Ex Fumo Gaudiam

by Nobilis Reed

  She cocked an eyebrow and smiled slightly. “A king? You not lie with woman?”

  How could I tell her about Mithras and his commandment to stay celibate before marriage? The trade language didn’t have words for gods or their laws. I shook my head to change the subject. “Not now. I gentle, I please you best I know.” I leaned in and kissed her again, cutting off any more discussion.

  We lay side by side, facing each other, my hand roaming over her body, hers staying in just one place. Kissing, touching, feeling the air grow warm around us. I turned my head and kissed her neck and lifted one round breast to my lips to kiss her there as well, and heard a chuckling sigh.

  I dared to explore between her legs and slid my hand between her thighs. She rolled onto her back to give me better access. I knew, vaguely, what was to be found there, but the reality of it was far more complex than I had expected. I let my fingers dance there, learning the shapes and textures. She arched her back, letting out a quiet moan of pleasure, and took her hand from my body to guide mine.

  Her sounds grew more urgent until she bit her lip to keep from crying out. A deep tremble passed through her, and she relaxed back against the mattress and pulled my hand away. I was intoxicated, drugged with the feel of her, the smell of her, all of the rich new sensations. I rubbed the moisture of her body between my fingers. There was nothing in my experience to compare it to. I found myself as hungry to learn about her as she was to learn Latin.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You give me pleasure, Marcus Amandus. Now you take yours.” She spread her legs and tried to pull me on top of her.

  Somehow, I found the discipline to refuse. “No. You have child,” I said, trailing my fingers along her belly. Rumors among the crew were one thing, but if Makkitotosimew became pregnant, then there would be no question about what had happened, not to mention the possible complications of having a bastard child running around. Was that what she was after? It was a dark thought that she was seducing me to gain some influence over me by having my child, but I couldn’t banish it.

  But she didn’t press the issue. “I give you this,” she said, and gently pushed me onto my back. Sliding down my body, she brought her breasts down and enveloped my rigid organ between them. Her skin was warm and incredibly soft, and the sight of those two globes of flesh encasing me was glorious. She stared into my eyes as she did it, letting her sweat-slick skin glide over me, and as the ecstasy built, I saw her smile with satisfaction at my pleasure. Her slow and rolling rhythm mimicked that of the ship beneath us.

  I spent myself there, between her breasts and up under her chin and neck. I had felt release before, of course, but there, with Makkitotosimew, there was something special about it, something meaningful and new. It saddened me, for I knew that once we reached Nova Lucotecia, this simple moment would be behind us forever, and nothing would be so pure and simple.

  She rose, fetching the washing-bowl from the table, and cleaned the results of our coupling from our bodies. The smell of sex permeated the room so I sat up to light some incense in the tiny shrine to Mithras on my desk. That, I hoped, would mask it enough.

  When I looked back at the bed, the woman was asleep. I got dressed, dumped the wash-water out the porthole, and called for the secundus to come and clear away the remains of our meal. He gave me a knowing glance, but I kept my face impassive to his suggestion. “You have something to say?”

  “No, sir,” he said. “Not to anyone.”

  I nodded. Spartacus’s words returned to me. “...As men do a brother.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, as we were approaching Nova Lucotecia, I coached Makki, as I decided to call her, on a few items of protocol she would need to follow. She would have to refer to me as “Procurator,” my true title, rather than as “king.” It would not go well if the legate heard that. In addition, she would be required to keep herself covered while on the estate. Attitudes about nudity may be lax among her people, but respectable folk simply did not go naked except to bathe. She would be required to do as she was told with regard to work and the like, and I tried to make it clear that she would not be required to provide sexual favors to anyone.

  When we arrived at the docks, I took Makki directly to my estate. With only ten rooms, it was small compared to my Roman home, but of course within Nova Leucotecia only the legate’s was larger. I gathered up the dozen or so employees and servants to introduce their newest member. Drusilla, the most senior of the female staff, assigned her a bed and would be the one to find whatever useful work she wanted Makki to do around the estate.

  I then went into my office to take care of the business matters that had come up in my week-long absence. There were reports to review from the foreman at the mill and from the clerk at the granary as well as correspondence from scouts and envoys. While the harvest had gone well, the diplomacy had not; many of the chieftains we had made contact with did not understand the concept of a treaty between nations, or even that land could have owners and borders. It was slow going.

  By the following afternoon, Makki had not only convinced the staff to give her one of my togas, but had discovered the automatic stitchery machine, deduced its function and operation, practiced its use to a reasonable level of proficiency, and embroidered a traditional native design along the edge.

  To point out that it wasn’t in fashion for such embroidery to appear on a man’s garment, or that there were mistakes here and there, would belittle her skill, ingenuity, and effort. I told her it was marvelous. When I took it and had her wrap it around me, she laughed and bounced with such obvious glee that I couldn’t help smiling.

  The next day, directly after my midday meal, I got a report from Gnaeus Hispanus, the chief engineer. He said she was down in the boiler room and wouldn’t come out, saying that she had authorization from me to find useful work and that was what she was doing.

  I found her at the main aeolipile, tracing pipes and gearshafts. There was a large spanner in her hand and a thoughtful expression on her face.

  “You have bad idea,” I said.

  She jumped like I had poked her in the ribs. “Bad idea?”

  “That thing hurt you.” I pointed to the aeolipile and the spanner. The trade language didn’t have words for “high-pressure steam” but I hoped my tone would carry the seriousness of the situation.

  “I not—”

  I smiled. “What you think?”

  She stumbled for words. The language was failing her as badly as it did for me. “I see inside. I learn.”

  “You work now?”

  She looked down. “I go make food.” She turned to lay the spanner in its place on the rolling tool-cart.

  “No.” I picked the spanner up and waved it at the machinery around us. “Learn. Work. Different things? Same thing?”

  She stood taller and squared her shoulders. “Toga make you happy. I learn, you happy. I learn more.”

  I smiled. I did my best to explain the process by which the steam generated in the boiler was used to spin the aeolipile and thus turn the shaft that ran to the kitchen and working areas of the house. She didn’t understand, but I could tell that she desperately wanted to. It must have seemed miraculous to her, coming from a people who barely knew how to smelt copper for jewelry, to see such a machine of iron and steam. She was particularly entranced by the autonomous coal-feeder, with its screw delivering fuel to the fire without benefit of human labor. In any case, when I had explained enough, and made it clear that it was Gnaeus Hispanus’s job to keep the boiler and the aeolipile running properly, I sent her back to Drusilla for more practical tasks.

  The limitations of the local trade language frustrated me. There wasn’t even a word for “machine.” I was forced to point to one part, and then another, and say “this thing” and “that thing.” If we were to have meaningful conversations, she would have to learn Latin.

  Several of my countrymen had brought tutors with them from home who held regular classes at the palaestra. I engaged the services of one
Secundus Lamilus in teaching Makki my own language. When she wasn’t studying or practicing the language with other members of the staff, she was to learn to use the other machines around the estate. She had something of a knack for them and it seemed wasteful to deny her access.

  As the days and weeks passed, she was slowly becoming more quick-tempered and easily frustrated. After she stubbed her toe from kicking the auto-scribe in my office when she misspelled a word, I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What is the matter?”

  “This is the only machine I cannot use right. I am terrible.” Her Latin was coming along quite well, though she had a thick accent and sometimes used words in strange ways.

  “What? No, of course not. You understand these machines better than people who have been using them for years.”

  She looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, and then turned away and shook her head. “You do not understand.”

  I pulled over a chair and sat near her. “Then tell me. I might surprise you. I am smarter than I look.”

  She managed a snort of laughter at my little joke and looked up. “Procurator, I have been here many days, and you do not take me to your bed. After our time on your ship, I thought...”

  I took her hand in mine, and spoke with all the earnestness I could muster. “Makki, that was a moment of weakness. It cannot happen again. The servants would talk, word would get out, and...” I sighed. “It would not go well. We must pretend that night never happened.”

  “What do you care of that? You are the procurator.”

  “I am. But the Imperial Legate would be displeased if he found out. I could lose my position. I could be sent back to Rome. The legate lives by a strict code and expects his men to live by it as well. As you were bound to Wotanake, I am bound to the legate. I am sorry. ”

  She frowned. “You said that working here, I would get things for trade?”

  “Yes. Coins. Money. Why do you ask?”

  “Drusilla the cook says that a man arrived from across the sea late yesterday with nice things.”

  “Ah, yes, well, of course. I will give you the wages you’ve earned so far, certainly.” I got out my ledger-book, totaled up what she was owed, and counted out the coins from the cash-box. It wasn’t a fortune by any measure, but she certainly could have a decent afternoon’s entertainment with it in the marketplace.

  She inspected the coins seriously, looking at the profile on the front and the eagle on the back, and then nodded to me. “May I go now?”

  “Yes, you may, but if you are going to the market, take Drusilla with you. I’m sure there are things she needs.” Drusilla was a shrewd dealer and would prevent the merchants from taking advantage of her.

  She nodded and hurried out.

  When she returned, I found it of some interest that Makki would not show me what she had purchased, and of even greater interest that Drusilla would not do so either. They had a conspiratorial look between them, and I knew that they had something planned. Drusilla was a loyal servant, so I did not take it amiss and let them have their little game.

  I found out what it was three nights later. I sat alone in the peristyleum, under clouds glowing orange and red with the sunset, relaxing after my evening exercises with the gladius. As was usual for that hour, the servants were all busy with cleaning up in the kitchen and otherwise doing what needed to be done to finish the day, so I had the garden to myself. In a short time, the house aeolipile would be shut down and it would be time for bed.

  She appeared in the archway. The light behind her was dim, but I could see the outline of her figure through the tunic she wore, and the sight reawakened everything I had felt that night aboard the ship.

  “Procurator?”

  “I am here, Makki.”

  Her feet made gentle crunching sounds on the gravel path as she moved closer to me. I smelled flowers and herbs in her hair.

  “It is late,” I said. “You should be off to bed, don’t you think?”

  “Bed. Yes, I should be in bed.” She looked up and put one delicate hand on my chest. “So should you.”

  I took her hand away. “Makki...I told you that we cannot share a bed. The other servants would gossip. The legate is a man of strict morals.”

  “I talked to Drusilla about that. She says that the servants will not gossip. They like you and would not make trouble. She says you work too hard and you do not take enough time to relax. She says that men of your people take concubines. Lesser wives, yes?”

  I gave her a wry smile. “Drusilla is an old busybody who should be minding the business of the household rather than the business of the householder.”

  “I think she is also very wise.”

  “Makki.” I tore my gaze away from her half-seen figure and looked up at the full moon hanging above us. Just below it was the wanderer, Jupiter, brighter than every other star in the sky. The astrologer had said that such a conjunction was good fortune, especially in matters of love.

  Gods-damned astrologers. They know nothing.

  A chill ran through me. It was cold, and I wondered how Makki could stand under the open sky in such a flimsy garment without shivering. “Makki, do not take me amiss. You are a beautiful woman. Many are the times I have seen you working and wished that I could take you to my bed. A thousand times I have restrained myself. I would like nothing more than to make love to you. But you do not know the legate. He does not make compromises. I cannot take the risk.”

  She sniffed.

  “And...” A deep breath filled my lungs. “Remember, there is another. Back home, across the sea. A woman to whom I am promised to marry. She is the legate’s daughter, Makki.”

  Her eyes were wet. “And you wish to marry this woman?” Her voice was very quiet, even in the still night air.

  “It is not my place to have wishes in the matter.”

  “You are procurator. Surely you can marry who you please.”

  I smiled at her naiveté, while inwardly I felt the sting that I was inflicting on her. “My father is a senator. One of the most powerful men in the whole Empire. Her father is the legate. The most powerful man on this side of the ocean. Yes, I am powerful. But still, I serve.”

  “So you must marry her first, before you can marry any other, before you may take a concubine.” The hurt look on her face transformed into resolve. She took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “I understand. I can wait.”

  I shook my head. “The legate has no concubine, no mistress, just his wife, and has railed many times to me about men who don’t have enough moral fortitude or leadership ability to bend a mere woman to his will. Just a few months back he stripped a man of his position and sent him back to Rome in disgrace when he was caught with one of his servant girls. How much worse would it be for me, so much closer in his trust?”

  She spun, turning her back to me, throwing her hands in the air. “And yet you keep me in your household. Do you play with my feelings this way? You should have turned me out as soon as we arrived! Used me and thrown me away the same as the whores Drusilla told me about.”

  I took her shoulders in my hands and turned her back, looking into her eyes. “Makki, no! No, I rescued you, and I have a responsibility to take care of you, at least until you’ve learned enough to make your own way. Please, I never want to hurt you.”

  A tear fell down her cheek, and she turned and walked away. The sound of her feet on the gravel walk made the same sound as the pieces of my broken heart.

  Chapter 2

  “IT’S A GOOD POSITION,” I said. “Primus Germanicus is a fair man who will put your skills to use and pay you a good wage. You’ll have a comfortable life in his estate, and what’s more, he’s the chief naval engineer. You like learning things, you like machines. I’ve told him about the amazing things you've done here, and he’s interested in your talents. I’m sure you will have some unique opportunities working for him.”

  Makki shook her head and looked at me with those eyes of hers with her chin wrinkled and h
er brow knitted and drew a trembling breath. “Why? I have done everything you’ve told me. I have not tried to get into your bed since that night in the peristyleum two months ago. I put the silk tunic in the bottom of my locker. What have I done to be thrown out of your house?”

  I sighed and went to a basket sitting next to the auto-scribe and took out a bundle of fabric. “This is one of my tunics. It was found in your work-room. It hasn’t been washed. From the smell of it, it was pulled from the laundry before I left on my last survey.”

  She hung her head and blushed. “When you leave, you are gone for days and days. I was lonely for you. Even if we cannot share a bed, I still want to be near you.”

  “Makki, this is why you have to go. We have no future.”

  “You don’t know that!” She sobbed. “Maybe the woman your father wants you to marry will find someone else. Maybe, after you are married, I could be your concubine.”

  “None of those things are going to happen, Makki. The events that set this all in motion happened a long time ago, and they’re not going to just undo themselves.”

  “Please,” she begged. “Please let me stay. I promise I won’t do anything to upset you. I will bury my feelings.”

  I put the tunic back in the basket, my reason at war with my emotions. The thought of sending her away, of seeing her only occasionally, filled me with sadness. Would my frustration be any less having her living there rather than here? Would my feelings change? Would hers? It didn’t seem likely. When I lay in bed at night, my mind filled with the vision of her face. It would do me no good to know that she was living down the street a ways. My despair would be no less.

  I shook my head. Where was the resolve that I had gathered before calling her into my office? Where was my faith? I was putting temptation aside, as my God commanded me to do, and it was the right thing to do. I steeled myself.

  “No. You will take this opportunity with Primus Germanicus or nothing. Makki, you can’t stay here anymore. It’s killing me, having you right here all the time, so close I can almost taste you.”