The Roman

by Caroline Storer

  Justina looked up at him, her eyes deep pools of longing. “Yes, Marsallas. Yes. Make the pain go away. Please.”

  Her answer was all he needed. Placing his hands on either side of her head he lowered himself until their mouths were just touching. Her lips parted silently in open invitation and it was all he needed to fuse his mouth with hers.

  Soft. Sweet. Right.

  He felt her hand cup his chin, moving up to the hair at the nape of his neck. He could feel her fingers trembling. “I want you so much,” he whispered against her lips, before deepening the kiss.

  She arched closer, her breasts flattening against the hardness of his chest and Marsallas responded. He tangled a fist into her hair, tilting her head back, giving him better access to her mouth. Desire spread through them both, the kiss seeming to last an eternity.

  Eventually he broke free, both of them panting, Justina’s breasts rising and falling with the depth of her emotions. Marsallas removed their clothes, never once breaking eye contact, glorying in her response to him, her groan of pleasure, when his warm naked flesh met the softness of hers.

  Justina communicated her need, her nails raking down the sleek muscles of his back, cupping his taut buttocks. He needed no further invitation, and his thigh nudged her legs apart before he slid the fullness of his erection into the tight moistness of her body.

  For several minutes he moved inside her, the friction, the rhythm, causing her to gasp with pleasure time and time again. He tried to hold back, tried to make it last, but when he felt her body spasm around his, her back arching in ecstasy, Marsallas lost all conscious thought and he felt himself explode, his seed pumping deep inside her pulsing body, sending them both soaring into the night sky like eagles riding on the wind.

  * * *

  The dawn light filtered through the window, and Justina stretched languidly. The slight movement brought her into contact with warm hard flesh that was pressed along the whole length of her back. She smiled, as she opened her eyes, twisting her head to meet his twinkling blue gaze.

  Marsallas, she saw, was lying on his side, his arm propping up his head watching her intently. Hot colour stained her cheeks as she recalled her wantonness of last night. She had practically begged him to make love to her, and instinctively she lifted the silk sheet higher to cover her nakedness.

  At her gesture of modesty Marsallas smiled at her, before he leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, slowly pulling the silk covers away, baring her body, the long line of her back, the flared curves of her hips, the round softness of her buttocks to his gaze.

  Then he shifted, moving forwards, deliberately, bringing the fullness of his erection into the small of her back, as his lips moved to nibble the small fleshy part of her ear. “Don’t hide yourself from me, Justina,” he whispered, “I know every inch of your delectable body, just as you know mine.”

  Then he took her hand and pulled it down his body until it came into contact with his full erection. “See what you do to me? I want you again now,” Marsallas said his voice gruff. Placing his hand on the fullness of her hip he turned her, so she rolled over to face him. The movement caused the necklace she was wearing to drop forward, and she saw Marsallas frown when he saw it. Lifting a hand he took the pendant in the palm of his hand, turning it so it caught the morning light.

  “My mother’s ring, you still have it,” he said, his voice hoarse with suppressed emption.

  Justina swallowed hard, “Yes. I’ve worn it every day since you gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday.”

  She saw Marsallas’s eyes close, as a spasm of pain crossed his face. She laid a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through the corded muscles, before moving lower, her hand coming to rest on the warmth of his stomach. Emboldened, she rubbed the fine hairs, backwards and forwards in a gentle movement before his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.

  “Are you sure Justina? There’s no going back.”

  “Yes, Marsallas,” she said looking deeply into the piercing blue of his eyes.

  “Then show me, Justina. Show me how much you want me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  To say it was a difficult journey was an understatement.

  The roads were thronged with a seething tide of humanity, as thousands of people, the homeless, the bereaved, rich, poor, merchant and slave all fled the destruction caused by Vesuvius. As well as Herculaneum and Pompeii, Oplontis and Stabiae had been totally destroyed, lost forever under a sea of molten lava, rocks, ash and boiling mud.

  Justina had never felt so helpless in all her life, as they rode past all the people, desperate to get to Anna Faustina's villa. Justina had been tempted to stop so many times, and help in any way she could, but she knew deep down that it would be impracticable to do so. She had been relieved to see that help had already arrived, as some of the homeless had been provided with tents, and had set up make shift camps along the roads far enough away from Vesuvius, and any further eruptions that might occur.

  But as they had made their way towards Cumae, and towards Anna Faustina's villa, their journey had become much slower, hampered by the throng of people begging for help. She’d had to harden her heart towards the majority of them, as they begged for food or water, as they risked having nothing left for themselves.

  She had seen Marsallas give some money to several people, obviously those who had been unable to bring any of their possessions with them, and they had been able to tell them where camps had been set up distributing food and other essentials. Marsallas’s kindness and help had been enough in some instances, as she had seen the hope come back to some of the faces.

  But as much as she’d had to harden her heart, there was one instance when she just acted on instinct. They had come to a crossroads, about a day’s ride from Anna Faustina’s villa, and were taking a small break to tend to their horses. The heat of the midday sun was relentless, sparing neither man nor beast, and it was only when she was just about to mount her horse to journey onwards once more, that she saw her…

  A small child sitting under the shade of a tree crying. The noise so heartbreaking that Justina had been moved to tears. Squinting against the fierce sunshine she saw that the child – a girl – who could not have been more than four years old was clinging to the gown of a woman who lay under the shade of a tree. The child's face and hair were covered with dirt – probably the ash from the volcano - Justina thought. Where her tears had fallen, the dirt had streaked all down her face, and large brown eyes, filled with fright and shock looked down at the woman – her mother? - as she desperately tried to shake her into consciousness.

  The pitiful sight was nearly Justina's undoing, and without thinking of the consequences, she dropped her horses reins and ran over to them, unable to stop the gasp of relief that whooshed out of her chest when she saw that the woman was alive, and not dead, as she had first thought. But it was obvious that the poor woman was in some sort of deep shock as she was just lying there, oblivious to the chaos all around her, and oblivious to the needs of the child, her eyes wide open but emotionless, as she stared sightlessly up at the sky.

  Kneeling down, Justina took hold of the little girl’s hand, and making sure her voice was quiet, so as not to frighten her, she asked, “Is this your mama?”

  The little girl stopped crying at Justina’s touch, and turned towards her, her huge brown eyes full of tears as she nodded silently, her mouth trembling, trying her utmost to be big and brave.

  “Good girl,” she said softly, patting her lap in an unspoken gesture for the child to sit with her. The little girl needed no second invitation and took the warmth and comfort that Justina offered, moving into her arms without a moment’s hesitation, desperate for human companionship, for some act of kindness.

  Justina let her settle for a few minutes, before she leaned forward and took the woman's hand, amazed that it could feel so cold in the blazing heat of the afternoon sunshine. Unsure what to do for the best, Justina started to stroke the
cold skin, her movements gentle, hoping that the rhythmic action might stimulate the prone woman in some way.

  For several minutes Justina continued with her task, until she was rewarded for her efforts when she felt the woman move slightly. Glancing at her face she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the woman was looking at her, her eyes, thankfully, having lost their haunted look.

  Smiling down at her she said quietly, “My name is Justina. Is there anything I can do to help? Your daughter is very worried about you.” The woman appeared to be only a few years older than herself. For a moment Justina thought that she wasn’t going to answer her, but then, her voice hesitant, and hoarse with the ash and dust she must have swallowed, she whispered, “Do you know where my husband is?”

  Justina had to fight back her tears at the woman's words, and shook her head.

  “I … I begged him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He … he said he had to help,” the woman said, the faraway look back in her eyes as she remembered. But then her face twisted in pain, “But he should have stayed with us, not left, not gone back into that … that inferno. Oh, I know I'm being selfish,” she cried, looking up at Justina, tears rolling down her face, “But I want my husband back. I need him. Claudia needs him.” She looked at her daughter, sitting quietly on Justina’s lap, before lifting her hand out towards her, and the little girl needing no further invitation flew out of Justina's lap and into her mother's arms. For a few minutes Justina watched as mother and daughter hugged each other, the woman rocking backwards and forwards as tears of sorrow fell unheeded down her face.

  Eventually the woman composed herself, and with a slight flush on her cheeks looked over to where Justina still knelt on the dry grass, “You have been most kind, and I'm sorry for burdening you-”

  “You have no need to be sorry for anything, truly.” Justina said quietly, cutting off her words. “Is there anything I can do to help you and your daughter?”

  “I … I would beg a little food for her, she is hungry and frightened,” the woman said hesitantly.

  “Of course. I will go and get you some,” Justina said, getting up quickly before turning and nearly knocking over Marsallas, who she saw with some embarrassment, was standing right next to her.

  Marsallas! She had completely forgotten about him, and she flushed in mortification for ignoring him. Thankfully, if he had anything to say on the matter he kept quiet, his face sombre as he took in the situation.

  “Could we spare a little food and water?” she asked. At his slight nod, she felt the pressure lift from her shoulders. She watched as he walked over to his horse and took out some of their provisions from his saddlebag, before returning with a small loaf of bread and some cheese.

  The woman, who Justina found out later was called Phoebe, was so grateful that she burst into tears again, and Justina spent a further ten minutes comforting her, before she could persuade her, and Claudia, to eat some food. Once they had finished eating there was nothing more Justina and Marsallas could do for them, and feeling somewhat helpless Justina stood up from where she had been sitting by the grass verge.

  She so wanted to help them further, having been taken in by the sadness in the little girl's eyes when it was apparent that they would have to leave, but not having any money on her, she had felt helpless. Turning to Marsallas she asked quietly, “I would not normally ask, but could you spare her some money? She has nothing.”

  Justina felt a surge of love flow through her when Marsallas nodded and went over to where the woman and child lay. She saw him kneel down and speak to Phoebe before he passed her a small pouch with some money in it. For a few minutes he spoke quietly to the woman, and Justina couldn't help but wonder what he was saying to her, as the woman was looking up at him with a look of hope, and surprise, on her face.

  It was only later as they rode away from them that she found out. Marsallas had offered Phoebe, and her daughter, a home for as long as she wished at his villa and with the money he had given her she should be able to obtain transport and a safe passage to get there.

  “Oh thank you, Marsallas. You are so kind, I don't know what to say.”

  Marsallas smiled at her before saying, “You don't need to say anything. Just promise me that you won't adopt all the people we come across, my villa isn't big enough to accommodate everybody, no matter how bad the situation is!”

  For the rest of the day they carried on with their journey, a journey hampered further as the swell of the homeless became heavier and heavier as they got nearer to Vesuvius. Eventually, Marsallas called a halt for the day, for which Justina was silently thankful. The journey so far had been emotionally, as well as physically taxing, and she ached so much that she thought she might never be able to stand straight. She hadn't said anything to Marsallas about it, but in all honesty she was unused to riding a horse, and definitely not used to riding for hours on end!

  It soon become obvious that there was little chance of securing any accommodation in the inns along the way as everyone of them was full to capacity. So they had little choice but to sleep under the stars with their horses, after Marsallas had eventually found a suitable site to make camp for the night.

  The camp was just a small space in a field, just off the main road which they had to share with many other people. But thankfully, there was a small lake nearby where they could get water for the horses, and themselves. Justina looked at the cool water longingly, wishing that she could take a bath and wash away all the dust that clogged her skin and clothes. But her wistful gaze left the lake. There would probably be little hope of bathing, and she concentrated on helping Marsallas set up their simple camp, working together in a companionable silence.

  Later they shared some of the food between them, and once they had finished eating Justina went down to the lake to rinse off the wooden plates they had used, and to wash away the dirt from her hands and face as best she could. After she had returned from the lake it was Marsallas's turn, and she watched him from under her long lashes as he led their horses down the water’s edge to drink.

  She held back a sigh as she watched his strong muscular body stride away, her gaze wandering over the breadth of his shoulders down over his muscular back and slim hips to the long length of his tanned legs. As she took her fill of him she wondered if she would ever tire of watching him, and when she finally looked away she saw that other women, both young and old, were watching him as well. Justina’s mouth twisted. He was a man no woman could resist, and once again a feeling of jealously came over her as she thought of him with other women.

  Suddenly, she was annoyed with herself. She realised she wasn't being rational. She had no clam over Marsallas apart from being his latest lover. No claim at all. Their relationship wasn't based on exclusivity – hadn’t Claudetta warned her of that! Yes, he had made love to her – but that was as far as it went. And although he had offered her a position as his latest mistress, who knew how long it would last? She knew nothing about him really.

  He was an enigma. For all she knew she could be one of many. Hadn't he mocked her all those months ago about how much he was in demand with the women of Rome?

  Justina sighed, forcing her thoughts away from what might be, to the right now. There was a humanitarian crisis of such magnitude going on all around her, and all she could think of was Marsallas making love to her!

  Rising from where she sat on the ground, she busied herself putting away the things they didn't need, in preparation for when they would leave in the morning. She then took her blanket and tried to make herself comfortable on the hard ground, thankful that the evening was coming to an end, and darkness was falling rapidly over the area. She didn't want to think about Marsallas anymore, it was too painful, too raw, and shifting her weight to a more comfortable position she willed herself to sleep.

  But after about ten minutes of tossing and turning on the sun baked ground, she realised that trying to sleep was impossible, as she was being kept awake by the noises from the surro
unding camps. And if she was honest with herself, she missed his presence next to her. She was being silly, she knew that, after all he had only gone to bathe. But still, she only relaxed when she saw him walking towards her, his steps light so as not to disturb her. She heard him bed down nearby, and after about half an hour the noise from the surrounding camp seemed to die down for the night, and a quietness fell over the area

  Finally, Justina fell into a fitful sleep only to be awakened a short while later by the shrill cry of a baby that rent the still night air. She heard the mother of the child trying to sooth the fractious child, and after ten minutes or so the baby must have gone back to sleep. Unfortunately for Justina she never did, and looking over to her left, she could see Marsallas's lying nearby on his pallet, his silhouette outlined by the light from the moon.

  She had to resist the urge to go over to him, to lie next to him, to have him take her in his arms, his strength wrapped around her, comforting her, and for him to promise that he would never leave her, for them to have a future together.

  She knew she was being stupid to wish for such a thing; but she so desperately wanted him that she knew she wasn’t thinking rationally. It was obvious to her that there could be no future between them, he still harboured a deep resentment against her for betraying him all those years ago. And although he now knew the truth of what had happened, there was still too much past between them to ever make it right.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  If it was chaos on the roads, then it was equally chaotic when they finally reached Anna Faustina's villa.

  As soon as they had entered the courtyard, Justina couldn't hold back her gasp of shock as they were met by a tidal wave of people. Servants rushed around with pots of water, food, and medicines tending to what appeared to Justina's eyes, around fifty people, all of them obviously injured as they lay, or sat in the courtyard, taking up every available inch of space.