Justina turned from where she was looking at the crucifix hanging on the wall, and hugged the older woman. “I would never judge you Lydia, not after all the help you have given me these past years,” she said, tears filling her eyes.
* * *
Later, as Justina sat with the rest of the Lydia’s family enjoying a light supper, she thought with amazement at how extraordinary a life they’d all had. She had been told how they had fled Nero’s persecution, and had ended up here in Herculaneum, where they had managed to settle and start a business and raise their family in relative peace with the help of their great friend Anna Faustina.
And how wonderful it must be for Lydia to be married to such a man as Marcus! A man, who before he had met Lydia, had been a Tribune in the army, and most definitely not a Christian! But now, obviously after all these years, his love for Lydia had transcended everything.
In truth, she didn’t really know Marcus that well. He was what Justina would call the strong, silent type. Always there in the background, strong, protective, but quite happy to let his wife, Lydia, do all the talking.
Now, as Justina looked at him from under her lashes, she hadn’t realised how handsome he was. He must be over forty, she thought, but he appeared to be as strong and muscular as he must have been as young man. The only outward change was his hair, now liberally speckled with grey. And Justina could quite easily see why Lydia had fallen in love with her handsome husband.
Just as she had with Marsallas.
Shocked, she blinked furiously, looking away from Marcus as her wayward thoughts overtook her.
Was she imagining herself with Marsallas, like Lydia and Marcus? She still loved him. As much as she did when she was sixteen. And that was the problem. She loved Marsallas, but he hated her. She just wished that one day, maybe, he could come to love her as much as she loved him. But she knew, deep in her heart, that it would be a huge mountain to climb – as huge as Vesuvius –the mountain that loomed over their town…
“I forgot to ask why you came to see us Justina?” Lydia asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Blushing, Justina looked over to where Lydia sat, “Oh yes! I forgot. I wanted to tell you that I will be leaving soon. Marsallas had asked me to sculpt him. The team he rides for wants a bronze of him, his horses, and his chariot to be displayed in the Circus Maximus-”
Justina stopped talking abruptly, realising that she was babbling. She saw Lydia frown, and her blush deepened further, before she said quietly, “It will potentially give me the opportunity to show the people of Rome my work. And…and from that one commission I hope others will follow.”
“Are you sure Justina,” Lydia asked, “I don’t want you to think for one moment that you can’t stay here with us. I know the new owners are to move into the villa soon, but you don’t have to do this if you don’t want too.”
Justina smiled, “It’s got nothing to do with you, truly. It’s…it’s something I need to do for myself. I will be fine,” she said a hint of resolve on her face, and in her voice, “I am to be paid quite a lot of money, enough for me to set up my own workshop here in Herculaneum once I return.”
Lydia sighed, and Justina saw her shoulders slump as she acknowledged defeat, “I can see that you are adamant about going, and to be honest with you I know why you would want to escape the villa, to have time to yourself, to be free for a short while, but-” she paused momentarily, “It is just that I worry about you. More so than my own daughter sometimes,” she said with a slight laugh, “I just pray that you won't be hurt.”
Her words trailed off, and Justina blushed slightly as she took in Lydia's meaning. She was warning her against Marsallas. Justina could see that Lydia was worried that he would hurt her. Justifiably. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen on Marsallas's farm!
* * *
Five days later Justina left Herculaneum. Diogenes and Olivia sat next to her on the cart as they made their way out towards the city gates. But as they neared the gates Justina frowned, as a sudden thought came to her.
“Stop, Diogenes, please! I don’t want to leave just yet. I need to do something before I go.” And with that, she told him to turn around, and head back into the town. A few minutes later the cart pulled up outside the single storey building.
Diogenes turned to her and frowned, “Are you sure, Mistress?”
Justina smiled weakly, “Yes.”
Diogenes looked at her for a long moment before he nodded. Then he leapt down off the cart, and knocked loudly on the door in front of them, the noise magnified in the quietness of the empty street.
As they waited, Justina glanced at the crude drawings that were daubed on the walls, and above the door of the building, and blushing she turned away, but then her eyes clashed with the eyes of a trader who happened to be passing by. At his knowing smile, she blushed even harder, and quickly turned her head away, taking an inordinate amount of interest in the back of Diogenes’s bald head.
She couldn’t blame the man for smiling at her. After all, he was probably wondering why a well-dressed young woman, and her slaves, were waiting outside the door of the local brothel waiting for it to be opened!
Then, thankfully, after what seemed an awfully long time, the door finally opened and a small fat man of interminable age appeared.
“Yes?” He barked at Diogenes, clearly annoyed at being woken up so early.
When Diogenes didn’t answer him, merely stood aside, his arms crossed over his massive chest, Justina saw the man frown before he turned his attention to where she sat stiffly atop the wooden cart. At his raised eyebrows Justina finally found her voice, and stuttered, “I…I am looking for a girl … ” But unable to think of what else to say, her words trailed off, and once again Justina blushed when she saw the amused smirk on the brothel owner’s face.
“Of course, my Lady.” The man said bowing, well used to the proclivities of the rich. “I, Calpurnius Piso, the proud owner of this fine establishment have many girls. Girls that cater for all tastes, eh? Do you want her for yourself - or your slaves – or for all of you?”
Justina and Olivia both gasped in outrage at his words, and Justina saw Diogenes stiffen, and move towards the man, anger emanating from his every pore.
Justina felt slightly better when she saw the brothel owner pale instantly, stepping backwards by the threat Diogenes posed.
“Diogenes, no!” Justina said quickly, afraid the former slave might hit him. “It is fine. I promise.”
After a few tense moments, when Justina thought Diogenes might ignore her, she felt the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding leave her when she saw Diogenes step back.
Relieved, Justina’s eyes returned to the fat man, and she said quickly. “A slave girl named Vibia was sold to you nearly six years ago. Sold to you by Aulus Epidius Quintus. I…I want to know if she is still here.”
“Vibia? Vibia?” The man repeated, frowning in concentration. Then his face turned angry as his memory recalled the girl. “By the gods yes! I remember her!” he snapped, wagging a finger at Justina in an unconscious gesture, before he carried on, his voice full of disgust, “I remember her all right. She only lasted a night!”
“She’s dead?” Justina asked horrified, interrupting him, her face paling at the thought of the poor girl being killed.
Calpurnius laughed bitterly, “No, not dead. She ran away, or rather, she was stolen!”
Justina visibly slumped with relief when she heard his words, “Stolen? But who? Why?” She asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
Calpurnius placed his fat hands, on his even fatter hips, in a gesture of annoyance, “Well, if I knew that, I would have gotten her back, wouldn’t I?” And with that he turned to re-enter the brothel.
“Wait, please! Just one more moment of your time. Please,” she begged when she thought he was going to ignore her.
Huffing, the man turned around once more, his face full of frustration. Seeing the look of hope on Jus
tina’s face he relented somewhat, before sighing deeply, “All I remember was a small group of youths – sons of rich patricians – by the look of them coming in that night. They were in high spirits as I recall, and like all rich people they were very demanding. They wanted all of the young girls, and they paid me well for the privilege, if you know what I mean.” For a moment Calpurnius was quiet, then his mouth twisted, and he carried on with his story.
“Obviously, Vibia was ideal for their tastes,” he said, a note of sarcasm in his voice, “One of them even declared that he had fallen in love with her at first sight!” Calpurnius’s face darkened, before he added, “But then the next morning I realised she was gone. All I know was that the youths came from Misenum. I hired some men to find her of course– but nothing – it was as if she had disappeared into thin air. Poof! Gone!” He said clapping his hands to illustrate the fact that Vibia had vanished. “The only thing my men found out was that the youths were not from Misenum, they had arrived on a large ship a few days before, and for some reason decided to visit Herculaneum for their sport! Worse luck for me though.”
Then seeing that Justina hadn’t anything else to ask him, he nodded at her, and walked back into the brothel slamming the door behind him.
The noise startled her out of her revere, and she sat subdued next to Diogenes and Olivia as they finally made their way out of the city gates.
She wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved, or not, that Vibia wasn’t at the brothel.
Relieved, obviously, that the young girl hadn’t been forced into a life of prostitution, but concerned as well as to where she had been taken to. She hoped that the youth that had taken her, had fallen in love with her, and she now lived a life full of happiness.
Justina sighed, realising that in all honesty, and with a sense of finality, that she would probably never find out what really happened to Vibia…
CHAPTER TEN
The hairs on the back of Marsallas's neck prickled, and he narrowed his eyes. So she comes!
He watched the cart make its way over the hill and down the long winding road towards his farm. It had been nearly two weeks since he had thrown down his challenge, and he'd wondered if she would turn up. He thought she might change her mind, and if he were honest, he wouldn't have blamed her! But, she hadn't, and here she was, having taken him up on his proposition.
He squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun. He could make out three people in the cart. Justina, Olivia and Diogenes, if he was correct. He frowned, wondering why the slave still insisted on serving her, when he had been given his freedom.
Stepping away from the window he walked back to his desk and sat back down, carrying on with the paperwork he had been doing before he had been told of the imminent arrival of his visitors. Looking over to where Verus, his most loyal and trusted slave stood silently by the door, he finally said, “I would like you to show Justina around the farm, then show her the studio I've had converted for her-” He paused for a moment deep in thought. “And if she asks where I am, tell her you don’t know.”
The slave nodded, before he bowed and left the tablinum, without a single flicker of emotion on his old lined face.
Once the slave had left, Marsallas stood up and walked back to the window, having had no intention of carrying on with his paperwork. He stood watching as Justina's cart came to a halt in the courtyard, watched as his slaves ran out of the villa to assist with their arrival. She enticed him beyond endurance. Was it madness to have let her come to his villa? Into his home? Now she would pervade it with her presence. Everywhere he went he would be convinced he could smell the scent of her perfume. Her own unique smell. What was he letting himself in for? It’s too late now his brain mocked.
His face was grim as he watched the eclectic group finally gather all their belongings and go inside the villa. He had arranged for some light refreshments to be available on their arrival, but he had no intention of going to see Justina just yet.
He wanted to make her wait. Just like she had made him wait all these years.
* * *
Justina was leaning over a large box, a short while later, wondering what the packages inside contained, when a deep voice drawled behind her, “Open them. They won't bite!”
She jumped in fright, not having heard the door open. Swinging around she saw Marsallas standing in the open doorway watching her. She stiffened slightly when she saw that he looked grim faced as he watched her, and instantly Justina wondered what he thinking. Was he already regretting her presence here?
“I thought you were in Rome,” she exclaimed, the blood pounding in her veins at the sight of him. He was so handsome, and her eyes were immediately drawn to his strong arms, his broad chest. She couldn't deny the physical attraction she felt for him. She'd wanted him six years ago and she still did.
“Now, why did you think that?” Marsallas finally said, cutting off her wicked thoughts.
Justina blushed, realising she had been caught out. Of course there was no reason why he should have met her when she had arrived but-
“Is everything to your liking?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said, her voice stiff, and trying to lighten the tension that once again hummed between them Justina shrugged, a resigned note in her voice, “You were sure that I would come then?” she said, gesturing to all the equipment he had provided.
Marsallas shrugged, walking down the small flight of steps towards her. “No, not really. There was a one in two chance of you turning up. I’m not much of a gambling man – but the odds were pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”
Justina didn't answer his question, instead she asked one of her own, “All of this must have cost you a small fortune? You are most generous … ”
Justina’s words trailed off, as he came to stand next to her, so very close to her, that she had to resist the urge to step back. She could smell the enticing scent of him, a mixture of sandalwood and leather that caused her stomach to drop in awareness. He was wearing a dark brown tunic that moulded the breadth of his shoulders, shoulders she had the urge to run her hands over to see if they were as strong as she remembered. She imagined his mouth on hers, his lips tasting hers before they travelled down the length of her body. Wicked, delicious thoughts of his kissing every inch of her. Emotions long denied. His hands on her hips, his lips travelling to the softness of her stomach, kissing, nibbling the sensitive skin. Would he go lower? Would he taste her? She imagined he had no qualms about satisfying a woman in any way they wanted. And her breasts. By the power of Venus what would he do to her breasts? Lick them? Lave them? Suckle them until they peaked and demanded more. Would he bite them?
“The furnace will be here by next week. I have sent word for it to be delivered from Herculaneum, now that you have arrived.”
Once again Marsallas's words interrupted her wicked thoughts, and she blushed bright red amazed her wayward thoughts had got the best of her - again.
“T … Thank you. You are most kind.”
Marsallas gave a short bark of laughter, “'Kind' is not a word I would use to describe myself, Justina,” and then before she could say anything to that remark, he reached out his hand and took hold of hers, slowly pulling her towards him until they were within touching distance. Justina’s eyes widened as she looked up into his face.
“You haven't forgotten our bargain have you?” His voice was soft, challenging.
Staring into his deep fathomless blue eyes, eyes that revealed nothing of what he was thinking, Justina whispered, “No. Of course I haven't.”
Marsallas nodded, “Good. Because as I said, kindness is not one of my virtues,” then he leaned forward and kissed her. Hard. The kiss was some sort of punishment, and Justina didn't know why. It was as if she were being punished for being here, for turning up at his farm.
She lifted her hands instinctively, placed them on his chest in a gesture of denial, fully intending to stop him by pushing him away. But she never got the opportunity, because a heartbeat lat
er the kissed changed. The hardness of his lips melted away, replaced by soft nipping kisses that caused Justina's insides to melt. The hands that rested on his chest now crept upwards, over the corded muscles of his shoulders, until they met around the back of his neck.
She took delight in the moan that escaped him, pleasure spreading through her for managing to elicit such a response from him. He might give the outward appearance of not wanting her here, but his body said something entirely …
Eventually Marsallas pulled away, breaking the kiss with obvious reluctance if the colour high on his cheekbones was anything to go by. “We had better go back to the villa. You must be tired from your journey.”
The words were uttered in a cool tone, and Justina stood back and looked at him. His eyes were hooded, revealing nothing of what he was thinking or feeling, as if he were waiting for something.
She looked away, unwilling for him to see how much he affected her.
“Time to go,” he said softly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling, and before she could react she felt Marsallas take her elbow and guided her out of the studio. Justina shivered at his touch once more, and if Marsallas felt her reaction to him, he never said anything …
“I understand Verus has shown you around the farm already,” he said a few minutes later, as they walked across the courtyard.
“Yes. I didn't realise you had such a large farm, as well as a successful olive oil production business.”
Marsallas laughed in amusement, “I'm not just some stupid charioteer you know.”
“I … I never meant-”
“Justina. I jest.” Marsallas said, a wry note of humour in his voice as he interrupted her stuttered apology.
For a few moments a companionable silence fell as they walked next to each other. Marsallas smiled to himself, secretly pleased that she now knew he wasn’t just some mindless rider who chased chariots around an arena every day. He wanted her to see that he was a seriously rich man, who owned a string of farms, and produced olive oil that was transported to all the four corners of the mighty Roman Empire!
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