by Teri Barnett
“So, you know of our gods. But your accent is not Roman.” He cupped Valerie’s chin again, forcing her to look into his eyes. Valerie was tall for a woman, but Christos stood a good head taller than she. The intensity of his stare took her breath away. “Where are you from?” he asked, his voice low.
“Brittania.” The ancient Roman word rolled off her tongue like a lover’s name and she pushed back thoughts of home. She would only be able to indulge her memories when she was alone.
“Impossible!” Christos laughed and dropped his hand. “I was there with the Roman army and saw nothing but savages; people who wear skins and live in stick and stone hovels.”
Valerie needed to hold her own with this man if she hoped for even a small measure of his respect. “I am from the town of Londinium. We are different there.”
“Londinium, you say? I was busy fighting in other areas. I never ventured to that particular place.” He took a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping her. “Tell me. Are the people correct in what they say?” he said in a soft voice. “Are you really a witch?”
Valerie shook her head. “No, not a witch. Just a woman.”
“Ah, not just a woman.” He leaned forward and his breath caressed her cheek. “You are now the property of Christos Campanius Marcellus.” With his thumb, he smeared away some of the dirt that covered her face. “Your skin is soft and unblemished under the filth. I imagine you might be quite lovely after you’re cleaned up.”
Valerie’s head pounded with a dull ache. She tugged at the material wrapped around her. It seemed impossible to keep any modicum of decency with the garment. She almost laughed aloud thinking of how many times she’d battled with Lucy over that blasted crinoline. It was a lifetime ago… “What are you going to do with me?”
Christos turned and started walking. “Can you get around without that stick?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to work in the kitchen since it would require the least amount of movement. Besides, Stella’s always grumbling she could use some help.”
Chapter 18
Falling into step between Christos and Julius, Valerie ventured a cautious look about. She was careful not to slow down or appear too interested in any one item, all the while trying to memorize the path they were traveling through the Forum. If she were lucky enough to be allowed to visit here again, she needed to have an escape route planned and ready for use.
“What do we have here, Christos, my love?” asked a petite woman as she approached Christos. Her dark blonde hair was arranged in intricate curls on top of her head and she smelled of expensive perfume. The woman wrinkled her nose in distaste. “My, but she looks like one of those wretched children who live in the caves by the sea. When was the last time you visited the baths?” she asked Valerie.
Valerie drew herself up. Perhaps this woman would like to hear about the less than sanitary conditions in the prison and the deplorable way visitors are treated. She opened her mouth to speak when Christos intervened.
“She’s been in jail, Gravia,” Christos answered for her. “I bought her at the auction and we’re now on our way home.”
Recognition lit Gravia’s face. “She is the one we saw being dragged through the streets, is she not?”
“She is.”
“But, Christos, everyone says she is a witch.” Gravia’s eyes grew wide. “How could you bring her into our house?” She considered Valerie. “She’ll bring the heavens—and the senate—down on our heads. You can’t afford to garner the counsel’s disfavor.”
Our house? Strange, she wouldn’t have pictured a man like Christos married to a woman like Gravia. She seemed close to thirty - not much older than he was - but with her ostentatious jewelry and painted beauty, she resembled a woman who desperately wanted to hold tight to her youth.
“Our house, Gravia?” Christos stopped walking and turned to the woman. He rubbed his chin as he spoke, “Just what have you been telling people?”
“Why nothing, Christos. Except that I care for you a great deal.” Gravia weaved her arm through his and smiled sweetly up at him. “Can I come over this evening?” she purred into his ear. “You look so tense. I would love to help you relax.”
“Mmmm, perhaps.”
“Do not tease me,” Gravia pouted.
He laughed. “I suppose we could have dinner in my room if you like.”
Gravia released his arm and clapped her hands together. “I would like that very much.” As she hurried off, she called behind her, “Later, my love.”
So, they weren’t married after all. “Is she your betrothed?” Valerie asked as she watched Gravia leave.
“What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, girl?” Julius growled.
Valerie shot him a look over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed.
“It’s all right, Julius. I don’t mind a few questions, as long as they don’t become too troublesome.”
Christos looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Well? Was there something you wished to ask me?”
Valerie shrugged as she adjusted the cloth around her shoulders. “It’s nothing, really. I only thought she, Gravia that is, was your wife. I guess I was mistaken.”
He began walking again. “Gravia and I know too many dark secrets about each other to be married. She is my mistress.”
“I–I see,” Valerie murmured. In her own time, no gentleman would have admitted so freely to keeping a woman for pleasure only. Then again, these people had an entirely different set of moral standards.
“I don’t see why you let her stay around, Christos,” Julius said. “She’s bad, that one.”
Christos laughed. “Julius here doesn’t think I should see Gravia. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my friend was jealous.”
Julius snorted. “Personally, I wouldn’t give her a second look.”
“Now I know you’re lying. I’ve seen the way you watch her when she comes to visit.” Christos clapped him on the back and sighed. “Like a ram ready to charge.”
The two men laughed as the trio turned a corner into a residential district. The houses in this insula were built tightly together, each structurally dependent on the other. Valerie sighed. Would she would ever fit into this society as neatly?
“I don’t understand. If Julius is a slave, why is he allowed to speak so freely?” Valerie asked.
“He isn’t a slave at all. Julius was my second in command in the army. When our commissions were completed, he came to work for me. It’ll take some time, but you’ll eventually understand.” He glanced at her. “At least, if you’re as intelligent as I believe you to be, you will.”
Valerie stopped and stared hard at Christos’s back. ‘As intelligent as I believe you to be?’ Indeed. He had no idea at all about the type of person she was. Nor did she care for him to find out. She would be long gone from this evil city before he had a chance to really know her. Julius interrupted her thoughts with a push. She hurried to catch up with Christos as he turned another corner.
Stopping in front of an elaborately painted and stuccoed house, Christos reached inside of his tunic and pulled out a key from a gold chain around his neck. He unlocked the heavy wooden door and walked in, leaving it open behind him.
Valerie followed Christos into a narrow hallway flanked by mosaic scenes intricately set into the walls. The ocean at night, with several different types of fish leaping out of the water, reminded Valerie of the mural aboard the Fast Alice. She ran her hand along the artwork as she walked, feeling the cool uneven texture of the small tesserae tiles. She came to an abrupt stop as she walked into the open atrium of the house.
Turning slowly around in a circle, Valerie looked up through the middle opening and into the clear azure blue sky above. Beneath the roof, and circling the atrium, was the second level of the home. Tall fluted columns with
elaborate Corinthian capitals supported the red clay tile roof, creating a colonnaded corridor in front of several doors. She smiled, delighted, when she spotted the various styles of downspouts attached to the roof’s drainage system—dogs, demons, and gods. From there, she followed the path of the gutters to where they emptied into the central pool built into the floor.
Christos watched in mild amusement as she made her assessment. “Quite different from a house made of sticks and stones, don’t you think?”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you hire an architect, or did you design it yourself?”
“I designed it, for the most part. This front entry and atrium were original to the house. My father had it built when he settled in Pompeii over forty years ago. After he died, I added on the back portion,” Christos explained as he pointed down another long corridor.
Valerie walked to a simple wood frame couch off to the side of the space and ran her hand over the heavy linen upholstery. The afternoon sun reflected off the gold thread woven into the fabric. It sparkled and winked at her. “Beautiful,” she breathed.
“Gratias.” He gestured to Julius who pulled a small bundle out from the folds of his tunic. The other man handed the package to Valerie. “I thought you might like to have these,” Christos explained.
She accepted the offering with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. What could he possibly be giving her? But her fear turned to joy when she discovered her white blouse and dark charcoal skirt within the package. She hugged the garments to her breast. “Thank you,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Christos inclined his head. “Julius, why don’t you take her to Stella. She’ll have plenty of time to explore her new home later. Tell her to see to the girl’s needs.” He turned and disappeared down another corridor.
Julius grabbed Valerie by the arm and pulled her toward the back of the house. She yanked her arm free from his grip and walked in silence next to him.
“Who is there?” A woman’s voice called from the back of the kitchen and the sound echoed against the stone walls.
Valerie peered around the corner. This room was so plain compared to what she had just seen. The floor was laid of simple red clay tile, the walls left unadorned except for heavy pots and pans hanging from iron hooks. At the back of the kitchen, and standing before a heavy stove built of stone, was one of the roundest people she had ever seen.
The woman finished stirring the bronze pot before her, put down the wooden spoon, and turned around. With the back of her hand, she pushed away the wisps of graying hair that clung to her brow. The heat of the room was stifling, and she moved slowly, each motion deliberate. “Well? I asked you a question, girl.”
Julius gave Valerie another shove. “This is your new help, Stella.”
Stella’s eyes narrowed as she looked Valerie over from head to toe. She gestured toward the cane. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “I think her foot is ruined.”
Stella threw up her hands. “Well, I’ve seen everything now. Leave it to the master to bring me half a servant.” She shook her head. “He’s always bringing in strays off the street. Problem is, they can’t hardly do anything. Then who has to do all of the work?” She jabbed a chubby finger at the center of her chest. “Stella, that’s who!”
“I don’t know what to tell you other than your master says you’re to get her cleaned up.”
She nodded and winked. She smiled knowingly and her mouth disappeared into the folds of her chin. “Ah, I see. She’s to be his entertainment, then, is she?”
“Entertainment?” Valerie took a step forward. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think so,” Julius replied. “Gravia is coming over tonight. I think it’s like you said. He just felt sorry for her.” He turned and left the room.
Valerie swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from her brow. So, he just felt sorry for her. That explained why he made her a gift of her clothes and why he was allowing her to ask questions. She shook her head. Had she really expected to be treated differently by a man who had just bought her? After all, she was no longer the genteel daughter of a gentleman and gentle lady.
I’m now a slave.
Well, it didn’t matter, she told herself. She wouldn’t be here long enough to worry over it. She would escape as soon as she could. Carefully, she composed her expression into one she hoped would convey calm acceptance and servitude.
“If you would show me to the bath, I would like to get myself washed. Then, if you like, I’ll help you prepare the evening meal.” Valerie’s mind raced, wishing she could retract that last statement. Why had she said it? There must have been something else she could have offered to do. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to cook anything. Mae always took care of that.
“What exactly do you know how to cook?” Stella asked. It was as if she had read Valerie’s thoughts.
Valerie took a deep breath. Better to be honest than to be proven a liar, Papa always told her. “Well, you see, I’ve never actually assembled a dinner. But I’m a fast learner,” she added quickly.
Stella sighed and, with a plump hand, fanned herself. “I can’t say I’m surprised. What’s your name, girl?”
“Valerie. Valerie Sherwood Brooks.”
“Never heard a name like that before. Of course, I never heard a voice like yours either.” She looked at her. “Where are you from?”
“England. I mean, Brittania,” she corrected herself.
“Brittania? Never heard of it.” Stella lumbered over to the sink and pumped some water into a glazed terra cotta basin painted with wildflowers, the only adornment in the room. She washed her hands and dried them on her white apron. She turned her attention back to Valerie. “All right. I’ll give you a chance. But I’m warning you. Let me down just once and I’ll see to it you’re sent to the vineyards. As far as I’m concerned, it makes no difference to me if you rot in here or out there, in the dirt.”
Valerie thought of the woman she had seen lying in the slave stall, crying because she was going to be sent out to farm. She straightened her back. “I assure you, there is no need to be concerned.”
Stella shook her head. “We will see. We will see.”
Chapter 19
“Clarus!” Stella called out through the back window. “Come here, girl!”
A thin, tow-headed child about nine or ten years old peeked into the room from the kitchen courtyard. She clutched a bunch of lettuce leaves to her breast, squeezing them tightly. “Yes?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Take this new slave to the bath and make her presentable.”
Stella glanced at Valerie and wrinkled her nose.
“And find her something more appropriate to wear. She’ll distract everybody trying to keep covered up with that length of cloth.”
Clarus dropped the lettuce and fell to her knees, wringing her hands in front of her. “Oh, please, isn’t there someone else who can do this?” She raised her eyes to Valerie, then quickly looked away. “She’s a witch!”
Valerie sighed and shook her head. “I am not a witch.”
Stella stared hard at her. “Keep quiet, you. It makes no difference to me what you are. The master brought you into this house and that’s all we need to be concerned with.” She drew herself up and shook a finger at Valerie. “But don’t even think about practicing your black arts in my kitchen. I find one evil herb here and I won’t be held responsible for my actions. I run a good kitchen and I won’t have you spoiling it.”
“I assure you I haven’t the faintest idea what it is you’re talking about.” Valerie put her hand on her hip and stared back at Stella.
Having spoken her piece, Stella turned her attention back to Clarus. She raised an arm and, before t
he girl could react, cuffed her on the ear. The child listed to the side, whimpering.
“How could you?” Valerie took a step forward, but Stella stepped in front of her, keeping her eyes on Clarus.
“Now, girl, you will do as you are told with no argument. Is that understood?”
Clarus nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. “I–I’m sorry.” She unfolded her gangly legs and stood, unsteady as a newborn colt. Walking past Valerie, she hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “Follow me.”
As the pair left the kitchen, Clarus had to fight the urge to turn and stare at the strange woman everyone called a witch. She wished for a moment she had eyes in the back of her head, so she could watch the witch more closely. She shrugged. Nature had not deemed it necessary to her survival. Perhaps if she were more like Athena’s wise old owl, she could turn her head all the way around. Yes, she decided, that would work very well.
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.”
