warmth, overwhelming the affection-starved Lucilla. ‘No excuses at all!’
He was unfixing the roundel fasteners of her sleeves, tugging and trying not to seem like a man who had undressed too many women. Lucilla pulled the tang on his belt to release the buckle, hoping not to reveal how rarely she had undressed men. He took her in his arms, with a suppressed groan. For a short, wild moment she wished she had a better body, bigger breasts, more energy, enough experience — before, for the first time in her life, Lucilla gave herself into the care of a man whose competence, as a matter of pride, included both their needs.
He was not normally one who boasted, but he heard himself declare to her crazily, ‘If it’s only once, it must be good! Flavia Lucilla, I am going to make love to you all the way to the gates of Hades, then all through the Elysian Fields and all the way back here. You won’t know whether to beg me to stop or plead with me for more…’
Gaius Vinius knew all about routine love-making in some anaemic relationship for his own swift relief. He wanted better, much better tonight. He was ready to deploy heart, lungs, muscles, imagination, and an unlikely sensitivity in order to achieve it. He wanted to blot bloody Dacia from his consciousness, his reluctance to go there, his centurion’s dark premonitions, his own emptiness at what his life had been so far and its pointlessness if he should not survive battle. He wanted to purge the profound sadness that had swept through him at the music recital. To do so, every fibre of him wanted this girl who could be so sweet, and who was so worth saving, and with whom on this strange evening he had felt such extraordinary closeness.
You fuck to forget. Every soldier knows that. On the eve of departure, you fuck blindly to create memories to see you through that long march which may be your last… Yet there could be more. Gaius Vinius believed in it, and that night he found it: in not just extreme physical passion, but complete exultant joy.
15
Domitian travelled via Dalmatia, bringing five legions. The Romans’ arrival in what they called Moesia was swifter than Diurpaneus had hoped. They came the same autumn; they marched in by October. He would have liked to have deterred them longer. If they had stayed away until winter he could have established firmer footings, but they came, and with them their bald, bewigged Emperor. His presence with them was bound to give his soldiers heart, whatever stories these Romans had heard of the Dacians’ fierceness.
The Emperor entrusted command to the chief of his own Guards, Fuscus. Domitian had appointed him, weeding out Titus’ previous incumbent, so he had been in post as Praetorian Prefect for almost five years. It was normal to have an aristocrat as general to a field army, but Cornelius Fuscus was from the middle rank which Domitian preferred to trust (although the Prefect came from a rich family and had remained an equestrian by choice). A fiery supporter of Vespasian, Fuscus’ reputation was for seeking novelty and risk.
So the Emperor’s own corps was to take prime position in clearing out the invaders. The message was clear: defeating Dacia was personal. That kind of edge to a campaign suited Diurpaneus.
The Roman battle-force was powerful. After a first, fast scramble out of the way upon their sudden appearance, the Dacian retreated carefully. He eased his troops back to the brim of the Danube, then slipped away across the river. He seemed to have given back to Domitian what the warriors had seized in Moesia that summer, but although the Roman counter-offensive appeared successful, their opponent’s response to it was reactive only; he had fight in him yet. For Diurpaneus, a good tactician, the struggle against Rome was only beginning. Shooing the invaders out of Moesia might temporarily satisfy the Romans, but both sides knew the Dacians would be back.
On the south bank, the Romans restored order as systematically as always. They rebuilt the forts, gave at least cursory protection to the native civilians, scoured the country for unwanted foreigners. They made occasional use of scouts and informers. There had to be a new governor; and once on the spot Domitian began to consider splitting Moesia in two, which would strengthen it administratively. Few people remembered that Domitian had a connection with the area; his Uncle Sabinus had been governor of Moesia for about seven years, an unusually long period. He had been hearing about this part of the world from childhood.
Denigrating stories circulated that while on the Danube, Domitian abandoned himself to loose living. His troops scoffed that this presupposed Moesian cities offered licentious possibilities. It was one thing to have live oysters delivered overland for Roman commanders, but supping shellfish was not quite a life of riot. As the soldiers knew (for they had looked into this diligently), Moesia suffered from a perennial shortage of dancing-girls, not to mention a complete famine of fancy boys.
The Dacians meanwhile sought to return to their previous relationship with Rome, suing for peace. Domitian rejected their overtures.
Satisfied that Moesia had been restored to order by these few months of his glorious presence, late in the year Domitian left Fuscus to it and returned home. There the returning victorious commander-in-chief, resplendent with triumphal honours, could call on the services not only of well-drilled belly-dancers, but impossibly handsome cup-bearing catamites, and if he was really desperate — or gracious — his wife.
Some Praetorians had to be in Rome to guard the Emperor, but many stayed on campaign with their commander. This included the century of Decius Gracilis, who had had useful experience in Moesia previously. Now Vinius frequently heard him grumbling, convinced that the apparently dispersed enemy were not being taken seriously, muttering that crisis-management was slack and everything bound to go wrong..
They spent the winter consolidating. With the province’s whole infrastructure needing to be rebuilt, the soldiers were constantly busy, but sometimes the weather prevented effort and they had rest periods. At such times, Gaius Vinius found his thoughts straying to his own unresolved issues back in Rome.
As dawn broke on the morning of their unexpected tryst at Alba, he had awoken with Lucilla on what he assumed were affectionate terms.
Better?
Much better…
Want more?
You can’t.
I bet I could…
He had left her briefly, to carry out basic ablutions: a long pee, a quick wash in a fountain, a deep breath while thinking now get out of this, lad… When he looked for the girl again, he discovered that she had slithered off somewhere, presumably for a pee, a wash and thinking what a wonderful lover fortune had gifted her. Then he realised she had disappeared completely. At least that saved embarrassing conversation, was his first thought.
As Gaius plodded back up through the gardens alone, he found he regretted that attitude. He walked very slowly, absorbing the beautiful day and delightful surroundings. To his surprise, he felt there was unfinished business between them, and not merely a longing for more sexual contact. He wanted to see her, to find her. He wanted to talk things over. She had charmed him, astonished him, devastated him.
He was highly annoyed when discreet enquiries revealed that Flavia Lucilla had left Alba altogether.
Gaius was a man; he had no grasp of the turmoil he had imposed on her. He presumed, insofar as he faced up to it, that if he could accept being unfaithful to his wife, it was his quibble, not Lucilla’s. Her position was easy, or seemed so to him.
He had no idea whether their relationship would develop. He had not planned to make love to her last night. Now, he was not necessarily expecting more — but nor was he clear there would be no more. He simply had not thought about it.
She had left, left him without a word. He felt he had been used and dumped.
Of course it was irrational. Though annoyed with himself for feeling that way, he had enough humanity to imagine why Lucilla might have fled. Not necessary, girl! He would never have allowed any awkwardness afterwards. He would have let her down gently if needed; he felt she could have given him the same consideration.
He did not suppose she was really upset; the night had been too good for that. He would sort this out.
Vinius knew the theory that sex was best when accompanied by love. That did not rule out love developing
