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Amica
- Thread starter Velut Luna
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Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Amica 12
Only you, Eulalia, understand the challenge, the lightning glance, the gleam of my teeth. You were behind Fulvia, and you looked at me in astonishment, amazed at the boldness of your slavegirl, this timid, terrified teenager has suddenly found courage, conscious of her royal lineage!
Lucius is getting impatient, already waiting for us out in the street surrounded by his entourage, two gladiators as bodyguards , two youths carrying rolls of documents, a black slave with a statuesque body and a sword at his belt. Lucius looks surprised when I descend from the top step of the threshold. So as not to unravel my dress, I’m tensing my knees a bit, so my steps seem a little awkward, but my movement has something very sensual about it that strikes him. The virgin slavegirl has become a provocative woman, he realises!
Your light pace makes your white, red-hemmed robe flow, the Grecian geometric design creates a game of ever-changing lights. Soon we are at the Temple of Fortuna Augusta on the left of the Via Nolae. We turn towards the arch of Drusus and the Via Augustea. People who bow, greeting Lucius, look with inquisitve glances towards us slaves as we enter under the great portico of Macellum market-place. To our right stands the Temple of Jupiter, then passing the Temple of Mercury we come to Calcidicum, also known as the Cryptoporticus (covered passageway) of the Eumachia (priestess of Venus). There is a group of young people sitting there listening to an old man who is teaching.
He is gesturing broadly with one hand, with the other he is leaning on a long stick. He is the philosopher Evaristos, a Greek, the person that Lucius has to meet. We settle down to listen behind his disciples. An old man approaches the philosopher and whispers in his ear, he breaks off his discourse, indicating to his disciples that he will continue tomorrow.
He is blind, his eyes are white, he is helped by his old friend down from the stone plinth on which he had been raised. Lucius approaches him, holding out his hand to greet him. You talk to him in his language, your language, I’m astonished to hear these harmonious sounds, quite different from the Latin you’re teaching me.
I wish I could understand what you're saying, but for now I have to settle for trying to interpret your gestures, tone of voice, the sense and feeling of what’s going on. Now, beside an altar, the old friend of the philosopher takes a parchment scroll from a large bag. I pick up only the words 'Aristotéles' and 'Perí poiitikís' (Poetics). There are gestures of wonder, it is certainly a valuable book. Lucius offers three bags of gold coins, the philosopher accepts, but you make a sign to Lucius to be more generous, and he adds a fourth bag of coins.
Then as we’re walking under the long colonnade you go on talking, translating from Greek into Latin for Lucius, from Latin to Greek for Evaristos. I follow you. All of a sudden the philosopher stops, and asks you something. He seems to have perceived my presence behind you. You take me by the hand towards him, his eyes, lost in the void, seem to grasp shadows. He stretches his hand towards my face, the dry skin and soft fingers of old man stroke the contours of my face.
A shiver, a shudder runs down my spine. With my left hand I take hold of the hand of the philosopher, turning it with the palm upward. With my right hand I draw three signs. He turns to you amazed by my gesture. I point with my index and middle fingers at my eyes, he raises his eyes and his hand to heaven. You intuit the meaning of my signs and tell the old man: 'Your eyes see the Gods.' 'Pythia ei!' he exclaims, you add in Latin for Lucius 'Virgo Sibylla dicit!' ('he's saying the maiden's a Sibyl!')
A gladiator accompanies the philosopher and his aged friend to their home, the black slave accompanies a boy carrying the bag that contains the scroll back to the house of Lucius, then the slave returns to the Forum. There’s a brief exchange of words between you and our Master, he nods, you take me by the hand, we are free to explore the city accompanied by the slave who’ll be our bodyguard.
Steps, palatial buildings, paintings, statues, temples and more steps. The Basilica, the Baths, streets, alleyways, the great Theatre, the walls of Pompeii. We see inscriptions, you show me a plaque on the Porta Stabiae: 'Pumpeiia' 'AIIEPMUP' - it must be read from right to left as it is in Oscan, the language of Samnites, still spoken here.
Above it there’s also a carved stone with the inscription:
'COLONIA VENEREA POMPEIANORVUM', the name of Pompeii decreed by its 'conqueror, Sulla. The old walls were destroyed during the siege, the new walls were built above the old ones.
Outside the Stabia Gate is the bridge over the river Draconis (Sarno), with moorings for boats from the country alongside the river that bring goods to be sold in the Macellum (market). A stone wall located downstream from the bridge forms a breakwater and encloses a pool. Others vessels land along the seaward stretch, where boats arrive from the port of Oplontis carrying merchandise that has come from distant countries. Wooden machines, like giant arms, are moving on the bridge, lifting loads from boats and depositing them on carts to be hauled by oxen into the city. Slaves carry sacks on their shoulders, and baskets full of merchandise. It’s a world in constant motion, the living world of a prosperous city.
Every written word I see I must inscribe in my memory. I sense the voices of men and women, children playing in the streets, colours, sounds, smells...
Below the walls you approach a soldier on guard, exchange a few words, pass him three copper coins, and we can climb the walls. We have a magnificent view of our surroundings, out towards the sea, the coast, the islands, the harbor of Oplontis not far away, and looking inwards, the buildings, streets, alleys, houses, as far as the distant Amphitheatre. Beyond the walls on the far side we see the countryside, villas, farms, and other cities – Stabiae (Stabia), Surrentum (Sorrento), Nola. There are mountains on one side, and in the other direction, as a backdrop, Vesuvius. It frightens me, that mountain, it gives me a strange feeling, I feel its presence as a threat looming ...
It's time for ' prandium'. We’ll eat that out, we enter a shop connected to a 'taburna'. From one part you can buy fresh food, and from another, drinks and cooked meals. We choose spelt pancakes sprinkled with honey, soft balls of dough stuffed with ricotta cheese, fried in oil and covered with honey, and dates stuffed with pieces of almonds, walnuts and hazelnuts mixed with honey. We enter the 'taburna', the patrons sitting on stools are watching us curiously, perhaps with not very polite intentions, there are a few coarse words, but our black slave quickly puts these ‘roosters’ to rest, placing his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
The slave does not eat sweets like us, he’s served with bread and a meat pasty seasoned with 'garum' (fish sauce), along with a glass of spiced red wine. We drink a glass of dark, fresh, slightly sparkling cordial, made (as you explain to me) with a concentrate of black grapes and fruit cooked in water for a long time until it thickens. We sit at a table on tall stools. The 'prandium' is a quick snack, not heavy, ten copper coins is what it costs. The fact that a slave has a bag full of money leaves me amazed, but you, Eulalia, are not a slave like the others, the Master has given you many responsibilities, from the education of their children to the organization of the work his house. You have become the person he trusts as his counsellor, with your wisdom and good sense you are able to iron out many problems, so you have an allowance of money that you can use at your discretion.
As we walk on, there are more buildings, further statues, further arches, mosaics on the paved floors of temples, shops selling all kinds of merchandise, artisans displaying their wares on the sidewalks in front of their workshops. Carved stones are set in the walls, or on the sidewalks, there are phallus-shaped ones near the doors of brothels (lupanaria) where girls offer their services to satisfy obscene lusts.
It’s getting hotter now, the middle of the day, so we return home. We’ll relieve our weariness with a refreshing bath. We must be back before Lucius returns, and be ready for his bath. Lucius too has had lunch out, as is his habit when goes to the Forum and the court of law.
Only you, Eulalia, understand the challenge, the lightning glance, the gleam of my teeth. You were behind Fulvia, and you looked at me in astonishment, amazed at the boldness of your slavegirl, this timid, terrified teenager has suddenly found courage, conscious of her royal lineage!
Lucius is getting impatient, already waiting for us out in the street surrounded by his entourage, two gladiators as bodyguards , two youths carrying rolls of documents, a black slave with a statuesque body and a sword at his belt. Lucius looks surprised when I descend from the top step of the threshold. So as not to unravel my dress, I’m tensing my knees a bit, so my steps seem a little awkward, but my movement has something very sensual about it that strikes him. The virgin slavegirl has become a provocative woman, he realises!
Your light pace makes your white, red-hemmed robe flow, the Grecian geometric design creates a game of ever-changing lights. Soon we are at the Temple of Fortuna Augusta on the left of the Via Nolae. We turn towards the arch of Drusus and the Via Augustea. People who bow, greeting Lucius, look with inquisitve glances towards us slaves as we enter under the great portico of Macellum market-place. To our right stands the Temple of Jupiter, then passing the Temple of Mercury we come to Calcidicum, also known as the Cryptoporticus (covered passageway) of the Eumachia (priestess of Venus). There is a group of young people sitting there listening to an old man who is teaching.
He is gesturing broadly with one hand, with the other he is leaning on a long stick. He is the philosopher Evaristos, a Greek, the person that Lucius has to meet. We settle down to listen behind his disciples. An old man approaches the philosopher and whispers in his ear, he breaks off his discourse, indicating to his disciples that he will continue tomorrow.
He is blind, his eyes are white, he is helped by his old friend down from the stone plinth on which he had been raised. Lucius approaches him, holding out his hand to greet him. You talk to him in his language, your language, I’m astonished to hear these harmonious sounds, quite different from the Latin you’re teaching me.
I wish I could understand what you're saying, but for now I have to settle for trying to interpret your gestures, tone of voice, the sense and feeling of what’s going on. Now, beside an altar, the old friend of the philosopher takes a parchment scroll from a large bag. I pick up only the words 'Aristotéles' and 'Perí poiitikís' (Poetics). There are gestures of wonder, it is certainly a valuable book. Lucius offers three bags of gold coins, the philosopher accepts, but you make a sign to Lucius to be more generous, and he adds a fourth bag of coins.
Then as we’re walking under the long colonnade you go on talking, translating from Greek into Latin for Lucius, from Latin to Greek for Evaristos. I follow you. All of a sudden the philosopher stops, and asks you something. He seems to have perceived my presence behind you. You take me by the hand towards him, his eyes, lost in the void, seem to grasp shadows. He stretches his hand towards my face, the dry skin and soft fingers of old man stroke the contours of my face.
A shiver, a shudder runs down my spine. With my left hand I take hold of the hand of the philosopher, turning it with the palm upward. With my right hand I draw three signs. He turns to you amazed by my gesture. I point with my index and middle fingers at my eyes, he raises his eyes and his hand to heaven. You intuit the meaning of my signs and tell the old man: 'Your eyes see the Gods.' 'Pythia ei!' he exclaims, you add in Latin for Lucius 'Virgo Sibylla dicit!' ('he's saying the maiden's a Sibyl!')
A gladiator accompanies the philosopher and his aged friend to their home, the black slave accompanies a boy carrying the bag that contains the scroll back to the house of Lucius, then the slave returns to the Forum. There’s a brief exchange of words between you and our Master, he nods, you take me by the hand, we are free to explore the city accompanied by the slave who’ll be our bodyguard.
Steps, palatial buildings, paintings, statues, temples and more steps. The Basilica, the Baths, streets, alleyways, the great Theatre, the walls of Pompeii. We see inscriptions, you show me a plaque on the Porta Stabiae: 'Pumpeiia' 'AIIEPMUP' - it must be read from right to left as it is in Oscan, the language of Samnites, still spoken here.
Above it there’s also a carved stone with the inscription:
'COLONIA VENEREA POMPEIANORVUM', the name of Pompeii decreed by its 'conqueror, Sulla. The old walls were destroyed during the siege, the new walls were built above the old ones.
Outside the Stabia Gate is the bridge over the river Draconis (Sarno), with moorings for boats from the country alongside the river that bring goods to be sold in the Macellum (market). A stone wall located downstream from the bridge forms a breakwater and encloses a pool. Others vessels land along the seaward stretch, where boats arrive from the port of Oplontis carrying merchandise that has come from distant countries. Wooden machines, like giant arms, are moving on the bridge, lifting loads from boats and depositing them on carts to be hauled by oxen into the city. Slaves carry sacks on their shoulders, and baskets full of merchandise. It’s a world in constant motion, the living world of a prosperous city.
Every written word I see I must inscribe in my memory. I sense the voices of men and women, children playing in the streets, colours, sounds, smells...
Below the walls you approach a soldier on guard, exchange a few words, pass him three copper coins, and we can climb the walls. We have a magnificent view of our surroundings, out towards the sea, the coast, the islands, the harbor of Oplontis not far away, and looking inwards, the buildings, streets, alleys, houses, as far as the distant Amphitheatre. Beyond the walls on the far side we see the countryside, villas, farms, and other cities – Stabiae (Stabia), Surrentum (Sorrento), Nola. There are mountains on one side, and in the other direction, as a backdrop, Vesuvius. It frightens me, that mountain, it gives me a strange feeling, I feel its presence as a threat looming ...
It's time for ' prandium'. We’ll eat that out, we enter a shop connected to a 'taburna'. From one part you can buy fresh food, and from another, drinks and cooked meals. We choose spelt pancakes sprinkled with honey, soft balls of dough stuffed with ricotta cheese, fried in oil and covered with honey, and dates stuffed with pieces of almonds, walnuts and hazelnuts mixed with honey. We enter the 'taburna', the patrons sitting on stools are watching us curiously, perhaps with not very polite intentions, there are a few coarse words, but our black slave quickly puts these ‘roosters’ to rest, placing his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
The slave does not eat sweets like us, he’s served with bread and a meat pasty seasoned with 'garum' (fish sauce), along with a glass of spiced red wine. We drink a glass of dark, fresh, slightly sparkling cordial, made (as you explain to me) with a concentrate of black grapes and fruit cooked in water for a long time until it thickens. We sit at a table on tall stools. The 'prandium' is a quick snack, not heavy, ten copper coins is what it costs. The fact that a slave has a bag full of money leaves me amazed, but you, Eulalia, are not a slave like the others, the Master has given you many responsibilities, from the education of their children to the organization of the work his house. You have become the person he trusts as his counsellor, with your wisdom and good sense you are able to iron out many problems, so you have an allowance of money that you can use at your discretion.
As we walk on, there are more buildings, further statues, further arches, mosaics on the paved floors of temples, shops selling all kinds of merchandise, artisans displaying their wares on the sidewalks in front of their workshops. Carved stones are set in the walls, or on the sidewalks, there are phallus-shaped ones near the doors of brothels (lupanaria) where girls offer their services to satisfy obscene lusts.
It’s getting hotter now, the middle of the day, so we return home. We’ll relieve our weariness with a refreshing bath. We must be back before Lucius returns, and be ready for his bath. Lucius too has had lunch out, as is his habit when goes to the Forum and the court of law.
Last edited:
cxslave
Chain Slave
It certainly feels like she was! I love the slow build up and the careful descriptions! Makes it seem so real. I love this story so much Amica!Hum, I've well noticed that it was already women who were obliged to open their bodies, following the satisfaction of the male'lubricity !" Nothing new under the sun!" (Rien de nouveau sous le soleil !)
Wonderful description, Luna !Were you really living in Pompei ?
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
and Eulalia mi fa 'na capa tanta
try in firefox the add on IM translator 8.2
http://imtranslator.net/Translator-For-Firefox-ImTranslator_v_8_2.asp?v=v82
the program recognized the language of the txt and translated in the language you are using.
you can always choose witch translating-system you will use.............microsoft, babylon google or prompt
http://imtranslator.net/Translator-For-Firefox-ImTranslator_v_8_2.asp?v=v82
the program recognized the language of the txt and translated in the language you are using.
you can always choose witch translating-system you will use.............microsoft, babylon google or prompt
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Amica 13
On the paved floor of the vestibule of the House of Lucius the word 'Have' welcomes people. In the fauces (entrance-passage) stands the Lararium, a small temple with Ionic columns that houses the protective deities of the house.
Fulvia Lucilla is reclining on a triclinium couch (couch) in one of the alae (small room) to the left of the atrium (hall) intent on embroidering a robe for her son who is away on active service with the Roman Legion that’s stationed in the land of the Germans.
We enter, she welcomes us, surprised to see us back alone, but Lucius is still working on his business in the city. I kneel in greeting, taking off the bracelets and earrings, returning the jewelry she gave me to adorn myself with before I went out. I lay them at her feet, she’s amazed at my gesture, caresses my face and makes a sign that the jewelry is for me, her gift to the poor slavegirl brought naked to her house, and so are the dress and sandals.
You tell her about our day, my wonder at all the things I’ve seen, our lunch at the tavern, but especially about the meeting with the philosopher and how he recognised me as a prophetess like the Sibyl of Cuma. Fulvia looks at me in surprise, somewhat suspiciously, a shiver runs down my back. I take hold of her hand and draw on it four runes, saying, 'Mater! Filius nunc ibi '- my first prophecy, and my first words, in Latin!
Fulvia makes a gesture of rejection with her head and her hand as if to say 'He is away!', then, looking up toward the sky, 'Would the gods grant that were true!' She shakes her head, sighs, there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes revealing her pain of the far absence of her child.
It is time for us to hurry, we have to go to balnea and prepare his bathroom for when Lucius arrives. Then, while we wait, we return to the room where Fulvia is working with her beautiful slave woman. We hear noises from the atrium, Lucius has returned. He greets his wife with a kiss on the forehead, then hastens to the bathroom (balnea) and surrenders to our care. We are all back in the room with Fulvia when Lucius tells her about his day, his business, the meetings at the Forum.
'Fannius! Fannius! Fannius is back!' A slavegirl enters shouting and jumping for joy, her breasts dancing crazily. Fulvia drops the robe, needle, bright-coloured embroidery thread. Lucius goes almost running into the Atrium, a slave helps Fulvia to get up, she’s almost fainting at the excitment. She looks for me, but I’m hidden behind a column.
Although we are now in the atrium, Fannius, standing among five of his comrades, is still in his armour of gilded bronze, holding his helmet, with its crest as red as blood, on his arm, armour-bands on his wrists, greaves on his lower legs, reinforced boots, his short sword on his belt at his side, a leather garment under the armour, pants that go down to the knee, his full red cape hanging behind his back, a wolf skin attached to the shoulders, with its head down on his chest - the dreadful sight of an armed warrior!
He’s nothing like the soldiers on guard at the gates of Pompeii, they look bored, their only desire to go to the tavern or the brothel. But above all it’s by his sunburnt face, his skin covered by dust mixed with sweat, his chin unshaven for a few days in the urgency of the journey, his eyes bright as a divine light, that I remain transfixed, fascinated at the view of this man.
'Vicimus!' he says.
The father greets him, shaking his forearm as Roman soldiers do, his mother is in tears, she can’t believe her eyes, 'Son! My son!' She embraces him and kisses him, they’re moaning as if they are suffering but they are moans of joy, tears set free, he’s come back alive!
Now it is the turn of her slaves, to hug him, kiss him, strip him of his armour – and likewise his comrades – then they run to the balnea, to wash away the dust the fatigue of travel, the war-weariness, the stench of death.
Preparations are underway for dinner, for a feast. Slaves are carrying couches onto the porch of the Peristylium. Everyone’s invited to the dinner, including the legionaries who accompanied Fannius, a group of soldiers hardened by war, with muscles of steel emerging from their clean tunics - they too have been washed in the balnea reserved for guests, they too have been anointed with oil, and so have even the male and female slaves, all are celebrating the unexpected return.
I stay hidden to watch from behind the columns. They’re given glasses, then the food. There’s music of tambourines, flutes, harps, bells and chimes, with laughter, toasts, and stories, stories of war.
I find a bowl, from the tray farthest from the center of the party I pick a piece of bread and chicken wing, and go and sit on a wooden stool in the shadiest corner the peristyle.
But I’m gazing at this man, haunted by his red hair, his blue eyes, his strong body, his perfect muscles - to him alone would I offer my virginity, only with him I would become a woman!
On the paved floor of the vestibule of the House of Lucius the word 'Have' welcomes people. In the fauces (entrance-passage) stands the Lararium, a small temple with Ionic columns that houses the protective deities of the house.
Fulvia Lucilla is reclining on a triclinium couch (couch) in one of the alae (small room) to the left of the atrium (hall) intent on embroidering a robe for her son who is away on active service with the Roman Legion that’s stationed in the land of the Germans.
We enter, she welcomes us, surprised to see us back alone, but Lucius is still working on his business in the city. I kneel in greeting, taking off the bracelets and earrings, returning the jewelry she gave me to adorn myself with before I went out. I lay them at her feet, she’s amazed at my gesture, caresses my face and makes a sign that the jewelry is for me, her gift to the poor slavegirl brought naked to her house, and so are the dress and sandals.
You tell her about our day, my wonder at all the things I’ve seen, our lunch at the tavern, but especially about the meeting with the philosopher and how he recognised me as a prophetess like the Sibyl of Cuma. Fulvia looks at me in surprise, somewhat suspiciously, a shiver runs down my back. I take hold of her hand and draw on it four runes, saying, 'Mater! Filius nunc ibi '- my first prophecy, and my first words, in Latin!
Fulvia makes a gesture of rejection with her head and her hand as if to say 'He is away!', then, looking up toward the sky, 'Would the gods grant that were true!' She shakes her head, sighs, there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes revealing her pain of the far absence of her child.
It is time for us to hurry, we have to go to balnea and prepare his bathroom for when Lucius arrives. Then, while we wait, we return to the room where Fulvia is working with her beautiful slave woman. We hear noises from the atrium, Lucius has returned. He greets his wife with a kiss on the forehead, then hastens to the bathroom (balnea) and surrenders to our care. We are all back in the room with Fulvia when Lucius tells her about his day, his business, the meetings at the Forum.
'Fannius! Fannius! Fannius is back!' A slavegirl enters shouting and jumping for joy, her breasts dancing crazily. Fulvia drops the robe, needle, bright-coloured embroidery thread. Lucius goes almost running into the Atrium, a slave helps Fulvia to get up, she’s almost fainting at the excitment. She looks for me, but I’m hidden behind a column.
Although we are now in the atrium, Fannius, standing among five of his comrades, is still in his armour of gilded bronze, holding his helmet, with its crest as red as blood, on his arm, armour-bands on his wrists, greaves on his lower legs, reinforced boots, his short sword on his belt at his side, a leather garment under the armour, pants that go down to the knee, his full red cape hanging behind his back, a wolf skin attached to the shoulders, with its head down on his chest - the dreadful sight of an armed warrior!
He’s nothing like the soldiers on guard at the gates of Pompeii, they look bored, their only desire to go to the tavern or the brothel. But above all it’s by his sunburnt face, his skin covered by dust mixed with sweat, his chin unshaven for a few days in the urgency of the journey, his eyes bright as a divine light, that I remain transfixed, fascinated at the view of this man.
'Vicimus!' he says.
The father greets him, shaking his forearm as Roman soldiers do, his mother is in tears, she can’t believe her eyes, 'Son! My son!' She embraces him and kisses him, they’re moaning as if they are suffering but they are moans of joy, tears set free, he’s come back alive!
Now it is the turn of her slaves, to hug him, kiss him, strip him of his armour – and likewise his comrades – then they run to the balnea, to wash away the dust the fatigue of travel, the war-weariness, the stench of death.
Preparations are underway for dinner, for a feast. Slaves are carrying couches onto the porch of the Peristylium. Everyone’s invited to the dinner, including the legionaries who accompanied Fannius, a group of soldiers hardened by war, with muscles of steel emerging from their clean tunics - they too have been washed in the balnea reserved for guests, they too have been anointed with oil, and so have even the male and female slaves, all are celebrating the unexpected return.
I stay hidden to watch from behind the columns. They’re given glasses, then the food. There’s music of tambourines, flutes, harps, bells and chimes, with laughter, toasts, and stories, stories of war.
I find a bowl, from the tray farthest from the center of the party I pick a piece of bread and chicken wing, and go and sit on a wooden stool in the shadiest corner the peristyle.
But I’m gazing at this man, haunted by his red hair, his blue eyes, his strong body, his perfect muscles - to him alone would I offer my virginity, only with him I would become a woman!
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Amica 14
I'm jealous, jealous of his slaves lying with him on the couch, indecently, dressed in only a narrow thong that just covers their shaved pubes, held by a colored cord tied at the sides. I'm jealous as they’re kissing him, rubbing their breasts against his back and his arms, I’m jealous at their bantering and competing to feed him with food they pick off the trays other slaves are offering to the diners, I’m jealous as they laugh when he pinches their breasts or buttocks, when he sneaks with his fingers under those colored thongs, when they submit obscenely to his wishes.
Even Lucius is lying on a triclinium with two half-naked slaves, and even Fulvia keeps her favourites close to her. I’m hiding, I wish I were as black as Udij, so as not to be seen in the darkness of the colonnade, away from the party, I find a long dark veil dropped on the floor by one of the slaves who’s now dancing in the midst of the revellers, and cover my head with it to hide my blonde hair that gleams like silver, my white skin that glows in the shadows, reflecting the low light, it can reveal where I am.
I’ve a feeling of nausea, a lump in my throat, I can't swallow the few pieces of bread, I can't bite the lean meat of the chicken wing, I leave the bowl on the floor. But I'm being so stupid, he didn’t even glance at me, he doesn’t even know I exist, and yet I am consumed with jealousy!
From my hiding place I spy on the party as it goes on. New courses are served, new foods, new wine, new toasts, new yelps and giggles from the eager slavegirls, new peals of obscene laughter. The 'pueri ad pedes' (foot-boys) run to bring the food and fill the cups that diners are demanding all the time, taking the chance to steal a few bites for themselves, the youngsters scamper between the couches, looking for a chance to grope some careless slave who doesn’t realize that the hand that's exploring her doesn’t belong to the man she’s waiting on. Even Udij is in the midst of the dancing party, Eulalia too is close to Lucius’s couch, laughing and drinking fine wine, no-one notices my absence, no-one looking for me.
Enough! I'm off! Abandoning my hiding-place in the shadows, I go to the entrance passage to the right of the exhedra (the room opposite part of the peristyle), then back by the long corridor that leads to the side of the house to where Eulalia’s room is located. I push the door, it isn’t closed.
I want to throw myself on the bed and cry, but I dare not, I just kneel on the stone seat, untie the knot of red ribbon that holds back my hair, my hair tumbles down to my buttocks, I throw myself on the small table with my arms folded to cushion my head. The sounds and music of feasting have grown faint, with my hands I cover my ears so as not to hear. I am filled with a great sadness, a strange languor, why am I in love with someone who doesn’t even know me?
He is a warrior, sure he has killed, sure many enemies, but has he also killed innocent people? Has he killed women, children? Could he have raped virgins? Will he have captured young girls in flower to bring with him as slaves? Where are they now, the poor victims? Will they be sold, as I have seen, just outside the Stabian Gate? A spear planted in the ground, the naked slavegirl bound hand and foot, a little bag of coins, and the fate of the wretch is sealed.
The harrowing scenes of that night come back to me – when I was carried off, men were slaughtered like pigs, women disembowelled with swords, girls raped and then tied to trees and burnt alive... these are the things that war brings, why humans are more fierce than wolves? This is the sentence that each of us has borne ever since we were born, whether victim or executioner. Why? Why can’t humans live in peace in their homes, surrounded by the affection of wives, husbands, children?
Tears are rolling down my cheeks burning with shame, my feet and hands are frozen, my head aching, my body shivering as if in a fever. The black night-elf approaches me with his bright eyes, sniffing, licking my lips that still have the taste and the smell of the chicken wing I couldn’t eat. It licks my tears as if to drink them, or it wants to soothe my pain. It bites the tips of my fingers as if they were prey, tiny birds. Even this little black elf has the instinct of a murderer, but it’s comforting me, it seems to be the only one who has pity on my despair. I play with this bundle of black fur, giving the caresses it’s wanting, as it gives me the pleasure of its purring, I kiss it as something precious to me.
I'm jealous, jealous of his slaves lying with him on the couch, indecently, dressed in only a narrow thong that just covers their shaved pubes, held by a colored cord tied at the sides. I'm jealous as they’re kissing him, rubbing their breasts against his back and his arms, I’m jealous at their bantering and competing to feed him with food they pick off the trays other slaves are offering to the diners, I’m jealous as they laugh when he pinches their breasts or buttocks, when he sneaks with his fingers under those colored thongs, when they submit obscenely to his wishes.
Even Lucius is lying on a triclinium with two half-naked slaves, and even Fulvia keeps her favourites close to her. I’m hiding, I wish I were as black as Udij, so as not to be seen in the darkness of the colonnade, away from the party, I find a long dark veil dropped on the floor by one of the slaves who’s now dancing in the midst of the revellers, and cover my head with it to hide my blonde hair that gleams like silver, my white skin that glows in the shadows, reflecting the low light, it can reveal where I am.
I’ve a feeling of nausea, a lump in my throat, I can't swallow the few pieces of bread, I can't bite the lean meat of the chicken wing, I leave the bowl on the floor. But I'm being so stupid, he didn’t even glance at me, he doesn’t even know I exist, and yet I am consumed with jealousy!
From my hiding place I spy on the party as it goes on. New courses are served, new foods, new wine, new toasts, new yelps and giggles from the eager slavegirls, new peals of obscene laughter. The 'pueri ad pedes' (foot-boys) run to bring the food and fill the cups that diners are demanding all the time, taking the chance to steal a few bites for themselves, the youngsters scamper between the couches, looking for a chance to grope some careless slave who doesn’t realize that the hand that's exploring her doesn’t belong to the man she’s waiting on. Even Udij is in the midst of the dancing party, Eulalia too is close to Lucius’s couch, laughing and drinking fine wine, no-one notices my absence, no-one looking for me.
Enough! I'm off! Abandoning my hiding-place in the shadows, I go to the entrance passage to the right of the exhedra (the room opposite part of the peristyle), then back by the long corridor that leads to the side of the house to where Eulalia’s room is located. I push the door, it isn’t closed.
I want to throw myself on the bed and cry, but I dare not, I just kneel on the stone seat, untie the knot of red ribbon that holds back my hair, my hair tumbles down to my buttocks, I throw myself on the small table with my arms folded to cushion my head. The sounds and music of feasting have grown faint, with my hands I cover my ears so as not to hear. I am filled with a great sadness, a strange languor, why am I in love with someone who doesn’t even know me?
He is a warrior, sure he has killed, sure many enemies, but has he also killed innocent people? Has he killed women, children? Could he have raped virgins? Will he have captured young girls in flower to bring with him as slaves? Where are they now, the poor victims? Will they be sold, as I have seen, just outside the Stabian Gate? A spear planted in the ground, the naked slavegirl bound hand and foot, a little bag of coins, and the fate of the wretch is sealed.
The harrowing scenes of that night come back to me – when I was carried off, men were slaughtered like pigs, women disembowelled with swords, girls raped and then tied to trees and burnt alive... these are the things that war brings, why humans are more fierce than wolves? This is the sentence that each of us has borne ever since we were born, whether victim or executioner. Why? Why can’t humans live in peace in their homes, surrounded by the affection of wives, husbands, children?
Tears are rolling down my cheeks burning with shame, my feet and hands are frozen, my head aching, my body shivering as if in a fever. The black night-elf approaches me with his bright eyes, sniffing, licking my lips that still have the taste and the smell of the chicken wing I couldn’t eat. It licks my tears as if to drink them, or it wants to soothe my pain. It bites the tips of my fingers as if they were prey, tiny birds. Even this little black elf has the instinct of a murderer, but it’s comforting me, it seems to be the only one who has pity on my despair. I play with this bundle of black fur, giving the caresses it’s wanting, as it gives me the pleasure of its purring, I kiss it as something precious to me.
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RacingRodent
Consul
Amica's passions and desires and her pains and fears are very well expressed in those last two passages Luna. really well done. 
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Hum, could a slave have desires ? It seems that Amica do yet learn her role ....
But, after all, she can dream ....
But, after all, I think that something good for her could be arrive soon ...
Magnifiscent, Luna !!! I love ...
I think it will soon be trouble!
"This is the sentence that each of us has borne ever since we were born, whether victim or executioner. Why? Why can’t humans live in peace in their homes, surrounded by the affection of wives, husbands, children?"
Yes, why??????????????????????????????????....why, why, why, why?
As always, great writing Luna!!!!
Yes, why??????????????????????????????????....why, why, why, why?
As always, great writing Luna!!!!
Velut Luna
Sibilla Cumana
Amica 15
Tomorrow I'm going to meet him, I want to meet him, I want to look him in the eyes, I have to figure out what's in his mind, I have to devise a plan, an excuse to approach him, I want him looking at me, so that he notices me.
In fantasies my thoughts wander among all imaginable situations, they home in on every plausible scenario - and I can think of so many strange things that I’ve noticed in this house, for example why does Lucius not sleep with his wife, but with a slave? Why does Fulvia Lucilla sleep in a separate room with her favourite?
I have noticed that many of the slavegirls that Lucius bought from the Phoenician merchant are no longer in the house, where have they gone? At the party, many of the slaves whom I’d never seen before, so beautiful, so casual with the guests, where did they come from? Who are they? This house has hidden mysteries, I feel it, I suspect that the apparent peace that reigns between these walls conceals ghosts.
With my thoughts racing, little by little my mind succumbs to advancing sleep, to the fatigue that has overcome me. But why is Eulalia so late coming back? What’s happening at the party? Now the noises are louder, the laughter is more raucous, but still sleep catches me, even the black night-elf curls up in my arms.
My hair’s caressed.
'Ibi eras?' (Here you are!)
Look me in the face.
'Have you been crying?'
'I have not! It was him who licked my eyes.'
You laugh at my silly excuse and look into my eyes.
'You could at least lie down in bed.'
'I didn’t dare to, I was waiting for you.'
'Why didn’t you stay at the party?'
'I was sad.'
You cannot understand this, Eulalia, feasts make me afraid, they bring back to me the ghosts of that dreadful night when I was carried off, the blood that flowed on the floor of our house, the bodies of my dear ones massacred, one day I'll tell you my story.
You welcome me in your arms, in your bed, sleep falls on our eyes, into our hearts.
End of the first part.
Tomorrow I'm going to meet him, I want to meet him, I want to look him in the eyes, I have to figure out what's in his mind, I have to devise a plan, an excuse to approach him, I want him looking at me, so that he notices me.
In fantasies my thoughts wander among all imaginable situations, they home in on every plausible scenario - and I can think of so many strange things that I’ve noticed in this house, for example why does Lucius not sleep with his wife, but with a slave? Why does Fulvia Lucilla sleep in a separate room with her favourite?
I have noticed that many of the slavegirls that Lucius bought from the Phoenician merchant are no longer in the house, where have they gone? At the party, many of the slaves whom I’d never seen before, so beautiful, so casual with the guests, where did they come from? Who are they? This house has hidden mysteries, I feel it, I suspect that the apparent peace that reigns between these walls conceals ghosts.
With my thoughts racing, little by little my mind succumbs to advancing sleep, to the fatigue that has overcome me. But why is Eulalia so late coming back? What’s happening at the party? Now the noises are louder, the laughter is more raucous, but still sleep catches me, even the black night-elf curls up in my arms.
My hair’s caressed.
'Ibi eras?' (Here you are!)
Look me in the face.
'Have you been crying?'
'I have not! It was him who licked my eyes.'
You laugh at my silly excuse and look into my eyes.
'You could at least lie down in bed.'
'I didn’t dare to, I was waiting for you.'
'Why didn’t you stay at the party?'
'I was sad.'
You cannot understand this, Eulalia, feasts make me afraid, they bring back to me the ghosts of that dreadful night when I was carried off, the blood that flowed on the floor of our house, the bodies of my dear ones massacred, one day I'll tell you my story.
You welcome me in your arms, in your bed, sleep falls on our eyes, into our hearts.
End of the first part.
Very nice Velut but you must learn to lie better or you will get caught up in them...
Tree
Tree