‘The lady will join you shortly, sir, I believe.’
‘The lady?’
Whether deliberately or not, the slave had withdrawn too quickly to have heard the question, leaving a bemused Scaurus to pace around the room with one hand on the dagger’s hilt, and a distinct feeling that he was being misled in some way. Glancing at the murals that decorated the walls he frowned momentarily, then raised an intrigued eyebrow as he realised exactly what it was that they depicted.
‘Good, aren’t they? I had to pay an absolute fortune to find an artist with the skill and experience to get them right, but it was worth every denarius if the reaction of the men who see them is any indication of their value. I particularly like that one, where he’s mounting her from behind. Do you see the way her back’s arched? You can almost hear the cries of pleasure as he grinds her into the couch.’
Scaurus nodded, turning to face the speaker with the distinct feeling that his face was a little pinker than might be desirable. Theodora was carefully posed in the doorway on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the door frame with her elegant chin resting on her raised hand and the other hand at her side, gently stroking at whatever gauzy, semi-transparent material had been used to make her gown. He bowed deeply, using the moment to gather his thoughts.
‘Ah, madam. I must admit you have me at a disadvantage. Your messenger led me to expect a dinner party, but your rather exotic clothing indicates that the gathering might be a more select group than I’d imagined?’
She laughed, the sound light and breathy in the room’s silence, and stepped away from the door with a calculating look on her face.
‘The confusion is purely intentional, Tribune. I wanted you all to myself, but I wasn’t sure how you would have responded to an invitation that would appear to be aimed at seeking favouritism with you.’
He raised both eyebrows, putting his hands on his hips.
‘Which is exactly what this is, I presume.’
Theodora smiled with genuine pleasure.
‘Oh yes, of course it is, and how clever of you to see through me. Mind you, I was also hoping to provoke you to come here dressed up in all that lovely armour. I do so love a man in uniform. I wish my artist were here now, I’d have him paint you just like that, looking all stern and manly. .’ She walked across the room and ran a finger down his breastplate. ‘And shiny too. All my birthdays come at once. If only you’d worn your helmet.’
Scaurus smiled.
‘If only I’d known.’
‘Ah, but half the fun of these things is the surprise, wouldn’t you say? Now, what happens if I undo this?’
She pulled at the fastenings that secured his breastplate, her delicate fingers unpicking the hooks.
‘Let’s have all that bronze off, shall we? It’s all very well for intimidating civilians, but it’s not really evening wear, now is it?’
His smiled broadened.
‘I must warn you, madam, that I’ve had a fairly hectic day, and the timing of your invitation allowed me no opportunity to bathe. I may be a little. . ripe?’
She finished teasing open the tight knots securing his breastplate’s two halves, lowering the heavy bronze armour to the floor before bending close and inhaling.
‘Marvellous! That, my dear tribune, is the smell of a man. And presumably down here we’ll find. .’ She darted a hand beneath his tunic and rubbed at his rapidly swelling penis. ‘Exactly what I’m looking for!’ She stood, laughing into his expression of delighted astonishment as she tugged him towards the door by the now thoroughly engorged member. ‘This way, Gaius. I may call you Gaius, I presume, given that I’m just about to mount this rather impressive specimen? Let’s get that first desperate coupling out of the way, shall we? I don’t want you leaking all over my furniture in anticipation when a few minutes of vigorous enjoyment can calm it all down until later.’
‘Later?’
She smirked knowingly at him, knowing she literally had him in the palm of her hand.
‘Oh yes. After a nice long dinner, with enough wine to dull your sensitivity whilst not destroying your ability, during which we can have a chat about how you’re going to defend the Raven Head mine against these beastly barbarians, I’ll be expecting you to impale me on this a few more times. Until, to be perfectly frank, there’s no more impaling left in you.’
3
Julius was busy describing the many and varied faults of the day’s gate sentries to them in the most graphic and violent terms possible when the message from Annia reached him. He had already left the two tent parties in question in no doubt whatsoever that another such failure in their duties would result in significant loss of pay, not to mention a certain flogging.
‘And no, the fact that the boy came back safe doesn’t make it any fucking better, because he shouldn’t ever have been able to fucking well leave unnoticed, and nor should the other lad have got into the fucking camp in the first fucking place!’ He took the message tablet that was being held out to him by a visibly wilting soldier from his own First Century, and scanned the contents before turning back to the waiting man with a wave of dismissal. ‘Tell the lady I’ll be there shortly. And fetch enough of the evening meal for six people. If it’s not at the doctor’s tent when I get there you can join this lot on punishment duty and get your spade dirty cleaning out the latrines.’
The soldier swivelled on his heel and ran, having been on the butt end of his first spear’s evil temper more than once, while Julius turned his attention to the nearest of the current gate sentries, his sharp eyes quickly finding a pair of men clearly struggling to restrain their mirth at their comrades’ predicament. Raising his voice to a parade-ground roar, he bellowed at them loudly enough for half the camp to hear.
‘And I don’t know what you two are laughing at, because according to that message the other lad got back into the camp with our boy just now, and once again not one of you stupid bastards noticed! I want the entire guard paraded in front of my tent when you come off duty, no exceptions!’
He was delighted to discover that by happy coincidence the night guard’s duty centurion was Otho, the most foul tempered of his officers, who had long since been christened ‘Knuckles’ by soldiers and centurions alike for his pugilistic tendencies. In a short and vigorous discussion he suggested that the veteran officer might do well to sharpen up the camp’s guards, using both tone and language he judged were sufficiently terse to result in a rich crop of black eyes and fat lips. Still shaking his head in angry disbelief at his men’s failure to detect two children sneaking around the camp in broad daylight, he stamped off to the doctor’s tent where, the tablet written by Annia had informed him, he was invited to dine as long as he provided the evening meal. Poised to walk through the tent’s doorway, he was met by the lady in question who put her hand on his chest and pushed him firmly away from the opening. Her look was enough to make him hold his tongue long enough for his woman to put her face close to his, her features set in the expression that he’d come to understand signified that she meant business. Her whispered warning was delivered in what he’d taken to describing as her ‘command voice’, when he was sure that she wasn’t listening.
‘I knew you were coming this way because I could hear you beasting anyone that crossed your path! We’ve a guest, Julius, and if you barge in shouting the odds about the “fucking sentries” in your usual manner he’ll be out and away before you’ve stopped to draw breath. I’m not sure exactly what happened to the boy, but what little I do know is that some soldiers tore his life apart, as a result of which he’s terrified of a uniform — any uniform — especially one filled by a self-important centurion with the temper of a prize bull who’s been shut away from the cows for too long.’