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must keep on, Sir, even if you think you cannot.
Lucius nodded, aching with weariness.  I will manage.
ON THEIR grim march, they were two among a throng of
refugees.
A woman with her children, scolding them not to eat all
the bread she d brought for their journey, gasping as if from
a cramp in her side.
An old man with a trimmed silver beard leading a horse
and wagon. The horse had stumbled over the rocks and now
huffed at the side of the road, as if unable to go any further.
As they passed him, the man knelt beside his animal.
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A chained dog barked at them from the gate that led
into a vineyard and a villa nestled on the hill above. An
orange tree beside the gate was in flames, the branches lit
like incandescent skeletal fingers.
 Lucius& . Varick s voice was strained as he put a hand
on his master s arm.
Remembering the sparrow, Lucius hobbled up the little
weedy track off the road and while his slave held the
animal s chain, he smashed it with a rock. The dog barked
sharply once and then sprinted free, body low as it ran
ahead of them down the road.
 We will need to light the lamp, Lucius said, as it grew
darker. He wanted to run like the dog, from the fire lighting
the sky behind them, from the lightning that flashed inside
the roiling cloud, but he and Varick could only walk and
keep on walking.
 Yes, Sir, Varick said. He had brought a little lamp, and
he fiddled with it now as Lucius watched him. The flame had
trouble catching in the draft of the hot wind behind them,
but when it finally burned Lucius caught Varick close and
pressed a hard kiss on his lips.
 YOU can t take my weight.
 I can, Varick contradicted him, never the humble one.
 Do not argue with me, Sir.
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91
 This road& it is never ending, Lucius choked. He was
crying silently, his eyes tearing from the ash as he looked at
the beloved and filthy face of his slave.
Varick s blond hair was dark and tangled with sweat,
his cheekbones grimy and his lower jaw unshaven and
studded with blond whiskers. The simple clothing Lucius
had provided him with was blackened.
 You look a disgrace, Lucius reproved. Then, he added
softly,  I am very fond of you, Varick.
 We are not going to die, Lucius, Varick said, faint
laughter touching his lips and making Lucius believe for a
moment as they passed a woman kneeling by the fallen body
of a man, weeping.
THEY managed to secure one elderly horse, walking
abandoned through a lemon grove littered with green curled
leaves. Varick helped Lucius mount the nag and then
dragged the horse back to the road, tugging and cursing it.
 He is frightened, Lucius rasped.  Perhaps put a bit of
my cloak over his eyes.
 He is not the only one frightened, Varick growled, but
broke off as another quake shook the ground and the road
cracked, the earth steaming through this new wound in an
unsettling fashion.
The horse fought Varick s grip and Lucius wrapped his
legs and arms around the animal to keep from falling.
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92
After the quake finally stopped, Varick hid his face
against Lucius s thigh. Lucius reached down, despite the red
agony of his leg, to stroke Varick s hair.
LUCIUS drifted off and then woke to discover Varick must
have tied him to the horse. He blinked at his slave, who
looked up at him with red, weeping eyes, putting a flask of
water against his lips.
 Drink, master, Varick bade him.
 What about you? Lucius choked. They were lost in a
world of night and flame, though the rocks no longer fell
from the sky so often. Lucius ached for green fields, for
flowing water and for Varick s body under his own.
Varick was silent, holding Lucius s head to help him
swallow a little water.
Lucius closed his burning eyes.  You are like the forest
god who found me when I was lost in Germania, he
mumbled.
 Perhaps somehow he kept you safe for me, Sir, Varick
said, leading the exhausted horse, its head hanging down,
through the ash that fell silently on the country road.
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93
Epilogue
 SIR, Varick said, smiling at Lucius.
Lucius blinked, his head pounding a little. Varick placed
a goblet at his lips and he drank thirstily, glad for the
watered wine.
 You had a fever, Varick said, sitting on Lucius s bed
with one leg swung over his legs. The pose struck the groggy
Lucius as particularly possessive, but he was not displeased.
 My leg, Lucius groaned, reaching down to touch it.
But Varick was there before him, pushing aside the
bedding and digging skilled fingers in gently, watching
Lucius s face.
Lucius lay back, taking in his plain bedroom at the
farmhouse. There were no frescos here, no costly statuary.
 Pompeii. But he knew it was gone.
Varick paused and reached out to grip his hand.  A
Roman Legion passed by the farm a few days ago, sent by
the Emperor to investigate.
Lucius shook his head though tears stung his eyes.
When they fell, silent, cooling on his cheeks and running
down his face to his parted lips, Varick kissed him tenderly,
holding his gaze.  Master, he whispered.  I will never leave
you.
The Pleasure Slave | Jan Irving
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