The Roman Lady's Illicit Affair

by Greta Gilbert

  ‘I wish for nothing, Domina,’ he repeated and began to rub her feet.

  Lollia sighed wistfully. ‘I wish for something, Ven. Do you know what it is?’

  Power? he thought wickedly. Diversion? Desire? ‘Cooler weather, Domina?’

  ‘I wish for love.’

  Not again, thought Ven.

  A more conscientious slave would have assured his domina that her husband loved her, or that her husband’s love for her would develop with time, or some other vague placation, but Ven and Lollia were far beyond such fictions. ‘Then you shall find it,’ he said. ‘Some day.’

  ‘I believe I may already have found it, but I am not certain it is reciprocated.’

  It was an unexpected response. ‘You are in love with him, then?’ Ven asked boldly. ‘The man with whom you have been trysting?’

  Lollia’s eyes flashed. ‘Ven, how dare you?’ She raised her hand to slap him, but before she could, the blessed street urchin arrived. He breezed past the massage bench, swept up Lollia’s bag and skipped off running. Glory of Jove.

  Ven turned to his domina, trying not to betray his joy. ‘Domina, did you see—?’

  ‘That boy just stole my bag, Ven!’ she shrieked. ‘Get him!’

  * * *

  The boy rushed down the stairway so quickly that he nearly knocked Vita to the floor. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘Who are you?’ she returned. She glanced at the bag he held tightly in his grasp and the answer became clear all at once. ‘He paid you well, I hope?’ she asked.

  ‘Six asses already,’ said the boy, ‘and a sesterce at the end.’

  ‘A sesterce?’ said Vita. ‘You will be eating fish cakes for days!’

  The boy’s grin was nearly too large for his face, yet somehow it became bigger as Ven came running down the stairs after him. Vita caught Ven’s eye and her heart nearly stopped.

  ‘Well done, young man!’ he said, turning to the boy, who handed Ven the bag and bowed.

  Ven dug inside the bag and held out two sesterces. The boy gazed at the two shiny coins, then gingerly pulled one from Ven’s grasp.

  ‘I hold out two coins, but you take only one?’

  ‘Our agreement was for one, sir,’ said the boy.

  ‘Would you look at that, Vita? It appears we have just encountered a rarity in Rome—a truly honest man.’

  The boy’s chest seemed to fill with air and Vita felt her own chest expanding along with it.

  She felt unreasonably happy. Not only would she soon be alone with her favourite person in the world, that person had for the first time said her name.

  ‘Take the second coin, son,’ said Ven. ‘As a reward for your integrity.’

  The boy studied Ven’s eyes, as if searching for the trick in them. ‘Do you not believe me?’ asked Ven. He gestured to Vita. ‘Look what you have done. You have united me with a goddess! Do you not think I would be grateful?’

  The boy glanced at Vita, nodded, then took the second coin. He gave Ven a deep bow. ‘Gratitude, sir,’ he said and in an instant he was gone.

  Vita laughed. ‘He reminded me a little of Cupid,’ she remarked. ‘A good omen.’

  ‘You are a good omen,’ said Ven. His smile was like the sun behind the clouds. It burst out in a rush of warmth and she lifted her face to it and basked.

  ‘How much time do we have?’ she asked.

  ‘Ten minutes? Five? She will come looking for me soon.’ He reached beneath the hem of his short tunic and held out a gold aureus, the equivalent of one hundred sesterces.

  He gestured for her to take it. ‘This is for you—to help you find a place to live.’ She gazed at the sparkling gold coin. It was enough to rent a room for many months. ‘It is not much, but it is something. Please, take it,’ he urged.

  She stepped back. ‘Ven, I cannot accept coin from you. I would never even dream of it.’

  ‘That is why you must take it.’

  Vita blinked free a tear. She had promised herself she would not cry.

  ‘You are a good woman, Vita. You are worthy of this.’

  She knew she should just accept it, for she did not wish to fight him. She only wished to fall into his arms and let him gather up all her pieces. This man, this beautiful man, wished to give her all he had, though all she really wanted was him.

  ‘I am so sorry, Ven, but I cannot accept this generous gift. One day, when Lepidus frees you, you will need—’

  ‘Lepidus will never free me.’

  She drew a breath. ‘One day, when you escape, you will—’

  ‘I will not escape, Vita,’ said Ven.

  ‘But why not? You will soon be far from Rome. Can you not choose your moment?’

  ‘Vita, you are looking, but not seeing.’

  He bowed his head and there before her was the reason, written in ink on flesh. FGV. Fugitivus. Runaway.

  She had stopped seeing the tattoo the moment after they had first met.

  ‘Romans patrol constantly in the lands of my kin,’ Ven said. ‘They fear another uprising.’

  ‘So the rumours are true?’ asked Vita. ‘About another Brigante rebellion?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Ven. ‘There is another Roman legion being deployed to Britannia right now. The Romans will soon be patrolling Brigante lands, searching for rebels. There is no sanctuary for me among the Brigantes or the Romans, Vita. Not with this tattoo. I will never be free again.’

  He could not continue. To say more would be to burden her unnecessarily. The truth was that since he had met her, he had felt a dangerous stirring inside him. It was the same disquiet that had plagued him before his attempts at escape, with one difference: he wished to take her with him.

  ‘You must not let yourself become defeated!’ she cried. ‘When you arrive in Britannia, you must attempt to get yourself free. Promise me you will try.’

  ‘I cannot make a promise that I do not intend to keep.’

  ‘But why? You will have five years in Britannia. You must only wait for the right moment to present itself. All you need is patience and determination...and the will. Gather it, Ven. Do not allow your own mind to enslave you!’

  She was breathing too hard and he saw the moisture of tears on her cheeks. ‘Do not weep,’ he whispered. It seemed strange that thoughts of his escape might provoke her tears.

  He gently took her hand and let his fingers weave with hers. She gazed down at their joined hands and he pulled her towards him. She pressed her head against the contours of his chest and sighed as he surrounded her with his arms.

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

  Then come with me, he thought. Her soft breaths against his chest were like tiny caresses and a strange sense of peace enveloped him. If he could just remember this feeling for the rest of his days, he knew he could survive.

  ‘I failed to find the marriage contract,’ she whispered. ‘There was a lock on the drawer and I could not find the key.’

  ‘That is all? A lock without a key?’

  ‘It does not matter,’ she replied.

  He buried his head in her hair and breathed in her scent—a mystic alchemy of loneliness and sunshine and that wondrous substance of his youth: soap. He took in many breaths of her.

  ‘We must both be strong now,’ she whispered. ‘You must not give up your fight and I will not give up mine. You must escape Lepidus. Freedom is the prize.’

  He knew he should not speak, but he could not help himself any more. His heart’s meltwaters had finally become a flood.

  ‘You are the prize, Vita,’ he whispered back. ‘You.’

  There was no time to respond to him. She looked up and there were his lips. They pressed down upon hers in a crush of breath and heat. ‘Ven,’ she breathed.

  ‘I do not sleep,’ he told her. ‘I barely eat. I suff
er fevers. I only think of you.’ He brushed her hair to the side and touched her cheek with a trembling hand.

  ‘I am plagued by similar maladies,’ she said, but she could not say more, for he was kissing her again and she did not want him to cease.

  He swept his tongue into her mouth and she replied with a sensual sweep of her own. She had never felt so bold in all her life. It was as if she could not get close enough to him.

  He bit her lower lip gently and pulled at it. She giggled and he paused to look around. He must have been assuring himself they had no witnesses, for what he did next was surely against the law. He took her just-bitten lower lip between his own lips and sucked it. Long and hard.

  Her giggle became a moan.

  She had met him only days ago, yet it was as if she had always known him. He was the man she had conjured inside her heart long ago—the kind, noble protector who somehow also desired her. She had been so alone for so many years—invisible to the world. Now she felt seen. Beautiful, even.

  His arms were like wings, they enveloped her completely. She relaxed into them and sighed, then inhaled. He smelled like everything she wanted, a strange, musky elixir that wafted into her nose and somehow made her heart feel light.

  She was dizzy and reckless and probably quite mad, yet nothing could worry her now. She was safe in Ven’s arms and all would be well.

  ‘I have wished for this from the moment I first saw you,’ he said. He leaned back and studied her face.

  ‘I confess that have wished for the same,’ she said. ‘I never believed such a wish would come true.’

  ‘Your eyes,’ he said. ‘They seem to change colour with your mood. They remind me of...’ He paused and looked up as if searching for a memory buried deep.

  ‘What colour are they now?’ she asked.

  ‘Deep brown—like two mature acorns. Perhaps they are brown when you are happy.’

  Vita smiled. She had never heard anything so amusing. She stood on her toes to get a better look at him and he slid his hand around the back of her neck. ‘Vita?’

  ‘Ven, I—’ she began saying, but there was a sudden clang of metal against stone. Across the forest of columns, a slave was poking at the fire inside the furnace once again. Was it possible that twenty minutes had passed?

  ‘Ven!’ shouted a woman’s voice from above.

  Ven gasped, then stepped back. ‘That is Lollia. I must go.’ He pressed the gold coin into Vita’s palm. ‘Take it.’

  She closed her hand around it and looked deeply into his eyes. ‘We will meet again,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  He grinned, but his smile was so hopeless that it nearly broke her heart. ‘Until we meet again, then,’ he said.

  ‘Ven!’ cried Lollia. Her voice was closer now, but Ven was not moving. He appeared to be plucking the hairpin out of Vita’s own hair.

  ‘Ven, you must go now, before Lollia sees you down here.’

  He held the metal object before Vita. ‘This pin will open the lock to Magnus’s desk drawer. All you need is patience and determination...and the will. Promise me you will try.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Vita. ‘Now go!’

  Chapter Seven

  On the morning of the Vulcanalia feast, Vita awoke feeling bleak. She should have been joyous. This was the first day of her freedom after all. Her new life was about to begin. And now, thanks to Ven’s selfless generosity, her problem was solved. She would finally be able to find a place to live.

  The gold coin he had given her was more than enough to pay for a room somewhere. Indeed, with such full pockets, she would have her choice of places. She would have a room in which to live and rest in privacy and safety. A place to do her sewing and begin a life. A starting point for happiness.

  Still, she could not help but think that her happiness was leaving her—walking out of Rome on two long legs. Ven would be gone for five years and possibly longer, depending on the duration of Lepidus’s post, though if Ven took her advice and made his escape, he would not return at all.

  She hoped he would escape. She hoped he would never have to return to Rome, for no one deserved to suffer a life in bonds. Freedom was more important than happiness. Vita understood that now. Still, she could not help but feel that some essential part of her life was slipping away.

  The bell for the second hour of the morning sounded. On a normal day, she would be late in preparing Magnus’s breakfast. Today, however, there was no rush. During the festival of the Vulcanalia, Magnus did not have patrol duties, for the festivities were overseen by the Praetorian Guard.

  Vita made her way to the kitchen, pausing to give her final offering of grain to the household Lar. ‘Protect all inside this house,’ Vita begged the divine icon, adding, ‘On this day in particular.’

  She assembled Magnus’s breakfast and headed to the tablinium with his tray, but he was not sitting at his desk as usual. She padded into the triclinium and discovered him lounging on one of the sofas. He was petting one of the feral tomcats that regularly invaded their home.

  She set down his breakfast on the table beside him. ‘Happy Vulcanalia, Magnus. I imagine we will soon begin to smell the smoke of the bonfires,’ she said.

  ‘Have you found a place to live?’ asked Magnus, reaching for a slice of cucumber.

  ‘I have not.’

  ‘You must be gone from this house today. You realise that, do you not?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Lollia said she saw you at the baths.’

  ‘When did she tell you that?’

  ‘When I made love to her behind the laundress yesterday,’ said Magnus. He spread a scoop of olive paste over a cucumber and took a bite. ‘Did you not pick up the bread from the baker?’

  Vita’s throat felt dry. Did he mean to rub his betrayal in her face?

  ‘Well?’ asked Magnus. ‘Did you pick up the bread or not? I have heard that when a woman is with child she needs plenty of bread.’ He skewered a sardine and fed it to the cat. ‘Lollia is with child, you see. It is my child, Vita. An heir of my own. A son to inherit this beautiful house.’ He glanced around the triclinium.

  ‘Why do you say such things, Magnus? Are you trying to hurt me?’

  ‘Hurt you? How could I hurt you when you are divorcing me? Imagine that—the Virile Vigile of Rome. Divorced by his ridiculous, portly wife. Ha!’

  Finally she understood the source of his anger. She had somehow humiliated him. ‘But, Magnus, it is you who—’

  ‘Lollia said that you did not know what to do with yourself at the baths,’ he interrupted. ‘She mentioned that her slave gave you a massage. That is rather unlike you—to accept service from a slave.’

  Vita’s heart froze. ‘Lollia insisted on it. She said that she wished for me to understand all the benefits of ownership.’

  ‘Do you understand them now?’ he asked. Was Vita mistaken, or was there a threat inside his voice?

  She lowered her tray. ‘No, to be honest, I do not.’

  She waited as the moments slid past. Married or not, if Magnus even suspected her relationship with Ven, she was going to receive a terrible beating. She breathed in, imagining Ven beside her, and a strange calm overtook her.

  ‘I have never supported slavery,’ she stated.

  ‘And I have suffered as a result,’ Magnus said.

  Vita gestured around their well-appointed triclinium. ‘You have wanted for nothing.’

  ‘Except for a woman to warm my bed. Any attractive woman would do—even a slave—but you have always resisted purchasing one. It is why I must seek my pleasure elsewhere, you understand? You have caused this.’

  ‘If you are trying to upset me, you will not succeed,’ said Vita. ‘You have dishonoured me with your adultery and thus have dishonoured yourself. And you are mistaken about my appearance. I am not unattractive.’

  He shook
his head and stood. She had never spoken to him so boldly and feared what he might do next. Still, she would not diminish her words by running from him now.

  He started towards her, but in that instant the tomcat jumped up on the table and began to feast on Magnus’s scraps. Distracted, Magnus kicked the tray to the floor, then pushed Vita aside and headed for the entrance.

  ‘If you are not gone from this house by the time I am back,’ he cried, ‘you will regret it.’

  The door swung shut and Vita took a breath. Her heart pounding, she rushed upstairs and placed Ven’s gold coin inside a small purse with the rest of her sesterces. She tied the purse tightly to the belt of her tunic, lifted her sack full of belongings, and speeded back downstairs.

  She crossed the atrium, realising that this was the last moment she would ever see the house that had sheltered her for so long. Her house. Her patrimony.

  Her father would never have wanted it to be this way. If only he had been alive, perhaps she could have appealed to him. He had been a strong man, a noble man, and had endowed her with the house so she would be secure throughout her life. She knew she was dishonouring him by leaving it so willingly to Magnus. She had not even put up a fight.

  She glanced into the tablinium and caught sight of Magnus’s desk.

  Ven’s words echoed in her mind. ‘Patience and determination...and the will.’ It was possible the marriage contract was still inside the drawer. She had to try.

  She dropped her sack in the atrium and crossed into the tablinium, pulling the pin from her hair. She slid the tiny metal rod easily into the keyhole of Magnus’s desk drawer and moved it in the lock, hearing the soft clang of metal as she probed.

  She pulled at the drawer, feeling a slight give when she moved the rod in a certain direction. She pulled again and the drawer opened a little more. She moved the hairpin again, then heard a tiny click. She pulled drawer open wide.

  ‘You wicked, treacherous woman!’ Magnus shouted. He was standing in the doorway, an unsheathed gladius sword in his hand.

  ‘Magnus, please.’ She stepped backwards and put her hands up.