by Nhys Glover
I looked at her sadly. “It’s the same kind of love as lovers feel. It just can’t be expressed that way. I might go to Rome and never see you again, but I know on some deep level that I’ll never stop loving you. I think maybe that’s the reason I’ll never take a wife. Because she would never have all of my heart.”
Accalia frowned this time, as if considering the implication of my words. “If what I feel for you all is the same as lovers feel... then how can one person have someone’s whole heart? I love you and Typhon. And I adore Talos and Orion. And it does not feel like I am giving only a fraction of my heart to each of you. You all get it all. Just as Pater gets it all. Minerva and Marcus and Ariaratus may only have a segment of my heart. But the rest of you have it all. It makes no sense. It cannot be, of course. I do not have five separate hearts to give away. But that is how it feels. So why could you not feel like that about a wife? You might love me with all your heart and her with all your heart.”
I wasn’t sure how it could work, to be honest. That Accalia loved us all had never concerned me. It had felt right that she should. And yet now we were talking about it, I had to wonder how she did it. And if I acknowledged that it was possible to have enough heart to love more than one person, could I do it? It didn’t feel like it. I could fuck a hundred different women, but I could only give my heart to one. And I’d done that. I’d given my heart to this spirited, loving and eccentric noblewoman who had broken all the societal rules that defined her life.
Except for one. She refused to break one.
Why?
Why, if she could break the others—including loving slaves bound for the arena, who were considered by her own kind to be the lowest rung of society—could she not break the one that said she must give her virtue to her husband?
“Do you think you will be able to give your whole heart to the man your father picks for you to marry?” I asked, trying to keep the intensity I was suddenly feeling out of my voice.
She looked away and her shoulders slumped.
“Accalia?” I pressed.
With her face still turned from me she answered. “I cannot imagine it. It hurts me more than I can say, but I truthfully cannot imagine it.”
I let it go at that. I could see that pressing her was hurting her. And I never wanted to hurt her. She deserved better than that.
When we finally docked, Accalia was desperate to get to the public baths so she could wash away the days of travel and the blood that still coated her clothes and skin. I had heard the story of the broken leg and severed arterial vein, and I had wondered at the instinct that had her jumping in to save a slave she didn’t know. It was one thing to help her own slaves, but to help just any slave? It made me feel like a lesser man because I would never think to do such a thing. I had been raised to put myself first. I had altered that imperative to include my pack. Everyone else, including my master and maybe even my mother, barely registered. Would I help them? Possibly. But only if it was expedient to do so.
Accalia didn’t think about expedience. She didn’t think of who deserved her help. As she said, she just did it. Just like I would automatically deflect a blow that came out of nowhere.
Maybe that was why she was capable of loving four of us with all her heart when I could only love her. Because I was a selfish bastard.
No, I loved my pack-mates too. More than I’d love a brother. As much as I loved myself. Even as much as I loved Accalia, but in a different way. So maybe I did give my whole heart to each member of my pack. I just had no desire to fuck any of them, like I wanted to fuck Accalia.
I thought about our shared sexual experiences. We thought nothing of joining in and sharing a whore. But I felt no desire to fuck anyone but the whore at those times. I wasn’t interested in men, although I knew youths in the barracks who were, and I was pretty sure Marcus might. It didn’t worry me, as long as they didn’t expect me to be involved.
We left the ship, found the markets and bought new clothes. For a long time Accalia dithered about what to buy. She went from gown to tunic and back again. I found I needed to wander off and sort out other matters to stop myself snapping at her. The last thing I would have expected from my down-to-earth she-wolf was a clothing obsession.
“What troubles you?” I finally demanded in frustration, when I noted the shopkeepers were closing up for the night.
“If I dress as a boy we can take accommodation together without notice. If I dress as myself, then where do I go? And how do I keep you by my side? Yet I cannot go to the women’s bathing rooms dressed as a boy. And I certainly cannot go to the male bathing rooms. That is if they have separate baths. I do not know what I will do if they have communal baths. I have heard they are prevalent in parts of the empire.”
I could see her dilemma. It would be a lot easier to stay hidden as two slaves. But I only had documentation for myself as a slave. Maybe if it ever became an issue I could show Accalia’s documents and reveal her to be a girl.
“Buy both. You can change into women’s garb to go into the baths and change out of it into a tunic when you come out.”
She nodded. “What about my hair? I do not want to wear a wig and I certainly could not wear it into the baths.”
“Cover your hair with a stola, and if anyone questions you in the bathing chamber say your husband cut it off in a fit of rage. I would suggest you use your skin condition excuse, but people might not like the idea of sharing the baths with someone with a skin condition.”
“Do men do such things?” she asked in astonishment.
“Cut off a woman’s hair? A man might do that and worse to a wife,” I said in annoyance. Not with her but with those of my own gender who committed such crimes. For they were crimes as far as I was concerned. It might be legal for a man to do what he liked to a wife in need of punishment, but it didn’t make it right.
I had never seen it happen, but I had heard enough gossip on my travels. I was grateful to our master for forbidding a man from using his strength against a woman, even his own wife.
Which made me wonder what he would do to his wife. I had thought he might put her to death for her crimes, but that was not like him, I realised. If he would not let his slaves punish their wives violently, how could he be seen to do it?
Accalia gathered up the garments and looked at me to pay. I did so easily.
After that we hurried to the baths before they closed for the day. On the way, we ducked down a narrow alley where Accalia changed into her new gown. While she did it, I stood guard with my back turned. It was torture not to peek.
“Urghh. I hate putting clean clothes over my dirty body.”
She handed me her bloodstained tunic and I disposed of it in a pile of rubbish at the back of the alley.
At the baths I paid the entrance fees and was warned they were closing at sundown. We went our separate ways once inside with plans to meet outside again as soon as possible. I was just glad this was not a communal bath. Seeing Accalia naked would be my undoing, I was sure of it. Just knowing I was about to have her to myself, with no sailors watching, had my desire almost out of control.
Maybe a cold bath was what I needed.
But there was no time for the leisurely bathing experience. It was get in, get clean and get out.
I refused the steam room and entered the smaller rooms set aside for more conventional cleaning. Here I let a slave pour cool water over my body, applied a soap concoction that smelled foul, and washed it all away with another bucket of water. I then patted myself dry, without the help of my attendant, donned my new clothes, and left the baths. Getting out first so Accalia didn’t find herself alone and waiting was my main imperative.
I didn’t have long to wait. She must have hurried through her bath as fast as I had. Which surprised me, given how upset she’d been by the blood under her fingernails. They would need to have been soaked.
But here she was, looking fresh and clean and too gorgeous to look at for any length of time, especially with her f
ull breasts sticking to the linen of her gown. Obviously, she was still a little damp. I wished the cloth was thinner so her dark nipples could have shown through. I assumed they’d be dark, like the whore’s were. The one who looked a little like her.
She smiled nervously at the sight of me. My heart began pounding like a drum in my chest. Gods, how was I going to keep my hands off her for the week or two it would take to have Camellia dealt with?
“What is wrong? You look like you are in pain. Are your muscles stiff from all the inactivity?” she asked innocently.
Something was stiff, but it wasn’t a muscle. Or was it?
I schooled my features and prayed she wouldn’t notice the bulge under my tunic. She wanted me to be the strong one. If I wasn’t, she would hate me forever.
“Nothing. Come on. We need to find accommodation. While you were trying to decide on gown or tunic I asked around for rooms in private homes for rent. Supposedly they do a nice trade in the summer months letting rooms to those who wish to make the most of their superior baths and their white sands.”
She grinned. “Oh, good. I was dreading staying in another place like the ones Marcus and I shared on the way to Rome. Awful! It took a herbal dousing to get rid of the bugs.”
Her grimace made me laugh.
“How would it be if we called ourselves newlyweds and you remained in women’s clothes. It must be a relief to have your chest free of bindings.”
Accalia looked down at her chest proudly curving the front of her gown. She sighed deeply. “It is nice to be able to breathe properly again, I must admit. But can I just be an ordinary woman? I thought I would have to either be myself or a slave boy.”
“Unless someone looks at my documents, then we could pass as freedmen looking to start our life in a new area. Maybe I could be looking to start trading here, using my contacts in Rome,” I said, thinking fast.
“Would you bring your wife with you before you settled your plans?” she asked curiously.
I shrugged. “Probably not. But if you were given your freedom on your master’s deathbed, I might sweep you up and take you off as soon as the ink was dry on your manumission papers. If I was newly married I wouldn’t want to be separated from you for a minute... It might work.”
She smiled at me nervously. “We would have to behave like lovers. Maybe it would be better if I was a slave boy you brought along to assist you.”
I sighed. “Would it be such a hardship to let me kiss and hold you in front of others?”
She lifted a brow as if I knew the answer to that one.
“All right, so we would not be affectionate in public. But it would be easier if you were a woman. It must have been difficult being a boy for so long without a break. And this is a small town. If you go to the baths as a girl and then become a boy again after... “
She had started to nod, and I knew I had won. Though she could see it was more dangerous to our self-control, it would be easier in other ways to let go of her boy disguise.
“Can you change how you speak?” I asked, as we walked along the waterfront heading up the side of the hilly point that overlooked the bay. Walking out to the promontory might be a good way to get some exercise, I considered. Or running it. If I was to protect Accalia from danger, I needed to remain fighting fit.
“I... I am not sure. I should be able to.” She took a moment. When she spoke again she mimicked my speech almost perfectly. “I’ve never tried to talk like a common woman before. Maybe I should’ve done it while I was being Cassius. It just never entered my head.”
“Ariaratus told people you were raised alongside a patrician’s son and picked up his speech. You were sent to assist him part of the year and returned to your master’s villa for the other half, where you practiced your skills.”
Accalia’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Really? I didn’t know that. How’m I doing?”
I grinned at her and clapped softly. “You missed your calling. Instead of a physician you should have become an actress. You’re a perfect mimic.”
Dropping a little curtsey, she grinned back at me. All worries had fled, and she looked very much like the young girl she was. Sometimes she acted like she was a woman in her prime, especially when she was dealing with her patients. But in moments like this... Gods, I loved her!
I had been told to look for the white-washed dwelling at the end of the street leading up to the bluff. There was a copper bell at the front door.
It was easy enough to find, and I used the bell to announce our arrival. A middle-aged woman with grey-streaked dark hair and olive skin came to the door immediately. She was tiny and round, and even smaller than Accalia, who wasn’t a tall woman.
“Yes?” she asked curtly, eyeing us critically.
“I was told in town you rented rooms. My wife and I have just arrived from Rome and need a place to stay.”
She looked from one to the other of us. “Wife, eh? What brings you to our little town?”
I hadn’t expected to be interrogated, but the story we had cobbled together would have to do.
“I am planning on starting a trading business here. My wife was recently given her freedom, so we married, and I decided to bring her with me. We’re starting fresh, you know?” I smiled down at Accalia and gave her a quick one-armed hug.
“I am Asterius Corvus and this is my wife, Accalia Corva.” I finished my introduction with a proud grin.
That I had created a second name using her father’s cognomen must have surprised Accalia, but her face didn’t show it. Had the Master freed me this would have been my name, and he would have become my honoured patron. Maybe in the back of my mind I dreamed that one day it might be true.
“Well, I’m Magda Sladia and my husband Sladius is a fisherman. Our daughters have all grown up and left home, so we rent out their rooms. I have two, but one is already in use. You can have the second. It has a nice view of the ocean and has access to the roof, but it’s a bit more expensive than the other. There are stairs outside that lead to the roof. Can you pay a denarii a week?” she challenged me.
“Does that include meals?” I asked, ready to haggle a little as she expected.
“Ah, meals will be extra. I can include breakfast in the cost. You won’t find a cleaner, quieter place on the whole island. If you want more meals it will be another denarii.”
“I’ll give you a sestertius for each of us.” This was half of what she was asking for.
Grumpily, she complied. “I want payment for the room up-front.”
“After we check to see the room is as good as you say it is.”
Her respect for me had increased the longer I haggled, and she happily stepped out of the low doorway to let us enter. Accalia didn’t have to bend her head to get under the lintel but I did.
The narrow hall was dark and cool. A relief from the heat that still simmered in the evening air. After walking a few feet blind, my eyes began to adjust to the dimness and I could see my surroundings properly. This was not a roman house. The large room to the right of the inner staircase was one big open space filled with colourful furnishings and a window that looked out across the dusty street to the sea beyond.
At the far end of the room was a narrow doorway.
“That leads to the kitchen at the back of the house. The oven is outside to keep the house cool. Our bedroom is behind that wall.” Magda pointed to the wall next to the doorway. “You want meals you come to the kitchen through there.”
She turned back and led the way up the narrow stairs that were only wide enough for one person to climb at a time. At the top there were three doors. Magda opened the one that led to the front of the house. The room was surprisingly big and held a good-sized bed draped in a colourful cover. There was a small chest, a table and washstand with a chamber pot underneath, I assumed.
Along with an exterior door that led to the flat roof, there were two long, narrow windows. Both were open wide now the sun was gone, but given the coolness of the space, I imagined
the wooden shutters had been closed all day to keep out the heat and dust from passing traffic. Up here a slight, cool breeze, which wasn’t felt downstairs, blew in through the open windows. It was hard to imagine a more pleasing spot.
“It’s very clean and roomy,” Accalia said, trying out her new way of talking. She sounded like a shy bride.
My heart ached. I would give anything to have this be real. To have her as my wife and to be starting our lives together here.
Magda puffed up with pride at the compliment and warmed a little more to us.
“Why’ve you got short hair like a man?” Magda asked Accalia, not unkindly. I could see this was yet another hurdle we had to successfully cross before this woman accepted us.
“My master died. In the country of his birth it was a custom to cut the hair of the women of a grieving household. As a sign of respect, you know? I gained my freedom when he died, but I lost my hair. A small price for freedom. It’ll grow back.”
I tried to hide my surprise at this tale and how effectively she delivered it using her new common speech. Accalia was not known for making up good lies. But this one seemed like a version of the one I’d told her about a man cutting his wife’s hair as punishment. And as this woman wouldn’t be expected to know all the customs of other people, it made sense this might work.
Magna nodded sagely. “A better custom than killing the wives after the death of the man of the house. I’ve heard of that happening.”
My surprise must have shown on my face because Magda went on. “Those Parthians have strange customs.”
I exchanged looks with Accalia, who shuddered. Could it be true? Might that have happened to her when her prince died?
“I’ve heard that the kings and generals take their wives and concubines with them to war and kill them all if it looks as if they’re about to lose. They do not... don’t want them to fall into enemy hands. That’s the reasoning I heard for it,” Accalia said, repeating the story she’d told us around the fire. It felt like years ago.