The Roman

by Caroline Storer

Marsallas laughed, his teeth a stark white against the tanned skin of his face, and he shook his head in mock exasperation, “Typical female.”

  * * *

  “So you see my dilemma?”

  “Indeed I do. Indeed I do. Now come in, and let's see what we can do.”

  Justina smiled a brilliant smile at Niobe, who, if surprised to see the younger woman return to her shop so soon, didn't say so.

  “I think I have the ideal gown for you as it happens. I made it recently, but the woman who ordered it has left Rome.” She shrugged slightly, “I don't know why, but the rumours are rife that she is pregnant, and has left to visit an “aunt” in Baiae to await the birth of the child!”

  A few minutes later Justina found herself draped in a beautiful stola made of the lightest of silk, the colour of silver, with silver threads shot through it, so that when she turned the light reflected off it in shimmering waves.

  “I have never seen such a beautiful gown,” Justina whispered, overawed by the sheer loveliness of it. “Can I afford it?” She asked hesitantly, looking up at Niobe with doubt in her eyes.

  “The dress is yours. It looks wonderful on you. Take it as a gift.”

  “But I can't-”

  “Yes you can,” Niobe interrupted, smiling at the shocked expression on Justina's face.

  “The dress was languishing here in my shop doing nothing. Tonight you will wear it at a prestigious event. The way I see it, it will be the best advertisement I could ever hope for to have one of my dresses seen in the company of the rich patricians – Senator's wives no less! And of course if anyone asks you who made it, then I would be pleased if you could mention my name, and where my shop is!”

  At Niobe's genuine smile, Justina felt tears coming to her eyes. “You are so kind Niobe, so kind. And it will be my honour to mention tell others where your dress came from.”

  Justina left the shop half an hour later, with Olivia carrying not only the stola, but a silk palla – the cloak once again made of the finest material Justina had ever seen, a beautiful sea green colour that Niobe was adamant would compliment her grey eyes and dark hair.

  Niobe had even managed to arrange for a new pair of sandals to be made, having sent one of her seamstress to a shoe maker she knew in the Argiletum district of Rome where all the shoe shops were apparently. The seamstress arrived back a short while later saying that Justina's sandals would be ready by the Eleventh Hour and would be delivered to her at the inn!

  It was only when she was back in her bedroom at the inn, with Olivia fussing over her hair as she used a calmistrum - a hollow iron instrument in the shape of a rod to obtain lasting curls – that Justina realised how kind Niobe had been to her. She knew she was a good businesswoman, but that didn't detract from the kindness that she had shown her the first time she had seen her yesterday afternoon when she'd offered to mend her torn dress. Justina, so taken aback by everything that had happened, had only just realised that the sandals that had arrived half an hour ago had also been paid for by Niobe, Justina having completely forgotten to pay for them! Mortified she had sent Diogenes back to the shop with some money for them, but once again Justina was touched by Niobe's generosity, as she hadn't even mentioned the cost of the sandals previously.

  “None of the women Niobe has working for her are slaves you know.”

  Justina shook her thoughts away, focussing on what Olivia was saying. Then as the words sunk in Justina gasped slightly at what the younger girl was saying, “Really? But how do you know?”

  Olivia smiled, “One of her seamstresses told me. She has freed all her slaves, and pays them a good wage to work for her. She doesn't believe in slavery apparently, says it's an abomination. It goes without saying that all the women working for her love her!”

  Justina turned to look at Olivia, and as one, both women smiled at each other, as they realised how incredibly lucky they were to have been touched by Niobe’s kindness. But as Olivia’s words sunk in she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to Niobe that just kindness. She thought of Lydia and her family, of their kindness, and their abhorrence of slavery, and wondered if Niobe was a Christian just like them…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Marsallas watched as Justina came towards him as he stood waiting for her outside the inn.

  Inwardly, he took a deep breath at the picture of loveliness she presented. In the fading daylight, he could see that she wore a silver stola of the finest silk that moulded her body, hinting at the curves beneath as it clung to her slim body. In her arms she carried a palla, as the evening was far too warm for the cloak at the moment.

  But it was her hair that drew his eyes. It had been artfully arranged in an elaborate style, no doubt by her tire-woman, Olivia. The girl had done her proud, as one fat curl fell either side of her face highlighting the paleness of her ivory skin. The rest of her hair had been piled up on top of her head, and Marsallas could see that ivory and tortoiseshell combs had been used to keep it in place. She looked every inch the rich patrician, and Marsallas could not hold back the feeling of desire that surged through him as she walked towards him.

  He wanted to kiss her, ravish her, take her to his bed, and make her beg for him. Only he couldn't do that of course, as Senator Apronius was waiting for them.

  “You look lovely,” he whispered, as she came to stand next to him, “All the men will be jealous of me for having such a beautiful companion tonight.” He inhaled her fragrance. A fragrance that was uniquely hers, and he imagined trailing his lips over her sensitive warm skin, licking, lapping all the secret places of her body until she went mindless with wanting him.

  Justina looked up at him and smiled, “Truly? Because at this very moment I am so scared my insides are churning like mad.”

  Marsallas laughed, but he could see her nervousness reflected in the darkness of her eyes at what lay ahead of her tonight. “Be yourself Justina, and everyone will be enchanted, trust me.”

  * * *

  “Close your mouth, you’re gaping like a fish!”

  Justina eyes snapped back to his, and she smiled, “I am aren’t I? But I have never seen such a splendid villa. It is amazing! I swear that is an authentic marble sculpture by Polyclitus's own hands!”

  Marsallas looked over to where Justina was pointing at a sculpture, the head of an Amazon that was displayed prominently in the vestibulum.

  As they followed one of Senators slaves through the villa, he could see that Justina was totally mesmerised by the sumptuous villa. Senator Lucius Apronius was a great patron of the arts, and this was reflected in the sheer amount of artwork he had accumulated over the years. Although he had been to the Senator's villa on many occasions he could now see, that to someone like Justina, an artist in her own right, just how wonderful it all was.

  As they walked through the finely decorated rooms, with their myriad of wall hangings, and paintings, that seemed to cover every available space right up to the vast ceilings hung with their copper rafters, Marsallas could now appreciate it from Justina's point of view. The wall hangings, paintings, sculptures depicting the gods such as Pan, Apollo, the Golden Cupids, and paintings of the Trojan Wars were the best money could buy.

  And the villa itself was a work of art in its own way! It boasted five reception rooms, each one more elaborately decorated than the last. The atrium had the most amazing ornamental pond, reputably the largest in Rome, and the rainwater that fed it came via the opening in the roof where there was a compluvium - rain collector - which sloped inwards to the ornamental pond.

  Marsallas knew that off the atrium there were the lavishly furnished guest bedrooms – the cubicula – with beds made of the finest woods, decorated with ivory and bronze, as he had stayed in them on many occasions.

  * * *

  As they were taken through the peristylium the first thing Justina saw was a magical array of sparkling fountains. To the rear was a leafy half-courtyard of ornamental hedges of boxwood, and more fine statutes were placed along the hedg
e row.

  Justina couldn’t resist, and she quickly walked over to them, touching one of them, running her hands over the bronze, amazed by the craftsmanship. It was only when she heard someone shout Marsallas’s name in greeting that she stopped what she was doing, and turned away from the sculpture to see a tall thin man of indeterminable age walking towards them, attired in his Senators toga.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” he boomed at them, taking hold of Justina's hands as soon as he came within touching distance, “Welcome to my humble home.”

  Justina had to bite back the giggle that threatened, as she looked into his twinkling eyes.

  “I can see why Marsallas wants you to sculpt him, and keep you to himself, you are very beautiful,” he said, bending over to kiss her hand, before leading her into the dining room.

  As they entered the triclinium, Justina tensed slightly when she saw that it was already full, and it seemed as if everybody stopped talking at once, turning to stare at them as they walked in. Trying to quell the nerves that threatened, she was relieved when the kindly Senator patted her hand, “It will be fine, my dear. Just relax, we are simple folk that is all.”

  This time Justina couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped, and looked across at him seeing that he was smiling at her, a fond expression on his face.

  They were escorted to a couch, and Justina realised that she was to lie next to Marsallas and the Senator. As was the Roman tradition, there was a central table with an arrangement of three couches to lie on while dining. The fourth side of the table was open, so the slaves could attend to them and serve the food.

  “Did you know we are – locus consulars -the guests of honour?” Marsallas whispered as they made themselves comfortable on the couch.

  “Are we?” she whispered back, pleased to see the relaxed expression on his face. She fought back her feelings, as she took in how handsome he looked tonight. Gone was the normal veneer of hardness that surrounded him. Tonight his face was relaxed, a small smile playing at the side of his mouth. He was dressed in a tunic of dark blue silk, the colour a perfect foil for his eyes, and his dark hair.

  “Yes we are. The seating arrangements are very precise at these types of gatherings. The fact that we are lying with the Senator is causing much talk amongst the other guests.”

  Justina hadn't realised the significance of lying next to the Senator, but when she glanced around she saw that all the other guests were watching them covertly.

  All except one, and Justina couldn't contain the shiver that went through her when she met the fierce gaze of one woman seated across from her. They were trained on her with such ferocity that Justina blinked rapidly, resisting the strange urge to look behind her, to see if it was someone else who was the target of her venom.

  But she knew there was no-one behind her, and in an unconscious gesture Justina lifted her chin in an unspoken challenge. If anything, the woman's eyes narrowed even further at Justina's gesture, but then, as if suddenly bored with her, the woman curled her lip in disdain and turned her regal head away.

  Justina was at a loss as to why she had been the victim of her censure. The woman was around her age, incredibly beautiful and poised, and dressed, as would be expected, in a gown of the finest silk, the colour of ripe oranges, adorned with pearls and other semi-precious jewels. The clasps securing her dress at the shoulders were gold, again encrusted with jewels, and the whole outfit was a perfect foil for her auburn hair.

  Justina watched as the woman leaned across to a handsome man who lay beside her, her hand stroking his arm in a familiar gesture, before whispering something in his ear. The man laughed, and looked over at Justina. Hot colour flooded her face when she realised that the woman must have said something derogatory about her, and she turned away, her heart beating fast.

  “Don't mind them, my dear.”

  She turned to see Senator Lucius Apronius smiling kindly at her.

  “They are just jealous. The rich of Rome have nothing else to do but gossip, and hate anyone who dares to stand in their way.”

  “But I haven't done anything.” Justina protested weakly.

  “Yes you have. Firstly, you are lying next to me, and secondly you are lying next to Marsallas,” he paused, “But thirdly, and most importantly, you are beautiful and gifted.”

  If anything, Justina blushed even more, and the Senator laughed out loud, patting her hand in consolation. “Now enough of petty politics, tell me how you came to be such a good sculptress?”

  * * *

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Marsallas asked.

  “Oh yes, the acrobats were like amazing. I’ve never seen the like before.”

  “Umm. They were good weren't they?” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” The words caused Justina’s heart to thump against her breastbone, and she sat transfixed, conscious of the passion she could see deep in his eyes.

  “You’re beautiful as well,” she said, the words tumbling out.

  Marsallas laughed out loud at her words, “Men aren't beautiful Justina.”

  Justina stiffened, and she turned flashing eyes to his, “Of course they are!” she said heatedly, “As a sculptress I can tell you that a man's body can be as beautiful as any woman's. The muscularity of a man is a delight to sculpt. Why do think that there are more sculptures of men than women?”

  Marsallas lifted a hand in supplication, “Stop!” he said smiling at her, “I understand what you are saying, and I take it all back. You are right of course. Men's bodies can be beautiful,” and before Justina could reply, Marsallas leaned in even closer, his breath warm as it feathered against the nape of her neck, causing her to shiver in response, loving the male musky scent of him as he leaned over her, “I never knew you could be so passionate, Justina. I hope to see your passion for myself one day.”

  Heat pooled in her stomach at his words, at the intensity of his gaze and the moment was only broken when a trumpeter heralded the start of the evening meal. The doors to the triclinium were flung open, as slave after slave entered, carrying gold platters piled high with food.

  As expected, the meal was sumptuous; simple food such as honey cakes and dates competed with gastronomic delights such as honey-roast fowl, broad beans cooked with cumin and coriander, suckling pig stuffed with sausage meat. There were even snails, and the delicate flesh of thrushes and other song birds to eat, as well as the great delicacy of stuffed door mice.

  Even the desserts were nothing like she had ever tasted. Along with dishes of fresh, and dried fruit, seasoned with pepper to bring out the coolness of the fruit, there was ice cream. How the Senator had managed to get ice-cream to a hot humid city like Rome she would never know, but the ice-cream, whose base was made from snow, must have somehow been transported from the distant mountains.

  “What did you think of the food?”

  Justina groaned theatrically, “I've never eaten so much in all my life. If I ate like that every day, I would soon become too fat to move!”

  Marsallas laughed, “I am just thankful that I do a lot of exercise,” Marsallas said, patting his flat muscular stomach. Then he got up off the couch and stood up, holding his hand out to her, “Shall we? The Senator has arranged some entertainment in the peristylium I understand.”

  Justina stood up, and placed her hand in his, aware of the warmth of him, the strength of him, as his large hand engulfed her much smaller one as he led her out into the colonnaded garden. Once more she couldn't contain the shiver of desire that hit her when she caught the smell of sandalwood coming off his skin, and she had the urge to run her hands over-

  “I understand the show is out of this world.”

  The words jolted Justina out of her own fantasy world, and she berated herself for letting her mind wander so. But it was awfully difficult to concentrate, when his skin touched hers, making her aware of him all the time.

  Once they were settled, sitting on high backed chairs made of bronze, and u
pholstered in the softest of silk, the show began. A play acted out, not by human actors, she saw in amazement, but by a mechanical cast – a circle of dancing puppets – who moved in perfect harmony and animated the world around them into plumes of fire and fountains of milk. Justina had never seen anything like it in her life, and as she looked around at her fellow guests, she could see that even the most jaded in the audience gaped open-mouthed at these new wonders.

  “They are made by Heron of Alexandria apparently,” Marsallas whispered in her ear.

  Justina had never heard of Heron of Alexandria, but she didn't care! The metal puppets were magnificent, and she watched the show mesmerised, totally enthralled.

  “Would you like a drink?” Marsallas asked, a while later.

  Justina nodded, not for a moment taking her eyes off the show, only vaguely aware of Marsallas leaving her as he went in search of some refreshment for her.

  “So you are the mysterious, Justina.”

  The words were spoken behind her, a few minutes later, and Justina turned in her chair to see the woman who had been staring at her earlier, looking down at her, her eyes full of malice. For a moment Justina was taken aback at how beautiful the woman was. Up close, she could see the perfection of her face and eyes clearly. Eyes that were an amazing green colour, slanted like a cats, and expertly made up with dark eyeliner like some Egyptian queen. The rest of her face was perfection as well, having been made up with powders and paints designed to emphasise her delicate features.

  “Have you become Marsallas's lover yet?”

  Justina stiffened at her words, her chin rising slightly in anger, “I don't see what business it is of yours-”

  The woman laughed harshly, cutting off Justina's words, “Well, well, well, an innocent no less!” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in, her eyes even colder than before, “I thought as much when I first saw you. How naughty of Marsallas to tease me so.”

  Justina was just about to say once again that it was none of her business, when the woman lifted her hand, “But I am being remiss, let me explain. It is my business you see. Marsallas is my lover.” She paused slightly, letting her words sink in, “I don't mind sharing him of course, we have a fluid relationship so to speak, but I'm sure he has told you that.”