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| 2022 My thanks to the author for the invitation to read this book |
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| Lucius and Julia...maybe ? |
From Chapter 1 – Julia
is simply dressed for supervising the household making the inventory, and has
hurried down to the town market. There, she has a fateful encounter.
Weaving between ambulant hawkers
with trays suspended from their necks, I nearly tripped over a pile of metal
vessels and tools. Why they had to cover half the street with their goods, I
didn’t know. One hot-food trader stirred the contents of a large cauldron
suspended over a fire and steaming in the chill, partly tempered by the spring
sun. Next to him, a pie and sausage man who wiped his nose on his sleeve. Ugh.
More permanent stalls were set up under awnings strung between stakes in the
ground. Towards the centre, shops had disgorged onto the pavement and even into
the street. The bread and vegetable vendors displaying their produce on wooden
tables were more circumspect. At least I didn’t have to make a detour round
them like the dratted shoe seller who had set out wooden benches for his
customers and marked out his place of sale with curtains hung between columns.
And did they all have to shout so
loudly and wave their arms about so much? Along with the chickens squawking,
mules braying and children shrieking, my head was fit to burst. At last, it
quietened as I reached the crafts and household goods area. Fine pottery,
leather and beadwork; one tribesman with curly blond hair and a friendly smile
was selling beautifully worked fibula brooches and belt buckles.
At last, I found the Gaul in
front of a small glassware shop at the end of the row. The leather cover of the
cart behind him was half drawn up to display stacks of redware, bedded in
wooden frames lined with straw, but on the table in front of him were the best.
The redware was beautiful;
exquisite figures chased one another on the widest part of one serving bowl,
another showed a hunting scene with hare and hounds that my father would love.
I stayed silent, picking up each piece, examining it slowly and putting it
back. He shuffled behind his counter watching intently. Did he think I was
going to steal it?
When I stopped and looked him
direct in the eye, his face was expressionless. But I decided I would take the
two serving dishes, a dozen of the cups and half that number of small bowls and
plates. In the end, I relieved the Gaul’s agony, gave the order and told him to
deliver them to the service area of the palace.
‘And who are you to give me
orders?’ He looked me up and down. ‘I’ll deal with your steward. You run back
and get him.’ He flicked his hand at me.
‘How dare you! Do you know who I
am?’
‘No, but I know more than to go
on a fool’s errand started by some kitchen wench.’ He wiped his hand on his
checked tunic and turned towards a newcomer – the new Roman officer. A tall man, he must have been
several years older than me, possibly in his late twenties. His face tight with
anger above his red neck scarf and scale armour shirt. His boots were dusty as
were his breeches. He walked a little wide as if chafed from being on his horse
all day. He stopped, set one hand on his belt, the other on the pommel of his
short sword. He glanced at the Gaul, then turned his gaze on me. Brown eyes,
reflecting the pale light.
Something twisted inside me, immobilised my breath, then
settled in my core. Perhaps a meeting of something familiar, a recognition. He
didn’t move, just stared at me. I returned the stare. I couldn’t find a word to
say. Heat crept up my neck and into my face. Venus Suleviae, he must have
thought I was half-witted.
Eventually, he moved, pointing at
the Gaul.
‘Is this man cheating you?’
‘What business is it of yours?’
It was out before I could think.
‘None,’ he said, frowning. He
looked at me again, then turned away.
Oh, gods, I had behaved like a
true barbarian and was ashamed. And he was walking away from me. I had to stop
him.
‘Wait, Roman.’
He walked on, ignoring me.
Please, Great Mother, make him
stop.
‘I said wait!’ I cried after him.
He walked on. I knew I’d been
rude, but he could at least stop and let me apologise. He didn’t need to be so uncivil,
even for a soldier. I hastened after him, determined to make him hear me.
Nobody turns his back and walks away from me.
When I caught up with him, I
seized his arm. He instantly grabbed his sword pommel. The gladius was halfway
out of the scabbard by the time he saw it was me. He released it, then looked
at my hand on his forearm as if it were a viper about to bite.
‘How dare you touch me!’ He
looked at me as if I were the meanest drudge. ‘Remove your hand or I’ll have
you whipped.’
‘You can’t,’ I retorted. ‘You
have no right.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ He went
to raise his hand – to summon some of his men, I supposed – then he let his
hand drop. His eyes gleamed and he looked down his Roman nose. I caught my
breath and tipped my chin up at him. I knew my face was flushed – I could feel
the heat – but I was going to teach him a lesson. When he found out who he’d
insulted he’d be broken and sent back to Rome in disgrace. I opened my mouth to
tell him exactly what his fate was going to be, but as he prised my fingers off
his arm they tingled. The rough skin on his hand chafed my softer one. My
fingers were jammed together but I hardly noticed. Before I could protest, he
grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. Gods, he was strong. His arm slid round
the back of my waist, and he crushed me against his body. Solid, unyielding. He
smelt of horse, a day’s sweat and pine resin. His eyes narrowed then gleamed
again. His breath shortened.
I should have struggled, but I
didn’t want to. His other hand gripped my buttock. I stared into his eyes. I
was lost.
🍷Best Read with… an earthenware mug of honeyed wine
Connect with Alison on her Roma Nova site: click here
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What a fantastic review, Jo. Thank you so much for hosting Julia and me on her launch tour. You are a true friend of Roma Nova. *Waves a paw at Timmy*
ReplyDeleteIt's always a pleasure, Alison to catch up with the Roma Nova series. Thanks for the invitation to take part in the tour.
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