Crimson and Steel Read Free Page B

the forum and were in the quarter of the city designated for noble residences. She beheld gardens flourishing and equestrian statues looming over polished plazas. Clay-tiled roofs rose over white painted walls. Each manor sported wildly decorated arched gateways, and some had gilt-worked bronze accents.
    “Remember, look me in the eye,” Marcus spoke softly and lifted her chin with his finger, his coal-black stare penetrating her sparkling sapphire gaze. “Engrid! Engrid! Come to the gate!”
    Kell looked to the archway and saw two men dressed in the crimson tunics and iron armor of Roman legionaries, yet they were no Romans. She knew them to be men of her land, one with a bushy red beard and the other with a thick braid of hair as golden as her own. Each of them stood nearly a foot taller than any of the men in the praetor’s coterie. Kell marveled to see such a thing: warriors of the North serving a lord of the Empire.
    “Engrid,” Marcus said loudly once more, cupping his hand to his mouth.
    “Coming, Lord. I am here, My Lord,” came a high voice from within the manor. Shuffling out into the street as fast as her feet could carry her came a woman well more than sixty in a pale blue housedress and apron. Her gray hair was bundled under a bonnet, and she held a cleaning cloth in her liver-spotted hand.
    “Engrid, this is my new slave,” Marcus stated plainly, motioning to Kell. “Introduce her to the manor and have her prepared by dinner.”
    “Yes, Lord,” Engrid replied, bowing slightly, her eyes fixed on the praetor’s face as she moved.
    With that, Marcus and his band were again off. Kell and Engrid stood in the plaza as the sound of their feet faded away. Water tinkled in a nearby fountain, and the scent of flowers wafted by on the breeze. The blonde young woman looked about in wonder of the well-kept homes and topiary. Monuments to great generals lined the avenue before her, their visages ever locked in triumph. Had men made them, she thought, or had the Roman gods gifted these to their obedient people? Kell again looked to the Northmen guised as legionnaires and marveled.
    “Don’t stand there gawking all day,” chided Engrid, “get inside. We’ve things to do.”
    Kell followed the house slave up the neatly trimmed path to the door of the manor, noting the perfection of the lawn, and stepped into the vestibule. The tiny space inside the portal seemed rather glum and dark. Cloaks hung on wooden pegs by the door, and a pair of columns braced the ornamental lentil. Perhaps, Kell wondered, the vestibule was a dreary place, because just beyond lay a lively and golden spot.
    “This, child, is the atrium.” Engrid paused. “I know you as one of my own people. I see the wonder in your childlike eyes. You wouldn’t believe it, but mine were once like yours.” Engrid paused and looked at the blonde girl, a paragon of the blossom of youthful beauty. Kell merely smiled and looked on the matron. The house slave shook her head and continued.
    “The rain falls and cascades from the layered tiles and drips into the pool you see here.” She motioned, walking around the water. “In some homes that have no piping, the family uses this water for drinking and cooking. Your master has piping, and so we have a fountain where I draw water.”
    “Look at all the pretty fish!” Kell said with youthful excitement.
    Engrid stopped and glared at her. “Stop with all the baby talk.” Kell stiffened. “You are to call the master ‘Lord,’ and you are to look him in the eye. If you desire a place in this house, you will act like you have some sense. He has no time to abide a fool. Compose yourself like a woman, because a woman is what he will make you, what he will demand of you. Act like a girl, and he will disrespect you, and you will find yourself looking for pity in a whorehouse.”
    Cold silence enveloped the room. Shadows played across the older woman’s face as clouds shifted in the heavens. After tense