Just a heads up, I really REALLY struggled with this chapter. You will get what I mean as you read, so harsh critiques are needed.
Well, hope you all enjoy it!
Happy Reading!
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CHAPTER FIVE
Weeks pass and life is uneventful again until Octavio decides to throw a celebration for Senator Caradoc's reelection into office. I find no excitement, however Evander expresses his every day at dinner. By what Evander says, it seems that this senator is a big supporter of businessmen and with him in office, Evander and my father will continue to profit from him.
The party date nears far too quickly and soon, Lyra reenters my room and helps me dress for the occasion. But first, she says. “The miss insists you bath before the party.”
I shrug. “I suppose so.” I stand and follow her from the room and down into the bathing quarters. Since my arrival here, I have always bathed in the small wash room off from my own room. But today, Lyra leads me to the lower levels, which bewilders me.
When I enter the room she directs me to, I am shocked to see a bath as large as a swimming pool. I raise my eyebrows at Lyra. “Am I to bath in this?”
“Of course,” she giggles. “My mistress says that it is time you experience a true Roman tradition.” I just shake my head, not bothering to reply as she passes over a white towel and an instrument I had never witnessed before. It was like a giant hook and I widen my eyes as I ask the obvious question. “And, what am I supposed to do with this?”
Lyra looks at me as though I am insane. “Are you serious?” All her polite manner connected with being a servant disappears and she just stares at me. I nod weakly and she shakes her head. “This is called a strigil. It is to scrape the oil from your body.”
“Oil!” I frighten at her words.
“Yes, oil,” she says slowly as though I am stupid.
“I see,” I nod shakily, glancing back at the water, second-guessing taking a bath now.
Lyra sees my hesitation and urges me forward. “Go on.”
“Not with you here!” I tell her with a scalding look.
She doesn’t take my words seriously and just sighs. “You are not used to Roman baths, are you, Isadora?”
“No,” I say, offended.
“Luckily you are staying with a family. Otherwise, you would be bathing publicly with women and men.”
I am astonished at this information. How crude and uncivilized? I think. Back in Greece, we had our home baths and bathed one at a time from the privacy of our own room. I am shocked at how proud Roman’s are of their bodies and nudity. “Well, if I wasn’t, I just would never bath,” I answer simple, inching slowly towards the edge of the tepidarium.
“People would avoid you in swarms if you did.” Lyra grins and I ignore her comment. “Now, come now and remove your tunic.” She presses, impatient with me. I shake my head like a scared child and she tilts her head with a look of frustration. “Miss Delicia wishes you tobath. Now, let’s not upset her.”
I sigh deeply. “Only on one condition.”
Lyra rolls her eyes but agrees. “What is it?”
“That you will leave.”
Her eyes widen. “You have to be joking?”
“No,” I assure her.
“All right,” she sighs when she sees that I am stubborn in my decision. “I’ll be back in a while to do the oil.” I open my mouth to ask of the oil but she is already gone and I can breath easier.
I glance around one last time to make sure I am alone in this wall-to-wall tiled room before removing my tunic and belt. Standing at the edge of the pool, I look down into the clear water. I am able to glimpse the whitewashed stone floor below for the water is so clear. I shake my shoulders loose before descending slowly down the stairs. When I am up to my neck, I fully submerge myself.
Once I am fully wet, I douse my hair in soap and scrub with sharp fingernails until my body glistens pink. I rinse my hair once more when Lyra enters. She doesn’t glance twice at me, naked in the pool and speaks as though this is a common sight of my bare body. “All right. Out with you. If you stay any longer, you will wrinkle and resemble a prune.” I scowl but remain underneath the water, bending my knees so only my head shows. “Umm, Lyra,” I incline to my not clothed body and she just rolls her eyes.
“Come on and get out like I told you to.”
“Then turn around!” I order and she glares.
“I need to do the oil first, Isadora.”
I sigh deeply, knowing that Lyra will not be persuaded otherwise. I close my eyes, willing my embarrassment away before slowly stepping out of the pool. I try to cover as much of me as I can. Lyra finds me comical and smirks. “It’s oka,y Isadora. Nothing to be ashamed about.” I glower at her as she hands me the oil. I stare at her and she explains. “Smooth it all over.” I sigh and do as I am told. The oil makes my skin brighten before my eyes. She then hands me the strigil. “Now, scrape it off.” She instructs and I obey, removing the oil with gentle strokes.
When I am done, she throws me a towel and I quickly cover myself. “Wasn’t so bad, hmm? I shake my head solemnly and she laughs, her mouth wide. She reminds me of a baby bird before her mother with worms wiggling from her beak. I smile in spite and she leads me back to my room.
Tonight, she dons me in a tunic that runs to my knees with a cinching belt encrusted with jewels. The tunic is white and Lyra tells me that all that attend this gathering is to wear white in respect to Senator Caradoc Laskaris. I don’t understand this bizarre tradition but don’t question Lyra further as she struggles to perfect my headdress of pearls. My hair is long and wavy and the headdress sets off my tan skin.
She paints my lips a crimson red along with my eyelids. My cheekbones shimmer with gold and my skin glistens with scented lotions and perfumes. As I tie my sandals, Lyra presents me with six bangles of gold to adorn my arm. I slip them on, one by one, as Lyra looks over my critically. She nods a few times, as if to confirm her judgment and then speaks. “You are ready.” I thank her graciously and follow her from the room and down into the entrance hall once again.
Everybody is decked out, just like before. Delicia and Evander are stunning and my father sophisticated in his white toga and gold sandals. I look to see the litter assemble just outside the doors. My eyes lift from them and I see Nicandro.
I fumble and I feel my jaw give way. He is magnificent with a pure white toga hanging from one shoulder and his hair curling around his ears and jaw. His eyes are hooded as they scan over me. My body heats up and I quickly lower my gaze.
When I look up, he is there, standing before me. “Isadora,” he says, keeping up his act when his parents are around.
“Nicandro,” I nod my head towards him. His eyes float over me again and when they meet my eyes, his mouth is upturned in a cat-like grin.
“You look…nice,” he finally utters and I scowl before quickly regaining my composure.
“As do you.”
“Thank you,” he slurs. My cheeks flare but thankfully, the litter is ready and we are allowed to leave.
Octavio house is as extravagant as before with white drapes and gold goblets. We are one of the last guests to arrive and people mill about, talking quietly. A burst of laughter erupts and I freeze as we enter as all eyes scan us critically. I feel as though I am being cross-examined and retreat to the safety of my father’s side. Octavio’s deep voice booms and he embraces Evander. I sniff the air and I notice that the mulled wine is flowing freely among the adults, many having already consumed more than they should. Laughter rings out like a chime of bells and I shrink ever closer to my father.
The party is awkward and the people foreign. I feel more alone now then ever before. I follow my father like a lost puppy as he mingles with guests. I smile and nod like a dutiful daughter but I can’t help but notice when Celia enters the room.
She is beautiful with an embroidered tunic and gold belt, her hair shimmering. Her eyelids and lips are painted a stunning red and her hips sway as she descends into our midst. Nicandro isn’t the only man lusting when she joins us. They scan her body with smoldering eyes and lolling tongues. But Nicandro is the only brave one to speak to her.
He approaches at an easy lope and comes to rest at her elbow. She raises shy eyes to meet his stormy ones. They greet. Chat. I watch as he lowers his head and whispers something in her ear, which makes her giggle and I feel my stomach tighten painfully. I spin away and see Lucretius making his way over to me. Nicandro’s warning flashes through my mind but after seeing him so occupied, I’m feeling a little rebellious. I smile coyly and I see his eyes brighten. “Isadora, aren’t you a sight!” He greets, his voice silky.
“Same to you, sir,” I say, modestly lowering my chin.
“Not as fine as you,” he says softly and I smile shyly.
At that moment, Octavio announces that dinner is to be served and the guests settle into appointed chairs and sofas. Lucretius sits with me and I feel another’s eyes on me as the servants weave through, laden with food. I peer up cautiously and see Nicandro’s piercing eyes. They flicker but don’t tun away when I catch him staring. I narrow my own menacingly. A smile tugs at his mouth but his eyes darken. They flicker to Lucretius and back to me pointedly. I roll my eyes and sit straighter, giving Lucretius my full attention.
Lucretius stays with me throughout the night and I find his company to be refreshing. He is sweet and charming and not bad looking as I gaze longer at him. His hair is as greasy as his father’s but his eyes are bright, like his sisters and his build is slight, not as built like Nicandro. His smile is contagious and his laughter is like music in the dimly lit room.
Or maybe it is just the wine that is making me look at him in such a bright way. I take another sip as he tells me yet another political story about Caradoc. He looks at me then and stops mid-sentence. I fear I have done something repulsive and raise my hand to my throat. “Did I do something, sir?”
“No,” he shakes his head and there is a glint that darkens his eyes. “I was just wondering if you would like to tour the garden with me?”
I take another sip of wine. “That sounds delightful, sir,” I drawl and stand with a flourish, swaying my hips in mock imitation to Celia, not caring who sees. Lucretius trails behind and, as we near the garden, I hear voices. I turn to face Lucretius and put a steady finger to my lips. He nods, grinning idiotically and we tiptoe silently and peer around the corner.
My stomach drops to my ankles and I feel as though I will hurl.
Celia is backed up against a wall, Nicandro smothering her lips with his while he murmurs unintelligible words to her. His hands are buried in her hair while hers are tugging at the front of his toga. I hear Lucretius snicker but I have no effort to response. I just stumble from the corridor and into the garden.
Lucretius catches up and notices my sudden sober mood. “I see that you are more than unhappy with that scene.” His voice is grave.
“No, I just think I drank too much wine,” I giggle, trying to lighten the mood as I trip over my own feet. Lucretius scoops me up before I hit the ground and we tumble together onto the nearest bench. I laugh loudly and I hear Lucretius join me. My brain is fuzzy and buzzing. My eyes struggle on focusing on Lucretius face and I laugh again as he goes in and out of focus.
Suddenly, he is too close and I veer away but the wine swimming in my veins dulls my reflexes. He catches my neck with the palm of one hand and strokes the skin there as he whispers, his breath caressing my lips, “You are extremely beautiful, Isadora.” Before I can express my protest, his lips make contact with mine and I notice that they taste like wine. I push weakly on his chest when he forces open my mouth and his tongue slips inside. I pull back with more force and his lips leave my mouth but he isn’t done with me, yet.
He holds my neck in a firm grip as his lips trail down my neck and jaw. I fumble to find my voice as his free hand fingers at the lace at the base of my tunic. “Please!” I cry out when his hand crawls up my leg. “Please, Lucretius!” I plea.
“I know you want me,” he whispers, his breath hot, when he presses his lips over mine again. I squirm and his hand squeezes my knee. I know his intentions and this is enough to clear my mind of the buzzing but not enough to wear off the weakness of my muscles as I fight against him.
His lips leave mine again and I gulp in fresh air. My skin tingles as his lips land on my collarbone and the hand on my neck tightens in warning when I pull away from him. I look around wildly but I know that we are alone and that no one can hear my pleas. I feel his hand move further up my thigh and I cry out again. “Lucretius! Stop!” I am louder than I should be and his hand leaves my thigh to cover my mouth.
My eyes are fearful as he hisses, “Shut up, you little wench. You want the whole house to hear you?” He waits until I shake my head obediently. Then, he grins, slow and easy, and kisses me passionately.
It happens so suddenly after that. One minute, his hands are in my hair and his lips are smothering mine when, abruptly, he no longer is holding me and I wobble. I open my eyes and gape when I see Nicandro holding Lucretius up but the front of his tunic, his feet dangling a good foot off of the ground.
“Listen now, you Roman pig, and listen good,” Nicandro spits into his face. “If you ever go near Isadora again, I will personally slit your throat.” My blood chills at such a violent threat. I watch as Nicandro releases Lucretius, who scrambles away, eyes wide.
I shiver and Nicandro glares at me. I cower and he glares even more fiercely. “I warned you about him.”
“Yeah, so,” I say, standing shakily to my feet.
“And you didn’t listen.”
“Why should I listen to you?” I shoot and stumble pass him but not before tripping. He catches me in his arms. The air leaves my lungs and I gasp, gripping onto his forearms. He smirks, “A little tipsy, I see.” I glower and try to stand but he holds my waist firmly in his grasp. “From now on, don’t go wandering alone with any creeps.”
“The only creep I see is you,” I say coolly and I feel his fingers dig into my skin as his eyes flash dangerously.
“I saved you from that pig,” he reminds me and I feel all the anger ebb away as realization of what just occurred comes into my mind. He’s right, after all. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have lost my virtue.
“Thank you,” I swallow, feeling the unwanted tears coming.
“Now, that’s more like it,” he smiles softly, seeing the tears welling. One drops from my eye and onto my cheek. He lifts if away with a gentle thumb.
At this soft gesture, the dam breaks and tears flow freely as I bury my face into his chest. I feel his arms wrap around me in condolence and I hug myself to him. I hear him mumbling words of comfort and his breath moves the strands of my hair on the top of my head. I wipe at my eyes, furious, and when I pull my hand back, I see it smeared with red. I whimper and he lifts my chin with his index finger. “What now - " He cuts off as he sees my disaster of a face. I see that he is trying not to laugh and I find myself grinning stupidly. “My, aren’t you beautiful,” he teases and I whimper miserably. He pulls from his pocket a handkerchief and starts rubbing away the excess make-up. His hands are gentle and I feel my eyes slipping closed at his light caress. He sees this but doesn’t stop. He only moves slower, his strokes delicate and soft.
Finally, all the make-up is gone and my eyes open, glistening but clear. His own are smoking as they scan my face. Modesty soon takes over and I lower my face. He lifts my chin again and I am forced to look him in the eye. “Better?” I nod slowly and he smiles softly. “Promise to stay away from Lucretius.” His voice hardens dangerously at my assulter's name and I quickly agree, afraid to anger him further. “Good, now lets depart before they start to talk.” My cheeks flame and he laughs openly. “Talk is harmless when there is no evidence behind the words. Remember that, Isadora.”
“But they shall talk all the same,” I say, stepping past him.
“Well, with your face flaming as it is, you will give them reason to.” This brings even more color to my cheeks and Nicandro shakes his head, smirking.
The entertainment room is a buzz with gossip when we return. My first guess is it is Nicandro’s and my departure and late return but, then I notice the source of the commotion. Octavio’s head is bowed with a stout man with a thin beard and mustache. They whisper urgently to each other and with every syllable spoken, Octavio’s watery eyes glint more and more with a vicious, greedy spark. Nicandro leads me to the nearest sofa and I see that Lucretius is no where to be found. Probably with another girl. My stomach clenches at this and I feel as if I might vomit. I clutch at my abdomen just as the stout man takes his leave. Octavio’s guests watch him depart before all turn to their host to see of the news.
Octavio’s grin is wide as he announces, “Dear guest, I have wonderful news,” he pauses dramatically. “I have been invited to the next games by Caradoc himself.” The room erupts in wild applause and he waves his hand until the room is silent again before speaking. “And, of course, you all are invited as my guests.” Another round of applause and then, the room resumes its chatter, all congratulating Octavio.
I glance bewilderingly at Nicandro. “When are these…ah, games?”
“A week from now,” he answers promptly but his eyes don’t stay on me for long. His voice trails off and his eyes spark with a fire that leaves me feeling unwanted and used. I look up and, to no surprise, it is Celia who has captured his attention. I think of the following week, when we will be Octavio’s guests once again and my heart pounds in protest. Celia will be there, as will Nicandro, giving them even more time to spend together.
After Nicandro’s heroic rescue of me, I thought I had misjudged him. I assumed Celia had seduced him with her seductive ways but now I see that he has bewitched her just as she has him. His smile is broad and hers is shy yet coy. He leaves the sofa without a second thought to join her, abandoning me in a household full of foreigners.
), I will be doing some MAJOR MAJOR editing because I know this chapter was a disappointment to you both.
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