by Nhys Glover
I wanted to wipe the tears away, I wanted to wrap my little she-wolf in my arms and tell her everything would all right. But I could do none of those things because it wasn’t all right. I’d taken a huge risk, and it was yet to pay off. Especially if this old woman wouldn’t help us.
The old crone softened a little. “You can pay?”
I nodded energetically. “A gold aureus for a few nights. Only a few nights. Then we’ll be gone, I promise you.”
Pulling another one of my few precious coins from my belt, I saw the decision being made in those canny eyes.
“I can give you a room for a few nights. And food. A bath too, as you both need it. Come!”
I swept Accalia up into my arms and followed our host meekly up a steep flight of exterior stairs to the upper floor. Here a narrow walkway ran the length of the building, overlooking the courtyard. Everywhere I looked I saw ornate carvings of mythical creatures. This was no peasant’s hovel. It vied with my master’s domus for luxury.
The old woman opened a door that led into a dark room. She quickly lit a lamp that illuminated the small space. The floor was carpeted and the narrow bed dressed in rich, colourful fabric. An ornately carved chest sat in the corner and beside it was a table with a bowl on top.
I had never slept in a room so resplendent. But Accalia had. She took the room in and turned her reddened eyes to our hostess.
“This is beautiful,” she said to the woman in her perfect patrician Latin. “Thank you for offering us sanctuary in our hour of need. I do not think I could have gone one step further. It has been a harrowing experience.”
The woman’s eyes opened wider and she looked between us, assessing us yet again.
“My first husband was patrician like you. A Roman officer,” she muttered absently, lost for a moment in her memories, I assumed.
I took the moment to gently place Accalia on the narrow bed.
“I am sorry. I think my feet are worse than I thought...” she mumbled, almost too softly to be heard.
The crone surprised me by kneeling down in front of Accalia and taking up one of her feet. “Yes, these sores are filled with poison. I will prepare a poultice. You must bath first, though. Have you the strength? Your husband can help you... I will show you our bathing room.”
When Accalia attempted to rise and failed, I swept her up into my arms again and followed the crone out of our room once more. We went down the stairs and wove our way through the large dwelling to what I thought was the back of the house. Here there was a large room with an equally large, empty tiled pool with a pipe hanging over the end of it.
The crone turned a lever and water began pouring out of the pipe. It smelled like the waters of Puteoli but looked clean enough. I ached to feel all that water surrounding me.
“There are unguents beside the pool to wash away the desert and the sweat. And improve the smell of the water. But the waters will help your aching muscles and cleanse your wounds before the poultice is applied. I will have my daughter bring you towels and clean clothes. No additional charge.” The woman’s smirk made me realise that she hadn’t taken my coin, and my offer to pay had likely been unnecessary. These people didn’t need my money. The magnificence of this house told me that well enough.
“Thank you,” I said soberly, letting my gaze mesh with hers for the first time. “Your kindness is as surprising as it is welcome.”
Her dark eyes widened for a moment before she nodded, as if finding an answer to the question she had not voiced. With one more nod, she hobbled from the room.
When the large bath had finally filled enough, the middle-aged daughter arrived with towels and clothes, turned off the water and then left again, closing the door behind her.
Suddenly, I felt very uncomfortable. This was Accalia, my master’s daughter. I shouldn’t even be alone in the same room with her, no less bathing her.
I realised I’d never been totally alone with our little she-wolf before. At least one, if not all, of my brothers had always been present.
Yet as she struggled to remove her robe, I had no choice but to help her. This was not the Accalia I knew. She hadn’t been this badly off after five days buried alive beneath a burned down building. Back then, she’d been able to give us orders and fight for Talos’ life. Her indomitable spirit had left me in awe. Yet now she seemed broken, and not just from her injuries.
What had they done to her? Gods, all my worst nightmares may have been true.
With clumsy hands, I helped her out of her gown and then into the water, trying hard not to notice her nakedness. But it was impossible. She was so fine boned and fragile. Yet her gentle curves proclaimed her a woman. And though I hated myself for the lust that raged through me in that moment, I couldn’t deny it.
For years this woman had played a prominent part in my fantasies. Fantasies that I’d never expected to come true. Never wanted them to come true. Yet here she was, naked in my arms, as I picked her up and lifted her over the edge of the pool into the water. She allowed it as meekly as a lamb.
I couldn’t bathe her without climbing into the large pool with her. So I threw off my robe and did just that. At the very last moment, I remembered my beard and wig of horsehair. I tossed them onto the pile of dirty clothes as well.
Accalia’s dull gaze took me in, and she smiled tiredly. “You are just as beautiful as I thought you would be.”
I blushed.
Gods, I hadn’t blushed since I took my first whore. This was ludicrous!
“I would say the same of you if you weren’t on death’s doorstep,” I grumbled, scooping up a handful of unguent that smelled of exotic flowers and was as slick as silk.
Smoothing it over her skin, I marvelled at every sweet curve and hollow. Only her face, hands and feet were burned from the sun. The rest of her skin was milky white and unblemished.
But there was a large bruise on her jaw, I realised when I was washing away the filth from her face and hair.
“Did they do this?” I demanded, my fury rising. My hand shook as I fingered the dark bruise that ran from cheek to jaw.
“I was not respectful,” she answered matter-of-factly.
I growled and tried to keep my fury from overflowing. I was the cool, calm one. I didn’t give in to temper tantrums like Typhon. Yet the idea that the Parthians had hit her... and maybe worse... drove me to madness.
Accalia’s gentle hand came to rest on my wrist. She was trying to still my shakes; trying to comfort me.
“It was only once. Nothing else happened, I promise you. They were saving me for their prince. Of course, if I did not put on some weight and make myself more attractive, then the prince might not want me. He might then give me as a gift to the bastard who led the kidnappers.” Her voice was harder than it had been, even tired as she was.
“You won’t ever meet this prince and you’ll never belong to that Parthian bastard. I promise you on my life,” I answered, placing my other hand, covered in unguent, over hers still resting on my wrist.
She burst into quiet sobs, pressing her head into my bare chest. I lowered her back into the water until her whole body, except for her face, was submerged in the water. I went with her, cradling her in my arms like a child.
The water was waist deep and lukewarm as I kneeled in it with my precious burden. It was soothing. And holding Accalia’s warm, slippery body against my own as she clung to me was like a dream come true. But my heart ached for her, though I fought against it. This was not the girl I had known for so many years. This broken girl was someone infinitely more precious.
That brought me up hard. I preferred her this way? No, that wasn’t right. I loved the strong and determined young girl who had driven day and night to get to the pack so she could save Typhon’s life. I loved the girl who had gone against her society’s expectations by dressing as a slave boy so she could learn to be a healer. That feisty creature had amused and enthralled me. But this woman... this exhausted and sick woman touched something deep inside m
e. Something I didn’t want to admit existed. It was my greatest weakness. My greatest vulnerability!
For a long time I held her, letting the water wash away the filth of the road while the peace made inroads into the internal wounds not so easily cleansed. Eventually, Accalia lifted her head and sniffed back the last of her tears.
“I am sorry. I should be stronger than this. I must seem like a spoiled, over-indulged noblewoman complaining about a little hardship.”
Grunting back my amusement, I lifted her chin so our gazes met. “I haven’t heard one complaint. And it has hardly been a little hardship. You have been through a lot. Give yourself credit for doing as well as you did.”
“I note you did not contradict my evaluation of myself as spoiled and over-indulged,” she countered, sounding a little more like the she-wolf I knew.
This time I did laugh. “I thought that was self-evident.”
“What? That I am those things?” she cried, struggling to be free of me.
I clung a little tighter and laughed even louder. Through it all, I managed to get out, “No... that you aren’t... those things.”
She relaxed back against me, as cosy as if her place had always been next to my heart. “All right then. That is better. Sometimes it is hard to tell with you. Of all of you, you are the one who sometimes make me feel as if you do not approve of me. That my place among you has always been... conditional.”
I released her and stood up. The water was shallow enough for Accalia to rest on the smooth bottom of the pool, her head above the surface. Claiming more unguent, I began lathering up my overlong blonde hair. The wig had been lice free, but the scalp netting had made my head itch. So I needed to make sure my head wouldn’t itch any more.
“What? What did I say wrong?” Accalia demanded, her voice filled with hurt and confusion.
I didn’t know how to explain. How did I tell her that I didn’t approve of her? Not because there was anything wrong with her, but that she was our heel.
I remembered the Greek story of the Trojan War. How, to make Achilles invincible, his mother had dunked him in magical waters as a baby. All but the spot where she’d held his heel had come in contact with those waters. And though he became the greatest fighter the Greeks ever knew, he had a vulnerability. And it had been this vulnerability that allowed for his defeat in the end.
Accalia was our heel. She was how we would be defeated in the end. And I hated that she could do that to us.
“Nothing,” I lied. “It is just that we have been in here too long. If our host has betrayed us, we do not want to be caught like this. I couldn’t defend you properly.”
I held up my arms, displaying my empty arms. No armour, no weapons. Of course, I could fight quite well without either, but probably not well enough to defeat more than a few men at a time. From watching Accalia covertly since I first caught sight of her in Emisa, I knew there were five of the Parthian bastards after us.
“Yes, I have been self-indulgent. I am sorry. I am just so very tired... and sick. I think I have the sun sickness. I need to drink fluids and eat salted foods. And rest, if that is possible. Of course, if that will put us in danger I can be ready to move at any time...”
I kneeled down in the water and took her chin between my fingers. They were now free of the sweet-smelling unguent, but the bath surrounding us still smelled of it.
Her storm-cloud grey eyes met mine. Tears like rain welled in them, tearing at my heart.
“We will rest here as long as we can. Come now. Let’s go to our room. You need to sleep.”
“Where are the others?” she asked me softly, letting me carry her out of the pool.
“Our pack-mates? I... I don’t know. There was a storm, and I was washed overboard. I washed up on the Syrian shore not far from the gap in the mountains that leads to Emisa. I came on alone. There was no time to waste looking for them.”
I had put her on her feet in readiness to dry her with the thin towelling. But at my words her legs gave way under her again. I was forced to catch her, then sit with her on the pile of clothing.
“They might be dead?” she asked me fearfully.
I shrugged. “I doubt it. The ship was still afloat when I went overboard, and the storm didn’t last much longer. Or I don’t think it did. I got hit on the head a few times as I rolled around on the deck so I may have lost a bit of time. But I don’t think the ship sank.”
I tried not to think about the more likely scenario that it went down, rather than sailed away from me so quickly I lost sight of it after the storm. Yet, if it did sink, wouldn’t there have been more debris floating on the water? There had been nothing but my barrel and me.
“How did you find out what happened? How did you get leave from your ludus to come after me?” she asked, unconsciously smoothing her fingers over the skin on my chest.
My face, neck and arms were died with henna but the rest of me was covered with my own golden tan. It was this familiar part of me she stroked.
I was hard again in an instant. Would she notice? I knew Asterius had educated her in the ways of men, so she would know what an erection was, and why it presented. But could she feel it pressing insistently into her butt. I hoped not. I didn’t want her to know how much I craved her. My weakness had to be my secret.
“Orion?” she said my name, her voice bemused.
“Hmm? What?” I replied distractedly. What had I missed as I focused on her touch?
“I asked how you knew to come after me.”
“Oh, that would be your father. He took ship as soon as you were taken and came directly to us. He planned it out well, giving us papers and all the money we’d need. Your father is a master strategist. No small detail was forgotten. Unfortunately, the will of the gods couldn’t be factored into his plans.”
She nodded, seemingly proud of her father. And she had a right to be. I doubted the barracks would have produced the quality gladiators it did over the years if our master hadn’t been a man to be respected and admired. Had he been one of those pretentious idiots who called themselves senators, many of us would have just kept running when we undertook our final initiation. Earning our esteemed master’s respect, by completing our trial successfully and coming home, was important to us. He was like the father none of us had ever had.
“He was well? Pater?” she asked in the end as she wriggled to get down. I let her go reluctantly.
“Well? As well as could be expected in the circumstances. He was clearly very upset about your loss.”
She nodded. “His heart failed him during the attack. I was able to heal him, but the bastards pulled me away before I completed my work. I have been sick with worry for him.”
I finished patting her dry and lowered her robe over her head. It was not a man’s work to attend a woman in this way, but I enjoyed it. As I brushed out her wet, shoulder-length hair I was reminded of the times I did the same for my mother. When she was heavy with child she was often tired and anxious. I would brush out her hair for her, and it soothed and calmed her.
Even though I knew it was a weakness, I’d done that for my mother until I had to leave for the barracks. After that... After that I never thought to do it again on my monthly visits. It seemed unmanly. It was unmanly to do such a thing.
Once I was dressed in the fresh, full-length robe of these people, I picked Accalia up again and carried her back to our room. In our absence, a tray piled high with fruits, bread and cheese, along with a pitcher of cool water had been left for us. No salt, which Accalia had wanted, but plenty else.
I deposited her on the bed, and she sat with her back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin. Taking my time, I told her of my journey as I fed her morsels and made her drink as much as she could take.
Chapter Seven
ACCALIA
After my bath I felt much better, though my body was still weak and my emotions still fragile. Until Orion told me about Pater, I had not realised just how worried I had been for his life. Tho
ugh I had consciously forced my mind from him time and again, worrying about him had slowly been sapping me of my will to live. I had been broken, though I had fought to hide the fact, even from myself.
Now, knowing he was well enough to travel south to Puteoli and put together a well organised plan of rescue, my spirits lifted. Only concern for the rest of my pack gnawed at my mind now.
But Orion was not worried for them, so I should not be either. They had not been washed overboard as Orion had. They had likely finished the journey and started the Silk Road from Antiochia as I did. After us, of course, but it might not have been long after us.
I marvelled at the will of the gods that had brought Orion to just the right place so he could reach me in time. I marvelled even more when he went on to tell me the rest of his tale as I ate as much food as I could stomach and made sure Orion did the same between the elements of his tale.
“When I reached Emisa, my Greek friend introduced me to his friend who worked as a bowman on the caravans. The road between Emisa and Dura is infamous for bandits. Large groups of them, like the ones who attacked today. My bowmanship was prized, and I immediately got a job. While I was fitted out with a wig and beard, my new best friend had eyes and ears out for a Roman woman travelling with a group of Parthians.
“It surprised me how quickly word came back that you were seen entering the town that very day. I’d barely got my beard in place before I was being dragged out to see if you were the woman I was looking for.”
“I saw you,” I interrupted. “I did not recognise you at first, but there was something familiar about your stance. Then I saw your eyes, and I knew it had to be you. But I could not believe you had come for me. I... I had given up hope. I... I thought Pater was either lying sick awaiting word from the prince about a ransom or... or... dead. It cut me to the quick to imagine him dead or having to sacrifice all he had created for me.”
“Your father’s a fighter. He would never think to let those bastards get away with taking his daughter. He would’ve sent every gladiator he owned against the Parthians if he’d thought that had any chance of success. Wisely, he chose us instead.”
