Caroline Storer - The Roman

Caroline Storer

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Caroline Storer Caroline Storer Being a poor sleeper, I’ve been making up stories for years now to try and exhaust my mind, and get some much needed sleep. It doesn’t always work as the stories then demand to be written! I write mainly Historical romances, but I’ve also written Contemporary romances, Romantic Intrigue and I’ve also tried my hand at Futuristic and Time Slip romances. I live on the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales, with my wonderful husband, Colin. By day I’m an Environmental Health Officer, where I get to meet lots of interesting people – all grist to the writer’s mill.

Dedication Firstly, I'd also like to thank my editor, Charlotte Ledger, for giving me this wonderful opportunity to publish my book with HarperImpulse. Secondly, I want to say a huge "thank you" to all my friends and family who have supported me, in particular my mum and dad, and best friends Kath and Paula. I also want to mention all my cyber friends who, over the years, have given much needed help and encouragement. Thank you, Suzanne, Michelle (Styles) and Kate (Hardy). And finally … for my wonderful husband, Colin … who always believed.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

Being a poor sleeper, I’ve been making up stories for years now to try and exhaust my mind, and get some much needed sleep. It doesn’t always work as the stories then demand to be written! I write mainly Historical romances, but I’ve also written Contemporary romances, Romantic Intrigue and I’ve also tried my hand at Futuristic and Time Slip romances.

I live on the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales, with my wonderful husband, Colin. By day I’m an Environmental Health Officer, where I get to meet lots of interesting people – all grist to the writer’s mill.

Firstly, I'd also like to thank my editor, Charlotte Ledger, for giving me this wonderful opportunity to publish my book with HarperImpulse.

Secondly, I want to say a huge "thank you" to all my friends and family who have supported me, in particular my mum and dad, and best friends Kath and Paula. I also want to mention all my cyber friends who, over the years, have given much needed help and encouragement. Thank you, Suzanne, Michelle (Styles) and Kate (Hardy).

And finally … for my wonderful husband, Colin … who always believed.

Circus Maximus – Rome AD 79

Marsallas closed his eyes, letting the stillness inside the stables act as a balm to his ravaged senses. He could still hear the crowd in the arena chanting his name, even though he’d ridden his last race of the day.

For a full five minutes he stood there, before he opened his eyes once more, and watched as his four horses, magnificent greys, were rubbed down by four slaves. Like him, the horses were quiet and still, allowing the slaves to tend them without any trouble. He walked over to them and stroked the muzzle of each of them in turn, his touch gentle and soothing. Lampon, the most forward of his horses, nudged him.

“Hah. You know me too well, Lampon,” he said softly, taking a pear from a small cloth sack that he carried. The horse whinnied as he took the fruit, and Marsallas patted his flank before moving onto the other horses. When they had all been given their pears, Marsallas stood back, letting the slaves finish their tasks.

They were magnificent animals – he had chosen well – and they had not let him down once in the four years he’d had them. They had raced over two hundred races together, winning over one hundred and fifty of them in that time. A phenomenal feat, considering it was one of the most dangerous sports in the Circus Maximus. His quadrigae were considered the best, and when he raced his four horse chariot he was always the favourite to win.

Once the slaves had finished tending to the horses, Marsallas dismissed them with a nod of his head, leaving him alone with his animals. He walked into each of the stalls and stroked his hands over the horses’ flesh, feeling their muscles and ligaments to make sure there were no sprains or bruises. The sheer brutality of the races took its toll, on both man and beast, and it was Marsallas’s duty to make sure that his horses were always kept in the best condition. Eventually he finished his rounds, and was closing the last of the doors to the stalls when he saw his team member, and close friend, Fabius Rufus coming towards him.

“Fabius,” he said in greeting, a small smile on his face as his protégé approached. He was secretly proud of the young man; the man he had trained to be as good as him in the Circus. But then he frowned, when he saw the preoccupied look on his face. “All is well, Fabius?”

“There is a woman here,” Fabius said, by way of explanation, ignoring Marsallas's question. “She wants to see you. She has a slave with her-”

“Fabius,” Marsallas interrupted, “I am not interested in entertaining the rich patricians of Rome tonight. I am tired, hungry, and I stink. I'm going to bathe, eat and sleep in that order. Besides, even I have standards, and an orgy is just a little too debauched for my tastes!”

Fabius shook his head. “You’re wrong Marsallas. The slave is male, and as large as a tree, and the woman just wants to talk to you, not seduce you.”

“They always “ just want to talk ”, Fabius,” Marsallas grunted, shaking his head in vexation, “You should know that by now! We are nothing but studs to these women,” then he turned towards the rear door of the stables. “By the gods, I’m sure the women of Rome are getting more and more forward these days.”

“I agree with you Marsallas, they are,” Fabius reasoned, raising his voice slightly as Marsallas walked away. “But this time I think the woman is genuine. She says she has news-”

“Enough Fabius,” Marsallas shouted, cutting off his friend’s words without a backward glance. “Like I said, you have her. All the women love your blonde hair and green eyes. You will have her eating out of your hand in next to no time!”

* * *

“You were quick. Didn’t she live up to your expectations?” Marsallas asked a short while later, as he finished off a small meal of meat, bread, and olives in his quarters.

Fabius’s face suffused with colour, as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “No! I mean…I never…” Fabius stammered, his voice trailing off.

Marsallas raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was unusual for Fabius to be so nervous. Normally he was supremely confident when it came to women … and sex. “What ails you Fabius? You seem out of sorts this evening.”

“The woman. She just wants to see you. To talk to you.”

“Fabius, how many times-”

“Justina.” Fabius interjected, cutting off Marsallas. “She says her name is Justina, and she has come from Herculaneum.”

The knife Marsallas had been using to slice some meat was stabbed into the wooden table with such force that the handle wobbled violently. His eyes narrowed in anger, as his brain assimilated the full implication of Fabius’s words. An ominous silence fell between the two men until, finally, Marsallas stood, the scraping of his chair sounding as loud as a thunderbolt.