The Songs of Slaves (53 page)

“So what you are saying is that though we have had many victories, we are playing a game with madmen and so we are no closer to success than before,” Valia said.

“That is one way of looking at it,” Ataulf smiled.

Big flakes of snow began to fall. Connor watched them settle on to his cloak and sit there. It was just a few flakes at first, but then it began to fall steadily, sticking to their hair and gently stinging their red faces.

“Just a little further, brothers,” Ataulf said. “Home is just over that hill.”

***

Snow crunched under Connor’s boots as he walked across the
agora
. Sounds of music, loud voices, and laughter wafted on the wind from the east quarter of the tiny town. Valia was not the only one who had been reunited with family and old friends, and even those who were strangers to each other celebrated the coming of reinforcements – redundant as they may strategically seem at this point. Ataulf had thrown the best banquet for Valia and his warriors that his stores could allow, with bread, pork, soup, hard white cheese, apples, and abundant ale. After the weeks in the mountains, it was a feast fit for the gods. Now, instead
of going home to the houses in which they and their families were boarded, most of the men were patronizing the town’s bars and brothels. The snow storm would ensure that there were no patrols to ride the next day, and so all were taking advantage of the rest. Connor had left after Valia had retired to Ataulf’s home for more reunions with family. He was anxious to make sure
Lucia
was alright. The mood amongst the Visigoths may be good, but though these men had not been without women they had left most of their families behind either in Pannonia or with Alaric. Connor did not want to test their goodwill by leaving the new beauty in town to herself on a night when the men’s spirits were high and their discipline low.

The east quarter may be brimming with firelight and laughter, but the
agora
– indeed, even the rest of the town, seemed almost deserted. Plumes of wood smoke wafted from the many chimneys, but it was clear that most of the town was truly vacant. One of the cavalrymen had explained to him that Ataulf’s Visigoths had found it this way. The nameless town had been simply abandoned, as any of the innumerable invasions over the past fifteen years had taken toll, through the combinations of sword, famine, plague, and
fear. Connor had heard that there were many such places in the north of Italia now, and that the great number of survivors had fled to Mediolanum, Portus Pisanus, and other fortified cities where they could be safe behind buttressed walls of thick stone. Connor looked at the fine architecture all around him – not just the church or the courthouses, but the big houses of the rich, the arched bridge over the dark stream, even the empty storehouses. They lay silent, dark, and empty, the haunt of the ghosts left behind.

A sentry shifted on the walkway atop the palisade, looking to the white world outside. He ignored Connor, though he could not have failed to hear him coming. Connor was glad that he did not have to pull watch on such a night – though in truth, cold as it was, it was nowhere near the icy chill of the Alpine pass. He moved ahead to the house just ahead. It would have been a small house by the standards of the villa owners of Provincia Nostra, but comparing it to others here Connor guessed that it would have belonged to someone in the equestrian or even senatorial class. Now it housed four families, one in each of the wings. Connor had been given the use of the south wing, and had installed
Lucia
and his few possessions there
shortly after arriving a few hours before. Connor was glad to have the other families there – they would be more eyes to discourage unwanted intruders. The house was close to the
agora
where the warriors were to assemble daily, and close to the stables where his horse now rested. Connor smirked as he fit the key to the rusty gate and turned it – if Dervel could see him now, a man with his own key to a fine Roman house. The smile faded, as Connor thought of what Dervel would think of how he got there and where he was going from here.

Connor kicked the snow off of his boots. He entered through the door into the vestibule, stopping to remove his cloak and shake it off outside. He watched the snow land on the step and realized once more how close they had come to being trapped in the mountain passes. Connor decided it was best to think no further of that fate. He walked down the corridor towards the south wing, leaving wet footprints on the mosaic floors. There was some sort of fresco on the wall, but Connor could not make it out in the darkness. It must be later than he thought, for the house was surprisingly quiet. He fumbled for his second key and let himself in to his living quarters.

Light was shining from the next room. Hanging his cloak on the peg and kicking off his boots, Connor entered to find
Lucia
sitting at a writing desk. The light and wonderful warmth were coming from the log burning in the small fireplace in the corner. Where he came from, a house had a single smoke hole in the center of the roof. Much of the smo
ke would find its way out there –
unless
the rain put the fire out first –
and the rest would stifle in the room. This place had a fireplace with a chimney in each of the bedrooms in the secondary wings, leaving the air clean, dry, and warm. Connor could not help but be amazed, for even here in a nameless, abandoned town there were such wonders as these. What palaces the Romans had for themselves! But he dared not say anything about it, lest
Lucia
be reminded of the gap in their origins.

Though if
Lucia
was disparagingly comparing this apartment with her villa she did not show it.
She looked to Connor as he came in and smiled openly. How beautiful she looked when she smiled, Connor thought.  Her hair appeared slightly wet, making it even more black and rich. The glow of the fire played on her smooth skin, her white teeth, her lips and her sparkling eyes. It cast mischievous shadows on her body, which
for the first time since they had left the villa was clad in only a simple white dress.

“You changed your clothes,”
Lucia
said.

“These are my Sunday clothes,” Connor jested.

“They have a bath in the house,”
Lucia
said, barley containing her excitement.
“A real bath that you can heat.
I had despaired of finding one again before we reached Asisium.”

“Well, I needn’t ask you what you’ve been doing for the past hours.”

“You should try it.”

“I went to the public bath house,” Connor said. “You Romans may find us barbarians a filthy lot, but I could not eat supper with nobility and then move into a civilized house with weeks of mountain air and dirt on me. It was good to melt the frost in my bones, that’s for certain.”

“I’ve never been to a public bath,”
Lucia
said. “Though in many cities women go there all they want. The reputation of a city is often made by its baths.”

Connor sighed as he tried not to torment himself by thinking of
Lucia
in a women’s pool at a bath house. He tried to distract himself by taking off his sword and placing it beside his mail in the corner, within easy reach of the bed.

“It was an unusual experience,” he said. “It took some getting used to, but it was well worth it. I felt like a
pheo
– a
pheonis
….”

“A phoenix?”
Lucia
laughed.

“That’s the one,” Connor smiled. “Did you get enough to eat? I’ve brought you some food.”

Lucia
waved it off. “I’ve eaten. So how long do you think we will be here?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I’ve told you – it has a bath in the house,”
Lucia
said. “And it has a fire and a roof over our heads and we are not dying in the mountains, by the grace of the Goddess.”

Connor smiled, but then his smile faded. “I don’t know. We won’t be going anywhere with this snow. It’s slowed, but the sky is still full of clouds.
Valia plans to winter here, joining our forces to Ataulf’s until Alaric instructs otherwise or until something happens. Better to shelter here then to join tens of thousands camped outside a city. As for you and me, we will just have to wait for our opportunity.”

Lucia
stood up and slowly turned away. The firelight cast strange shadows on the wall, but the log was burning down and the room was darkening. Outside a gust of wind rattled the shutters.

“
Lucia
, I will get you through this,” Connor said. “I will get you to somewhere that you can be safe.”

Lucia
turned back towards him. Her eyes were glistening, but Connor could not tell if it was with tears or just a trick of the light.

“I know you will,” she said.

Connor reached out and touched her hand gently.
Lucia
squeezed his hand back. Connor felt how small her hand was in his, how delicate. But as he returned her gaze he could see how strong her spirit was. He stepped forward, still holding her hand, and traced her cheek with the back of his fingers. He heard
her breath quicken as he pushed his fingers into her hair. He c
ould feel his own heart
pound. He expected her to recoil, expected her to rebuke him any second. But instead,
Lucia
pushed her body into him. Connor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He rounded his shoulders to envelope her lithe body. She latched on to him, as if afraid to let go. He could feel her breathing coming faster. Then she stood on her tip toes and cast her head back. Connor did not wait, but kissed her.
Lucia
clung on to him, balling his tunic in her fists, kissing him desperately.  Connor moved away from her mouth to her cheeks and forehead, and then to her neck. He buried his face in her jasmine-scented hair.
Lucia
pulled
at him, kissing his shoulder and his chest. She tried to move his tunic collar to
reach more of him. Connor wrestled
his tunic over his head an
d dropped it. He took
Lucia
back in, kissing the crown of her head as she ran her lips over the muscles of his shoulders and arms and chest. Connor backed her up to the bed.
Lucia
sat down, casting her head back but staring straight up into his eyes. Her arms were back, her legs slightly apart. Connor pulled the knot of the fabric belt and pulled it from her waist. Her
stolla
came loose, hanging off of her left shoulder. The sight of just
thi
s
made Connor lose any restraint
he may have had. He pulled
Lucia
to her feet and kissed her again. The girl’s tongue darted into his mouth as he pulled her left shoulder free and then her right. The dress fell to the mosaic f
loor. Connor felt her young
breasts and hardened nipples pushing into his chest. His hands roved over her, trying to experience her and explore her as if he only had seconds to live. She was kissing him wildly now. Connor broke free just long enough to pull back the blankets.
Lucia
lay down as Connor struggled with the knot on his breeches. A small gasp escaped
Lucia
as she saw Connor in the firelight. She may have glimpsed him before, Connor thought, but she had not s
een him like this.
All he wanted was her. He had no thought for anything else. She opened her legs as he climbed into bed with her. He could smell the delicately sweet smell of her arousal as he drew near.
Lucia
ga
sped outright as he gently pressed
into her. Maddened as he was, he still knew he could not go deep yet. She moaned and threw her arms around his neck as he began to rock her gent
ly; moving in small
movements as her body slowly welcomed him. Connor stopped as
Lucia
winced. He
backed up, and was about to pull out entirely, but
Lucia
grabbed him and pulled
him closer. She cried out as he broke her maidenhead. Connor stopped again, gazing at her as
Lucia
bit her lip and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Then all at once she seemed to recover; rhythmically rocking, drawing Connor deeper in. He rolled on his back, pulling
Lucia
over on top of him. Her shadow danced on the wall. Connor fought to control himself as their passion intensified. He struggled to control his breathing. “Control your breathing and control your body” the words came back to him.
Lucia
was moving faster and faster. She threw her head back and then brought it down to kiss him in turn. Her breasts moved with her motion. Connor’s hands were on her hips, guiding her. He could feel the heat deep inside her.
Lucia
was breathing raggedly, her moans turning to cries. Her body started to shake uncontrollably. Connor was sweating.
Lucia
’s reaction was almost too much for him, but somewhere in his head the very last operating portion of his reason was screaming at him not to release into her – t
hey could not risk that.
Lucia
buried her face in Connor’s chest to m
uffle her voice
. She shook violently,
then
graduated into full, rhythmic spasms. Then trembling gently, her motion subsided. Connor turned her on her back and p
ulled out
, finally
letting go
.
The room seemed to pound with his hear
t beats. His whole body shuddered
. His throat hurt, and then he realized he had been growling and screaming in turn.
Lucia
lay on her back – his
Lucia
. He bent down and gently kissed her, relishing the feel of her lips and her tongue.