Vitruvius’ face was filled with desperation. He could tell she was lying to make him leave. She had no idea what was going to happen and she looked terrified. He was torn between his need to get Antonius away to safety and his urge to run Antony through to prevent the defilement of another woman he had grown to care about. Antony was alone and drunk, after all. He must have dismissed any guards he had brought when he arrived at the house and without them hovering in earshot he made too tempting a target to resist. It was probably the best chance Vitruvius would ever have. He turned to look at Antony, considering his move one more time.
The two men stared at each other briefly and then, as if Antony had read Vitruvius’ mind, he rose from the bed with far more speed and agility than a drunken man should have been capable of. As he moved towards them, he reminded Melissa of a cat stalking its prey − every move deliberate, cold and calculated. Antony reached out slowly and took Melissa’s hand. He raised it to his lips, kissing the back of it.
“I must speak with your …” Antony paused, smiling cruelly at Vitruvius. He began to back away still holding Melissa by the hand, pulling her with him, and continued in a heavily sarcastic tone “… your virtuous mistress. What we have to say to each other is not for the ears of a common soldier!”
That insult was the final straw for Vitruvius. Anger erupted in him like a volcano. He threw Antonius at Melissa and stepped forward. Grabbing the front of Antony’s tunic with his left hand, Vitruvius pushed him back towards the wall. His free hand was already on his sword and, as he began to pull the blade from its sheath, he could hear Melissa shouting something at him, but paid no attention to her. Antony had not fought him thus far. This was going to be easier than he had thought.
As the two men slammed into the wall, Vitruvius was filled with a surge of ecstasy at the thought of the revenge he was about to exact for Rebecca’s death. For more than three years he had waited for this moment and now Antony’s life was finally his to take. He leered at his victim who simply stood still with a look of surprise on his face. Vitruvius slid his hand upwards from Antony’s chest to his throat. He pressed closer to Antony, fully intending to tell him how much he hated him before dealing the final blow, but he stopped as he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his groin. He moved back slightly from Antony, looking down between their bodies. Antony had a dagger Vitruvius had not seen. It was pressed against the main blood vessel that ran through the groin and down the leg. The knife had not yet pierced the skin, but the pressure Antony was applying was increasing. The two men’s expressions had reversed: Antony’s look of surprise now been replaced by a sadistic leer, as Vitruvius’ expression changed to one of total disbelief.
Vitruvius could still hear Melissa shouting, but could not focus on her words, since he was too busy concentrating on the dagger that could tear his artery in an instant. She put Antonius on the bed and came to their side. She grabbed each man roughly by the shoulder and forced them apart, shoving Vitruvius away to safety, but keeping her hand on Antony, holding him against the wall. She knew she could not hold him for more than a second, but it would be long enough to defuse the situation. She blocked Antony with her body, pressing herself against him as suggestively as she could, hoping to remind him of his original intentions. She stared up at his face pleadingly as she ran her hand down his chest. She was fully aware that Antony had been in total control of the situation from the first moment. Whether he was drunk or not, he was still dangerous and unpredictable. Could he also be merciful? She believed he could.
Vitruvius could not believe his own stupidity. He was ashamed at himself for allowing his bloodlust to control him instead of rational thought. He had no choice but to yield. He fell to his knees, still drawing his sword but now placing it in on the floor, the hilt towards Antony. He stared at his opponent’s feet, not daring to make eye contact. He hoped Antony would make his death quick. He could hear Antonius crying. The little boy wriggled off the bed and ran to him, throwing his arms around Vitruvius’ neck. As much as he hoped Antonius did not understand what was going on, Vitruvius knew he was scared; he always ran to Vitruvius when he was scared. He was filled with remorse at his thoughtless actions and clutched Antonius tightly to him, wondering what would become of the boy once he was gone.
Antony meanwhile was amused at the havoc he had caused. He looked first at the scene on the floor. Vitruvius was pathetic to him. The man had obviously spent too long in the comfort of a warm bed and had lost his fighting edge. Killing such a fool was hardly worthy of his effort. Then Antony turned his eyes to Melissa. She was moving her body against him, deliberate in her efforts to excite him. A knowing smile spread across his face. He knew she would do whatever he wanted to save the pitiful wretch on the floor. He nodded to her and stroked her face before gently pushing her aside. He crossed to Vitruvius, picking up the sword.
Vitruvius gasped and held Antonius tighter as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. He raised his eyes to Melissa who moved to take Antonius, but the little boy would not let go. She finally wrenched the boy away, screaming, and turned him towards her. She buried his head into her chest not wanting him to see what was about to happen, fighting him all the time. The adrenalin pumping through her body made her feel sick. She wanted to run from the room without looking back, but instead stood her ground, staring defiantly at Antony.
Antony placed his free hand on Vitruvius’ head and twisted it to one side, exposing the area above the collar bone where he could drive the sword through until it pierced his victims’ heart. Antony bent over, placing his mouth against Vitruvius’ ear. The smell of stale wine on his breath only emphasised just how close Vitruvius thought he had been to success.
Antony spoke with menace. “Too many times now, you have challenged my authority. Twice I withdrew and did not engage you, but twice now you have lost and I have been forgiving. Know this. I will not make either mistake again.” He thrust the flat of the blade against Vitruvius’ chest so hard that he forced the air from the man’s body. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind,” he growled, pushing Vitruvius’ head backwards. Antony straightened up and walked back to the bed. He resumed his reclining pose, propped on one arm to watch everyone’s reactions.
Vitruvius collapsed backwards and sat on his ankles, shaking. Antonius freed himself from Melissa’s grasp and dropped on to the bed, still screaming. He punched Antony in the leg surprisingly hard for such a tiny boy and then ran back to Vitruvius.
Antony laughed. “The child has guts! He must inherit them from his real father! I am so proud of him.” It was the first time he had ever acknowledged his son and his words were designed to cut at Vitruvius’ heart as deeply as the sword could have.
Vitruvius rose and looked at Melissa sheepishly. Back in Vitruvius’ arms, the boy’s screams had subsided to sobs. Melissa reached to stroke his face, but Antonius turned away from her, gripping Vitruvius with every ounce of strength he had.
“Take him to bed with you,” she said finally. “Do not let him out of your sight.” Vitruvius nodded. He made no attempt to argue with her. He was lucky to be alive and he knew it. Slowly, he retreated from the room trying not to think about what Melissa would have to endure as payment for his survival.
Chapter 21
As Melissa watched Vitruvius depart, a feeling of utter resignation swept over her. There was no escaping what she had to do.
As she turned and faced Antony, she spotted the empty flask next to the bed. “Would you like me to get us some more wine?” she said airily.
“I would like you to come here and sit on my cock,” Antony replied. His bluntness appalled her and she shuddered slightly. Antony rolled onto his back and sighed. His hand moved to cover his eyes and he gripped his temple as if he were in pain. “Fine, get the wine,” he said with a tone of resignation. “Do not try to trick me though, or I will gut the boy … and his guard dog!”
Melissa ran to the kitchen and grabbed another flask of wine and two glasses. She returned to the b
edroom slowly, gathering her thoughts as she went. Antony had wasted no time waiting for her. He had removed his clothes and now lay under the sheet, all of the pillows pushed under his head and back, propping him up so that he could see the door. He had doused most of the lamps leaving only one alight on the table next to the bed. It gave off a warm glow in that part of the room, but nothing more. Melissa put the glasses on the same table. She poured wine into both of them before offering one to Antony. He took it but did not drink. He thinks I’ve poisoned it! she thought. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and grabbed the glass back from his hand. She took a large mouthful and swallowed.
“Happy?” she said handing him back the glass.
“Deliriously!” he replied. “Now be a good girl and take your clothes off. Take as long as you like. I am in no rush.” He settled back against the pillows watching every move she made as he sipped his wine.
Melissa downed her own glass of wine in one go. She walked to her dressing table and sat on the stool in front of it with her back to Antony. She was unable to see his clear reflection in the mirror and she had no idea what he was doing. She slowly removed each earring and returned them to the box in which she kept her few pieces of jewellery. She took each of the bangles off of her wrist one at a time, deliberately placing each one on top of the last, forming a perfect stack of rings. Next, she reached behind her neck to remove her necklace. Her nerves were stretched to their limit and she fumbled with the clasp, struggling to release it, before placing it alongside the earrings in the box. She moved onto her hair, slowly removing the combs that held it in place, allowing it to tumble around her shoulders. Behind her, she heard Antony moving, making the sheets rustle. He uttered a long, deep sigh and, despite his explicit instruction to take her time, she knew she was trying his patience. She bent over and removed each of her sandals as slowly as possible, placing each one under the dressing table.
Behind her Antony groaned in frustration. “Come here, woman − now!” he demanded. She rose slowly and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, her back straight, hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She could not stop a tear from falling down her face and turned her head away so he would not see it. She heard him moving behind her until he sat with one leg on either side of her body. He ran his hand up her arm to her neck and into her hair, running his fingers through it. He undid the pins that held her stola in place and the fabric dropped loosely around her waist. He resumed stroking her hair, pulling it to one side and began kissing her neck. She flinched and moved away slightly, but he grasped her neck and held her firm. She closed her eyes, fighting back a fresh wave of nausea that washed over her. He resumed kissing her neck, moving down onto her shoulder. His free hand slid first around her waist, then upwards, tenderly cupping one breast. He brushed his thumb to and fro across her nipple until it became erect and then he gently tweaked it, forcing her to gasp involuntarily. The skin on his hands was roughened from years of fighting, but the gentleness he displayed surprised her. Maybe this experience was not going to be as bad as she had initially thought. She relaxed backwards slightly pressing her body against his warm, muscular chest.
“That’s better,” he murmured. “Now, tell me ...” he continued to kiss her neck between each phrase he spoke, “... where were you tonight? I do not recall you asking for my permission to leave the house.” Melissa’s body went rigid. She had been expecting an interrogation at some point, but the timing surprised her. She opened her mouth to speak but could not think of anything to say. To tell the truth would be disastrous, but she was lost for an excuse that Antony would find plausible. She closed her mouth and said nothing.
Antony stopped kissing her and moved his head next to hers, pressing their cheeks together. His stubble scratched at her cheek, but it was not unpleasant. Antony spoke again quietly, still continuing to rub her breast gently. “We can do one of two things, Lissa. You can answer my questions honestly and in return, I promise you I will be the most gentle lover you could ever imagine, or …” his hold on her breast tightened sharply and the hand that was still in her hair clutched a handful, using it to wrench her head backwards until she yelped from pain. He continued, “… I can squeeze you until you bleed.” He twisted the fingers holding her breast and dug his nails into the soft flesh. Tears ran down Melissa’s cheeks and she yelped again. “Then I will tie you to this bed and fuck you to within an inch of your life. Either way you will tell me what I want to know,” he concluded, with such menace that Melissa had no reason to doubt he meant every word.
“Please,” she begged, “please stop and I will tell you.”
“Tell me first.” The hand on her breast twisted again. One of her arms was pinned tightly to her body by Antony’s. She moved her other hand over his in a desperate attempt to pry his fingers back.
“I was visiting a friend,” she cried, wanting the pain to stop.
“The only friend you have that is not in this house is Caesar and you were not with him. Try again.” Antony released Melissa’s hair and brought his arm around her. He lay back on the bed so that she was on top of him looking up at the ceiling. He began to push her dress down below her hips. She tried to twist her body away from his to prevent him from removing the last of her clothing, but it had the opposite effect. Antony’s grip on the cloth was too tight and as she moved, it ripped and he easily pulled it away.
“It is the truth, I went this afternoon, but I stayed too late.” Melissa began crying openly. Antony rolled them both over, using his full weight to crush Melissa into the bed. He forced his legs between hers, pushing them apart. She could feel him pressing against her buttocks. He pulled one arm out from under her belly and gripped himself, preparing to enter her, but stopped short of the actual act.
“I am losing patience with you. This is your last chance. Who were you with?” he demanded, pressing himself a fraction closer to his destination, but still not penetrating her.
Melissa could no longer take the pain. The fear of being raped was so strong she was desperate to stop him, regardless of whose life she was risking, and gave in to his demands. “Marcus Brutus,” she gasped.
Antony paused for a second, stunned by the name he had heard. He moved to continue and, as Melissa once again begged him to stop, he suddenly did. His curiosity at her revelation was too great not to hear more. He reasoned that showing clemency at this point might pay more dividends than further torture. In any case, he could still have her later, when she had told him all he needed to know. He relaxed his grip on her breast and, to Melissa’s relief, rolled onto the bed beside her.
Antony lay motionless while he considered his next question. Melissa lay sobbing next to him, shivering from both fear and cold. Her breast stung and she wanted to look at it to see how badly she was hurt, but she was too afraid to move.
“Get into bed,” Antony ordered. Melissa slowly lifted herself off the bed and slipped under the covers, dreading what was coming next. She took the opportunity to look at her sore breast. Even in the dim light she could see two places where his nails had cut into the skin and knew the bruising would be painful. She lay on her back and took deep breaths, trying to control her sobbing. She could not afford to make Antony any angrier than he already was. What was coming would be bad enough without any further violence on his part.
Antony followed her under the sheets and slid a pillow beneath her head, but made no further attempt to touch her. He propped himself up on one arm, his head resting in his hand, having decided to interrogate her before making any more sexual advances. He knew she would talk rather than face a further assault.
He was calm when he spoke. “So there is a plot to dispose of Caesar? Tell me who else was with you tonight?”
“If I tell you that you will have them killed. I cannot betray their trust so easily,” Melissa replied as she stared at the ceiling. She could not bring herself to look at him.
“Lissa, I do not think you understand the seriousness of your predicament. What I will
do to you if you do not tell me is far worse than what I will do if you speak. I can use you for my pleasure until I tire of you, which will not be for some while after all these years that you have made me wait. I will keep you here beneath me for many days, until you cannot bear the pain and the humiliation any longer. At some point in the not-too-distant future, you will beg for me to listen to what you know.”
Antony ran his finger down her body, making her shudder in terror. He sighed at her reaction. Threats were getting him nowhere, so he decided to change tack. “Shall I start by telling you what I already know?” he offered. Melissa gulped and nodded, knowing every minute he was talking was another minute he was not forcing himself on her.
“I am prepared to wager that you already know I have been approached on the matter of Caesar and his more outlandish proposals; you would not be much of a seer if you did not. Trebonius spoke to me months ago, long before Caesar’s return from Spain, to sound out my feelings on the matter. I know it was Cassius that approached him, at which point I should have realised Brutus was involved because the sheep in the Senate would only follow a banner raised in his name or Cicero’s, but the latter is far less likely. Cicero is too much of an old woman ever to get caught in such a scheme and would give his fellow conspirators up in an instant to save his own flabby neck. There is also the fact that he detests me, so, if he were involved, I would never have been approached as he would want me disposed of too. That leaves Brutus as the only logical option to be planning a coup, which your actions tonight confirm. How am I doing so far?” Melissa nodded again.
Antony grunted. “I will assume that means quite well.” He picked up a strand of her hair beneath his fingers and began toying with it. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I have no intention of killing any of my distinguished colleagues in the Senate, unless it becomes absolutely necessary. If I wanted to I would already have done so, but what benefit would that be to me? Yes, I would relish an opportunity to get rid of that old goat Cicero, but we both know he is not involved and I cannot simply kill him without a good reason. As for the rest of them, I cannot be expected to know what to do until I know what my options are. I want you to fill in the gaps and help me decide whether to support the action against Caesar, or to turn your friends in.”
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