To Love Again - Bertrice Small [87]
“We would prefer, my lord, if the gold were delivered here to us. I do not think either of us relishes returning from beyond the city walls laden with such a treasure,” Phocas explained. “When the purse is brought to us, we will gladly send the girl to you.” He bowed politely.
“Very well,” Flavius Aspar answered, and then seeing Jovian’s downcast features, he said, “Do not be sad, my old friend. The Virgin and the Barbarians was becoming quite commonplace. Shortly no one will believe that your little protégé—what did you call her?—is a virgin. Create a new playlet for your audience, Jovian. You will lose nothing by it. Those who have not seen this playlet will be twice as eager to see the next one, and those who have seen it will be equally eager to see what is next.”
“Cailin. Her name is Cailin. She is a Briton,” Jovian said. “You will be kind to her, my lord? She is a good girl fallen on hard times. If you ask her, she will tell you her tale. It is most fascinating.”
“I did not purchase her to hurt her, Jovian,” the general told him. Then he said, “Gentlemen, no word of this transaction is to be gossiped about, even to my friend Basilicus. I do not want anyone to know of my purchase.”
“We understand perfectly, my lord,” Jovian said smoothly, now beginning to recover his aplomb. Knowing Cailin’s history, he had always secretly felt a bit guilty about making her the centerpiece of his entertainment. He realized that as General Aspar’s mistress she would be far safer, and possibly even happier. “We will see less of you now, I expect,” he finished.
“Perhaps,” Aspar answered. Then nodding to the two men, he departed the chamber, closing the door behind him as he went.
“The gods!” Phocas exclaimed. “We have had the girl in our possession less than three months, brother dear. Her performances made us fifteen thousand solidi, and her sale has brought us another fifteen hundred solidi. An excellent return on a slave who only cost us four folles to begin with, even considering the cost of her keep, which was really quite negligible. I salute you, Jovian Maxima! You were correct!”
Jovian smiled broadly. A compliment from Phocas was as rare as finding a perfect pearl in an oyster. “Thank you, brother,” he said.
“You will tell the girl?”
“I will speak to her in the morning. On the nights she gives her performance, she bathes, and goes to her bed immediately following it. She will be sleeping now, and she always sleeps like the dead afterward.”
Sleep. It was her only escape. Cailin had believed she was strong. She had almost convinced herself that she could do what they asked of her. But she did not think she could bear much more. It was not that anyone was unkind to her. Indeed, everyone went out of their way to make certain she was comfortable. She was pampered and fussed over by everyone at Villa Maxima. Jovian was almost devoted to her. Apollo, Castor, and Pollux adored her openly. They had even gone as far as to show her a lion designed in a mosaic, point to it, tap their chests, and then point to her. They were telling her, in the only way they could, that she had the courage of a lion. It was flattering, but it was not enough. She had recently overheard Jovian speaking about a new entertainment he was conceiving for her. It surely couldn’t be any worse than what was happening to her now.
To her surprise, Jovian joined her the following morning for the first meal of the day. “I could not sleep,” he told her, “and so I went early to the marketplace. See the fine melon I have brought you. We will enjoy it together while I tell you that you have had the most incredible piece of luck, Cailin.”
“Fortuna is not a goddess who has been kind to me of late,” Cailin told him, handing the melon to Isis to split.
“She smiled quite broadly on you last night,