Doctor Who_ Byzantium! - Keith Topping [72]
With a dull ache in his head, Marcus had returned to the barracks and signed some execution orders to calm himself.
He had tried to find one of the other tribunes, to assuage the doubts in his mind about the plots and schemes that had come to the attention of Calaphilus, a nagging and persuasive voice that he could not shake.
But Fabius and Honorius Annora and Edius Flavia were all engaged on different matters and it was impossible to talk to any of them. Finally, with his mind and his stomach in a turmoil, Marcus had left the barracks and headed for home.
The villa was in virtual darkness, the only light coming from candles in the Atrium. Marcus strode into the central courtyard and looked around, sniffing the perfumes and oils in the air eagerly. 'Come out, she-devil, and take that which is coming to you.' he shouted into the darkness.
Agrinella emerged, naked, bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight.
'I've been waiting for you for so long, my heart,' she said, sullenly. Ì thought that you would never come.'
'Get on your knees before me,' Marcus commanded, sneeringly.
Agrinella, willingly, complied.
Stroking her hair, Marcus took a long look at his wife's delicate body. His hand brushed against her cheek and he felt her shiver at his touch.
‘You are cold, my heart,' she said, cradling his hand in her own. ‘You require warmth to take the chill from your bones.'
The tribune said nothing. But actions spoke louder than words as the back of his hand rubbed the skin of Agrinella's face. She moved to stand and Marcus helped her up until their eyes were level. Lips met, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.
Marcus moved his head to the right and his mouth slid down Agrinella's throat to her neck. His teeth sank into the bare flesh, drawing blood. Agrinella moaned, softly, and grabbed the hair at the back of Marcus's head in both hands, tugging at it.
They dropped to the floor, bodies flailing, limbs entwined.
Marcus licked the blood from Agrinella as it dripped down her neck to her breast. Her hands went to his side, and then further, clawing at his garments, and pushing them from his back.
As they rolled across the floor, Marcus's leg struck the base of one of the bronze candle-holders and the contraption swayed and fell to the floor, hot wax splattering across bare limbs.
Agrinella sat bolt upright, flicking the wax from the skin of her legs.
'I am burning,' she told Marcus, but her husband didn't seem interested.
Kneeling astride her, Marcus looked at the now-solidified candle wax, and then at his wife's flushed face.
`When I have finished with this city, many will drown in boiling wax,' he said.
Agrinella believed him.
Despite himself, the Doctor was becoming fascinated with the opportunity to see the gospel of Mark in such an unedited state. And, despite the unbearable temptation to make fun of the scholarly and serious trio of Reuben, Rayhab and Amos, the Doctor had begun to look upon his presence here as a chance to observe history (and important history at that) in the making.
Forget the Aztecs, or the French Revolution, or Marco Polo. Or the terrible events of the Passchendaele. The Doctor had been at Dunkirk. sailed around the Caribbean in a pirate galleon and had watched the assassination of President McKinley, but they were nothing compared to this - the writing of one of the most significant and well-known pieces of literature in the history of mankind.
It was the equivalent of collaborating with Shakespeare between draft one and draft two of Hamlet.
The Doctor