On the penultimate morning she would ever spend in her own bed, Vita awoke, feeling proud of herself.
The evening before, she had ripped up Lepidus’s contract and burned it in her brazier. Now she gathered up the black ashes and placed them in a bowl.
She would not go with Lepidus, no matter how much coin he offered her. She would not go with him if he were the god of abundance himself! She had finally learned her lesson about contracts and men, and she would never again enter into another. Freedom was the path and, yesterday in Lepidus’s tablinium, she had successfully resisted a temptation to stray from it.
She stood and dressed, then took a look around her bedchamber, vowing not to miss it. She had already done most of her packing, had culled through her belongings until they fit into a sack that she could carry without aid.
Soon her life would be her own and that was all that mattered. It did not matter that she did not have a place to live—she would find one eventually. In the meantime she would find some small unnoticed corner of Rome in which to sleep.
By day, she would sew and sew. She would sell so many capes that she would quickly grow rich. Some day soon, she would have enough coin for the grandest apartment in Rome. She would have time to go to the baths whenever she liked. She would eat in fine taverns and attend lovely banquets. She would meet up with Lollia and exchange gossip every ides.
And who was to say she could not continue her acquaintance with Ven? As an independent woman, she would be able to do what she liked. There would be no one to condemn her for exchanging words with him in public. There would be no consequence for her to accept a massage or other service, as long as his domina agreed.
Perhaps she could arrange to see him more often somehow. Perhaps their friendship could bloom. Just the idea sent a flush of excitement through her.
And it was all ahead of her—a life of her own. She could not wait to begin it.
* * *
She went about her morning duties with so much good cheer that when she went to the tablinium to pour Magnus more posca, he looked up from his porridge to ask her what was wrong.
‘I am happy for the change of weather,’ she said.
‘The weather has not changed.’
‘Perhaps I am looking forward to the Vulcanalia tomorrow.’
‘You are looking forward to a sky full of smoke?’
‘We must placate the god Vulcan, lest he burn the harvest.’
Magnus shot her a mighty frown. ‘Where will you live?’
The question took her by surprise and she laughed. ‘I have not yet found a place.’
‘No place, yet you laugh like a fool.’
‘Fools are the beloved of the gods.’
‘This bread is stale.’
‘I took our wheat ration to the baker yesterday.’
‘But this bread is stale today.’
In the past, Vita might have apologised profusely, then spent the rest of the morning silently berating herself for the error. Alternatively, she might have plunged headlong into the creation of a new cape and tried to make herself feel useful again. Not any more.
‘You may pick your loaves up from the baker after work,’ Vita stated. ‘Or tomorrow. Or never. It is up to you.’ She held her breath.
Magnus jumped to his feet suddenly and swiped his bowl of porridge off his desk. ‘Useless woman!’ he shouted. He pushed Vita to the floor as he stormed out of the chamber and she heard the hard slam the front door behind him.
She waited for the tears to come. She held her breath in anticipation of the pain of humiliation, which had become so familiar over the years that it was nearly a comfort. But the pain never came, nor did the tears.
She expelled all her breath. It was a miracle. His anger had not harmed her. His words—it seemed they no longer mattered to her at all. It seemed that she had made her heart into ice.
She jumped to her feet and skipped back upstairs as if she were the winged messenger himself. She had known in her mind that divorcing Magnus was the right decision. Now she knew it in her gut. She did not need this house, this life, him. She was nearly free.
All that remained was to find a place to lay her head and she had the whole day in which to look. She gazed out the window of her bedchamber, finding the air fresh and filled with hope. She would find a place to live today for certain and tomorrow she would march out of the door and never look back.
But first she had a meeting to attend to.
And now, with Magnus gone early, she had plenty of time to prepare for it. She started off by combing her hair, securing half of it with a pin atop her head. She had never been fussy about her appearance before, but she wanted to look her best for Ven.
She swirled a bit of henna powder with water and stirred the mixture with a stick. Perhaps that was the true reason for her happiness. She was going to see Ven. For the first time since they had met outside her doorway, they would be alone, for he wished to meet in the hypocaust. Together beneath the baths, they could do and say whatever they wished.
She imagined giving him a proper greeting: a kiss on the cheek. She wondered if she could achieve it without blushing. She would tell him about her day ahead and ask him about his own, making certain to find out the next time he planned to accompany his domina to the baths.
She paused and felt suddenly as if she were falling from a height. She realised that she had been mistaken. Ven would not be accompanying his domina to the baths—not this day, or ever again.
For Ven was going north with Lepidus.
‘No!’ she shouted. She began to pace. How had she overlooked such a terrible truth? Ven was Lepidus’s most valuable slave. Of course he would take him north. She remembered now how Lepidus had remarked at the benefit of having both Ven and Vita with him in Britannia. But Vita was not going to Britannia, which meant that, after today, she was probably never going to see Ven again.
Vita checked her small copper mirror, then added more powder to the paste and continued to stir. She would need really need the paste now, for she sensed all the colour had drained from her cheeks. She dipped in a finger and began to rub.
Her preparations had suddenly acquired a new gravity. How long had Lepidus said he planned to stay in Britannia? Five years? She could wait for five years, though there was no guaranteeing his return. More likely, he would find a way to escape Lepidus and remain in the lands of his kin. In that case, this was likely to be the last time she would ever see him. She wondered whether she would be able to conceal her feelings from him.
Vita bit her bottom lip, just like her mother used to do before applying paint. The deep crimson would draw Ven’s attention to her lips and everything she had to say. ‘May Mercury speed your journey,’ she would tell him. ‘You will be missed.’
It was too impersonal. ‘I am grateful for all you have done for me,’ she would say. ‘I will pray to the gods for you.’
It did not seem to be enough. No words were. In only a few days, she had come to care deeply for the man, though she knew him poorly. There was so much she wished to learn about him. Who were his family and how did he lose them? How did he learn to read and what were his favourite texts? What made him sad? What brought him joy?
And why was it that when she looked into his eyes a private Vulcanalia took place inside her?
Now she would never know.
She dabbed more paste on her cheeks, feeling suddenly as if the whole world had lost its colour. She wished she had had more time with him. They had spoken only briefly, but she sensed they could have conversed for days. And just the thought of his hands upon her bare skin made her beg Juno for equanimity.
Gods forgive her, she thought of him that way—like a woman thought of a man. She yearned for him.
It felt good to finally admit it to herself. Indeed, the feeling was so overwhelming that she had momentarily considered accepting Lepidus’s offer, if only to be close to Ven.
Of course, she would never do it. She would never again be a man’s wife, let alone his concubine. Never again would she bind herself to another, no matter how rich the reward. Freedom was the prize and she could not allow herself to forget it.
She dribbled a bit of water into the ashes of Lepidus’s burnt contract and stirred them into a paste. She painted the black mixture around her eyes, praying that when he looked into them, he would see how she really felt.
‘I will miss you,’ she would say. ‘So very much.’
Suddenly there they were—her missing tears. How very strange! Where had they come from and why would they not cease? They were streaking the black liner and the red that she had just finished applying to her cheeks.
This would not do at all. She dug in her travel sack for a drying cloth, then began to reapply the pastes. She needed to look her best for the one man in the world who found her worthy. One last, good impression before they said farewell.
* * *
‘Ouch, Ven! You just pinched me!’ shouted Lollia. Ven had not noticed his domina turn on her side. Instead of squeezing her shoulders, he had inadvertently pinched her arm.
‘Apologies, Domina,’ Ven said. He had not been able to concentrate all morning. Even now, after over an hour massaging his domina’s limbs, his mind raced.
At any moment, they were going to be robbed.
Ven knew because he had arranged for it himself. Instead of waiting for his domina outside the dressing room that morning, he had doubled back to the entrance to the baths and apprehended the toughest-looking street urchin he could find.
‘I wish for you to enter the tepidarium in one hour and rob me of this bag.’ Ven held up his domina’s bag of supplies. ‘Then meet me in the hypocaust.’ He poured a half a dozen asses into the boy’s hand.
‘You are paying me to rob you?’ the boy had asked in puzzlement.
‘Yes, and if you do it successfully I will give you this.’ Ven had held up a bronze sesterce.
The boy raised an interested brow.
‘Will you do it or not?’
The boy had nodded vigorously, but now Ven feared he would not fulfil his promise. Ven pictured Vita waiting for him patiently below the tepidarium, wondering why he had not yet appeared.
‘I received some wondrous news from my husband last night,’ said Lollia.
‘Indeed?’ echoed Ven, trying to sound interested.
Why had he asked Vita to meet him beneath the tepidarium in the first place? It was the deepest part of August, by the gods. Why not the frigidarium, where she would at least be able to keep cool?
‘I shall not be accompanying Lepidus to Britannia after all, it seems,’ said Lollia.
‘That is wondrous news!’ he replied, trying to sound surprised. ‘I know that you were dreading the winters.’
He pictured Vita standing at the entrance to the hypocaust, trying to withstand the heat. How long would she last before she simply gave up?
‘It appears that Lepidus is leaving me here in Rome to do as I like,’ Lollia continued. ‘Ha! Imagine that! Has he told you when he plans to leave, Ven?’
‘No, Domina,’ Ven lied, for Lepidus had sworn him to secrecy.
‘Well, I imagine it will be soon. It is a long trip to that remote island—thirty days at least to reach his post. Of course you already know that, for you made the trip yourself once.’
It was a cruel thing for her to say—to remind Ven of his enslavement—though it did not bother Ven in the least. He was accustomed to his domina’s stabs and could easily endure them. After all, his heart was made of ice.
Still, in moments like these, when Vita was near, it seemed to melt just a little.
* * *
Vita stood at the bottom of the stairwell and leaned against the wall, trying to keep away from the worst of the hot air. She gazed through the forest of clay columns at the large brick oven at the other end of the hypocaust. Every twenty minutes a slave would arrive with an armful of wood to feed the flickering beast. Since she had arrived, she had already seen four of them come and go.
The air was unnervingly hot. As she breathed it in, it seemed to heat her very lungs. She knew that the longer she waited, the sooner he would be there, for he would not leave her waiting here for ever. In just a few moments she was going to see Ven and they would share a private moment together.
She would breathe in his scent and feel excitement ball up in her stomach. Perhaps they would exchange a few words in their sacred tongue. Maybe he would squeeze her hand.
After Magnus had rejected her so long ago, she never thought she would long for a man again. But now, standing in the sprawling hypocaust, yearning for just a glimpse of his dazzling grin, she felt wholly changed.
It did not matter if Ven did not feel the same. It was enough that he had ignited the flame of her lust—a flame she had believed long dead. He had made her feel alive again.
Now she realised the real reason why she had really been feeling so happy lately. It was not her decision to divorce Magnus as she had at first believed. In a sense, she had been divorced from Magnus for years. The real reason for her happiness was Ven.
She had met him only four days ago, yet it was as if she had always known him. Or perhaps he simply fitted the description of the man that she had conjured inside her heart long ago—the kind, noble man who somehow also desired her. She had been so alone for so many years—invisible to the world. Now she finally felt seen. Beautiful, even.
It was all because of him. Even when she was not thinking of him, he was part of her awareness. Every moment seemed full of him and everything was funny, or lovely, or worthy of praise. Sloshing buckets of water pouring joyously across the tiles. Cups of tart posca and bites of salty bread. The glimmer of the stars through the atrium roof. The colours of dawn.
It was Ven. He was the reason.
She lifted her hair off her shoulders, letting the sweat drip down her neck. Where was he? Surely he would be here soon. Sweat poured down her back. She gazed up the stairs at the blue sky above. She wondered if the gods were smiling or laughing.
* * *
‘Tell me, Ven, are you not eager to journey to your homeland with Lepidus?’ asked Lollia, obviously glad to have avoided such a fate herself.
‘I am eager to continue to serve him, Domina.’
A lie. There was only one thing Ven was eager for: to see Vita.
‘Come now, I know you wish for some things.’ His domina rolled over on to her back and gingerly arranged her breasts. She was watching him closely, waiting for him to look at her, but today he could not falsify his admiration as he usually did.
‘I wish for nothing, Domina,’ he repeated and began to rub her feet.
Lollia sighed wistfully. ‘I wish for something, Ven. Do you know what it is?’
Power? he thought wickedly. Diversion? Desire? ‘Cooler weather, Domina?’
‘I wish for love.’
Not again, thought Ven.
A more conscientious slave would have assured his domina that her husband loved her, or that her husband’s love for her would develop with time, or some other vague placation, but Ven and Lollia were far beyond such fictions. ‘Then you shall find it,’ he said. ‘Some day.’
‘I believe I may already have found it, but I am not certain it is reciprocated.’
It was an unexpected response. ‘You are in love with him, then?’ Ven asked boldly. ‘The man with whom you have been trysting?’
Lollia’s eyes flashed. ‘Ven, how dare you?’ She raised her hand to slap him, but before she could, the blessed street urchin arrived. He breezed past the massage bench, swept up Lollia’s bag and skipped off running. Glory of Jove.
Ven turned to his domina, trying not to betray his joy. ‘Domina, did you see—?’
‘That boy just stole my bag, Ven!’ she shrieked. ‘Get him!’
* * *
The boy rushed down the stairway so quickly that he nearly knocked Vita to the floor. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘Who are you?’ she returned. She glanced at the bag he held tightly in his grasp and the answer became clear all at once. ‘He paid you well, I hope?’ she asked.
‘Six asses already,’ said the boy, ‘and a sesterce at the end.’
‘A sesterce?’ said Vita. ‘You will be eating fish cakes for days!’
The boy’s grin was nearly too large for his face, yet somehow it became bigger as Ven came running down the stairs after him. Vita caught Ven’s eye and her heart nearly stopped.
‘Well done, young man!’ he said, turning to the boy, who handed Ven the bag and bowed.
Ven dug inside the bag and held out two sesterces. The boy gazed at the two shiny coins, then gingerly pulled one from Ven’s grasp.
‘I hold out two coins, but you take only one?’
‘Our agreement was for one, sir,’ said the boy.
‘Would you look at that, Vita? It appears we have just encountered a rarity in Rome—a truly honest man.’
The boy’s chest seemed to fill with air and Vita felt her own chest expanding along with it.
She felt unreasonably happy. Not only would she soon be alone with her favourite person in the world, that person had for the first time said her name.
‘Take the second coin, son,’ said Ven. ‘As a reward for your integrity.’
The boy studied Ven’s eyes, as if searching for the trick in them. ‘Do you not believe me?’ asked Ven. He gestured to Vita. ‘Look what you have done. You have united me with a goddess! Do you not think I would be grateful?’
The boy glanced at Vita, nodded, then took the second coin. He gave Ven a deep bow. ‘Gratitude, sir,’ he said and in an instant he was gone.
Vita laughed. ‘He reminded me a little of Cupid,’ she remarked. ‘A good omen.’
‘You are a good omen,’ said Ven. His smile was like the sun behind the clouds. It burst out in a rush of warmth and she lifted her face to it and basked.
‘How much time do we have?’ she asked.
‘Ten minutes? Five? She will come looking for me soon.’ He reached beneath the hem of his short tunic and held out a gold aureus, the equivalent of one hundred sesterces.
He gestured for her to take it. ‘This is for you—to help you find a place to live.’ She gazed at the sparkling gold coin. It was enough to rent a room for many months. ‘It is not much, but it is something. Please, take it,’ he urged.
She stepped back. ‘Ven, I cannot accept coin from you. I would never even dream of it.’
‘That is why you must take it.’
Vita blinked free a tear. She had promised herself she would not cry.
‘You are a good woman, Vita. You are worthy of this.’
She knew she should just accept it, for she did not wish to fight him. She only wished to fall into his arms and let him gather up all her pieces. This man, this beautiful man, wished to give her all he had, though all she really wanted was him.
‘I am so sorry, Ven, but I cannot accept this generous gift. One day, when Lepidus frees you, you will need—’
‘Lepidus will never free me.’
She drew a breath. ‘One day, when you escape, you will—’
‘I will not escape, Vita,’ said Ven.
‘But why not? You will soon be far from Rome. Can you not choose your moment?’
‘Vita, you are looking, but not seeing.’
He bowed his head and there before her was the reason, written in ink on flesh. FGV. Fugitivus. Runaway.
She had stopped seeing the tattoo the moment after they had first met.
‘Romans patrol constantly in the lands of my kin,’ Ven said. ‘They fear another uprising.’
‘So the rumours are true?’ asked Vita. ‘About another Brigante rebellion?’
‘I think so,’ said Ven. ‘There is another Roman legion being deployed to Britannia right now. The Romans will soon be patrolling Brigante lands, searching for rebels. There is no sanctuary for me among the Brigantes or the Romans, Vita. Not with this tattoo. I will never be free again.’
He could not continue. To say more would be to burden her unnecessarily. The truth was that since he had met her, he had felt a dangerous stirring inside him. It was the same disquiet that had plagued him before his attempts at escape, with one difference: he wished to take her with him.
‘You must not let yourself become defeated!’ she cried. ‘When you arrive in Britannia, you must attempt to get yourself free. Promise me you will try.’
‘I cannot make a promise that I do not intend to keep.’
‘But why? You will have five years in Britannia. You must only wait for the right moment to present itself. All you need is patience and determination…and the will. Gather it, Ven. Do not allow your own mind to enslave you!’
She was breathing too hard and he saw the moisture of tears on her cheeks. ‘Do not weep,’ he whispered. It seemed strange that thoughts of his escape might provoke her tears.
He gently took her hand and let his fingers weave with hers. She gazed down at their joined hands and he pulled her towards him. She pressed her head against the contours of his chest and sighed as he surrounded her with his arms.
‘I will miss you,’ she said. ‘So very much.’
Then come with me, he thought. Her soft breaths against his chest were like tiny caresses and a strange sense of peace enveloped him. If he could just remember this feeling for the rest of his days, he knew he could survive.
‘I failed to find the marriage contract,’ she whispered. ‘There was a lock on the drawer and I could not find the key.’
‘That is all? A lock without a key?’
‘It does not matter,’ she replied.
He buried his head in her hair and breathed in her scent—a mystic alchemy of loneliness and sunshine and that wondrous substance of his youth: soap. He took in many breaths of her.
‘We must both be strong now,’ she whispered. ‘You must not give up your fight and I will not give up mine. You must escape Lepidus. Freedom is the prize.’
He knew he should not speak, but he could not help himself any more. His heart’s meltwaters had finally become a flood.
‘You are the prize, Vita,’ he whispered back. ‘You.’
There was no time to respond to him. She looked up and there were his lips. They pressed down upon hers in a crush of breath and heat. ‘Ven,’ she breathed.
‘I do not sleep,’ he told her. ‘I barely eat. I suffer fevers. I only think of you.’ He brushed her hair to the side and touched her cheek with a trembling hand.
‘I am plagued by similar maladies,’ she said, but she could not say more, for he was kissing her again and she did not want him to cease.
He swept his tongue into her mouth and she replied with a sensual sweep of her own. She had never felt so bold in all her life. It was as if she could not get close enough to him.
He bit her lower lip gently and pulled at it. She giggled and he paused to look around. He must have been assuring himself they had no witnesses, for what he did next was surely against the law. He took her just-bitten lower lip between his own lips and sucked it. Long and hard.
Her giggle became a moan.
She had met him only days ago, yet it was as if she had always known him. He was the man she had conjured inside her heart long ago—the kind, noble protector who somehow also desired her. She had been so alone for so many years—invisible to the world. Now she felt seen. Beautiful, even.
His arms were like wings, they enveloped her completely. She relaxed into them and sighed, then inhaled. He smelled like everything she wanted, a strange, musky elixir that wafted into her nose and somehow made her heart feel light.
She was dizzy and reckless and probably quite mad, yet nothing could worry her now. She was safe in Ven’s arms and all would be well.
‘I have wished for this from the moment I first saw you,’ he said. He leaned back and studied her face.
‘I confess that have wished for the same,’ she said. ‘I never believed such a wish would come true.’
‘Your eyes,’ he said. ‘They seem to change colour with your mood. They remind me of…’ He paused and looked up as if searching for a memory buried deep.
‘What colour are they now?’ she asked.
‘Deep brown—like two mature acorns. Perhaps they are brown when you are happy.’
Vita smiled. She had never heard anything so amusing. She stood on her toes to get a better look at him and he slid his hand around the back of her neck. ‘Vita?’
‘Ven, I—’ she began saying, but there was a sudden clang of metal against stone. Across the forest of columns, a slave was poking at the fire inside the furnace once again. Was it possible that twenty minutes had passed?
‘Ven!’ shouted a woman’s voice from above.
Ven gasped, then stepped back. ‘That is Lollia. I must go.’ He pressed the gold coin into Vita’s palm. ‘Take it.’
She closed her hand around it and looked deeply into his eyes. ‘We will meet again,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
He grinned, but his smile was so hopeless that it nearly broke her heart. ‘Until we meet again, then,’ he said.
‘Ven!’ cried Lollia. Her voice was closer now, but Ven was not moving. He appeared to be plucking the hairpin out of Vita’s own hair.
‘Ven, you must go now, before Lollia sees you down here.’
He held the metal object before Vita. ‘This pin will open the lock to Magnus’s desk drawer. All you need is patience and determination…and the will. Promise me you will try.’
‘I promise,’ said Vita. ‘Now go!’