Read Online The Raven and the Rose by Doreen Owens Malek - Free Book Online Page B

largesse. It was an act of extreme impiety, punishable by the gods, to remove any of the money.  
    Marcus rubbed his arms briskly; the air was getting just a trifle chilly, and he sank into the water. The domed ceiling could be raised or lowered to control the room’s temperature. The walls surrounding the men were lined with ceramic tiles, and the floor skirting the edge of the pool was terracotta flagged. Slaves stood at the ready to scrape the bathers’ skin clean, hand out towels, or perform a massage in the adjoining cool room.
    “So what’s the next step?” Septimus asked. “Looking for a prostitute who resembles her?”
    Marcus said nothing to this standard advice; he merely leaned back on his elbows at the edge of the pool and watched the steam rising off the water.
    “I’m going to the Suburra tonight,” Septimus added, extending an arm for the slave to scrape. “Why don’t you come with me? I hear there are some new offerings from Phrygia. They’re said to be quite tasty.”
    Marcus shook his head.
    Septimus grabbed a towel from the slave’s arm and threw it at his friend. “You are no fun any more! You’ve become such a tiresome bore since you saw that woman. I’m going in for a massage. Are you coming?”  
    “I think I’ll soak here a while longer,” Marcus replied, closing his eyes.
    “I’ll meet you in the changing room, then,” Septimus said, turning away.
    “No, on the western terrace,” Marcus said. “I want a cup of wine.”
    “I hope you’re not taking to drink over this girl,” Septimus called jokingly. He stood and walked into the tepidarium , the slave padding softly after him. There he stretched out on a stone slab and the slave began to pound his flesh rhythmically.  
    Marcus sank beneath the surface of the water again, sighing as the hot water soothed his aching muscles. He and Septimus had spent the early afternoon playing handball on the field of Mars, then relaxing in the solarium of the baths, the southern terrace which allowed the sun to caress the tan worshipping Romans to a golden brown. A brown skin was associated with health and virility, linked as it was to a soldier’s outdoor life, and a pallid complexion was the sign of effeminacy.
    The solaria all over the city were very busy.
    Marcus finally emerged from the water and, bypassing the tepidarium where Septimus reclined, walked to the cold pool and rinsed off briskly. Then he headed to the lockers to dress. He slipped into his uniform quickly, nodding briefly to other bathers who caught his eye in the crush of men. Once dressed, he went outside to the western facing terrace and sought a vendor, buying a cup of golden wine from the Abruzzi district of Italy. He sipped it slowly, watching the sun sink below the hills as the departing crowd chattered behind him, heading home for the evening meal.
    What was he going to do? He could not forget the Vestal; his visit to the temple that morning had inflamed his itch rather than soothed it. Even swathed in the heavy veil she wore for sacrificing, she was so ethereally beautiful that the sight of her took his breath away.
    He had a plan, but it would draw him deeper into dangerous territory, and the rational side of his nature counseled against putting it into action. But the mental debate was mostly an exercise; no matter what his good sense told him, he knew that he had to speak to her, touch her, turn her pristine image into reality.
    He had seen the Vestals’ schedule. He knew that she would be going to the sacred spring near the Porta Capena again in just three days. Although she would surely be guarded, her companions shouldn’t be much of a problem for a man like himself, who’d been victorious in hand to hand combat against all manner of opponents for the last decade.
    Marcus knew the route, and the exact spot where he could intercept her.
    He drained his wooden cup and then returned the vessel to the vendor, who scoured it with sand and rinsed it with