Prickly pair (Manius)

[Cornelia Domitilla]

Their time at the seaside had passed so quickly. Domitilla was somewhat dreading returning to Rome – and her mother-in-law – but what must be, must be, and they could not stay in Campagnia forever. Agrippa was due back in a few more days, and as a dutiful wife she should be there to greet him, even if her mother-in-law might shove her out of the way to be first in line. The little band of family and slaves had been a merry enough bunch, though, and over all, Domitilla felt quite rested and refreshed after their ten days or so in her father’s villa.

Every day they had made their way to the water, and spent a large portion of the hours splashing and playing about. Aula was stuck to Manius’ side like a proverbial welk, but the slave seemed not too bothered by it. The boys were getting bolder each day, especially Minor, and they kept both Septima and Gallicia quite busy, having to keep an eye on their antics. There would be no repeats of what had happened with the little girl. This day was similar to the previous ones, and they were all at the sandy shoulder of the sea. The children were out of the water for the moment, busy playing in the sand, and Domitilla was taking a moment to go wading. The sun was hot overhead and the water was cool and felt wonderful splashing up her legs. She wasn’t watching her feet as she walked – her eyes were on the children, as ever. Suddenly, she felt an intense stabbing pain in her right heel and she let out a sharp cry. She doubled over and yanked her foot up. As the waves receded, she saw the culprit full well. No bigger than an egg, its spines were like a thousand tiny needles poking up defensively. And now quite a few were imbedded in her heel. The broken off spines were already burning in her flesh, and tears of pain started to her eyes.

Hobbling two short steps away from the offensive creature, she plopped down on the sand, drawing her foot into her lap to examine the damage. At least fifty or more spines in various states of lengths poked from her skin. She bit down on her lip, stifling her alarm, not wishing to upset the children. It really was no huge deal, but it did hurt like hell.

[Manius]

Manius had not expected he’d be a babysitter of sorts, when he entered Domitilla’s house for the first time, but here he was. Somehow though, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Aula clung to his side, she never ran far away from him, and especially not when they made these trips to the beach. Here, she made sure that Manius was always close. They were walking down the beach in the edge of the water, the small girl picking up rocks and shells on the way, showing them all to Manius and wondering how they could live under water, when you could die there too.

He felt they had gotten a little too far away from the others, and made Aula turn around. It was easy to do that, at least. For he turned around and she didn’t want to be too far away, so she followed. Almost like a dog or something, although Aula was smarter. She tried to convince him it would be fine to walk further away, but Manius was firm and she followed, carrying rocks and shells in her arms and constantly dropping some. Big innocent eyes looked up at Manius and begged him to pick them up.

“You know your mother won’t let you take all these home.” Manius tried to explain to her, but Aula said that her mother would, because her mother would also see how pretty they were. And just as they spoke of her mother, he heard a cry and looked up. There weren’t anyone but Manius, Domitilla, Septima, Gallicia and the children on the beach, but apparently something had hurt Domitilla. Manius picked Aula up – not caring that this meant she dropped most of her collection – and set her down by the other slave women. Aula was not pleased but he ignored her right now, running to her mother’s aid. He’d heard there could be poisonous animals in the sea. Maybe she’d been stung by one.

He fell down on his knees in the sand where she sat, looking at her with her foot curled up upon her lap, “What happened, Domina?” He asked her, he wouldn’t touch her unless she permitted him to do so, but of course he would help taking those spines out of her foot. If that’s what she wanted.

[Cornelia Domitilla]

Domitilla still bit down on her bottom lip. The burning sting in her heel was growing, and though she tried, she could not hold back the tears that welled up and began to trickle down her soft cheeks. Her watery blue eyes lifted in some relief to Manius’ concerned stare and she said quietly, “I don’t want to alarm the children. It’s nothing really. But . . . I don’t think I can walk. Go tell Septima to get the children back to the villa. Galicia too. And . . . can you – do you think you can . . . carry me? I’m sorry. I – I just can’t walk, even on my toes.” Her voice was truly apologetic. She hated to be weak, really, whether in front of slaves or freemen or whoever. And she didn’t like being dependent either, but of course, as a woman, she very frequently was required to rely on other’s strengths. And it looked as if this would be one of those times.

“If you can get me to my room, we can send for a physician. I – I think these will have to be . . . cut out.” She cringed inwardly at the thought. But she had seen a friend, as a child, in the same predicament. Well, what had to be, had to be.

“Just please, you can whisper to Septima was is going on, but don’t tell the children.”

It seemed this young woman was under the delusion that she could somehow protect her little ones from the knowledge of the dangers that lurked around every corner in this random world of chance.

[Manius]

She was trying so hard to be brave, just like a mother should. Manius had seen it before; he’d been married, and his wife had been much the same towards their son. But why did it have to be so? She was obviously hurt, and children would grow up and be hurt too someday. Of course Manius did his best to prevent it so far, but you couldn’t be safe all your life. Right now, his mistress sat there, trying to be brave, but he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks and he felt so sad, just watching that happen. She claimed it was nothing but that she could not walk on her own. Of course he’d carry her back to the villa! What did she think?

Quietly he listened to all she said, and when she was done, he nodded, “I’ll make sure they all walk back first.” He promised her, and left her, but only shortly. Septima understood she was needed, and he told her quietly what had happened to their domina and that she had to lead Gallicia and the children back to the villa. He’d take care of Domitilla. The old slave gave him a strange look, but he ignored it and stood there, watching them as they left. Of course Aula wasn’t happy about being dragged back to the villa without Manius, but she would have to live with it for now.

He returned to Domitilla’s side, “They’re on their way. Come.” He leaned down to take hold of her, he’d hold her under her arms and under her knees and gently carry her back while she held onto him with her arms. At first, he only thought about her health and how he had to help her. But when he slid his arms under her body and helped her up, he couldn’t help but think about how he liked being so close to her. He could even smell her… the rare scent of a beautiful and brave woman. At least to him she was.

[Cornelia Domitilla]

Manius left her to do as she had asked, which was only to be expected. Domitilla was finding her newest slave to be quite quiet, but also quite tractable. He did as he was bidden and usually without comment or question, which was a nice change from the two women – Gallicia with her frequent eye rolls and sighs, and Septima with her rather pointed bleak looks and raised eyebrows. It was nice for Domitilla to feel like she was not being judged all the time, even by her own slave.

He returned quickly and without further ado, knelt to slip his arms about her, and then easily rising with her pulled against his chest. Her arm slid around his neck, to better balance herself and make the embrace less awkward. Her other hand went to join the one that was now resting on his shoulder. The pain in her foot was increasing as the mild toxins on the spines were making her flesh inflamed. So the short walk back to the villa was not a pleasant one for her. However, as she shifted in the slave’s grasp, to make this as easy as possible for Manius to carry her relatively light weight, Domitilla was struck by the realization that it did feel comforting to have someone strong to rely on, to help her. His solid muscles were like an underscoring to his reliable, responsible nature. He had rescued Aula, and now here he was, assisting her as neither of her two maids could have. Her father, she decided, had made a very good choice when he selected this Manius.

As he walked and she bobbed in his arms, there was a part of her too that, unbidden, reflected on her experiences to date with men, in any sort of intimate embrace, as this taxing little trip simulated. The only arms she had ever been in belonged to her first husband. And those embraces had not been the type to inspire passion, though she submitted with a dutiful grace to his attentions. And now she was married to a man from whom she would never receive that kind of attention. Which is absolutely what she wanted. Wasn’t it? To never know a real, deep, abiding desire for a man – to never have such a desire fulfilled – that was a small price to pay for her health, for the assurance that her children would not become orphans, wasn’t it?

Yes, assuredly, it was. And one she would gladly pay.

But with her arms about Manius’ thick neck, and her wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, she thought, just for a moment, how it would feel . . . to lay with a man like this – young, comely, strong, a man who was a protector, a man who no doubt had made any number of women happy with his attentions. Perhaps it was the pain in her heel that was making her brain reach for a distraction. Perhaps she was just lonelier than she allowed herself to think. For whatever reason, the sensation of being in Manius’ arms felt more agreeable than it should have.

I must be overwrought, Domitilla thought to herself. It’s the pain, and the anticipation of more pain to come, that’s all.

And she might have been right . . .

In just a few minutes, they reached the villa, and she instructed Manius to carry her right to her room. Once settled on the bed, she sent him to find her father’s steward, to tell him to fetch a physician. While he was gone, Septima appeared with a basin of hot water and vinegar, and she assisted her domina to sit in a way that she could soak the injured heel. Within a few minutes, the steward had reappeared, with Manius in tow.

“Domina,” the man began. “I’m sorry but there are no physicians here. This is a tiny place. There is only a mid-wife, and a woman who has some knowledge of herbs and such.” He was looking at her foot, a worried expression on his face. “Is it serious? Perhaps we should send you back to Rome by wagon?” He knelt and gently removed the foot and examined the heel. He shook his head.

“It’s best to remove them as soon as possible – those that don’t break off anyway. There are a few that may need to be cut out, the deeper ones.”

He shrugged. “I can do it, domina. Or anyone who can pluck with tweezers, or a needle. Or wield a sharp knife, carefully.”

[Manius]

He had been close to Domitilla before, he had touched her arm and something like it before… but he had never been so close to her as now. He easily knelt down to pick her up, and then she was there, in his arms, and she was holding her arm around his neck and shoulder. Manius had not been this close to a woman since he lost his own wife, he had been uninterested in them – or perhaps he had just convinced himself that he did not deserve their attentions, no matter how flattering they could be. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he deserved this attention either, but as a slave, it was not his choice anymore. It was his duty to help her, and he gladly did.

They said nothing on the way back, but when she leaned closer to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder, he closed his eyes for just a brief moment and inhaled a quiet breath. Yes, he liked her scent. He liked to be so close to her, to take care of her and be there for her. What a good thing that this was what he was meant to do.

The walk did not take long, however, and once they reached the villa, he took her to her own room and sat her down upon the bed. It did not please him much that he had to leave her alone with her pain, but luckily it did not take long before he returned again, with the steward. He’d made sure the man understood this was urgent! Who knew if those spikes were also poisonous? Then she could become dangerously sick or even die, and all while Manius was supposed to watch over her. This could not happen. He stood quietly, with his arms crossed, as he watched the steward examine her foot and tell her what had to happen.

It pained him, knowing that it would hurt her even more when the spikes had to be removed. The steward suggested doing it, but Manius arched a brow and then uncrossed his arms again, “I can do it, Domina. If you would let me.” He said to her and then turned to the steward, “Is there a way to… to make her feel less pain, while it’s done? The woman you spoke of, she must know herbs to take away the pain.” It wasn’t really a question, he wanted there to be some way, he knew he would do his best to make sure it wasn’t too painful, but there was bound to be some… and he hated the thought of it. This was all his fault.

[Cornelia Domitilla]

The steward looked at Manius in a bit of surprise. He hadn’t expected the quiet guard to speak – any who were around Manius for even a short time grew to think him almost mute, he so rarely spoke up about anything. The man had no great objection himself to the guard performing the task of extracting the spines. But before he could agree, another voice was heard – Septima.

She glared at Manius, as she said, “And who are you to play medico here, when it’s my domina’s health at stake.” The older woman turned to her fair haired mistress. “Send for the healer, Domina. In these parts, this can’t be an uncommon occurrence. A healer will do the best job for you, if we can not hope to find a physician.”

Domtilla too had turned surprised blue eyes on her body guard, when he had made his offer. But there was no antipathy there, only gratitude. The idea that Manius would be the one wielding the implements that would bring her more discomfort was reassuring. She knew that he would take the greatest care not to be rougher than he need be. Somehow, she knew he would do his best not to hurt her. When Septima voiced her objections, Domitilla laid a quieting hand on the woman’s arm.

“No, I’m sure Manius will do an excellent job of it. I trust him. It will be fine Septima.”

She turned her gaze back to her guard, and nodded, decisively. “Please, I - I want you to do it, Manius.”

Old Septima shook her head, the very smallest of gestures, still disapproving. But the other ignored her. The steward was sent hastily to find the village healer and procure something to act as a pain killer or tranquilizer. As they waited, Domitilla continued to soak her pained heel and sent Septima to check in on the children. In the quiet left behind, Domitilla once again lifted her eyes to Manius standing near by.

“Thank you. I appreciate this. It comforts me to know that you will do this for me, though I’m sorry to be a bother to everyone.” She did in fact feel rather stupid, to have incurred this injury. Though, truthfully, how could she have avoided it? She had only been walking in the waves. Perhaps next time she would spend more time looking down to see what was rolling about in the water.

In short order, the steward had arrived back with some herbs to brew into a tea, for the pain, and to relax the patient. He had as well some more items with which to make a poultice, to help draw out those spines that had or would break off inside the heel. Finally, he had a salve to spread on the wounds, to help keep away rot. When all was in readiness, Domitilla having had a cup of the tea, Septima sat beside her, holding her hand. The steward stood by ready to run and fetch anything else they might need. Some implements had been assembled and washed – needle, tweezers and a small knife with a very sharp pointed blade, used for filleting small fish.

Domtilla looked at Manius, her eyes unafraid. She nodded.

“I’m ready, when you are.”

[Manius]

They all looked so surprised when Manius spoke. He rarely said a lot, but when he did, it meant something. Domitilla could make him talk, but she also spoke to him, she asked the right questions at the right times. On top of that, she was his mistress. He was supposed to answer her when she spoke to him. He was supposed to answer properly and not just give her some short reply. But this was not her speaking now, he’d spoken up, suggesting cutting out the spines, but everyone looked at him in disbelief. Septima spoke what they were all thinking; she did not want him to do it.

“I can wield a sharp knife or a needle as well as a sword. You don’t need to be a medicus to do that.” Manius defended himself, he would do this, he would be as gentle with her as he could, but he would also want to do it fast, so the length of time in which she was in pain was reduced. Making her feel pain would also pain him. So he’d have to make sure it did not last too long. He was sure he’d not have the patience to watch while someone else did it.

Finally Domitilla spoke up, saying she trusted Manius to do it. He nodded at her, when she spoke directly to him.

“Your health won’t be in danger. If it is, so is mine. It won’t be.” It was all true in several ways, also since he was her slave and she the mistress. Should she fall ill and die because of something he did, he’d surely end up the same way. He’d wish he did anyway.

Not long after, the steward was sent away and so was Septima. He was alone with his mistress.

“You’re not a bother. It’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.” Manius reassured her; unable to read her mind, but he believed truly he was to blame. Then the steward returned with the tea and instruments to use to take the spines out. Manius unfastened his sword from his belt and knelt by her foot, gently picking it up. She had such a small and delicate foot. It seemed pointless that it would now be ruined.

But he said nothing as he examined the spines and the way they sat there. Worried eyes glanced up at her, then at the foot again, as he gently wriggled the spines, one by one, to feel how deep they went and also see how much pain they gave her. But then he focused, quietly, as he first wriggled the most lose spines out, leaving the deeper ones there. Manius picked up the needle and let it slide down the side of a spine, until it reached her skin. He looked up at her again, to make sure she was ready. And then the needle would reach through her skin and flesh and help make room for the spine to be taken out. The room was so quiet, and he was so close, he could even hear the way it tore through her flesh as he pulled it out. One by one, he did this, carefully yet as fast as he could. His breaths were deep and his mind focused. And when it was all done, he looked to the steward, hoping he’d know what to do next. However Manius did not let go of her foot yet. He feared it might hurt if she rested it on anything else but his hand under her heel. Manius did not want her to be hurt, not anymore.

[Cornelia Domitilla]

Gods it hurt. Domtilla had to force herself to calm, force herself to watch with impassivity as Manius went to work. He was gentle. He was quick, as he could be. But still . . . it hurt so much that Domitilla could not stem the flow of tears that trickled down her cheeks. She did not gasp or cry out. She bit down on her lip until she had actually drawn a spot of blood. But she could not prevent the tears. Her fingers gripped Septima’s tightly, probably causing the older woman some discomfort, but the slave made no protest. Manius was totally focused on his task, and for that, Domitilla was entirely grateful. She was glad that he was the one wielding the needle and the knife. Somehow, the pain was just a bit less for she feared less than if it had been a stranger. He worked rapidly, and his hands were steady, and Domitilla forced herself to focus on Manius, the muscles of his arm as he held her foot – the smooth lines of his back – the curve of dark curls against his neck, - the regular and handsome features of his face as he frowned in concentration. It helped, to think about him, to think about how it had felt, to be in his arms. His hands were warm, and strong, his fingers deft as they moved quickly. More than she should, she concentrated too, on him, the man who at that moment seemed a veritable hero, for both his skill and his solicitude.

Though it seemed hours to the young woman, soon enough, he was done. Briefly, she allowed herself to close her eyes, to relax a moment, and be thankful the torture was over. Her eyes still bright with tears, they opened again and Manius still held her foot tenderly. She gave him a small smile, as the Septima beside her let go of her hand and rose.

“The foot should soak longer. I’ll fetch some clean hot water.”

The steward, feeling his part was done, bowed to Domitlla. “I’ll be close at hand of course, Domina. Send for me as you need me, and I’ll come at once.”

He bowed and left them, and as they were alone once again, Domitilla wiped the palms of her hands across her wet cheeks, and smiled again, this time more happily.

“You did a wonderful job, Manius. You have my thanks, of course.” She placed a grateful hand on his broad shoulder.

[Manius]

It was such a delicate foot she had, and now it was all ruined and bloody. He’d taken a cloth a few times to clean the blood off, but there was still more, so many small wounds bleeding under her foot. It must be so painful. He knew it was, even if she was still the brave woman and had not even cried out loud. Still, Manius saw how wet her cheeks were and how red her eyes were, and he was sorry for having caused her this pain… and he was sorry for not knowing about the dangers on the beach, so he could have prevented this. Did he even deserve to protect her?

When he was all done, she closed her eyes and relaxed a moment, before the steward and Septima took over once more. Manius nodded and shifted where he sat in front of her, so he could kneel and rest her foot in his lap. Then the steward left and they were alone. Manius looked down, not sure what to say or do, he just sat there… feeling sorry about it all. He knew she was moving, and when he dared to glance up, she was smiling. She had such a pretty smile, he thought.

Domitilla thanked him and touched his shoulder, “I only did what had to be done, Domina… you don’t have to thank me.” A slave should not be thanked for performing his duty. And it was the least he could do anyway, right? “If I’d been more attentive, you’d never have stepped upon that… beast. I apologize.” He looked down again, not quite feeling worthy of her thanks or her attentions. Manius inhaled a breath and let it out again. This was such a tough day, suddenly!