When she awoke it was already nightfall. She lay covered in her bed, still wearing her working dress, now covered in dirt and wet with tears she did not remember crying. She was not weeping now, and instead her features had hardened, the light within her eyes extinguished. A horrible darkness she had not known to live within her now crept into the cracks of her shattered heart, filling her with a hate that blinded all other senses.
Her body moved of its own volition, pushing the coverlet slowly down, stepping onto the worn wooden floor, crossing the room in cat-like silence. She was dimly aware of the dagger clutched in her right hand as she ascended the stairway that led to where he lay.
A singular thought now filled her with purpose- she must kill him. So long as Titus Pullo lived, she would find no peace. Alive he plagued her hope and filled her with bitterness- he must be killed and her suffering must stop. Everything she had wanted and dreamed for in this world had been so very small, very frail indeed, compared to the desires of great men- but the dreams had been hers alone, and he had crushed them in his ugly soldier's hands. Why not repay the life taken by giving the gods back an equal sacrifice? Her knuckles whitened around the hilt.
The room was lit only by candles, and those very faint. She could not see his face at first, only his prone body, wrapped in a dirty tunic that had been rent in several places and splattered with blood. Her throat closed to a pin's breadth. Slowly her tongue slipped out over her cracked lips- she could not turn away now. Summoning all of her strength, she moved toward the bed.
Dreams. So many dreams, too many dreams. Some of his mother, some of Eirene, some of the arena. One of verdant countryside and a long, dreary road stretching ahead for many miles. One of a dark-skinned queen with obsidian eyes. They could not all have been dreams- had he not spoken with Lucius Vorenus today? He was in Rome, though he could not remember how he had come here.
It was a faint sound, much like a mouse creeping along the floorboards. Someone was in the room. His eyes opened, focusing sluggishly on the slight shadow of a woman. His wits had been dulled by the draughts they fed him to make him sleep, and it was some moments before he recognized the wraith-like form to be Eirene, dimly lit by the skipping candlelight. How wonderful she looked. Her hair caught the light and held it, giving her curls a thin golden halo. She was still in her working shift, yet she may well have been dressed in silks and satins- she could not have looked more beautiful. He sighed her name- how long had he wanted to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness. She moved forward slowly, and that's when he saw it.
"What have you got there?"
Now she was within arms reach- yet even with his wrists bound to the bed to keep his wounds from tearing, he could not have raised a hand to restrain her. The dagger came up to his throat, her face never flickering with emotion. Shamefacedly, he forced his eyes to meet her own- within those hard, lifeless orbs he could see the darkness, the sorrow and pain he had driven into her. His sweet Eirene- now hardened and hateful, holding his life within her hands and not a tremor of her fingers.
How could I have hurt you so?
"Fair enough." His eyes shut, thinking next to feel the clean, exquisite pain of the blade drawing across his neck, and the inevitable slow ebb of life leaving his body. It did not come. When he reopened his eyes, he found her still staring at him intently, searching him, looking somehow through his eyes and into the deeper, hidden places. Suddenly he broke his eyes away and nervously laughed.
"Of course, if you can't- that's fine too." The jape was thin, and she refused to divert her piercing gaze. Her arm had not moved, the dagger still pressed slightly into the skin, nicking it slightly and drawing a thin trail of blood. A shadow shifted behind Eirene and Pullo's eyes jumped to its source.
At once, Niobe was in the room, seemingly having come from nowhere. Her eyes quickly surveyed the scene. "Eirene? What are you doing?" The dagger was quickly withdrawn.
Eirene turned over in her bed and hugged her arms around her chest. Sleep would not come this night, and even now a faint grayness was creeping around the edges of the doors and windows, heralding the approaching dawn. She had him, the knife to his throat, his arms bound down to the bed, no resistance, no one there to stop her, nothing standing between her will and his mortality. The muscles in her arms had strained and screamed for action, wanting to pull the knife through that rough flesh, her broken heart bayed for the blood of this man. Yet, in one moment, something had given her pause, something unexpected and fleeting passed between the two of them that stayed her hand for the briefest moment, long enough for Niobe to come in and catch her leaning over Pullo with a dagger pressed to his neck.
How could it be? She had wondered then in amazement, how could it be that even facing his own death, she had seen in his face a softened, almost peaceful look- as though death by her hands was deserved and welcome? He felt pain- this great giant of a man felt sorrow and regret- not so much for his actions, but that those actions had directly wounded her. In his way, clumsy and rough though it may be, he loved her. As much as he could, he loved her. The realization did nothing to salve her wounds, his love could not excuse his impassioned rage- only explain it.
As she lay sleepless in bed that night, many memories flowed back to her- all of Titus Pullo and how now she better understood everything about him. She had wondered more than once why he had not taken her forcibly- many times she met his eyes to see him looking at her like a starving man upon an oasis. Yet, he had never demanded anything of her, he had always handled her as though she were frail and fragile- anytime he touched her, he would allow his calloused hand to linger but a moment before removing it quietly.
That night when he had been drinking heavily and had spoken to her about his mother, about his life- how he had looked at her then! She had accepted that in his stupor, carnal lust would overpower whatever hold his senses had placed upon his actions, and she would have to submit to him. He had asked her to take off her dress- his eyes drinking in every inch of her body, and then…
Nothing. Like a child to his mother, he had pressed his head into her chest, hugging her desperately. Now she understood. Now she knew. It was not just her body Pullo desired- he did not want her if he could not have her heart. He wanted her whole- to give herself to him by loving him as he loved her. She held over him a great and terrible power, and suddenly she realized who was master and who was slave- the thought made her uneasy as she rose to clean her face and start another day.
Sunlight danced across the floor in playful yellow beams, dancing over the covers and opening his eyes. The gray sky had broken for the first time in a week, spilling peaceful, warm light over the entire city. He blinked and knuckled his eyes. For a while, he lay in bed, his face turned toward the open window, his thoughts many miles away. Slowly an idea began to grow in his mind until it was no longer a mere thought, but a thought that must be put into action. Today was a perfect day for a journey- and this one could not be delayed until tomorrow. Besides, Vorenus would be at the Senate house today, there would be nothing to occupy his mind at the house, why not take a walk to the country?
His head still throbbed a little as his eyes squinted in the morning sunlight. Slowly, deliberately, he wrapped a crust of bread and a small brick of cheese in a piece of cloth before packing them into his satchel. It would take him the better part of the morning to walk out to the shrine, best to take something to eat.
Lost in his thoughts, it was a few moments before he noticed he was not alone- Eirene had entered the kitchen and was watching him thoughtfully. He snapped his circlets onto his wrists.
"I am going out to the shrine of Recina, to ask forgiveness for all the things I have done." The words themselves made him feel shameful, and though he could not say why, he quickly added, "You can come along, if you like." Eirene paused for a moment in the doorway, regarding him with one final look before walking out. Pullo turned his eyes to his packing.
Gods, grant me peace. With a final check to be certain he had forgotten nothing, he slung his pack over his shoulder and walked out onto the bustling streets of Rome.
The Senate session today had left the streets mercifully clear. The market district was still a press of people haggling, arguing, selling, trading- Pullo made his way easily enough through the throng. Pausing to glance at a vendor selling pounded metal mirrors, Pullo suddenly caught a glimpse, a trick of the eye in one of the shining bowls- Eirene. He spun around and there, just ten paces behind him, stood Eirene, a basket tucked under her arm and her eyes meeting his own.
He looked surprised for a moment, then his face fell again and he turned, resuming his steady pace through the market. There was a ripe smell of fish and cattle mixing with the stench of the poverty that surrounded the district; Eirene did not notice. Some existential force, something she could neither understand nor name, drew her along behind Pullo.
When she had left the kitchen earlier this morning, she had wandered into the courtyard. There, to her right, was the fountain where water was drawn for the house, there, in front of her, the open archway that led onto the street, to her left, the stairwell leading up to the main entryway of the house. Was this her home? Was this where she belonged? What remained here, now, for her to cleave to? She slipped her feet from their sandals and stepped over the cold stones to where she had last seen her love, where she had held him in her arms as he breathed his last. The ground had been scoured, but the blood did not wash so easily- she knelt and pressed her fingertips to the stone.
How could the one who took everything from me now be the only thing left to me? In a moment, she knew what she must do. Her hands worked quickly, packing away those few things that she had- a bracelet of gold and blue glass, covered in strange writings, a dress, cream colored and stained red with blood, a small, thin brass band with her name carved into the inside that her lover had given her, a small statue of Venus.
Pullo had not noticed her following, though it did not matter. She had not come along to be pleasant company. She only knew that wherever he went, she must follow- to live in his sight brought her constant reminder, ever-present sorrow, but to live apart was to be severed from the last thread that held her in this world. The city slowly melted away as the morning dew, giving way to rolling green countryside and ancient trees turning their up-stretched arms to the sky. Pullo never slowed nor spoke to her, giving her leave to follow or remain as she wished.
He felt her presence keenly, as closely as if she had been keeping pace at his side. He knew she followed him still, her silent, shuffling step did not falter.
The shrine of Recina stood, squat and covered in supplications just at the turn of the road. He fell to his knees at the base, pressing his palms into the earth and calling for the gods to hear him. Time lagged, his hands moved carefully through the proper motions, the rituals. His lips parted and entreated, begging forgiveness, laying his sins upon the shrine and offering what little was left of him unto the gods mercy.
Eirene stood not far off, watching him. The sun's light had snuck in between the branches of the trees, lacing the ground in delicate shadows. Thin tendrils of smoke rose from the shrine where candles had been left to burn.
His prayers sent, Pullo stood, brushing the dirt from his knees. His eyes passed over Eirene, but he could not look at her. He started back toward the city, feeling somehow foolish for allowing himself to believe in the superstitions of the masses- had the gods ever shown him true favor? Why had he asked Eirene to come witness his shame? Just as his thoughts turned to darkness, something light, like the beating of a bird's wing, fluttered against his hand. He started, but did not stop walking- there, walking alongside him was Eirene, her fingers woven into his own. Pullo tightened his grip slightly.
I will never harm you again. I will protect you.