leadership qualities and strength. After that, he set out to win them over to him.
Nor did Artorex prove to be insensitive to the constant dangers faced by the ordinary workers who served their masters so faithfully at the Villa Poppinidii. When the servant, Brabix, fell from the colonnade when securing a loose tile on the roof, he lingered for a week before dying. His belly swelled and he howled in agony until Frith mixed a draught made of sap from the bulbous heads of poppy plants to ease his suffering. Artorex kept watch over Brabix with the rest of the servants and promised the delirious man that his wife and child would be welcomed into a lifetime of service at the Villa Poppinidii.
Livinia was heard to say to her woman that the house had not run half so well in the hands of Cletus, but Artorex was always careful to defer to the old, failing man whose skin had turned to parchment, and who seemed to be burning to ash from within.
Only one cloud blotted the blue skies of Artorex’s life. The new wife of Caius, Julanna, whose father claimed to be an unrecognized scion of the Julian line, came to the Villa Poppinidii boasting of the purity of her blood. At first, she seemed the perfect mate for Caius.
The marriage was arranged between the heads of both families, and little Julanna was a mere thirteen when she was wed to Caius in the old Roman fashion. She was a pale little creature with clouds of soft, nut-brown hair, but behind her initial arrogance she was really a frightened child, completely over-awed by her husband’s family and the life into which she had been thrust.
Her eyes were very dark but without the hard shine of her husband’s pupils. Every line of her face and her plump, soft body was curved and gentle so that she seemed a negligible creature, unable to hold her own in the world of the Villa Poppinidii, where conversation was witty and politically aware, and personalities were strong.
Poor Julanna was outmatched. The servants ignored her, and the mistress smiled kindly and treated her like a child. Her husband was bored within a fortnight, relegating his new wife to the role of an inconvenient visitor.
Nor was Caius a kindly husband. He saw no pressing reason to change his lifestyle now that he was married, and continued to carouse with his friends from Aquae Sulis on every available occasion. Caius considered the running of the estate to be an unfit task for a gentleman and spent his days, and sometimes whole weeks, away from both the villa and his wife.
One morning, Julanna didn’t rise to eat with the family and, when she found a quiet corner of the atrium to work with her distaff, only Livinia and a sharp-eyed Artorex noticed that she had covered most of her face with a gauzy matron’s shawl. Both mother and foster-son saw bruises on her cheeks and jaw through the sheer folds of cloth but, when Livinia asked how she’d been injured, Julanna twisted the wool in her lap and blamed her own clumsiness for an accidental fall.
I’ll wager that Caius is being far too ready with his fists, Artorex thought to himself but, as always, he did not dare to question the word of a respectable matron.
Livinia glanced upward at Artorex as he made his bow to the ladies, and he recognized the resignation in her large, still-brilliant eyes. The mistress identified the weaknesses in her only son, the last of a long line of honourable Roman gentlemen, and she was ashamed of what she’d seen in his nature.
As for Artorex, he had been kept far too busy for years to even contemplate marriage to any woman. Sexual adventures were limited to hasty couplings with kitchen maids in the cow byre. These were satisfying, but hardly lasting. Love for any female hadn’t yet entered his heart, and Artorex was content that this state of affairs should continue. He was happy, his horse grew swiftly under his tutelage and the villa blossomed under his guidance. What more could a young man of seventeen years desire?
Time meant
Nor did Artorex prove to be insensitive to the constant dangers faced by the ordinary workers who served their masters so faithfully at the Villa Poppinidii. When the servant, Brabix, fell from the colonnade when securing a loose tile on the roof, he lingered for a week before dying. His belly swelled and he howled in agony until Frith mixed a draught made of sap from the bulbous heads of poppy plants to ease his suffering. Artorex kept watch over Brabix with the rest of the servants and promised the delirious man that his wife and child would be welcomed into a lifetime of service at the Villa Poppinidii.
Livinia was heard to say to her woman that the house had not run half so well in the hands of Cletus, but Artorex was always careful to defer to the old, failing man whose skin had turned to parchment, and who seemed to be burning to ash from within.
Only one cloud blotted the blue skies of Artorex’s life. The new wife of Caius, Julanna, whose father claimed to be an unrecognized scion of the Julian line, came to the Villa Poppinidii boasting of the purity of her blood. At first, she seemed the perfect mate for Caius.
The marriage was arranged between the heads of both families, and little Julanna was a mere thirteen when she was wed to Caius in the old Roman fashion. She was a pale little creature with clouds of soft, nut-brown hair, but behind her initial arrogance she was really a frightened child, completely over-awed by her husband’s family and the life into which she had been thrust.
Her eyes were very dark but without the hard shine of her husband’s pupils. Every line of her face and her plump, soft body was curved and gentle so that she seemed a negligible creature, unable to hold her own in the world of the Villa Poppinidii, where conversation was witty and politically aware, and personalities were strong.
Poor Julanna was outmatched. The servants ignored her, and the mistress smiled kindly and treated her like a child. Her husband was bored within a fortnight, relegating his new wife to the role of an inconvenient visitor.
Nor was Caius a kindly husband. He saw no pressing reason to change his lifestyle now that he was married, and continued to carouse with his friends from Aquae Sulis on every available occasion. Caius considered the running of the estate to be an unfit task for a gentleman and spent his days, and sometimes whole weeks, away from both the villa and his wife.
One morning, Julanna didn’t rise to eat with the family and, when she found a quiet corner of the atrium to work with her distaff, only Livinia and a sharp-eyed Artorex noticed that she had covered most of her face with a gauzy matron’s shawl. Both mother and foster-son saw bruises on her cheeks and jaw through the sheer folds of cloth but, when Livinia asked how she’d been injured, Julanna twisted the wool in her lap and blamed her own clumsiness for an accidental fall.
I’ll wager that Caius is being far too ready with his fists, Artorex thought to himself but, as always, he did not dare to question the word of a respectable matron.
Livinia glanced upward at Artorex as he made his bow to the ladies, and he recognized the resignation in her large, still-brilliant eyes. The mistress identified the weaknesses in her only son, the last of a long line of honourable Roman gentlemen, and she was ashamed of what she’d seen in his nature.
As for Artorex, he had been kept far too busy for years to even contemplate marriage to any woman. Sexual adventures were limited to hasty couplings with kitchen maids in the cow byre. These were satisfying, but hardly lasting. Love for any female hadn’t yet entered his heart, and Artorex was content that this state of affairs should continue. He was happy, his horse grew swiftly under his tutelage and the villa blossomed under his guidance. What more could a young man of seventeen years desire?
Time meant
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