Authors: Bertrice Small
“Good!” he answered her. “It will give me time to overcome this ridiculous notion that we cannot be married. Flacilla whored all over Byzantium, and was allowed to wed Justin Gabras, but you, my love, who in your innocence was cruelly abused, are denied the right to marry. It is not a situation that is to be tolerated, and I will not tolerate it!”
“We are together, and that is enough for me, Aspar,” Cailin told him. “I want nothing more than to be by your side for eternity.”
“How would you like to go to the games with me in May?” he asked her. “Special games are held each May eleventh to commemorate the founding of the city of Constantinople. My box is right next to the imperial box. Have you ever seen chariot races, Cailin? The Hippodrome has the finest course in all Byzantium.”
“If you are seen in public with me, will that not cause a scandal?” she asked him. “I do not think it wise, my lord.”
“There is nothing unusual about a man bringing his mistress to the games, particularly a bachelor such as myself,” Aspar answered. “Casia, the girl you knew at Villa Maxima, is now Basilicus’s lover. He has given her her own home in the city, and visits her regularly. We will ask her to join us, as well as some of the city’s more famous artisans and actors. I am known to keep such company, to the despair of the court, but frankly, those who create are far more interesting to me than those who govern and intrigue.” He chuckled. “We will fill the box with interesting people, and few will know just who is who.”
“Perhaps it would be nice to see other people,” Cailin observed. “When you are away on your official duties, I grow lonely sometimes.”
Her admission startled him, for she had never complained about her solitude before. Aspar had never considered that she might be weary of being companionless.
Several days later Zeno was sent to the city, and when he returned, he brought with him a young girl with large, frightened blue eyes, and flaxen braids.
“The master thought you would like a young maidservant to keep you company,” Zeno said, smiling. “We are all so old here, but you, lady, are like springtime, and need a fair flower to serve and amuse you. She speaks no language I can understand, lady, but she seems pleasant and biddable.”
Cailin smiled at the girl and then asked, “From where does
she come, Zeno? If I knew, perhaps I might find a language in which we could communicate. If I cannot speak with her, then all my lord’s good intentions are for naught.”
“The slave merchant said she comes from Britain!” Zeno said triumphantly. “Surely you can communicate with her, my lady.”
“Yet she speaks no Latin,” Cailin mused to herself. She turned to the young girl. “What is your name?” she asked in her own native Celtic tongue. If the girl didn’t speak Latin, she must speak Celtic.
“Nellwyn, lady,” the girl said slowly.
“Are you Celt?” Cailin said.
The girl shook her head. “Saxon, lady, but I understand the tongue you speak. I come from the Saxon shore, and there are many Celts there.”
“How came you to Byzantium?” Cailin continued.
“Byzantium?”
Nellwyn looked confused. “What is Byzantium, lady?”
“This place, this land. It is called Byzantium. The city that you were in is its capital, Constantinople by name,” Cailin explained.
“Northmen raided our village,” Nellwyn told her. “My parents and my brothers were slaughtered. My sisters and I and the other women who could not escape were carried off. They took us to Gaul first, and then we traveled by sea again to come here. Many died on the way. The sea was horrible!”
“Yes, I know,” Cailin said. “I came to Byzantium almost two years ago from Britain in a similar fashion. My home was near Corinium.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide. “Are you a slave, too?”
“No longer,” Cailin replied.
“Is this your house, lady?” Nellwyn recognized quality when she saw it, and this beautiful woman was obviously nobility.
“No,” Cailin told her. “It is the house of Flavius Aspar, Byzantium’s most famous warrior, and a great nobleman.” There was no need to explain anything else. Nellwyn would
soon figure it out, if indeed she had not already. “My lord has brought you to be a companion to me, Nellwyn. You are safe now, and need fear no longer. Do you understand?”
“Yes, lady,” Nellwyn replied, kneeling before Cailin. “I will serve you loyally, I swear by Woden!”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Cailin said. “Now get up girl, and go with Zeno, who is master of the servants in this house. He will show you where you are to sleep, Nellwyn. You will have to learn the language spoken in this land, or it will be difficult for you, I fear. The tongue is called Latin. Many spoke it in Britain.”
“I have heard the words of that tongue,” Nellwyn answered. “I have a good ear, my father always said, and learned Celtic quickly. I am sure I will learn Latin as well, lady, and make you proud of me.”
“Good! Now, whatever Zeno tells you to do, you must obey him,” Cailin explained to the girl. Then she turned to her majordomo. “She has some words of Latin, and claims she can learn quickly, Zeno. See she is given a bath. She smells like a stable. Then give her fresh clothing and a sleeping space. She may come to me in the morning, and I will assign her duties and begin to teach her myself.”
The elderly servant bowed and, signaling to the girl, led her off. Very shortly he returned, however, and said bluntly, “She will not let us bathe her, my lady. She screams like a rabbit in a trap.”
“I will come,” Cailin said, and followed him to the servants’ quarters, where Nellwyn, naked now, stood sobbing piteously. “Come, girl, you must wash,” Cailin scolded her. “In this land we bathe with regularity. Your pretty hair will be crawling with lice, I’ve not a doubt, and must be cleaned, too. Follow Tamar to the bath now!”
“They would drown me, lady!” Nellwyn wept. “I know how to wash, but properly in a basin, not with all that water!”
Cailin swallowed her laughter. “In Byzantium we wash with lots of water,” she explained. “Now you must trust me, Nellwyn, and obey me when I command you, for I am your new mistress. Go with Tamar.”
Reluctantly the girl obeyed, casting a teary glance over her shoulder as she followed the older woman into the servants’ bath.
“It is a pretty toy you have given me, my lord,” Cailin told Aspar that evening as they ate. “She speaks no Latin, and I must teach her; is afraid to bathe, but she appears sweet-tempered and eager to learn.”
“You said you were lonely. She is young as you are young, my beauty. She will keep you amused when I am away,” he responded, smiling.
“She is thirteen, and believed she was about to be drowned in the servants’ bathing pool.” Cailin giggled. “Where did you find her?”
“I asked a slave merchant I know to find me a young female Briton,” he said.
“She is a Saxon from the Saxon shore of Britain,” Cailin told him.
“Then she is not one of your people,” he remarked, irritated at himself. “I should have been more specific with the slave merchant.”
“Celts are usually harder to catch,” Cailin said, a twinkle in her eyes, “and they do not take well to service, my lord. Nellwyn will suit me admirably. Saxon girls are generally good-natured.”
“Then I have pleased you,” he replied, smiling at her.
“You always please me, my lord,” she answered him softly.
“No,” he said sadly, “I do not, Cailin. I wish I could.”
“The fault lies with me, Aspar. You know it does! It breaks my heart that I can no longer feel passion when a man is within my woman’s passage,” Cailin said, tears filling her lovely eyes. “Yet I do gain a different kind of pleasure when we lie together. Your touch is so filled with love for me that it communicates itself to my very heart, and I am filled with happiness and peace. It is enough for me. I could but wish it was enough for you. It hurts me to know that I have failed you in this manner, but I know not what to do to change things. I have not that wisdom, my beloved lord.” She lay her head on his shoulder and sighed forlornly. How could she
care so for this good man, Cailin wondered, and be unable to completely return his passion?
“I love you for many reasons,” he told her, “but your truthfulness in all things pleases me greatly. I would have no whore’s tricks from you, Cailin, no simulated cries of passion ringing in my ears. Some day you will cry out for me, but that cry will come from your heart. I will wait until that time. Perhaps not always with patience, but I will wait.” He arose from the table and held out his hand to her. “The night is fair, and there is a moon. Let us walk together, my love.”
There was no wind, and the night was quiet around them. They walked first through the nearby orchards of almond, peach, and apricot trees with their fragrant pink and white blossoms, some of which were already beginning to drift down to catch in Cailin’s myriad auburn curls.
“These trees are far prettier than the olive groves,” Cailin said. “I do not like the yellowish flowers upon those trees.”
“But the olive is far more practical a fruit,” he told her. “The peaches and apricots are quickly gone. The olives, properly prepared, last all year. What is beautiful is not always practical.”
“Almonds are beautiful,” she countered, “and they last every bit as long as olives, even longer, and they do not have to be salted.”
He laughed. “Too intelligent,” he teased her. “You are too intelligent for a woman. No wonder you frighten Father Michael.”
“Everything frightens Father Michael that is of this world,” Cailin told him. As they left the orchards behind and came across a small field to the beach, she cried softly, “Ohh, Aspar! Look at the moon on the sea! Is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”
It was one of those rare moments when the restless waves were totally stilled. The flat dark surface of the water was silvered, and shimmered like the best silk as it spread itself before them. They stood silently admiring the beauty of it all. It was as if the entire world were at peace with itself and they were the only two creatures inhabiting it. Aspar reached out
and took Cailin’s hand in his. Together they walked down the little embankment to the beach.
Removing his cloak, he spread it upon the sand for them. Then taking her into his arms, he kissed her softly, lingeringly. When he finally released her, Cailin wordlessly pulled her stola over her head and let the garment drop from her slender fingers. Naked, she stood proudly before him. He responded by removing the long, comfortable tunic he wore within his home, and kicked his sandals off. Then Aspar slipped to his knees before her, drawing her against him, his cheek pressed against her torso.
They embraced quietly for a long moment. Then he began to trace a pattern of warm kisses across her flesh. Cailin sighed softly. His patience and his gentleness always astounded her. How very much she wanted to respond to his loving, but passion, it seemed, was dead, or almost dead within her. The only time she felt the slightest bit of it was when he would tongue her little jewel, but when his manhood lay embedded inside of her, she could feel nothing at all but the thickness of it within her. In an effort to resurrect her passion, she had tried to remember all her times with Wulf Ironfist; but she soon realized that recalling her Saxon husband only seemed to render her body, and soul, colder than before. Several times she had come close to shrieking her frustration and pushing Aspar away because he was not Wulf and could not give her the joy she had once known in her husband’s strong arms. Finally she had dismissed Wulf from her conscious mind while her Byzantine lord made love to her. It was easier that way.
Aspar rubbed his face between her breasts, one hand reaching up to fondle her. “They are like perfect little ivory apples,” he said, his palm cupping the firm flesh and admiring it. Gently, his other hand pressed upon her back, and when she bent slightly, he lifted his head up to suckle upon the nipple. His teeth teased at the sensitive nub, and then his tongue encircled it enticingly before he suckled hard on it again.
“Ahhhhh,” she breathed, her fingers digging lightly into
his muscled shoulders. He transferred his attentions to her other breast, his hand kneading and cuddling until she felt as if her breasts would burst with pleasure.
He then pressed the palm of his hand against her Venus mont as he began a leisurely exploration with lips and tongue of her slender torso. Each kiss upon her tingling skin was distinct and individual. His other hand was lightly clasped about her right buttock, the tips of his fingers caressing her. His tongue pushed into her navel, and Cailin murmured softly as it simulated what was to soon come. As if to emphasize the point, he pushed through her nether lips with a single finger and thrust it into her sheath.
Cailin’s head whirled and her knees began to buckle. He felt her weakness, and withdrawing the finger, he pulled her to her knees, facing him. Aspar’s dark eyes locked onto hers as he offered her his finger, running it sensuously over her lips until she opened her mouth and sucked on it, clutching at his hand until he pulled the finger away and caressed her throat. She lowered her head and bit his hand lightly, surprising him, then kissed his knuckles.
Something is different tonight, Cailin thought, and looking up at him, she realized that he could feel it too. She did not dare speak for fear of breaking the spell that seemed to be enfolding them. He took her by the shoulders, and his lips touched hers in what had been meant to be a tender kiss. The kiss, however, deepened quickly, and her mouth opened to take in his tongue, which danced primitively and hotly with hers. Then he was covering her face with kisses again, and Cailin’s head fell back, her neck straining almost desperately as his lips burned their way down the perfumed column of her throat.
She stroked his hot, hard body. Her fingers entwined themselves deep within his thick black hair as she fell back upon his spread cloak. He moved his mouth slowly, almost with reluctance, down her body until his tongue found the delicate and sensitive jewel of her womanhood, rousing it to melting sweetness with a stronger force than she had ever before felt. Then his soldier’s body was covering hers, his engorged
manhood pressing forward to sheath itself within her. Cailin gasped with surprise as she realized that for the first time in two years her body was anxious, nay, desperate, for a man’s possession.