Chapter Three

"We will sup at noon, and dinner will be served when the sconces are lit," Brixtius's commanding voice brings me out of my daze.

"Yes, master."

"I will leave you now to acquaint yourself with Eurydice." And like a trained soldier, Brixtius executes an about-face and marches out of the room.

Eurydice is still engrossed with her toy; I pull the curtain close. I walk over to the chest, lifting the heavy lid. Inside there are woolen dresses in either brown, tan, or blue colors. I pull out one of the blue dresses and immediately discover that these "sacks" are a one size fits all. But it is better than what I am currently wearing from the whorehouse.

I remove the gaudy dress and pull on the blue sack. A hole was cut at the top for the head and two holes on the sides for the arms. Thinking quickly, I tear off a piece of the "old" dress to make a belt. I wrap the cloth around my waist, and I tie it securely.

Looking down, I can't help but think of the classic movie "Spartacus" with Kirk Douglas. The scene where he first meets his love in the gladiator school. The lower classes of Roman society believed in practicality. It is the one percent who wore the intricate clothing to show off their wealth and status. Nothing's changed in last two thousand years.

At least the shoes I obtained from the whorehouse will do nicely with the dress. Open-toed sandals have leather straps wrapping around the ankle and tied in the back of the heel. To keep the shoes from falling off.

I do not have a mirror, and not caring what a five-year-old thinks about my appearance. I pull back the curtain and walk over to where Eurydice is sitting.

"What would you like to do, Eurydice?" I ask the little girl.

"It is not proper for you to call me by my name," the little girl admonishes as she looks up from her toy. Her cute little face scrunched up to make her angry and in charge. I can't help but grin at her antics.

"I apologize. What would you like me to call you?" I say, trying to keep my lips from forming a bigger smile.

Cocking her head, looking at me like I crawled out from under a rock, "Mistress?" she replies while looking at me like I was an idiot.

"How about, little mistress?" I ask softly. The cute child squints, thinking it over. Like she's trying to decide what sounds grander.

Concluding, Eurydice nods her head in agreement, "Okay," she agrees. So adorable!

I can't help but like the little girl. She has a lot of spunk for someone her size. "How old are you, little mistress?"

"I'm five. I'll be six next month," sounding proud of the feat. No matter which century you're from, children are always proud of their age.

And then I remember. I'm in an age where the mortality rate for children is extremely high. About twenty percent of children that were born during this time survived to adulthood.

"Impressive!" I tell her and mean it. It saddens me to think this little girl may not survive to womanhood because of the tragedy that is soon to occur. But maybe I can change it?

"Do you go to school?" I inquire, not knowing how Roman girls were taught. I have a feeling she does not get out often. Or has the opportunity to play with children her age.

"No. Papa has a tutor come every morning for lessons. I already had my lessons for today. Now I play and do whatever I want until supper and then again to dinner."

"What games do you like to play?" I ask.

"I don't know any games," the girl says quietly. Just as I thought!

"Would you like me to teach you some fun games?"

"Oh, very much!" The girl squeals with excitement, bouncing up and down. This is the most animated I've seen her since we have met.

"Okay!" I laugh. "We will play one of my favorite games. Hide and Seek!"

-

From somewhere in the house, a bell rings.

"Supper time!" Little Eurydice yells from her hiding place. We've been playing Hide and Seek for a while now, and the little girl is a natural. It was mostly me trying to find her. I only saw her twice so far, but she's managed to sniff out my hiding places like a bloodhound. But it is all in good fun!

Hearing something creak in the room. I tiptoe over to where I can find Eurydice, escaping from a little cubby. How in the hell did she fit in there!

"Found you!" I shout, making her jump in fright.

"Not fair, Jessa!" She whines. "The supper bell rang, and Papa will be most displeased if we are late."

"Okay," I concede her point. "I'll let you hide first in our next game, alright?" That mollifies her. The bell rings again.

"You ready, little mistress?" I ask while I hold out my hand.

"I'm too big to hold hands," Eurydice states, crossing her arms as she starts to walk by me. I follow behind her.

"But this place is too large and scary for me. And I might get lost," I guilt trip. When that didn't work, "And if I get lost, we can't play again after supper."

My comment made Eurydice hold out her hand for me to grab. "Thank you. You're so kind, little mistress."

We walk through the hallways in companionable silence. This is my first time in this house; I would have gotten somewhat lost anyway. Win, win for me.

We reach the dining room, and it's not what I expected. You know, a place with chairs surrounding a table? Nope, there are couches covered in silk, surrounding a table on the floor. And on the table are fruits and vegetables from the local area.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven't eaten in well- Ages. A throat clears, and I find Brixtius lounging at the head of the table. Sitting next to him is a buxom red-head. The woman is dressed like a slattern, her tits nearly falling out. And her hair was dyed because I can see her dark, brown roots. The drapes don't match her carpet. I also have a suspicion that there is nothing but air between her ears.

"I'm glad you decided to join us," Brixtius comments dryly.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I was showing Eurydice a fun game, and she's very good at playing it," I tell Brixtius with my head down. I'm in no mood to anger him at this juncture.

"Sit," Brixtius commands.

I let Eurydice lead me to her place at the table. When the little girl is situated, I silently send her a pleading look to let her know that I have no clue where I should sit. Her little face lights up with understanding as she taps the empty seat right next to her. Right.

I sit next to Eurydice and stare down at the stone table.

"Why does the nursemaid need to be here?" a whiny, bitchy voice asks.

"She needs to know her place. And to keep my daughter's manners in place," Brixtius answer.

"Plus, she's nicer than you, Corina," Eurydice adds.

"When will your daughter treat me with respect, Brixtius?" I glance over to the source of the whiny voice. I study Corina; her dyed hair does not compliment her complexion at all. She probably thinks that the color makes her skin like porcelain. However, the color is bringing out the dark and splotchy patches of her skin. I also notice too much make-up, trying to cover the dark blemishes. Corina's dyed, red clothing makes her appear like a Class B whore and a face that makes me want to punch the bitch. Yep. Resting bitch face.

"Never, Lady Corina," my little charge answers sarcastically. I admire the balls the little girl has. I shift my eyes over to Brixtius. And I see him smirking, and I think he adores his daughter's bravery as well.

And then I stare at Corina's face. She doesn't get it. At all. WOW!

The bitch is clueless! I love and hate being right.

I lower my head, and I slightly shake my head in amusement. I don't want Corina to figure out we are all making fun of her. She seems like the type of person to be slow in figuring out stuff. But once she does, 'Hell hath no fury.' I don't want to be in the cross-hairs of her ire.

"You are lower than nothing, nursemaid," she hisses at me.

Too fucking late on not receiving her fury!

I keep my eyes down. I am not in the mood to deal with a mistress. It's already been a hell of a day. Adding to my misery in dealing with my dead husband's doppelgänger mistress would be too much to bear at this juncture.

My husband has not been in his grave for more than a few hours, and I will not bring Braxius's bitch wife back to life either. Polyxena was the cause of the downfall of Troy. She was able to sneak the Greek army into Troy because her spoiled-ass was the proverbial Trojan Horse. What a cunt!

And now, I am stuck in a different time, a different age with the ghost of my husband sitting right in front of me. The fairies don't play fair! Not at all!

"Leave her be, Corina," Brixtius's voice low but menacing. A man used to being in control. No different from the man I just left behind in another past. The thought makes me lose my appetite, once the house servants start laying loaves of bread, cheeses, and fruits onto the table.

"You must serve me," little Eurydice whispers, forcing me out of my somber brooding.

"What would you like, little mistress?" I move into action. I will do anything to keep myself busy until tonight. Because after my little charge goes to sleep, I will be alone in my sad thoughts. And I can finally release my emotional distress that has been building since I landed here.

Little Eurydice does not see how off I am right now. All she does is point her finger at each savory morsel of food from the served platters, happy that I comply with her every whim.

"That's enough fruit, nursemaid," commands Brixtius. I only nod my head in response, before placing the little girl's full plate in front of her.

"But Papa! I want more strawberries!" The little girl whines.

"Eurydice. Too much fruit will mire your skin and make you obese," pipes in Corina.

"What's your excuse," I say under my breath. My comment was loud enough for Brixtius to hear me, causing him to choke on his drink while Eurydice giggles. The little hellion gives me a bright grin.

I guess we are allies now.

I steal a glance towards the sputtering Brixtius, attempting to compose himself. Only for him to be watching me deliberately. A slight grin on his lips. Corina was patting him on the back and had no clue about what I said. Or what is going on for that matter?

Father and daughter don't help to shed any light on her obliviousness either. It is like we are all on some inside joke, and I feel more at home with conspiring against the girlfriend. I wonder what she brings to the relationship? It isn't brains.

The thought sobers me up a little. I just left my husband, and I don't want to start any new relationships. One marriage was enough for me, and I will mourn my husband until the day I die! I stare down at my plate. I barely grabbed any food, but as I've said, I lost my appetite. I hope to be hungry for dinner?

Both Eurydice and I eat in silence, with Corina trying to persuade Brixtius by letting her buy new clothes and jewelry down at the market. When persuasion didn't work, it turned into full-on nagging. Little Eurydice was starting to squirm next to me. I noticed that her plate was almost empty, and a full belly would soon mean a tired five-year-old and an afternoon nap.

But the little girl was more impatient with Corina's complaining than I gave her credit. And with the tact of a five-year-old, she said: "Please shut your mouth, Corina. We are tired of you nagging my father for things you don't deserve." This caused all the air in the room to be sucked out. And Corina was turning different shades of red, trying to put her outrage into words. This is where I have fortunate timing.

"My lord, Lady Corina. Mistress Eurydice is tired and needs a nap. I will take her now." And not waiting for permission, I stand up and grab the little girl's hand, gently raising her to her feet. We hurriedly exited out the dining room, because the little girl realized she might have earned herself a stern reprimand from her father.

While we are walking back to Eurydice's room, I can only give her advice that my mother imparted on me. "Little mistress. There's always a time and place for things to be said. And if you find that you cannot say something nice. Don't say it too loudly. Okay?" I look down at the little innocent face, and I can see the gears in her tiny mind working over my practical advice.

Once Eurydice decides my advice is sound, she responds with, "Okay."

Out of the mouth of babes.