She almost did not see him, the dark-skinned man standing in the unadorned doorway of her father's new home. The stark contrast of the whitewashed clay walls and the darkness of night hid him from view while Hisolda paced around the narrow yard, silently counting her footsteps.
She longed for the sprawling Gallic lands her father once owned, traded to a Roman legatus for a fashionable abode in the middle of Capua. She recalled stolen moments with Segovax, hidden by the darkness of night and the vastness of the property – how one kiss led to heated trysts under the cool night sky.
She ached for him in places only he could awaken. She still could not fathom how the enormousness of him fit inside every corner of her, conjuring deep roars of pleasure from her chest. The startling tenderness of his touch had not prepared her for the bestiality of their lovemaking. On moonless nights like this, when the house was quiet, her mind wandered to those sacred places, when Segovax told her he loved her. How terrified he seemed, a slave speaking to a wealthy landowner's daughter with such audacity.
"Apologies." The deep voice beckoned from the night. "I come from the villa of Quintus Lentulus Batiatus with word for the master of this house."
Hisolda peered into the doorway with fear entangled with hope. She was so sure the Gods blessed her union with Segovax when he remained near her after his sale to the slave trader. Her heart seized in her throat when her father announced plans to sell Segovax to pay for renovations to his newly acquired Roman home. "I am Hisolda. Daughter to Bersa. I will beckon him for you. Wait here."
Waking her father from his sleep was an unpleasant task – he could barely stand the sight of her during the day. Though when he heard that a man was sent from the house of Capua's most celebrated lanista, he quickly changed into finer robes and hastened his daughter to the door.
"You should have knotted your hair; you look like a damn savage." He whispered bitterly, and turned with a large smile to greet his late visitor. "I was not expecting visitors at this hour, but I am honored to receive word from the master of the Champion of Capua."
The man seemed unimpressed by her father's display. "I come to your home of my own accord; my master has no message for you. The man we purchased in the market, Segovax, he once belonged to you, did he not?"
Bersa bristled at the dismissal, feeling like a fool in his expensive garb. "Yes, he was my slave. If he has caused any mischief, he is your problem now." Hisolda's heart beat madly in her chest; she reacted with such passion at the mention of her beloved's name.
Hisolda watched the man subtly roll his eyes with frustration; he did not break his composure. "Does he have family?"
Bersa scoffed and spit in disdain. "He was the son of a whore who died upon his birth; he has no one who would give a shit about him. Why do you squander my time? Speak plainly." Such importance for a fucking slave, he mused, civilization can be so pointless.
"The man is dead."
Hisolda could barely hear Bersa's next words; she clutched the pillars holding up her father's home, desperate for support. Dead? It is not possible. Not possible. Surely he refers to another slave; most masters cannot discern one man from another when men are treated like beasts. I must see to know! a voice screamed in her ears. I will not know until I see! She frantically gathered her thoughts.
"Burn it. What do I care?" Bersa turned his back to the man to leave.
"Wait!" The men looked at her, one with curiosity and the other with repugnance. "We shall collect the body. To give the man proper burial. And to apologize for any grievance the man caused your master… if good Batiatus will have audience."
Her father grinned with distasteful abandon. If they were allowed audience with Batiatus, he could converse with the man, perhaps even impress the lanista to the point of developing a friendship. Thus securing himself as an honorable Roman man of Capua, shedding his identity as a simple Gaul. His plain daughter was of some use after all.
"The hour is not yet so late. I cannot guarantee audience, but I will make request." The man smiled at Hisolda, and she was grateful for his small kindness. The gesture brought hope to her heart and gave courage to her feet as she cloaked herself and walked toward the house of Batiatus.