerie and she stuck her tongue out as far as she could in the direction the woman had just gone. She giggled. Poor Lucy would have surely been beside herself if she had witnessed Va
lerie pulling such a stunt. Reggie, on the other hand, would’ve enjoyed it quite immensely.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and peered into the kettle of boiling mice. The smell was hideous, like the pair of Reggie’s moldy stockings Aunt Mabel had once found stuffed under the kitchen counter.
Valerie closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She made another face, then went to work, praying her breakfast wouldn’t erupt from her belly.
Chapter 23
She could not stay with Christos. Not after their last encounter. Already her feelings for him were becoming too confounding, too maddening…
I have to leave. I have to get back to my own time.
Valerie followed Stella and Clarus outside. She looked first one way, then the other. The whitewashed buildings glowed brightly in the late morning sun and the accent colors of red, blue, and gold used on the doorways and trim seemed to vibrate against the starkness. The area surrounding Christos’s house was fairly deserted and she relaxed a little. Perhaps no one would bother her today. Or, maybe curiosity seekers had all forgotten about her.
The trio stepped across the rocky street and the full force of the sun bore down on Valerie. She was thankful for the short gown, which allowed what little breeze there was to flow through the folds of the light fabric.
“What’s that smell?” Clarus asked. She raised her nose in the air and sniffed.
“I don’t smell anything,” Stella answered, her reply curt. She waved a pudgy hand. “Keep walking. I want to finish up as fast as we can. We have a lot of work to do for tomorrow night.”
“I think it smells like rotten eggs.” Clarus sniffed again. “Yes, that’s exactly what it smells like.”
Valerie inhaled deeply. Clarus was right. A faint odor permeated the air. Only she recognized it from Master Hobbs’ science experiments to be sulfur, not rotten eggs.
Valerie looked off into the distance. There, silhouetted against the azure blue sky, sat Vesuvius in all its glory. It wasn’t flat and misshapen, like she had seen it in her own time. Here, in this time period before the eruption, the cone was fully developed into a full mountain peak. She squinted and could see a thin trickle of gray steam escaping through the top. Valerie raised her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and it was shaking. She wiped her hand on her gown.
