The Roman Lady's Illicit Affair

by Greta Gilbert

  Vita gave a businesslike nod and suppressed the joy blossoming within her. She did not trust her ears, but what he had said sounded a lot like hope.

  ‘And what did you say just now?’ asked Lepidus.

  Vita searched her mind. ‘I told Ven that my mother’s clan was based far in the north. He reminded me that the Brigantes and the Caledonii are ancient enemies.’ Ancient enemies who sometimes banded together to help each other survive.

  ‘Indeed? Is that why your accents are different?’

  ‘It is,’ said Vita. Now her smile had become genuine. ‘I have something to give you,’ he had said. He was going to help her. Perhaps she would not be lost.

  ‘It will be an advantage to have representatives of two different tribes in my entourage,’ Lepidus mused. ‘But your real value will be as a loyal representative and keeper of my household.’ He untied a scroll and let it unfurl towards Vita.

  ‘As a concubine, you would be expected to perform the services of a wife as needed, though I will be bringing along a slave, as well. The rest of my slaves I will acquire in Coria. You would help with that, along with the selection of furnishings for our household and the like.’

  ‘Of course,’ Vita said, pretending to study the scroll.

  ‘It would be a term of five years and at its conclusion I will provide you with between ten and fifteen thousand sesterces, depending on the quality of your service.’

  Vita blinked. Her pretence disappeared. ‘Fifteen thousand sesterces?’

  ‘How could I expect you to come with me if I cannot offer you something worthwhile in return?’

  She looked down at the contract unfurled before her—a carpet for Vita to walk upon if she chose.

  ‘Read through the details and tell me your answer by tomorrow,’ said Lepidus. ‘I leave the day after tomorrow from the port of Ostia.’

  ‘The day after tomorrow? May I ask why you are leaving so soon?’

  Lepidus sighed. ‘I do not wish to be further humiliated by my trollop of a wife.’

  Vita stood and bowed. ‘Of course.’ She rolled up the contract and took it in her hands. ‘By tomorrow, then.’

  ‘Come with me and be my concubine, Vita. After only a few years you will be able to make whatever life you choose. You will finally have—’

  ‘Freedom?’

  She could feel Ven’s eyes on her now. They were burning through her, telling her not to be a fool. ‘Good Lepidus, may I ask you a professional question?’

  ‘Of course, my dear. Anything.’

  ‘What is the purpose of building a wall so far north? Is it really to separate the Romans from the barbarians as they say?’

  ‘You are curious for a woman,’ replied Lepidus. ‘The answer is no. It is not being built to separate the Romans from the barbarians. There are barbarians on both sides of the wall, by the gods. People are so foolish.’

  ‘Then why?’ asked Vita.

  Lepidus started to reply, then stopped himself. ‘Accept my offer, my stout little Vita, and then I shall tell you the real reason for the wall. I think you will be surprised by my answer.’

  Chapter Six

  On the penultimate morning she would ever spend in her own bed, Vita awoke, feeling proud of herself.

  The evening before, she had ripped up Lepidus’s contract and burned it in her brazier. Now she gathered up the black ashes and placed them in a bowl.

  She would not go with Lepidus, no matter how much coin he offered her. She would not go with him if he were the god of abundance himself! She had finally learned her lesson about contracts and men, and she would never again enter into another. Freedom was the path and, yesterday in Lepidus’s tablinium, she had successfully resisted a temptation to stray from it.

  She stood and dressed, then took a look around her bedchamber, vowing not to miss it. She had already done most of her packing, had culled through her belongings until they fit into a sack that she could carry without aid.

  Soon her life would be her own and that was all that mattered. It did not matter that she did not have a place to live—she would find one eventually. In the meantime she would find some small unnoticed corner of Rome in which to sleep.

  By day, she would sew and sew. She would sell so many capes that she would quickly grow rich. Some day soon, she would have enough coin for the grandest apartment in Rome. She would have time to go to the baths whenever she liked. She would eat in fine taverns and attend lovely banquets. She would meet up with Lollia and exchange gossip every ides.

  And who was to say she could not continue her acquaintance with Ven? As an independent woman, she would be able to do what she liked. There would be no one to condemn her for exchanging words with him in public. There would be no consequence for her to accept a massage or other service, as long as his domina agreed.

  Perhaps she could arrange to see him more often somehow. Perhaps their friendship could bloom. Just the idea sent a flush of excitement through her.

  And it was all ahead of her—a life of her own. She could not wait to begin it.

  * * *

  She went about her morning duties with so much good cheer that when she went to the tablinium to pour Magnus more posca, he looked up from his porridge to ask her what was wrong.

  ‘I am happy for the change of weather,’ she said.

  ‘The weather has not changed.’

  ‘Perhaps I am looking forward to the Vulcanalia tomorrow.’

  ‘You are looking forward to a sky full of smoke?’

  ‘We must placate the god Vulcan, lest he burn the harvest.’

  Magnus shot her a mighty frown. ‘Where will you live?’

  The question took her by surprise and she laughed. ‘I have not yet found a place.’

  ‘No place, yet you laugh like a fool.’

  ‘Fools are the beloved of the gods.’

  ‘This bread is stale.’

  ‘I took our wheat ration to the baker yesterday.’

  ‘But this bread is stale today.’

  In the past, Vita might have apologised profusely, then spent the rest of the morning silently berating herself for the error. Alternatively, she might have plunged headlong into the creation of a new cape and tried to make herself feel useful again. Not any more.

  ‘You may pick your loaves up from the baker after work,’ Vita stated. ‘Or tomorrow. Or never. It is up to you.’ She held her breath.

  Magnus jumped to his feet suddenly and swiped his bowl of porridge off his desk. ‘Useless woman!’ he shouted. He pushed Vita to the floor as he stormed out of the chamber and she heard the hard slam the front door behind him.

  She waited for the tears to come. She held her breath in anticipation of the pain of humiliation, which had become so familiar over the years that it was nearly a comfort. But the pain never came, nor did the tears.

  She expelled all her breath. It was a miracle. His anger had not harmed her. His words—it seemed they no longer mattered to her at all. It seemed that she had made her heart into ice.

  She jumped to her feet and skipped back upstairs as if she were the winged messenger himself. She had known in her mind that divorcing Magnus was the right decision. Now she knew it in her gut. She did not need this house, this life, him. She was nearly free.

  All that remained was to find a place to lay her head and she had the whole day in which to look. She gazed out the window of her bedchamber, finding the air fresh and filled with hope. She would find a place to live today for certain and tomorrow she would march out of the door and never look back.

  But first she had a meeting to attend to.

  And now, with Magnus gone early, she had plenty of time to prepare for it. She started off by combing her hair, securing half of it with a pin atop her head. She had never been fussy about her appearance before, but she wanted to look her best for Ven.

 
She swirled a bit of henna powder with water and stirred the mixture with a stick. Perhaps that was the true reason for her happiness. She was going to see Ven. For the first time since they had met outside her doorway, they would be alone, for he wished to meet in the hypocaust. Together beneath the baths, they could do and say whatever they wished.

  She imagined giving him a proper greeting: a kiss on the cheek. She wondered if she could achieve it without blushing. She would tell him about her day ahead and ask him about his own, making certain to find out the next time he planned to accompany his domina to the baths.

  She paused and felt suddenly as if she were falling from a height. She realised that she had been mistaken. Ven would not be accompanying his domina to the baths—not this day, or ever again.

  For Ven was going north with Lepidus.

  ‘No!’ she shouted. She began to pace. How had she overlooked such a terrible truth? Ven was Lepidus’s most valuable slave. Of course he would take him north. She remembered now how Lepidus had remarked at the benefit of having both Ven and Vita with him in Britannia. But Vita was not going to Britannia, which meant that, after today, she was probably never going to see Ven again.

  Vita checked her small copper mirror, then added more powder to the paste and continued to stir. She would need really need the paste now, for she sensed all the colour had drained from her cheeks. She dipped in a finger and began to rub.

  Her preparations had suddenly acquired a new gravity. How long had Lepidus said he planned to stay in Britannia? Five years? She could wait for five years, though there was no guaranteeing his return. More likely, he would find a way to escape Lepidus and remain in the lands of his kin. In that case, this was likely to be the last time she would ever see him. She wondered whether she would be able to conceal her feelings from him.

  Vita bit her bottom lip, just like her mother used to do before applying paint. The deep crimson would draw Ven’s attention to her lips and everything she had to say. ‘May Mercury speed your journey,’ she would tell him. ‘You will be missed.’

  It was too impersonal. ‘I am grateful for all you have done for me,’ she would say. ‘I will pray to the gods for you.’

  It did not seem to be enough. No words were. In only a few days, she had come to care deeply for the man, though she knew him poorly. There was so much she wished to learn about him. Who were his family and how did he lose them? How did he learn to read and what were his favourite texts? What made him sad? What brought him joy?

  And why was it that when she looked into his eyes a private Vulcanalia took place inside her?

  Now she would never know.

  She dabbed more paste on her cheeks, feeling suddenly as if the whole world had lost its colour. She wished she had had more time with him. They had spoken only briefly, but she sensed they could have conversed for days. And just the thought of his hands upon her bare skin made her beg Juno for equanimity.

  Gods forgive her, she thought of him that way—like a woman thought of a man. She yearned for him.

  It felt good to finally admit it to herself. Indeed, the feeling was so overwhelming that she had momentarily considered accepting Lepidus’s offer, if only to be close to Ven.

  Of course, she would never do it. She would never again be a man’s wife, let alone his concubine. Never again would she bind herself to another, no matter how rich the reward. Freedom was the prize and she could not allow herself to forget it.

  She dribbled a bit of water into the ashes of Lepidus’s burnt contract and stirred them into a paste. She painted the black mixture around her eyes, praying that when he looked into them, he would see how she really felt.

  ‘I will miss you,’ she would say. ‘So very much.’

  Suddenly there they were—her missing tears. How very strange! Where had they come from and why would they not cease? They were streaking the black liner and the red that she had just finished applying to her cheeks.

  This would not do at all. She dug in her travel sack for a drying cloth, then began to reapply the pastes. She needed to look her best for the one man in the world who found her worthy. One last, good impression before they said farewell.

  * * *

  ‘Ouch, Ven! You just pinched me!’ shouted Lollia. Ven had not noticed his domina turn on her side. Instead of squeezing her shoulders, he had inadvertently pinched her arm.

  ‘Apologies, Domina,’ Ven said. He had not been able to concentrate all morning. Even now, after over an hour massaging his domina’s limbs, his mind raced.

  At any moment, they were going to be robbed.

  Ven knew because he had arranged for it himself. Instead of waiting for his domina outside the dressing room that morning, he had doubled back to the entrance to the baths and apprehended the toughest-looking street urchin he could find.

  ‘I wish for you to enter the tepidarium in one hour and rob me of this bag.’ Ven held up his domina’s bag of supplies. ‘Then meet me in the hypocaust.’ He poured a half a dozen asses into the boy’s hand.

  ‘You are paying me to rob you?’ the boy had asked in puzzlement.

  ‘Yes, and if you do it successfully I will give you this.’ Ven had held up a bronze sesterce.

  The boy raised an interested brow.

  ‘Will you do it or not?’

  The boy had nodded vigorously, but now Ven feared he would not fulfil his promise. Ven pictured Vita waiting for him patiently below the tepidarium, wondering why he had not yet appeared.

  ‘I received some wondrous news from my husband last night,’ said Lollia.

  ‘Indeed?’ echoed Ven, trying to sound interested.

  Why had he asked Vita to meet him beneath the tepidarium in the first place? It was the deepest part of August, by the gods. Why not the frigidarium, where she would at least be able to keep cool?

  ‘I shall not be accompanying Lepidus to Britannia after all, it seems,’ said Lollia.

  ‘That is wondrous news!’ he replied, trying to sound surprised. ‘I know that you were dreading the winters.’

  He pictured Vita standing at the entrance to the hypocaust, trying to withstand the heat. How long would she last before she simply gave up?

  ‘It appears that Lepidus is leaving me here in Rome to do as I like,’ Lollia continued. ‘Ha! Imagine that! Has he told you when he plans to leave, Ven?’

  ‘No, Domina,’ Ven lied, for Lepidus had sworn him to secrecy.

  ‘Well, I imagine it will be soon. It is a long trip to that remote island—thirty days at least to reach his post. Of course you already know that, for you made the trip yourself once.’

  It was a cruel thing for her to say—to remind Ven of his enslavement—though it did not bother Ven in the least. He was accustomed to his domina’s stabs and could easily endure them. After all, his heart was made of ice.

  Still, in moments like these, when Vita was near, it seemed to melt just a little.

  * * *

  Vita stood at the bottom of the stairwell and leaned against the wall, trying to keep away from the worst of the hot air. She gazed through the forest of clay columns at the large brick oven at the other end of the hypocaust. Every twenty minutes a slave would arrive with an armful of wood to feed the flickering beast. Since she had arrived, she had already seen four of them come and go.

  The air was unnervingly hot. As she breathed it in, it seemed to heat her very lungs. She knew that the longer she waited, the sooner he would be there, for he would not leave her waiting here for ever. In just a few moments she was going to see Ven and they would share a private moment together.

  She would breathe in his scent and feel excitement ball up in her stomach. Perhaps they would exchange a few words in their sacred tongue. Maybe he would squeeze her hand.

  After Magnus had rejected her so long ago, she never thought she would long for a man again. But now, standing in the sprawling hypocaust,
yearning for just a glimpse of his dazzling grin, she felt wholly changed.

  It did not matter if Ven did not feel the same. It was enough that he had ignited the flame of her lust—a flame she had believed long dead. He had made her feel alive again.

  Now she realised the real reason why she had really been feeling so happy lately. It was not her decision to divorce Magnus as she had at first believed. In a sense, she had been divorced from Magnus for years. The real reason for her happiness was Ven.

  She had met him only four days ago, yet it was as if she had always known him. Or perhaps he simply fitted the description of the man that she had conjured inside her heart long ago—the kind, noble man who somehow also desired her. She had been so alone for so many years—invisible to the world. Now she finally felt seen. Beautiful, even.

  It was all because of him. Even when she was not thinking of him, he was part of her awareness. Every moment seemed full of him and everything was funny, or lovely, or worthy of praise. Sloshing buckets of water pouring joyously across the tiles. Cups of tart posca and bites of salty bread. The glimmer of the stars through the atrium roof. The colours of dawn.

  It was Ven. He was the reason.

  She lifted her hair off her shoulders, letting the sweat drip down her neck. Where was he? Surely he would be here soon. Sweat poured down her back. She gazed up the stairs at the blue sky above. She wondered if the gods were smiling or laughing.

  * * *

  ‘Tell me, Ven, are you not eager to journey to your homeland with Lepidus?’ asked Lollia, obviously glad to have avoided such a fate herself.

  ‘I am eager to continue to serve him, Domina.’

  A lie. There was only one thing Ven was eager for: to see Vita.

  ‘Come now, I know you wish for some things.’ His domina rolled over on to her back and gingerly arranged her breasts. She was watching him closely, waiting for him to look at her, but today he could not falsify his admiration as he usually did.