VI.

 

 

PICKING AT THE FABRIC of the cushion in my lap, I stared at the wall opposite. The silence of the room pressed upon me, almost breaking me beneath its weight and thread by thread, the hole I made in the cushion widened.

My chamber had never been so silent.

A year had passed and much had happened in a year. Marcus, as Crassus, held the fascination of the usually fickle crowd. His every bout brought a full arena, and tales of his feats had surely reached as far as Rome. My father took these accolades, and the wealth they brought, as his due. My mother delighted in her new society, had began to gather a network of her own amongst the wives of the powerful men.

Only one thing had changed. Rachael was gone.

My chamber had been empty when I woke. I did not know why. Every morning I woke to Rachael's cheerful greeting, to her chatter and her scolds, and this morning was the first in my memory when I had not. Yesterday, she had been here. Today, she was not. What had changed?

I did not hear him enter but I was not surprised when Marcus seated himself beside me. I made no comment as he did so, instead giving my consideration to the wall.

“Greetings, domina. How fare you?”

A shadow had formed on the wall, one indicating the day had waned to afternoon. “I am well.”

“Ah.” He lapsed to silence. “I have heard,” he finally said.

My fingers dug into the pillow. “And what have you heard?”

His voice gentled. “I know she is gone.”

Biting my lip, I concentrated on the stretch of the shadow.

Beside me, Marcus shifted and I knew somehow his brows were drawn together in concern. “When did you discover her absence?”

“This morning.” My voice cracked and I took breath, steadying myself. “She was not here when I woke.” Much better. Almost strong.

“No one told you before this?”

I shook my head. He should not be so surprised. After three years in my father's ludus, he should know how things proceeded. “I know it happens. I have seen it happen. It is only— Rachael was my friend. She has been with me all my life.” I picked at the hole. “And now she is gone.”

“Sold.”

“Yes.”

His hand stole over mine, stilled the pick-pick-pick of my fingers. Looking down, I watched as he laced my fingers with his. Our hands were so different. Mine, pale and stained with ink. His, brown and crossed with the silvery marks of old scars, the angry red of new ones.

His thumb stroked my skin. “Can you do nothing, Lucia?”

“What can I do?” I stared at his hand on mine. “Rachael has been sold. I have no sway.”

His thumb stilled. “No sway? Regularly, you bring a slave from one household into this one. Regularly, you defy and deceive so I may meet with Niobe. And you say you have no sway?”

My fingers twitched under his. “That is not sway. That is subterfuge.”

“Lucia.” His hand tightened on mine and the urgency of his tone forced my gaze to his. “You have found a way to bring Niobe to this domus. That is not the action of someone without resource. Should you choose, you could do something for Rachael. You can bring her back, I am certain of it.”

“How? I know not where she is.”

“I do not know. I only know you did it for me.”

I removed my hands from under his. “That was different.”

Frustration sharpened his tone. “Why am I so special, Lucia? Your Rachael has been with you for years. Why do you not speak for her?”

“Because I cannot!” The words felt as if ripped from me. “She is gone, Marcus. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can say. I woke this morning and she was not there and there is nothing I can do.”

I broke. Great sobs racked me, consumed me. Rachael, my Rachael, was gone and I could do nothing.

Strong arms lifted over me and I barely noticed the heavy chains tumbled down my back as he drew me to his embrace. His hand tangled in my hair and he stroked my back, whispering words of comfort.

My sobs lessened, and then they ceased. Pulling away, I avoided meeting his eyes as he lifted his arms, freeing me. He did not so easily let me go, though, gently cupping my chin to raise my gaze to his. “Have you left here? Have you eaten?”

I offered a half-hearted smile. “I am not hungry.”

“That does not mean you should not eat. Call for food.”

A true smile pulled at me. He could not help his arrogance, could he? “Yes, sir.”

He would speak of nothing until I had called for food and so I did, shaking my head at his obstinance.

Once I had resettled myself, he spoke. “Lucia, you could find her. I may be able to help.”

For a few moments, I had not thought of Rachael but now, sorrow returned in a rush. “Do you believe so?”

“I do. There is bound to be information, and no doubt the other slaves possess it. I will ask.”

“You would do this? Do you not fear retribution?”

“But I have learned from you, domina. I, too, can employ stealth when required.”

I smiled, again half-hearted.

“I do not like to see you hurt, Lucia. You have only tell me what it is I can do to ease your heart and I shall do it.” He smiled his almost-smile. “There is not much I would not do for you.”

The heart he mentioned turned in my chest.

He continued on as if he had said nothing of import. “So I will use my connections and you will use yours. Together, we will find her.”

“Together. Yes.”

His hand captured mine. Our gazes met and held and as they did, his smile died. The space between us seemed heavy and then, of a sudden, anger and frustration exploded into his expression. “I hate this, Lucia.”

A sudden fear took me. “Hate?”

“I hate this captivity.” He shoved to his feet, set to pace. “I should be able to do more, to help you more. You should not bear this by yourself.” Rubbing his hand over his head, he prowled as if a caged, which, of course, he was. He turned and a fire held in his pale eyes burned. “It is this captivity. If it were not you who should bear the punishment, I would kill them all.”

His words forced me to feet, sped me to his side. “Do not say such, Marcus. My father could one day grant you freedom.”

Looping his chains over his hands, he stared at them in contempt. “Not soon.” He exhaled. “I should not complain. It could be worse.” He looked up. “I could never have met you.”

My breath caught. “I should not have liked that.”

His eyes held mine. “No.”

So close we were, such it would take less than a step to bring me to him.

“Domina?”

An unfamiliar voice broke whatever was between us. I looked to find in the doorway stood one of my father's slaves, a woman I believed called Aemilia and with her appearance, I remembered my request. “The food. Please, set it upon the table.”

Aemilia shifted, her face apologetic. “Domina, that is not why I am come. You are required, by dominus.”

“Required?”

“Yes, domina.”

Odd. Not often was I summoned and certainly not by my father. Trepidation filled me but I forced it aside.

I turned to Marcus. “I have to—”

“I know.” He had regained his slave's pose, shoulders back, expression blank. “I shall await your return.”

“Yes. I— Yes.” I turned to Aemilia and gestured for her to proceed. She had cleared the door when I heard Marcus speak.

“Domina.”

I looked to him in query.

He smiled, his almost-smile. “Hurry.”

Helpless, I looked at him. How could I resist when he said such? Giving him a quick smile, I followed Aemilia and hoped this requirement would soon be ended. So I could return.

 

***

 

STILL MARCUS WAITED FOR me.

From the shadows, I wrapped my arms about myself as dread coiled in my stomach like lead. What I had to tell him he would not like but there was no recourse. There was no choice. Not for him and most certain, not for me.

Now I knew why Rachael had been sold.

Abandoning the shadows, I entered the chamber. Marcus's gaze turned to me and his almost-smile lit his face.

Though I hurt, I displayed none of it. “This will no longer continue,” I said.

Shock stripped expression from him. “What?”

“You will no longer come here.” My voice but cold. Dead. “I am to be married.”

My pronouncement brought with it silence. Marcus regarded me, and I stood under his perusal, not even the pleasure of his gaze bringing me to thaw.

I thought this never to end and only now I realised my folly. Only now I realised how our time together had been a dream, an endeavour made of naught but fancy. My mother had been right, all those months ago. I should have heeded her. I should have limited my emotion.

The silence deafened me and so, I broke it. “It is to happen in three weeks. I shall be moving to my husband’s domus and will no longer be required to teach you.” It was all I could do to hold myself still under his gaze.

Some twitch of my expression spoke to him and he smiled, that almost-smile. “You do not want this.”

He was confidence and he was arrogance and I wanted to scream at him, to rend his flesh, to scratch and bite and say of course I do not, I have never wanted it. I wanted to stay with him, and how could he not know? How could he not?

“It does not matter. I am to marry.” Almost nineteen years and only now to wed. It surprised me most the man who was to become my husband wanted such an elderly bride.

“Cannot something be done? Your father… Surely if he knew you did not desire it, the match would not take place.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “My father is the one arranging it.”

His features bled of expression. “Of course.” He fell silent but a moment. “This is why Rachael was sold?”

“Yes.”

Silence again. Heavy. Stifling.

It was over. It was done. I summoned the house slaves to take him from me.

“Wait.”

I looked to him. He was… There was almost distress on his face. “I cannot go with you?”

My heart screamed. “No.” It was the only answer.

The mask of a slave once again bled his face of expression, the mask I had not seen in so long. At the loss, brief regret filled me…but only brief. I was too numb to feel any emotion for long.

Nothing more could be said. The house slaves put their hands on him to guide him from my presence and quiet he went, but as they reached the entrance to my chamber, he shook them off. Striding across the room, he stopped in front of me, with barely a breath between us.

His eyes burned into mine. “If you have need, you will tell me.”

It was a command. For a moment, we were not a noble’s daughter and a defiant slave. We were simply Lucia and Marcus, and he was telling me something I could not quite understand.

I nodded.

Satisfied, he allowed himself taken from the room.

I did not think on what he meant. I should go mad if I did. Instead, I stood in the middle of my chamber.

I stood there a long time.