Caroline Storer - The Roman

“Hello, Justina. Will you sit with me?”

She hesitated, aware of her hands twisting together nervously, “I…I…”

He must had sensed her hesitation, because he said quietly, “You are a very good sculptress by the way,” he said nodding at the sand sculpture next to her. “Please. Stay for a little while,” he begged.

Justina glanced up at him, chewing her bottom lip in indecision. She really should leave. The day was growing late, and her father would expect her back soon. But seeing the earnest expression in his deep blue eyes she made up her mind to stay. So she nodded slightly, and noted in surprise that his shoulders slumped, as a look of relief passed over his face when she accepted his request.

“How old are you?” Marsallas asked, once she had sat back down on the sand, and he had joined her.

Justina was slightly taken aback by the question, “Fifteen,” she answered slowly, and when she saw him frown, she added, “But I’ll be sixteen next month.”

“So young,” Marsallas said, almost to himself.

“And you? How old are you?” She murmured, noticing the husky edge to her voice once more.

“Eighteen.”

“So old!” She said, her tone gently teasing.

Marsallas smiled at her, and grunted softly before he raised a mocking eyebrow at her in recognition of her answer. Justina couldn’t help but smile back, and at that moment they both relaxed, as an understanding flowed between them. For the next hour they talked, tentatively at first, as strangers do when they first get to know each other, but after a while they talked easily, as if they had known each other for years, each of them sharing a little of themselves.

“My father is Aulus Justus Phillipus, he is the town’s baker. Do you know him?”

Marsallas shook his head as a sudden bleakness washed over his face. “No I don’t. Unfortunately, I don’t get out much.”

Justina looked up at him, as she noted the dark undertone in his voice when he said the last sentence.

“Oh. I…I see.”

Marsallas smiled at her, his voice gentle, “I don’t think you do, Justina. But it is of no consequence.”

Not sure of what to say in response to that, she decided to change the subject. “Do you live nearby?”

“Umm. Over there,” he said gesturing to his right, to where the large marble villas stretched along the shoreline of Herculaneum. Justina’s eyes widened in surprise, she knew that the villas along the beach were owned by the patricians, the rich and elite of Herculaneum. Just who was Marsallas, and why was he interested in her? Then before she could stop herself she blurted out, “Are you a slave?”

Marsallas threw back his head and laughed for what seemed the longest time. Justina wondered why he found what she’d asked so amusing, and when he finally stopped, and looked over to where she sat, he must have noticed the small frown of annoyance on her face, because he took pity on her and finally answered her. “No I am not a slave, Justina. Although I might as well be one.”

Justina opened her mouth to ask why, but never had the chance to voice her question as Marsallas leaned forward and placed a finger on her lips. “No more questions, Justina. Please.”

Seeing the pleading look on his face, Justina closed her mouth and turned away, shyness stealing through her.

Marsallas sighed, “Now I have upset you. I’m sorry.”

Justina looked across at him, and shook her head, “No, it is I who should apologise. I had no right to pry.”

She saw his eyes close, and heard his soft groan of remorse, before he shifted closer to her. “You were not prying. It’s…it’s just that I find it so hard to share myself with anyone. I’m not used to having anyone care about me.” Then he leaned forward, and she watched mesmerised as his mouth came towards hers. Then his lips were on hers, and they both gasped in unison as a frisson of awareness surged through them both.

“Sweet. So sweet, as I knew you would be,” Marsallas whispered, his breath mingling with hers as his fingers gently cupped the softness of her jaw, squeezing gently until Justina had no choice but to open her mouth. Her gasp of pleasure was obviously what he wanted to hear, as his tongue probed deeper, teasing and tasting the sweetness within. Then the kiss, gentle at first, changed, deepening in its intensity as Marsallas increased the pressure of his mouth on hers as he felt her passion match his.

Justina didn’t know who pulled away first, but after what seemed like a lifetime their lips parted and they just stared at each other, young lovers caught up in the intensity of their first kiss, their first embrace. She shivered at the expression she saw in his blue eyes. Desire had darkened them to almost black, and she watched entranced unable, and unwilling, to look away.

It was Marsallas who ended their embrace, and Justina inwardly mourned the loss of his arms around her when he finally stood up.

“I have to go. Will you come tomorrow?” he asked quietly, staring down at her intently.

Justina nodded. “I’ll try. It depends on my father and whether he will go to-” She stopped speaking abruptly, unwilling to say anymore, but not before she saw the small frown that creased his brow.

“Like I said earlier, Justina. We all have things we want to keep to ourselves,” he murmured after an awkward silence had fallen between them. His tone was gentle, soothing, as if he understood her plight, her reluctance to tell him everything.

“Yes. I…I…”

“Try to come tomorrow if you can,” he said, interrupting her faltering words as he smiled down at her, in what was an obvious attempt to lighten the tension between them. “It is important that you do, as we have unfinished business.”

Justina looked up at him in surprise. “Unfinished business? What unfinished business?”

Marsallas grinned wickedly, “Why, the business of getting to know each other of course. Farewell my beautiful, Justina.”

Then before she could say another word, he turned and ran back towards the water edge and waded out into the cold water before swimming away, leaving Justina staring after him.

* * *

“Lie still please! I’ve nearly finished.”

“How can I? With a million ants crawling over me. I’m sure one has just crawled up my ar- err - up crevices I never knew I had.”

“Marsallas!” She cried, her tone horrified.

Marsallas laughed. “You are such an innocent!”

“Stop teasing,” she said, smiling at him. “Please Marsallas, just a few minutes more. I promise.”

She heard him grunt, the noise conveying to Justina that he didn’t believe her for one moment, and she couldn’t contain her giggle. But he obeyed her plea, and she saw him assume the position she wanted, his body unnaturally still.

“Is this pose really necessary? My poor legs and arms are killing me. I must look stupid.”

“Yes, the pose is necessary. You are supposed to be Jupiter defending the Empire, about to jump a hurdle. Now be quiet.” Inwardly she laughed, but said nothing more. She saw him move his head slightly, knowing that he was watching her, and a glow of pleasure went through her as she felt the heat of his gaze on her.

But then her work took over, and a frown of concentration settled on her brow as she knelt on the sand, her hands quick and frantic as they moulded and shaped the damp sand. It was over an hour later when she finally stood up. “There, I have finished. You can get up now.”

“At last!” Marsallas said, groaning theatrically, as he rose from where he had been lying, busily brushing the sand off his body.

He walked over to where Justina stood next to the sand sculpture and glanced down at it. He let out a gasp of surprise, and looked up at her, stunned amazement on his face. “It…it is wonderful! Unbelievable.”