The Centurion’s Wife: Reunion

Laelia was sitting on a small stone bench in a pokey courtyard, her face turned up to catch the first rays of watery winter sunlight peeping over the neighbouring tenement. The bustle of the chaotic street at the end of the alleyway was muffled enough to ignore, and for the few moments she could spare from her weaving, she closed her eyes.

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, releasing the tension from her shoulders.

Opening her eyes once more, she looked down at her hands, covered in callouses, an eternal ache in her wrist. She had to take breaks more often now, the ache having turned into a terrible pain more than once, when she'd been driven to ignore the warning signs and complete her work anyway. Those had been hard days; but then no day had been easy since Lucius, her husband, had left Rome with the legions.

She sighed, rubbing the aching wrist with her hand, and looked up at the sun once more, allowing the thought of her husband to lead her mind down more pleasant, well-worn paths.

She'd always loved him, she thought wistfully. They'd grown up together in a tiny vicus with no name by the side of the Via Appia. His father had owned the caupona on the opposite side of the via from her own father's merchant stall. She'd started off thinking he was glamorous just because he was older than her; but as she'd grown older herself, her feelings had changed. The childish crush had evolved into a heady infatuation as he'd turned from a skinny-limbed boy into a tall, handsome young man.

Whenever she'd been able to, Laelia had followed him with her eyes. She'd often see him outside the caupona, social and charismatic, mixing with the customers who stopped there. On festival days, he'd taken part in foot races with other boys in the field near the shrine of Silvanus, and though he'd often won, the small victories never made him arrogant.

She remembered the day that she'd noticed his eyes seeking her out. She'd been helping her pater, Laelius, in his stall. He sold beaded jewellery, and she'd been modelling two bracelets, holding out both her arms while an older woman pursed her lips in indecision. Laelia had glanced towards the caupona, and found that Lucius was looking directly at her. He'd been talking with two other young men, but his shy smile as their eyes met was just for her. She'd felt heat prickling at her neck, her heart hammering. She'd hastily looked back to the customer, telling herself it hadn't meant anything... but it had.

Back and forth across that roadway their love had flowered; first in more long looks and bashful smiles; then in tentative greetings and passing words; and later, in shy meetings carried out on a stone bench beneath Laelius' watchful, benign eye.

When they were an appropriate age, they were married.

Wishing to build a life of their own, away from the restricted world of that tiny vicus, they'd settled on living in Rome. Lucius had already decided on joining the legions, thinking he might be abroad for a year or two, but it was the only chance he might have to make their fortune.

She smiled to remember those precious months in the tiny domus they'd secured for themselves. The size of the place hadn't bothered either of them -- when they were at home, they'd spent their time in the narrow bed, exploring one another, making love with a tenderness and care that'd driven the thought of Lucius' coming departure from both of their minds.

Yet the moment had come anyway, and only months after their marriage, Lucius went to join the army under Titus Vespasianus and marched for Judaea. That had been five long, fearful years before.

'Are you Laelia, wife of Centurion Lucius Saturninus?'

She was startled from her thoughts by a young man who'd come down the alleyway unnoticed, and was standing, looking at her in inquiry. A tremor ran through her, and reflexively, she stood. She'd wished and hoped for word of him for so long, but now the moment had arrived, she found she was terrified it would be bad news. For a wild moment, she considered saying no and sending the messenger away.

She felt breathless as she said, 'I am. Is there news?'

The messenger smiled reassuringly. 'Don't be alarmed. I'm here to tell you that the victorious Legio XV has returned, and the Centurion asked me to bring you to him at their encampment outside the walls, if you'll follow me?'

For a moment she could only stare at the messenger, the tumult in her chest of happiness, nervousness and a thousand emotions with no names leaving her speechless; but at last she found the words to ask, 'He's here?'

The messenger nodded, his smile mirroring hers as this fact sank in. 'He is.'

'He's a centurion now?'

'He is.'

Flustered, excited, she said, 'I can't believe it! One moment, I'll just fetch my stola.'

The camp outside the walls of Rome came into view, row upon row of tents laid out with precision. The guards were relaxed, and waved the messenger and Laelia through with barely a glance.

She looked around wide-eyed. She'd never been in a military camp before; she felt as though she'd stepped into another world. She stayed close to the messenger.

There were men everywhere, drinking, laughing and joking, all of them looking relaxed and happy to be home, she supposed; she'd expected that. What she hadn't expected was the women amongst their number, mixing with the men. While some may have been their wives, like herself, she could see that many, perhaps most, were meretrices.

This was a new, unpleasant thought. Had these women been with the army all along? The possibility that Lucius had been intimate with someone else was disturbing; but, she thought, it had been so many years...

They'd reached a large tent which the messenger explained housed some of the centurions, before saying kindly, 'Just wait here for a moment.'

He ducked into the tent, leaving her standing alone in the muddy roadway, surrounded by men who eyed her mostly with idle curiosity, though some with more than that. She pulled her wrap tighter around herself, but not wishing to be cowed, she stared back.

It was only for a moment - then the messenger reappeared, followed by two other men who looked at her with interest as they passed. She watched them walk away together, chuckling between themselves.

The messenger called her back to the moment. 'You can go in now, madam.'

She thanked him with a smile as he held the leather tent flap up for her, and stepped inside.

'Laelia.' His voice; the voice she'd struggled to remember, the voice that she'd longed to hear again. Deep and warm, full of love, full of happiness.

'Lucius,' she said as she crossed to where he stood, into his embrace, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder and kissing his neck as the happy tears came.

He stroked her back as she wept, holding her close.

'I'm home. I'm here,' he murmured, close to her ear, his voice shaking a little with his own emotion.

When her tears were spent, she smiled, wiping her cheeks with a corner of her stola, and took a moment to study his face.

He didn't look quite as she remembered; partly because of the changes that five years had naturally wrought, along with the new scars and the weariness of hard experience; but she'd actually forgotten the fine details -- the way his eyes shone, the animation around his sensitive mouth, his gestures. He was wider in the shoulder, she thought, had become more muscular -- the kind of muscular that came from carrying heavy weights, rather than the athletic build he'd had before. His black hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, softly curling around his ears and forehead.

As she'd been studying him, he'd been studying her, and he said softly, 'You're even more beautiful than I remember.'

She smiled. 'And you're more handsome.' She reached up to his hair, twirling a strand around her finger. 'This is new.'

He smiled back, revealing his dimples. 'Do you like it?'

'I do. It suits you.'

His smile became wistful as he gently rested his rough-skinned hand against her cheek, and traced the top of her ear with a fingertip.

'How I've missed you, Laelia. I thought I'd never see you again; never hear you singing sweetly as you tidied our home; never hold you in my arms...'

She sighed. 'Let's not talk about that; not now. There will be time enough later.'

He nodded agreement. 'You're right. Would you like some wine?'

'Yes, please.'

He released her, crossing to a small table set on one side of the tent, and poured out two beakers. She set aside her stola, and accepted a drink as they went to sit, side-by-side, on his camp cot.

'Tell me everything,' he said. 'How did you get along? The money must have run out long ago.'

She shook her head, and said with quiet pride, 'The savings are still there, and even a little increased. What I used in moments of need, I was able to replace.'

He looked at her in admiration, but there was a hint of worry in his voice as he asked, 'How did you survive, then?'

'By the labour of my own hands. I wove. Pater, of course, wished me to return home. He came every few months to harangue me about it, but I always refused his urging. I told him that I wouldn't leave unless I heard bad news.'

Lucius grinned, and she noticed new, endearing, crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

'How did he take that?'

'Not well,' she said, quietly chuckling. 'He always had to have his moment of anger; but you know how he is. Once he's worked himself up, the storm evaporates again. He mutters a few words to Fortuna, and then is himself again.' She smiled fondly. 'He certainly hasn't changed.'

'And my parents?' he asked. 'They came to visit you?'

'Sometimes,' she confirmed. 'They didn't come to Rome often, but when they did, they always visited me, as they promised they would.'

He nodded, looking into his wine. She studied his profile as he did, waiting. She could see he was working up to a serious question by a certain tension in his jaw. At length, he asked hesitantly, 'Did you... did you believe me to be dead?'

She frowned a little at the question, her mind leaping ahead, trying to project where it might lead; but she answered truthfully, 'No. Not once. I feared it; sometimes I had nightmares; but I never believed them. I simply... waited. To hear one thing or another.'

He was searching her face as she spoke, and he continued, 'You never thought to... find another man? To help you?'

She wrinkled her nose and said very firmly, 'I'd sooner throw myself in the Tiber.'

He couldn't help but chuckle, with relief, she supposed, though he said wryly, 'I'd forgotten the way you have with things.'

'What things?'

He smiled warmly at her, a look that made her heart beat faster. 'I couldn't even begin to explain.' He set aside his beaker and kissed her then, a little tentatively at first, but then he relaxed, reaching up to caress the side of her face.

When he broke the kiss, she smiled at him, her heart overflowing. She could see in his face everything she'd felt too; love, desire, the shadow of all the years of yearning, now past.

She wished to kiss him again, but with an effort, she held back, remembering where they were.

'I suppose your tentmates will return soon?'

He shook his head. 'Not until tomorrow. I paid them off.'

She sighed with relief, and giving in to her wishes, she twined her arms about his neck before kissing him in a particular way she had, gentle yet demanding. It was a language they both remembered. He chuckled warm and low in his chest.

They stood, and he undid her palla; the brooch first on one shoulder, then the other, allowing her dress to slide down her body, pooling at her feet. She looked up, meeting his warm brown eyes, her stomach cartwheeling at the devotion in them, the love, and his obvious desire.

She held his eye as she lifted the hem of his tunic upwards, revealing his arousal, her breath hitching in anticipation.

He took it from her and swept it the remaining way up and over his head, revealing his body to her, familar and unknown at the same time. She allowed one hand to wander his wide chest, tracing fingertips sensuously across his skin, before the swirl of his chest hair tempted her fingers; with the other, she ranged along his collarbone and then downwards, brushing his nipple so it peaked a little; over the undulations of his torso before reaching the slightly soft belly; before meeting the light trail of hair from his navel...

He rumbled a little then, deep in his chest, and captured her hand in his. She looked up, quirking an eyebrow, a teasing smile curving her lips.

'Come,' he said, his eyes gleaming. He stretched out onto the cot, bringing her down onto him -- the way they enjoyed the most.

Though some part of Laelia suggested she might take her time, relish the moment, she simply wanted it too much, her body thrumming with heat. She straddled him, leaning forward to kiss him, their kisses deepening as, with rough-skinned hands gripping her hips, she guided him into herself. She let out a low moan of pleasure as, already wet with wanting, she took him all in, pausing for a moment as a wave of undiluted pleasure washed through her, dropping her head to her chest with a moan of pleasure; then she leant down to kiss him deeply as she began a rhythm; slowly at first, concentrated, focussed.

She watched through half-lidded eyes as he threw his head back, revealing the long line of his bristled throat, his eyes closed for a moment. She kissed his throat, her belly churning to see him like this, giving himself entirely to her. She settled back then as she increased the speed, driving herself onto him, long, luxuriant grinds that hit each pleasure point.

He looked up at her, their eyes meeting as they shared a look, dark and hot, something molten and entirely their own as they moved together in rhythm; their rhythm, which came as naturally to them as breathing; as natural as the love that existed between them.

She felt the heated tide rising within herself, wave after wave growing stronger with each thrust of her hips. He was losing control too; she could hear it in his ragged breathing. He pulled her down to him, a messy sloppy kiss as they tilted together over the edge, clinging together as they were swept into the blind white buzz.

When the moment had passed, and they'd cleaned themselves up, she settled into the crook of his arm, her heart filled with love, the happy rush of the afterglow still flowing through her. It was late afternoon outside, and the sounds of people coming and going began to reassert itself. There was a mellow character to the hum, or perhaps that was only her....

But then she realised. She half sat up, her face turning red.

'Everyone must've heard us!'

He opened one eye and gave her a lazy, lop-sided smile.

'Yes; but don't worry. It's not unusual to hear such things in camp.'

The crushing thought of him with other women returned to her then, and she buried her face in his shoulder, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He asked gently, 'Why are you hiding your face?'

She couldn't reply; she didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to know if her fears were true.

He propped himself up on one elbow shifting so that she had to raise her head. He captured her chin, gently bringing them eye to eye.

'If you're thinking that I did that, set your mind at ease.' She searched his face then, but saw that he was in earnest. 'I mean it. I didn't lay with any other woman. My love for you won't allow it.' He kissed her sweetly on the lips.

'You swear?'

'On any, and every, god in this world.' He paused a moment before saying with a crooked smile, 'I'd sooner throw myself in the Tiber.'

She smiled at that, and kissed him.

'That being said, I did often find a quiet place...' He began to kiss her neck, saying in between the light, suggestive kisses, '... where, with my memories of you, I serviced myself...' He shifted a little, taking one of her nipples between his lips and tenderly teased it. 'I imagined you, vividly...' he said, releasing it once more, before shifting above her so he could trail kisses across her stomach. 'Your sweet, green eyes, so full of love for me, your perfect body, your curves...' He settled his face between her legs then, kissing her inner thighs, one then the other. 'I thought of you taking me into yourself, of riding me....' His tongue darted against her with quick strokes, making her gasp softly, before he paused, hovering above her womanhood teasingly, his eyes shining up at her. 'Tell me, sweet Laelia -- did you think of me, when you pleasured yourself?'

She let her eyes fall closed as she tangled her fingers gently in his hair.

'Sometimes,' she teased, and gasped as he nipped her inner thigh, making her giggle, before he drove laughter from her mind.

'Tell me what you thought of,' he asked, his voice full of heat, her back arching.

'I thought of you,' she said in a half-moan, 'like this, between my legs, the warmth of your mouth on me, teasing me, withholding from me....' He sucked at her gently then, sending hot waves of pleasure washing over her, making it impossible for her to say more.

He paused again as she drew close to the edge, and asked thickly, 'And then?'

She groaned. 'Then I'd think of you, slipping your fingers into me...'

He followed her instructions, touching the place he knew she liked to be touched, while sucking her at the same time.

With a cry, her back arched, she felt the world dissolve, awash with bliss.

He settled beside her, pulling her willingly into his arms, kissing her softly on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, while she clung to him, a beatific smile curving her lips.

He chuckled. 'Are you alright?'

She sighed, snuggling closer. With intensity, she said, 'I'm more than alright.'

He chuckled, smoothing her hair before kissing her softly again. 'You're my beautiful Laelia, for always.'

'Alright,' she said sleepily, blissfully. 'If you'll always be my Lucius in return.'

'It's a deal.'

The following morning, just before dawn, as the sky began to lighten and Lucius could again see around the tent, he woke Laelia with soft kisses to her lips.

She opened her eyes reluctantly. 'It's not time to get up yet, is it?'

'It is, my love. My tentmates will be back at dawn, and the sky grows pink, even now. I didn't think you'd like to be seen in this state of undress; though I'd happily keep you like this forever, if I could.'

She smiled, but roused herself, climbing from the bed. He laid back, watching her regretfully. She knew he was looking, and with a renewed sense of power over him, she leant down to pick up her palla, and daring bent down as she stepped into it.

'Could you help me with the pins?' she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, seeing that he was already growing hard again.

He came to help, gently inserting the brooches, one after the other, catching them closed. He picked up her belt, and helped her wrap it around herself, allowing his hands to linger on her hips.

He leant over and kissed her neck, then on the lips, pressing himself into her once more.

She broke the kiss, saying laughingly, 'I have to go. It's already dawn.'

He caught her hand just as she was about to step out into the morning. His face was taut with emotion, but he said ruefully, 'It won't be much longer before we can enter the city. I'll ache for you constantly until then.'

She smiled softly up at him. 'I'll be waiting.'