Union Forever Page 9

  Relaxing a bit, Vincent started to smile. Suddenly he realized that there was a shadow around him, and looking to his side he saw that the slave had come up behind him still bearing the umbrella.

  "Close that damn thing up," Vincent snapped, and the slave, obviously frightened, did as commanded.

  Cursing again, he thought angrily. He had yet to shake that habit.

  "What's your name?" Vincent asked, looking back at the slave.

  "Julius, noble one," the slave stammered. "Household servant of my lord Marcus."

  The man was nearly the same height as Vincent, something that made him feel comfortable, for nearly all of the Roum except for the patricians were of smaller stature and build than the Rus. Julius's hair was graying at the temples and his face was tanned dark and craggy with lines. His arms were slender but knotted like stretched whipcord. Julius looked at him with awe, as if he were a god, and the gaze made Vincent uncomfortable.

  "What do you know about me?" Vincent asked.

  "That you are a Tugar-slayer, the new master of the Rus, most noble one."

  Vincent leaned back and laughed, and Julius smiled nervously, obviously relieved that he had answered correctly.

  "You have a family, Julius?"

  "Yes, noble one. My wife, Calpurnia, and four children."

  "I've just had twin girls," Vincent announced proudly, and reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a miniature portrait of his family that Andrew had presented to him after the track-laying ceremony.

  Julius looked at the portrait and smiled obediently.

  "May the gods bless them and you," Julius said.

  Vincent bristled inwardly. This man was so frightened of him that all he could do was grovel. Pulling out a handkerchief, he lifted his kepi and wiped the sweat from his brow, and then a thought formed.

  Smiling, Vincent put his hand on Julius's shoulder.

  "Come on, Julius, let's go back to the palace and we'll sit down and have a drink in my quarters."

  "You'll have a drink of wine with me, noble one?" Julius asked, incredulous.

  "Certainly. Why shouldn't I? You look like you could use one."

  "I am your servant, to keep the sun from your brow and also to act as your bodyguard."

  "Well, damn it all, man, where I come from that doesn't mean we can't have a good drink together. Tell me, does your Calpurnia cook a good meal?"

  "The finest, noble sir. She works in the kitchen of my lord."

  "Well, let's get a bit drunk, then see if we can persuade her to cook dinner for me and we'll sit down in the kitchen and eat it."

  Julius looked at him in disbelief. "But noble sir, you are a guest of the noble Marcus—you should eat at his table, not in the quarters of slaves."

  "Don't worry about that," Vincent replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. Forcing a smile, he put his hand on Julius's shoulder.

  Vincent noticed the beginning of a genuine smile lighting Julius's features.

  He tried to argue with himself that this was after all an excellent means of finding out more about how the common people viewed the arrival of the Rus. But inwardly he knew he was failing again. He could stop the cursing someday, but damnit, ever since a round of evenings with Pat O'Donald, wine did have a certain appeal. The thought of his parents, let alone his church elders, seeing him breaking yet again the Temperance Pledge was enough to give him a wonderful sense of guilt. He could just imagine Elder Gates coming in and with a shout of outrage attempting to drag him out by his ear.

  "Why are you laughing, noble sir?" Julius asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

  "There's no way I could possibly explain it," Vincent said with a smile.

  Reaching the steps of the palace, Vincent strode up the white limestone stairs. Pausing at the top, he looked back across the sunbaked square. It was nearly noon. A lazy sense of relaxation seemed to float in the air, the merchant stalls were closed, windows were shuttered to keep out the heat, and all, except for the ever-toiling slaves, had disappeared into their courtyards or baths until the coolness of late afternoon settled in.

  Rubbing his hand against the back of his collar, he felt as if he were drenched clean through with sweat. Wrinkling his nose, he knew that there was a decidedly unpleasant odor around him.

  "Julius."

  "Yes, noble sir?"

  "Before that drink and a meal, could I trouble you to arrange a bath, and maybe have my uniform cleaned?"

  "Of course, noble sir," Julius snapped, and closing his umbrella he motioned for Vincent to follow him through the main doors into Marcus's palace.

  The heavy bronze doors appeared to swing open as if by their own power as he approached, and the effect gave him a bit of a pleasant chill, even though he knew that two servants stood behind the barrier at all times, their sole job to open and close the doors. It was a terrible waste of labor, he felt.

  Julius raced ahead and spoke quickly to the majordomo, who scurried off. The arched corridor into the courtyard was deliriously cool, and he took off his kepi and unbuttoned his collar.

  Stepping into the inner courtyard, Vincent looked around at the opulent splendor. The garden was a good thirty yards square, filled with fragrant splashes of flowers, trees burdened with a delectable fruit, pinkish in hue and unique it seemed to this world. A light misty spray floated down over the garden, and walking into the courtyard he looked up at this unique marvel. A latticework of pipes filled the open space above the second floor. He knew that down in the basement a gang of slaves labored over pumps, forcing water through the pipes under pressure to jet out of thousands of tiny holes in a light spray to cool the air. Even as he enjoyed the effect he felt a touch of guilt knowing that men slaved to give him this momentary pleasure.

  The noonday sun was blocked out by a vast awning raised up on poles like a giant sail reaching across the broad open space, the light filtering through, giving a soft diffused glow. The colonnaded walkways of the second floor were a perfect match of symmetry of marble and darkly polished wooden rails. All of this vast palace for but one man, he thought sadly. He could sense the emptiness of the house, the emptiness inside of Marcus, though more than a hundred labored here to fulfill his every wish.

  Bowing low, the majordomo reappeared and whispered to Julius, who had stood respectfully to one side.

  "Your bath is ready, noble sir," Julius announced. "I will go to the kitchen to see to your meal personally."

  "You're joining me for it, of course, and the drinks as well?" Vincent asked.

  The majordomo looked up in shock.

  "If you so wish it, noble sir."

  "Of course I do," Vincent said, trying to keep his temper in check, "and Julius, my name is Vincent, not noble sir."

  Flustered, Julius bowed low and scurried away.

  "This way, noble sir," the majordomo whispered.

  Vincent was tempted to explain the rules of how to be addressed to this man as well, but gave it up with a sigh.

  Going out the east side of the courtyard, Vincent followed the majordomo down an open corridor paved with an intricate display of colored tiles depicting what he thought might be a scene from the myth of Prometheus. Perhaps we are the new Prometheus, he thought with a smile.

  The servant opened the door before him, and Vincent stepped into a small chamber, dimly lit by a single window, covered with a heavy pane of amber glass. A small pool was in the middle of the room. The tiles on the floor and walls showed scenes of fish and undersea creatures.

  "Your clothes, sir," the majordomo asked.

  Feeling a bit self-conscious, Vincent disrobed, the servant helping him to pull off his boots, which he felt was a major source of embarrassment, the heavy wool socks giving off a decidedly gamey aroma. He hesitated as he got down to underwear, but the servant stood before him hand outstretched.

  Dropping his eyes, Vincent pulled the garment off and handed it over.

  "Fresh breeches and a shirt of silk in the style of your people await
you over there, my lord," the servant announced, pointing to the change of clothes.

  "Those aren't mine," Vincent replied lamely.

  "They were cut to your size and sewn for you this morning, my lord, at the express orders of my master. You'll find them to be more comfortable for occasions when you do not need your uniform."

  Vincent looked over at them and felt himself give way to the temptation. He had worn his officer's uniforms, made for him by Tanya, for months on end. It would be pleasant to get out of the heavy wool for a change.

  The majordomo bowed and withdrew, and Vincent slipped into the cool bath with a sigh. He floated languidly for several minutes. Hell, back home the winter bath had been in a narrow tin tub set next to the kitchen stove, usually with a cold chill blowing in under the door. This was like paradise. Stretching out in the pool, he dipped under the water and came back up.

  "May I scrub your back for you?"

  With a start he looked over his shoulder and saw a slim, tall girl with long black hair standing behind him. Her almond-colored eyes looked at him with open amusement. Her lips were parted in a sensual smile, accentuated by the deep-set dimples in her ivory cheeks.

  Stunned, Vincent could not help but stare at her for several seconds before his senses returned.

  "Get out of here, woman!"

  A flash of disappointment crossed her features. "You are not angry with me?" she whispered.

  "No, damnit, but please leave."

  "This is my job," she whispered softly. "If you are unhappy with what I do and send me away, Antonius will beat me."

  "Antonius?"

  "The head servant. He ordered me to attend to you."

  "I'm a married man," Vincent gasped.

  The girl laughed.

  "I'll not violate you, if that is your concern," she said, "Just look straight ahead and let me wash your back. I'll use a brush and not even touch you. It will feel wonderful. Have you ever had it done before?"

  "Actually, no," he whispered. The thought was certainly appealing, he tried to reason. Tanya, like most of the Rus, certainly did not take bathing as something that was altogether necessary, and having his back scrubbed was a temptation hard to resist.

  "Nothing else, just my back," Vincent whispered, feeling guilty about it but reasoning that it would not harm his immortal soul or violate his Christian character in any serious way.

  "Then sit up and move forward," the girl said with a laugh.

  Moving to the edge of the pool, he sat on a narrow stone bench and leaned over to cover himself. There was a splash of water behind him, and he held his breath as a gentle sponge ran up and down his back. The motion of the sponge was replaced by a soft bristled brush, and he sighed with contentment as the girl worked it up over his shoulders and across his neck. For long minutes she continued to scrub him, and he felt as if the dirt of years were being pulled up out of his pores. His body tingled with this wonderful new sensation.

  He barely noticed it when her hands began working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, and then scrubbing his hair, the soapy water running down around him. All the time she kept up a light prattle of talk that he barely paid attention to as he felt as if he would gradually melt away.

  "Shall I do the rest of you?" she whispered.

  "Huh?" He roused himself out of the drifting sensation that had enveloped him.

  "The rest of you, noble sir," and he suddenly realized that there was a wonderful scent around him, with long strands of wet dark hair cascading down around his shoulders.

  Startled, he turned to look back.

  She was kneeling behind him, her full naked breasts dancing before his eyes, the dark red nipples taut with excitement.

  "My God in heaven," Vincent gasped, even as she nimbly moved forward, pressing his head into the soft ivory mounds.

  He could feel a sudden surge of excitement grow inside him. It had been months since he had been with Tanya, and the inner tension was a near-constant torment. For a brief second he was tempted to let go, to press his arms around her and pull her into the pool.

  And I'll betray her and burn in my own torment.

  "I'm a happily married man," Vincent gasped, pulling back.

  "So, all men have their consorts," the girl giggled.

  "Not this one!" Vincent shouted, pulling back.

  The girl looked at him in confusion.

  Like Venus rising out of the ocean, she stood up, exposing her full charms.

  "Don't you find me desirable?"

  "I certainly do," he gasped, unable to lie.

  She looked down into the water, and her eyes came up again to lock on his.

  "I thought for a second maybe you preferred men, but I can see that I am exciting you."

  Horrified, Vincent realized just how exposed he was as well, and he quickly backed out of the pool and grabbed a towel to wrap tightly around his waist.

  "Look, I think you're beautiful. It's just that where I come from a man makes a vow to one woman and keeps it. If a man or woman breaks that vow it's terribly wrong."

  She looked at him intently.

  "Are you serious?"

  "I love my wife. If I did something like this it'd break her heart and mine as well. I couldn't live with the shame of it."

  He had learned how to drink, to swear, and to kill, and at the moment he felt a terrible tormenting drive to lie with this woman and the hell with what was left of his ethics. He kept trying to force up the image of Tanya in his mind, the look in her eyes if she ever found out. She trusted him more than anyone in the world. He could not break that trust.

  "Please," Vincent whispered, "the temptation of you is driving me crazy."

  The girl nodded and stepped out of the pool. She quickly slipped back into her robe, which clung provocatively to her wet body.

  "Actually, noble sir, I think there's something wonderfully nice about your saying no like this," and with a graceful bow she left the room.

  "Merciful God," Vincent gasped. He dropped the towel and leaped back into the pool, the cool water helping him to calm back down. He knew the damn girl was now going to haunt him.

  "Tanya, I wish the hell you'd get here," he snapped, and climbing out of the water he toweled off and put on the new clothes.

  They felt wonderfully soft, almost as if he were wearing nothing at all. He slipped on the sandals, which were a curious sensation, and left the room. Going back down the corridor, he turned for the kitchen area in the back of the palace, lured by the wonderful scents.

  Opening the doors, he strode in. The servants looked up in startled surprise.

  "Over here, noble sir," Julius said, proudly pointing to a set table.

  "It's Vincent."

  "Ah yes, noble Vincent," the servant said.

  Giving up, Vincent settled into the chair and poured his own wine before Julius had the chance. In the far corners the other servants looked over at this strange spectacle and whispered to themselves.

  Raising his goblet, he looked over at Julius, who nervously returned the gesture.

  "To the friendship between the common people of Rus and Roum," Vincent said loudly.

  Julius, smiling openly, nodded in reply, and the two drained their cups.

  He looked at the repast spread out before him. There were several dishes of baked fish, and another of thin strips of meat smothered in mushrooms.

  "It all looks delightful."

  "Go ahead and start, noble Vincent."

  "Not until your wife joins us."

  Julius looked at him curiously.

  "Come on now, fetch her over here and then we can start."

  Julius motioned to a heavyset woman standing nervously by an open oven. Cautiously, she approached the table.

  "My name is Vincent Hawthorne. What's yours?"

  "Calpurnia, noble sir," she whispered.

  "Where I come from, a man and his wife eat together, especially when they have company. Please sit down and join us."

  He could see that s
he was almost shaking as she sat down on the opposite bench and looked back at her friends.

  "How was your bath, noble Vincent?" Julius asked with a smile.

  "Ah, different," Vincent replied woodenly.

  Julius started to laugh softly.

  "We already heard," and Calpurnia looked up at him and shook her head even as she smiled.

  Vincent found he was starting to blush.

  "I guess our customs are different from yours in more ways than one," Vincent said lamely.

  "Yes. I think we will find that quite interesting," Julius replied, still smiling.

  Vincent refilled his goblet and had started to take another drink when he felt something brush behind him.

  "Ah, my daughter, Olivia," Julius said with a smile.

  Vincent looked up and a second later felt as if he were choking, as he sprayed the contents of his goblet across the table.

  "Your daughter?" Vincent gasped.

  Julius leaned back and started to laugh as the girl, smiling innocently, sat down by Vincent, her dark hair still wet and shiny.

  "Noble Vincent, you Yankees are certainly different," Julius said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And I must say perhaps an interesting change."

  Oh God, this job is going to be hell, Vincent thought, unable to reply.

  Chapter Three

  Cromwell looked at the group and felt a ripple of apprehension. Of Jubadi and Muzta he already knew their intentions. If this campaign did not work as planned, the damned beasts would slaughter all of them. For that matter, he half suspected they'd most likely slaughter them anyhow even if they won. Only a fool would trust Tugars, Merki, or whatever it was the beasts called themselves.

  Looking over at Hamilcar, leader of the Carthas, he could sense an ally in that concern at least. They were playing for time and knew it. There had to be a chink in their system which he could exploit. If worst came to worst he could always take the Ogunquit the hell out of here along with Jamie and the others. He would lose his Suzdalian and Yankee crew, they were being left behind for this campaign, but that would be their problem, not his.

  Hamilcar returned his gaze without comment. All that needed to be said between them had already been said. At least the Merki would not feed upon him this year, and for that he thanked Baalk, to whom he had offered his last-born son in tribute for the reprieve. Everything that could be learned would be learned.