One With the Darkness (10 page)

“He is a slave,” one of the others muttered. “I understand your … interest in him, my lady, but slaves have no honor. He will betray you at the first touch of a hot iron.”

“I beg to differ, citizens. And really you have no choice. If you wish me to continue in our quest, he comes with the bargain, since I intend not to let him leave my side.”

They would refuse. Why did they need a woman?

But Jergan saw them look chagrined. Was it that feeling of life and vitality that buzzed around her that put them in
her thrall? Titus said, “You have owned him less than twenty-four hours, Livia. How can you be sure of him?”

She smiled, and looked supremely confident. “I am sure.”

Why? Why was she sure of him? She wasn’t stupid. Why would she think he would stand torture to defend her secrets and those of these old men?

But her confidence seemed to sway them.

“There will be little time for him to betray us anyway,” Titus said. “We must strike now. The recent attacks on you are certain proof, Livia.”

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “Our tool is ready when we are. Gaius Caesar’s death is assured. But what comes after? It is easy to bring down a despot, but not so easy to put up a stable government in his place that gives the people a voice and preserves them from abuse of power. We must not supplant our problem with one worse. We need a republic, citizens.”

“If Gaius dies without issue, isn’t a republic ensured? I thought that was the point.”

“If he dies without issue, Marcus Belius, the Senate can anoint another emperor. Would you have his grandmother put the laurel wreath on Agrippina’s spawn? No, we must be certain we have the Senate behind us before the deed is done.”

“And how do we do that, pray?” This one’s bald pate gleamed in the lamplight. Outside, the dusk was deepening into night. “We can be certain of only perhaps twenty….”

“Gaius Caesar is expensive, Flavio Antellus. Very expensive. Think how much there would be for public projects if Rome did not find it necessary to support his excesses.”

That made them look thoughtful. “That would sway another ten,” Titus observed. “But …”

“Perhaps some would support more money for foreign conquests?” she asked sweetly.

“Fifteen, perhaps twenty at a stretch …” Marcus Belius said slowly.

“And then there is the theory that without Gaius there is simply more for the rest of us.”

“I don’t know….” This from Flavio Antellus.

“I’m not sure any one of those buys us enough votes for a republic.” Titus looked sorry he had to tell her that.

“And who said we would use only one approach?” She smiled and watched her proposal sink in. The woman was devious; Jergan would give her that. “Titus, your reputation dictates that you contact the ones who would be in favor of public works. Marcus Belius, you have been a hawk in your day. Contact your fellow predators and argue for war. And Flavio …”

“By the gods, you don’t think my reputation is for selfishness!”

“Of course not,” she soothed. “You pretend to be outraged that if Caesar were overthrown and there were no new emperor … if there were a republic … there would be those who would take advantage of all that loose money saved. And, well, you see my point. They will think they thought of the idea themselves.”

“Brilliant.” It was Marcus Belius who expressed what they all were thinking. Including Jergan. The woman had a head for scheming, which he supposed all women did. But to see it applied to the politics of the Roman Empire was … a little shocking.

“What happens when the alliance built for avoiding an emperor accomplishes its goal and a republic is established? The alliance will not stand if all want something different from the outcome.” Titus said what Jergan was thinking.

“All alliances are temporary. Once we have a republic, we form new alliances. I can think of a dozen permutations possible.”

“I cannot.” Flavio Antellus pulled his toga over his shoulder. “But I believe you can.”

“Enough to stake your life on it?” Marcus Belius asked, and looked around at the aging conspirators. There was a moment of long silence. Then nods, some more grudging than others.

“Go to your work, gentlemen,” she said, rising. “The people deserve better than Gaius Caesar. And we are just the ones to help them to it.”

“And you … you should stay within doors, my lady, until we can bring this thing off,” Titus said, coming to take her shoulders and look into her eyes. The old man cared for her; it was obvious. “These attacks may well continue.”

“And bring suspicion down on my head by looking fearful? No, my friends, I must be seen at banquets and celebrations of the empire’s victory. I stay only to bathe and dress.”

Titus had worry writ in the myriad lines of his old face. She patted his hand. “Courage, old friend, just a little longer.”

“You put us to shame, my dear,” he said, low, and squeezed her hand in return. The men bowed themselves out.

She turned to Jergan. “Come; I must bathe.”

A shiver of anticipation rustled through him. Would she expect…? He imagined her body, nude as he had been in the bath last night, covered with oil. He felt his loins tighten. Belatucadros’s horn! How long since he’d had a woman? How would he keep himself from grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to his body to feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest, her desire and her fear trembling through her? Best he resist his impulse, or
she’d have him on the auction block by midnight, if not hanging on one of those gruesome crosses.

He followed her out to the bathhouse the Romans called a
thermae
, trying to make his cock behave. He wasn’t winning the battle. A maid was just leaving. Once Jergan would have thought the maid a tidy plum, ripe for plucking, but she was nothing compared to her mistress.

The girl bowed. “Would my mistress like attendance at her bath?”

“No need for you to trouble yourself. Jergan will do.” His owner’s voice was husky.

She said he would not be required to pleasure her. He didn’t want to be bidden to her bed like some obedient animal. The very thought was degrading. But his body wouldn’t object. Even the dried old husks who conspired with her wanted her. He could see it in their eyes. She made them feel alive.

He thought about that. In some ways, she made him feel alive, too. Even now she buzzed with energy. Or was that desire? Did she desire him? Was that why she invited him to her bath?

He hoped so. And he despised himself for that.

6

L
IVIA COULD FEEL
him at her back. She was already wet between her thighs. How would she bear his touch, scraping her naked body in the bath? She regretted now that she had told him she would not use him for her pleasure, and hated herself for thinking that. What kind of a civilized woman was she? She was no better than Agrippina and Julia.

And yet Livia enjoyed the Roman attitude toward sex. It was so much more open than her homeland. Whatever one did was acceptable in Rome as long as it was consensual. The exception to the need for consensus was sex with a slave. Romans thought there was nothing wrong with compelling slaves because slaves were less than real men and women. If you did not believe someone was as good as you were, was it long before cruelty was acceptable? That was a problem for some vampires, too. They thought of humans as lesser beings, and therefore fair game for cruelty. Julia and Agrippina bought and tortured slaves. It was rumored that they both slept with their brother, too. An open attitude was good, but surely some things must be wrong. And that was the problem with Rome under Gaius Caesar. It had lost the idea that anything was wrong, if you had enough power to enforce your will.

Livia, on the other hand, knew very well it was wrong
to take advantage of a slave. So she was going to deny the strange attraction she had to her new bodyguard.

As she passed the vine-covered rock wall in the back of the garden, she felt a strange frisson of the urgency she had experienced of late race up her spine. She stopped for a moment and looked around. The garden wall nearly shut out the sounds of the city beyond. The scent of sage and rosemary filled the garden even in winter. From behind her in the outbuilding that was the kitchen, the scent of her servants baking bread wafted out. The air was sweet and clean, unusual for Rome. Everything was just as it had been for many Januaries past.

And yet … there was this
feeling.

Maybe it was the feeling of the slave standing behind her. She trotted up the steps to the
thermae.
Why did it seem as though she had known him forever, instead of less than twenty-four hours? She lusted after him. She must get through the next hour without abandoning her morals. Her back could do without scraping tonight.

Stranger than her attraction to him was the fact that she had trusted him with the secret of her conspiracy. She could
tell
herself that as her bodyguard, he would know all sooner or later anyway. But that was not strictly true. She could have concealed it from him.

Yet she trusted him. With her life. With the lives of her friends.

It made no sense. Hadn’t a long life taught her better?

She found herself in the
frigidarium
and looked around as though she’d never been there. He was close behind her. She could feel his heat.

“Shall I remove my tunic, my lady?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, you will remain clothed. You are here to guard me.” Keeping his role to one of
bodyguard was her only chance of resisting her needs. “You will turn your back and stand ready with your sword in case of intruders.”

She turned to face him. He looked … disappointed. He nodded once, brusquely, and turned to face the door.

She slipped the
palla
from her shoulders, unwound it, and folded it upon the bench. She slid a glance behind her to make certain Jergan was not looking, then pulled her
stola
over her head, then her chemise, and hurried into the
calidarium
beyond. The humidity and heat assaulted her. She sat on the bench in the corner. “You may stand at the inner door with your back to me.” She felt so vulnerable, naked, with Jergan standing not ten feet from her. It was impossible to relax and enjoy a good sweat. After ten torturous minutes, she poured out the oil and rubbed it over her body. He stood with legs set wide, arms folded. His form blocked the doorway entirely. By the fires of Vulcan, but he was a massive man. In all ways.

She wouldn’t think of that.

“I am going to several celebrations tonight. People may wish to look at you.” How could they not? “You must not give offense.”

She saw him stiffen. She must make him understand. “I cannot afford to attract attention to myself just now. And if you were to be surly or rebellious, that would attract attention. People would expect me to punish you. If I do not, then
that
attracts attention.”

There was a long silence as she rubbed the salt over her skin. “Well, do you agree?”

“I will be a model slave.” His disgust was plain.

She wondered if he even knew what that meant. She grabbed a
strigil
and scraped what skin she could reach. Too bad Catia was not here to scrub her back. Or maybe it
was better after all. It surprised her to realize that she didn’t want to share her time with Jergan. What she wanted was to call him over and command him to scrape her, then take his tunic from him….

Why couldn’t she seem to banish these thoughts?

She rose and waded into the hot pool, rinsing her body to open her pores. Really, bathing was nearly the most civilized thing about Rome. She sighed and splashed hot water over her shoulders. She would need her wits about her in the next few days. A week at most, and then it was done and she could tend to the fledgling republic. In a republic, men of honor in the Senate could plan a better world in which people’s lives were easier. Education could be offered even to the humble classes. There would be no starvation to fill Caesar’s coffers. Perhaps someday no slaves would be needed to fuel the Roman economy. She could return Rome to what was best about it, and forget what it had come to in the last years.

She stepped out of the water and took up the large linen towel to rub her ruddy skin. “Stand at the outer door again so I can use the cold plunge.” He stalked away. She had no time to dry her hair in front of the fires tonight. So instead of jumping in, she eased herself quickly down to her neck. The water wasn’t really icy—it just seemed so after the hot pool. Still she gasped and pulled herself up to sit on the edge.

She realized that at her gasp Jergan had turned, poised for some kind of action. She hastily crossed her arms over her breasts. “How … how dare you?” she chattered. “I t-told you not to turn around.”

Clenching his jaw, he swiveled back, but not before his eyes lit with appreciation. “My mistake, my lady.”

Hardly
, she fumed to herself. She’d wager he planned
to catch her out. She reached for her bath cloth and dried herself briskly. Time to end this torture.

S
HE STALKED PAST
him. He grinned as he fell in behind her. Had she noticed that his cock strained against the cloth about his loins underneath his tunic? If she did, she gave no sign. The last half hour, imagining her rubbing herself with oil and salt, listening to the sluicing of water over her body, knowing she was naked and practically within reach, had been painful. And then, when he had turned round, thinking she had seen an intruder, the glimpse he had gotten of her body confirmed all his imaginings. Pale, lush, the nipples pink, the dark triangle of hair enticing. Was she so immune to the charge between them? Perhaps not. It might be resisting that pull that irritated her so. He hoped so, because then she would not resist for long.

He shook himself. What was he thinking? Did he want to degrade himself by performing to her order?

No. Deliberately, he imagined her writhing under him, spreading her legs to him. That was what he wanted: her abject submission to her desire for him. The moment her desire mastered her, she would be in thrall to him. And he would have had a kind of revenge on her. He felt better. He could relax about her effect on him and put it to good use. Yes. All in all, their attraction was a good thing. It would deliver her submission to him.