Jars of Clay (10 page)
“I know, my love. I know.” He reached for her again. “We have this moment to get us through the rest of our lives. I will get through each new day remembering this one.”
He kissed her deeply and she responded with eagerness, breathing him in like he was her oxygen. She gripped him tightly, her heart tearing at the thought of letting him go.
When he said his final goodbye, Helena thought she would burst like a wine skin with split seams, pouring her pain over the plantation, the villa, every piece of ground she stepped on.
They held each other, neither wanting to be the first to let go. Lucius kissed her with one last hard kiss and pushed her gently away.
His eyes were brimmed red, grief etched on his face and when he turned from her, he ran as if he could possibly outrun the pain.
Helena curled up on the blanket and sobbed shamelessly. Watching Lucius leave hurt as much as it had when Marcellus had died. Except that pain was easier to bear because it was shared.
This grief was secret, hers to bear alone.
When she had cried herself empty, she left the blanket and returned to the villa. It never occurred to her that she would be missed. No one other than Felicity paid attention to when she rose or when she went to bed.
However, on this morning, Cassius awaited her in the atrium.
“Helena! What happened?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she spat. “You got your way. My life is now ruined.”
“What are you talking about? Are you ill?”
Why this sudden concern for her wellbeing? “No,” she said stiffly, “I am not ill.”
An expression of understanding crossed Cassius’s face, but instead of the angry outburst she’d expected, his countenance grew even softer. What was wrong with him?
“I’m sorry for your pain, Helena.”
She scoffed, amazed at how her brother could lie to her face like that. Weakly she gripped the banister, pulling herself up the staircase and down the hall to her chambers.
She flopped on the four poster bed and stared hard at the ceiling she had gazed at a thousand times. Her mind floated back to Lucius and the pain of missing him so intense and consuming, she writhed inside.
How could she go on? How could she join together with another? With that hideous Vincentius?
She couldn’t.
She bounded out of bed with renewed determination. If she must continue living, she would do it with Lucius, even if it meant stirring up the wrath of her family and of the gods.
Rome was vast. She and Lucius could keep well hidden.
She ran down the stairs, her hair flying wildly. She must hurry. When she reached the servant’s village, she slowed, her breath catching in her throat, knife-like pain piercing her side.
Where was Felicity?
Helena spotted her walking down the path that led to the villa. She must be on her way to find her.
“Felicity!”
Felicity turned, shocked at finding her mistress in such a state. “My lady?” She approached Helena, holding out an arm to steady her.
“Lucius,” Helena said. “Where is he?”
“Oh, he’s left.” Felicity said. “I thought you knew.”
Despair pressed down on her heavily. Why hadn’t she agreed to go with him when he’d first asked?
“Already?”
“Yes. A ship was scheduled to depart for Italia this morning. It was Lucius’s intention to catch it. I’m sorry, my lady. He’s gone.”
Helena ran back to the villa, but collapsed in a heap before she got to the gate. She couldn’t get to the port in time. She’d need a carriage. She’d need
permission
.
A loud sob scared a nest of birds, and streams of black wings took flight around her head. It was a bad omen. She prayed to whatever god would listen to help her somehow, to bring Lucius back to get her.
Felicity found her at nightfall and led her back to her chambers. The gods had ignored her once again.
End of Volume One
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Read on for Chapter One of BROKEN VESSELS, Volume 2 of Jars of Clay.
BOOKS BY LEE STRAUSS
Young Adult
The Perception Series (dystopian/sci-fi/romance)
Ambition
(short story prequel)
Perception
(book 1)
Volition
(book 2)
Contrition
(book 3)
Playing with Matches (WW2 history/romance)
A Piece of Blue String
(companion short story)
Jars of Clay (ancient Rome history/romance)
Broken Vessels
(Jars of Clay Volume Two)
Contemporary Romance
East of the Sun
T
he Minstrel Series
Peace & Goodwill
(a Christmas Novella)
Romantic Suspense (mystery/sci-fi)
A Nursery Rhyme Suspense
Run Run Run
(Gingerbread Man Episode 1)
Lee Strauss is the author of The Perception Series (young adult dystopian), A Nursery Rhyme Suspense Serial (NA Romantic Suspense), The Minstrel Series (contemporary romance), and young adult historical fiction. She is the married mother of four grown children, three boys and a girl, and divides her time between British Columbia, Canada and Dresden, Germany. When she's not writing or reading she likes to cycle, hike and do yoga. She enjoys traveling (but not jet lag :0), soy lattes, red wine and dark chocolate.
Lee also writes younger YA fantasy as
Elle Strauss
.
For more info on books by Lee Strauss and her social media links visit
leestraussbooks.com
. To make sure you don’t miss the next new release, be sure to sign up for her
newsletter
!
Chapter One
LUCIUS
Lucius held limply onto the rail with another round of gagging as vomit spewed from his mouth and overboard, becoming chum for the fish in the sea. A deep seated moan erupted from his belly as his knees folded beneath him.
Blasius, a shipmate who walked with a limp, tossed him a mop. His greasy hair was tied back with a piece of string, and a sneer of contempt crossed his narrow bird-like face.
“If you don’t stop with this filth,” he said, “I’m going to toss you to the sea gods myself.”
Lucius leaned against the mop like a cane. He breathed deeply of the briny air, filling his lungs and hoping for respite from the onslaught of seasickness. But he resisted offering a prayer to the gods for help. They were of no help to him, and if he were going to get back on his feet, it would be by his own strength.
He braced himself against the rail and mopped up his filth.
He was glad of one thing: that Helena hadn’t run away with him after all. This ship was no place for a lady. He could barely manage to take care of himself, much less her, and in the way that she deserved.
When he’d forced himself to flee from her side that morning three days ago, his chest had felt like it was on fire. His legs pumped toward the sea in a failed effort to outrun the torment.
He was glad he’d had the foresight to say his farewells to his family before he’d delivered breakfast to her, and also to be greeted with some good fortune when he arrived at the docks. One of Captain Decimius’s three slaves had died suddenly creating a timely vacancy.
“Your name!” Captain Decimius demanded. He was a tall, bulky man with legs like cedars from years of balancing on the unsteady ship’s deck. His bald head glistened with sweat, his face was weather worn with deep lines creasing his skin like a road map.
“Lucius of the house of Vibius.”
Captain Decimius eyed him critically. “A runaway slave?”
Lucius thrust out his chest. “I am a freed man.”
“Have you traveled the seas before?”
“No, it has not yet been my fortune.”
The swarthy man crossed his arms and peered down his bulbous nose. “The journey to Rome is not child’s play.”
Lucius, sensing his opportunity slipping, begged, “Captain, I have labored all my life as the son of a freedman. I’ve worked hard for my former master and I will work hard for you if you will consider me.”
The captain huffed. “All right, then. However, if you disappoint me, I’ll have no qualms about tossing you overboard.”
Though Captain Decimus had repeatedly cursed him since and his crew had continued to laugh and mock him, they had yet to throw him into the sea. Lucius doubted his luck would continue if he didn’t get his sea legs and fast.
He tied the mop back into the cupboard then sneaked back down into the darkness of the sleeping quarters, and curled up on his mat.
The next morning, Blasius kicked him in the leg.
“Get up you lazy swine.”
Lucius stood, and though the ship continued to rock and sway, miraculously, his stomach no longer lurched with the sea. For the first time he had a bit of hope that he could perform his duties without hugging the rails and hurling his breakfast.
He climbed the wooden steps to the ship’s galley, and for the first time since boarding he was able to take in his surroundings with a clear head.
Built from oak and cypress, the round-hull ship was modest in size and easily manned by a crew of five. Captain Decimius had told him the prized cargo below deck was a shipment of olive oil stored in
amphora,
clay bottle-shaped jars, corked and stacked tightly in the hull. It was Captain and crew’s responsibility to deliver the shipment to the buyer in Rome unscathed. Lucius wondered bitterly if the olive oil originated from the Vibius Mill and if he was accompanying a supply that he himself had pressed.
Captain Decimus and Blasius, who was apparently second in command, were seated on the port side of a wooden table that was scared with knife cuts and candle wax. The two slaves sat at a smaller table on the opposite side. Lucius hadn’t made it for a meal, and he was uncertain at which table he should sit. Blasius indicated with a slight tilt of his head that he should take a spot on the short bench beside him.
One of the slaves sprung from his seat and brought Lucius a plate of fried kipper and eggs freshly laid by the hens on board. A primal hunger gripped him. He was aware of nothing else in that moment, only the heady scent and taste of food and the urgency to fill his empty stomach.
The captain laughed, blasting Lucius with a waft of foul breath that almost brought his food up again. “You must be feeling better, boy!” he said.
He picked his pasty yellow teeth with a dirty fingernail. Lucius tried to focus on his food.
Once his plate was cleaned, he accepted a steaming cup of hot tea.
“So what you running from?” Blasius said.
Lucius shook his head. “Nothing.”
Blasius smirked, his tongue finding a dark gap from a missing tooth like a fleshy worm peeking out in the light. “You’re not a sailor, that’s obvious,” he said haughtily. “And you don’t look like an orphaned waif, so what is it? The law? Family troubles? Love?”
Lucius’s eyes widened slightly at the word
love
, and Blasius was quick. “Aha!” He laughed boisterously, and Lucius held back the desire to punch the fleabag in the mouth.
“It’s love. The boy is running away from a girl. Oh you poor thing.”
Lucius stood quickly, turning his bench over backward. He turned to the captain, ignoring Blasius’s mockery. “I’ll be on deck attending to my duties.”
The captain shrugged, amused. “It’s about time.”
The days were long and lonely, and Lucius regrettably had plenty of time to think about Helena. The nights were worse. He’d lie on his back, his eyes scanning the black skies, the stars and the moon taunting him. He failed shamefully to do that which he’d set out to do: banish all thoughts of her. On the black screen of his mind, she was the North Star, her beauty taunting—the sparkle in her eyes, the dimple in her smile, the way her auburn hair fell in waves on her creamy shoulders.
Their last night together as he wrapped his arms around her, her back pressed into his chest, his chin tucked into her neck—the memory was both a soft blanket and a thousand lashes.