Rubies of the Viper

by Martha Marks

  She studied his face, hoping for forgiveness, but found none.

  “I’m sorry for what happened tonight. I know you were humiliated.”

  “A slave can’t never be humiliated. No more than a cow or a dog or a chicken.”

  “Damn it, Stefan, don’t talk like that! We’ve been friends for so long. Don’t spoil it now.”

  “I ain’t the one who spoiled it.”

  “Well, it wasn’t my idea to call you in there.”

  “You allowed it.”

  I guess I did.

  “Look, I’ve said I’m sorry, and I apologize, but I can’t undo what was done tonight.” She held out her hand to him. “Come on, be a friend again. Take a walk with me.”

  He did not take her hand, and he said nothing as he marched behind her... a soldier obeying an order from his superior officer.

  “We’ll go home in a few days,” Theodosia said over her shoulder, after an awkward interval, “and things will be as they were.”

  Before he could respond, Theodosia heard shouts inside the house. She turned to see Otho stalking along the path, followed by Alexander.

  The steward stopped a few feet away and let the Roman approach alone.

  Otho strode up to Theodosia, jabbing his thumb in Stefan’s direction.

  “I knew I’d find you with him. You’d risk my election for a slave?”

  “My slaves have nothing to do with your election.”

  “That one does! Thirty thousand denarii, by Jupiter!”

  For a moment, Theodosia feared she would laugh. Otho’s purpling face nearly matched the stripe on his toga. But the urge faded quickly before the violence in his voice.

  “What will people say when they find out that the woman I intend to marry values her stable hand—or bodyguard, or whatever the hell he is—more than she values my political career?”

  Otho swung around to Stefan.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight! Go to the house and stay there!”

  “Stay here, Stefan.”

  “How dare you countermand my order?”

  “How dare you give him one?” Theodosia was almost as angry now as Otho. “Stefan obeys my orders, not yours.”

  “He’ll obey mine when you and I are married, and if he wants to save his skin then, he’d better obey me right now.”

  “Don’t you think you’re taking a lot for granted?”

  “Ho! You’re too smart to turn me down.”

  “Maybe I’m too smart to accept you.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Theodosia. Nobody’s going to stop me from marrying you. Not baby-faced Titus, and certainly not this stable mutt you’ve taken as your pet.”

  “You forget. There’s someone else who’ll have a say in that.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  Otho’s lips curled into a sardonic smile.

  “Oh, you’ll marry me. You want what I can give you.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Theodosia’s shoulders and kissed her hard. His teeth dug into her lips as she resisted his tongue and struggled to push him away.

  Almost instantly, another pair of hands hooked under the tribune’s arms and jerked him backwards.

  Theodosia’s hands flew to her bruised mouth.

  Bless Stefan!

  But it wasn’t Stefan who had saved her. It was Alexander.

  “By all the gods, Greek,” Otho shouted, “you’ll die for that!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, Theodosia and her little retinue left the city.

  “If I never set foot in Rome again,” she said to Lucilla as their carriage headed out on the Via Aurelia, “it’ll be just fine with me.”

  “But when you marry Tribune Otho—”

  “I’m not marrying Tribune Otho.”

  Lucilla looked stricken.

  “But, miss, he loves you so!”

  “What he loves is my money. I’ll hear no more talk of him from you.”

  <><><>

  That night, she went for her usual walk to the seaside clearing in the forest.

  Home!

  The word reverberated within her.

  I’ll never leave here again.

  There had been no rain since mid July; the woods were noticeably drier than a week ago. After a time, as she made her way under the pines, she grew conscious of a steady crunching some distance behind. She walked faster. Then slower. Then she speeded up once more, ears keen for the footsteps that seemed to adapt to her pace.

  Gracious gods, who’s back there?

  When she reached the clearing, she stopped. The crunching stopped. Cursing her own stupidity, Theodosia listened, but the woods were as silent as death.

  Are even the cicadas asleep?

  “Who’s there?”

  Everyone warned me of the dangers of coming out all alone. Blessed Juno, why don’t I ever listen?

  “Show yourself!”

  There was more silence, then the renewed crunch of footsteps. Theodosia froze in terror. She wanted to bolt from the clearing and race past the demon in the forest, but her feet would not move.

  Just when she feared her heart might explode, a gigantic figure stepped out of the trees.

  “Stefan!”

  He said nothing. There was no hint of a smile on his face, and for the first time in her life, Theodosia feared him.

  It was only last night... He was so angry...

  But this was Stefan, her oldest friend.

  He’ll do me no harm.

  “Gods, you scared me so!” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, Stefan, why do I do dumb things like this?”

  “Don’t know, miss. You just do.”

  “You followed me. Why?”

  “Because of all the dumb things you do.”

  Despite her lingering fear, Theodosia laughed.

  “Is this the first time?”

  “No, you just didn’t hear me before. Wasn’t so dry before.”

  “Why didn’t you ever let me know?”

  “You wanted to be alone, didn’t you? Most of the time, anyway.”

  Theodosia pulled back and peered into his eyes.

  “You followed me... even when Otho was with me?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t you trust a Roman to protect me from brigands?”

  “Even a Roman can be overpowered.”

  Theodosia thought of Gaius and agreed.

  “So... you saw what happened out here that night?”

  That terrible night when I thought Otho was going to rape me.

  “Are you angry, miss?”

  “Of course! You had no right!” Quickly, she relented. “No, I’m not angry. Does anyone else know what happened that night?”

  “Alexander.”

  “You told Alexander? Why?”

  “Well, actually, I didn’t tell him. Actually... we both followed you and Tribune Otho that night.”

  <><><>

  Her nocturnal walks continued through a fine, balmy September. At first, Stefan and Alexander would show up together, as if by coincidence. After a week, Alexander stopped coming, but Stefan never failed to join her at some point, and she knew he was there, even when she couldn’t see him. He appeared to read her mind and moods. If she needed quiet, he hung back. If she wanted to talk, he drew closer. That angry night in Rome was well behind them now.

  With the election approaching, Theodosia saw no more of Otho, for which she offered daily thanks to Juno.

  Titus came out from Caere every morning, and they rode in the hills until noon, when Flavia joined them for lunch. Then the three would linger in the pergola, gossiping and sipping Falernian until late afternoon. Theodosia didn’t love Titus, but he was fun and easy to be with. She felt comfortable with the idea of marrying him someday.

  When he grows up.

  It seemed a long time off.

  <><><>

  One bright night towards the end of September, Theodosia saw her escort waiting f
or her behind the pergola, near the woods.

  “Good evening, Stefan.”

  He bowed his head, as always, and followed her along the path. As they reached the clearing, Theodosia moved to the seaside rocks. Stefan stepped up behind her.

  “I heard such laughter a while ago,” she said without turning around. “Thought maybe you all were tearing the new building down.”

  “Did we disturb you?”

  “No. It sounded like fun.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you was jealous.”

  “Maybe a little.” She bobbed her head. “There are times, you know, when I really wish I could join you out there.”

  “Ain’t none of us gonna say you can’t.”

  “I know, but... You know I can’t.” She snapped a few needles off the nearest pine and twisted them into a knot. “You must miss a lot of fun. Evenings are supposed to be your free time, but here you are watching out for me. This isn’t a duty you have to perform, you know.”

  “I don’t do it out of duty.”

  Theodosia started to step away but stopped when she felt a faint touch on her hair. Stefan was lifting the ends, rubbing them between his fingers. She stood still before turning around.

  “Forgive me, miss,” he said.

  Theodosia waited another moment; then she took his right hand and brought it to the side of her head. Stefan seemed puzzled. Then his hand began to move, slowly sculpting her temple and tracing around her ear. His left hand rose and mirrored the actions of the right. Soon both were on her forehead, her eyebrows, her cheeks, her lips, her chin.

  She could feel the thick calluses on Stefan’s fingers. This was no Otho with manicured hands. These hands belonged to a coachman, a stable hand. Coarse, gigantic hands, but they were gentle... and clean.

  They stood like that at the water’s edge—his hands swallowing her face, their eyes locked—for a long time. The moon highlighted Stefan’s hair and cast his eyes into shadows.

  Do I want to let this happen? Whatever comes next depends on me. He’ll never force himself on me. Just pull away, and that’s the end of it.

  But she didn’t pull away.

  Instead, she reached up and laid her own fingers on his face, caressing it. The lovely static moment couldn’t last forever. One of them had to do something, yet she was unable to move.

  Then Stefan bent and kissed her softly on the mouth. She stood passively, stunned by his kiss, even though she had wanted it for so long.

  As if sensing her conflicting emotions, Stefan retreated a step.

  “I got no right to do that,” he said, apparently struck by the enormity of the crime he had just committed. By law, Theodosia could do anything she pleased to him or with him, but Stefan could be put to death if he so much as touched her the wrong way.

  Theodosia dropped her eyes and bowed her head.

  This is my last chance to stop it. He’ll follow my lead.

  She took a deep breath and looked up again.

  “Don’t be silly, Stefan. You have every right.”

  She raised her hand once more and drew his head down for another kiss. Then she lifted one of his hands and pressed it to her breast.

  Stefan pulled back a breath away from her face.

  “You’re sure?”

  Her answer was to wrap both arms around his neck and lift her lips to his. After a kiss that promised never to end, she tugged him down onto the fragrant carpet of lichens and decaying pine needles and pulled the bronze pins from the shoulders of his tunic.

  <><><>

  Four nights passed before Theodosia left the house.

  Titus came the next morning and was told that she had hurt her back and couldn’t ride. Flavia tried to lure her to the pergola; they ended up eating lunch in the sitting room. Of the household staff, only Lucilla and the waiters were allowed to see her.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Stefan or make love to him again. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything before, but suddenly she was afraid for a host of new reasons.

  Afraid of her own emotions...

  Afraid of what her peers would say...

  Afraid of losing her chance for a good marriage...

  Afraid of what a sexual relationship between herself and Stefan would do to her household...

  Masters routinely took their slaves—both male and female—to their beds. Legally, Theodosia had the same right to make a lover of her slave, but socially such things were frowned on. The Romans had lost many virtues over the years, but chastity was still the rule for an unmarried woman. A liaison between Theodosia and Stefan would fuel many a crude joke in her kitchen and the gods only knew where else. She couldn’t bear the thought of becoming an imperial laughing stock.

  Uncertain what to do, she did nothing.

  Lucilla noticed her odd behavior and commented on it a bit too often. Theodosia shouted at her for the first time ever and ordered her out of the suite. Lucilla was sullen from then on and stayed downstairs late each night, which did not distress her mistress.

  After dinner on the third evening, Theodosia unwittingly caught sight of Stefan. The night was warm for late September, so she poured a cup of wine and carried it to the chair on her balcony. Over the splash of the waves, she heard her servants laughing in the kitchen.

  After a while, feeling sorry for herself, she rose and stepped to the railing, cup in hand. As her eyes drifted over the garden, she spotted the unmistakable silhouette of Stefan propped against the pine tree near the cliff, his face turned toward her. She was about to go inside when she noticed another figure coming around the house. It was Alexander. He could not have seen Stefan from that angle, yet he turned down the right path. Clearly, he knew just where to look for him.

  Alexander approached and gestured toward the kitchen. Stefan pointed to Theodosia’s balcony. Alexander looked straight up at her.

  For a few moments more, she stood at the railing, staring at the two men. Then she closed the shutters—walling herself off from them in the crimson, green, and gold suite—slumped into the cushioned chair, and downed what remained in the cup.

  Finally, the woman who owned four thousand slaves blew out the lamps herself, drew back the covers on her bed, and tried to sleep.

  <><><>

  “May I speak with you, miss, when you have finished?”

  Alexander knew he was taking a chance intruding on Theodosia’s dinner, four days after he had last been allowed a word with her. Earlier, he had sent a houseboy to request an audience, which was denied. That in itself would fuel gossip, and the household was already rife with rumors.

  Theodosia motioned him away with a flick of her fingers.

  “I’m tired. Wait till tomorrow.”

  “It’s important. Please... in the library?”

  “I said no.” Her voice was remote. “You may go.”

  Alexander bowed and left. In the atrium he stopped and waited, expecting her to walk right past when she emerged from the dining room. When she did come out, she halted instead and eyed him with obvious irritation.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but... I’ve got to try once more.”

  “Is it really that important to you?”

  “It really is. It concerns my closest friend... and yours.”

  Theodosia pivoted abruptly and beckoned him into the library.

  “Did he send you to talk to me?”

  “No. He’d be mortified if he knew I was here.”

  “So... why are you here?”

  “Because he’s suffering. Beating himself up with worry that he overstepped his bounds with you. He hasn’t eaten or slept for days. He spends every night—all night—either out there where you saw him from your balcony or walking in the woods.” Alexander came a few steps closer to her. “May I tell you a quick little story?”

  After Theodosia nodded her consent, he walked over to the window. Staring out at the sea, he told her about that day the previous May when Stefan had showed him his keepsakes of the gir
l who had gone away to Rome and was now coming home.

  “He adored you when you were children, miss. You were all he talked about when I first arrived here. He was sure he’d never see you again, and it almost killed him. When you returned, he didn’t know how to act with you. Since then, the little taste of equality and friendship that you’ve given us has only complicated the situation for him.”

  Alexander glanced around. Theodosia had dropped into a chair.

  “Shall I go on?”

  She nodded.

  “He acted strangely that night, after he returned to the kitchen from being with you. He didn’t say anything, but everybody noted his odd behavior. Then, very late—when the household was asleep—he came to my room, which he hardly ever does. Said he had to talk to someone.”

  “So... he told you what happened?”

  Alexander hesitated, unsure how truthful he should be.

  Theodosia, of course, read an answer in his delay.

  “I should have known he couldn’t keep quiet about that.”

  “Actually, no... he didn’t say anything. But it wasn’t hard to guess.” He met her eyes then, amazed at the intimacy creeping into his voice. “Slaves can fall in love, you know. And when we do, the emotions and desires... they’re all the same, whether a person is slave or free. You’ve seen how much Nicanor loves Etrusca. He’s a slave—born, bred, and probably forever—but he would gladly give his life to save hers. These past few months, I’ve watched Stefan’s face whenever he looked at you or spoke to you. He’s a different person when you’re around. Perhaps, because of his size, we tend to think of Stefan as invulnerable, but he’s a man like any other. Slave or free, we all fall in love.”

  “Slaves don’t usually fall in love with Romans.”

  Alexander allowed himself a quick smile.

  “I suspect that depends on the Roman.”

  He left the window to stand beside her.

  “Please understand, miss... it’s absolutely none of my business what happened out there that night. But rumors about you and Stefan started long ago. Now your servants see you acting oddly, and they see him acting oddly. They’re jumping to some very dangerous conclusions, and that’s a problem. We slaves do like to gossip about our betters. Stories about you two—true or not—are already out and about. There’s no telling how far they have spread. Add to that the way you’ve been acting these last few days...”