Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager, its characters. This story was created by me.

Summary: Flavius and Eleni are now residing at the family estate in Alexandria. They are very happy, with their young daughter and the young former slave, Neziah.

1. The Roman Centurion [G]

2. Eleni of Crete [G]

3. The Courtship of Eleni [NC-17]

4. The heart of Flavius [R]

5. Loving Flavius [NC-17]

The young girl stood outside the library of Alexandria which was situated right in the centre of the city main street, the Nur'ul Street, or the Street of Light. That was the name the Egyptians gave it. If you were Roman, however, the street would go by the name of Via Justus, or Avenue of the Judges. To Neziah, A Nubian whose people the Cushites first conquered Egypt more than eight hundred years before, this street would be to her the street of Qu-sheem, once a great leader of the Cushites who were eventually sacked by the Syrians. They were driven south, to their own region, Nubia. It was a beautiful street, lined as it were with date palms. Giving the weary traveler some comfort from the burning Egyptian sun.

But Neziah did not want to dwell on the history of this city. A beautiful young girl whose copper skin shone in the Egyptian sun, she was descended from the Nubians who lived in Egypt for hundreds of years. After Syria sacked Egypt, then Alexander the Great, after him the Ptolemys, and after them...the Romans... she sighed. She was born into slavery like so many of her forebears. From then on her life had been one long misery. Well, if sixteen years counted as a lifetime, yes, her life was a drudgery of slave labour. Until the good Mistress Eleni bought her right here, a year ago, at the marketplace at the end of Via Pompaeus, the street running parallel to the Via Justus. That was when she knew a freedom such as she had never experienced before.

She was waiting for her mistress. And like her mistress, she stomped her foot impatiently on the marble mosaic of the entrance to the great library, but in rhythmic beats on the ground. After all, she had been appointed to be the lady Eleni's handmaiden, and had since adopted many of that lady's little mannerisms. Even if the lady Eleni told her so many times that each person was a person in her own right, she had difficulty understanding that concept. For she never had her own rights to begin with. Any individuality - a new concept taught her by that enlightened lady, was never encouraged, or if it reared it's tentative and she decided, ugly head, was stamped out forcibly by the former mistresses she had. She had no individuality. No personality, no identity. She was, like she heard her mistress Eleni had been, a slave. Now slowly, under the guidance of that lady, she was testing her fledgling individuality. She could laugh, cry, speak to the lady without bowing deeply to the ground. In the beginning she was not used to this, and if she had been spoken to harshly, it was to remind her not to defer to Eleni and lord Flavius in that way.

"Neziah," the lady Eleni said to her one day, "surely you do not have to imitate me."

That lady looked at her, turning her head so that she could face Neziah who was standing behind her, doing up her hair and arranging strings of pearls around her head.

"But Mistress - "

"You may call me lady Eleni, or Eleni. But do not call me "mistress" Neziah. Do you think lord Flavius would be happy if I allowed you to defer to me like you did to your former owners? You are free."

"My lady - " she ventured then, "you are good. I want to be like you. You talk back to your husband. And - and your husband, lord Flavius, he - he does not mind - "

"That is because lord Flavius treats me as his equal. But do you see my dear Neziah, that I abuse that freedom?"

At which she shook her head vehemently. She was only slowly beginning to understand the ways of these wealthy Romans. She had seen how the lady Eleni would be right in something, then insist upon that right being recognised. Sometimes she argued quite heatedly with lord Flavius. She would be so scared then. But lady Eleni, who seemed to have a short temper, was able to let it blow over almost immediately. She was always glad of that. Later, when they thought no one was looking, she would see lord Flavius kiss his wife till she was breathless.

Neziah smiled to herself. She was learning. She knew that the lady Eleni only ever argued when she believed her point had justification. She smiled again. Recognition of rights. Justified arguments. Motivating her viewpoint. These concepts were alien, yet strangely new and exciting! The good lady's teachings were rubbing off on her, and very fast!

Now she awaited the lady Eleni, while that lady was inside the library reading old manuscripts of the works of Philo, Socrates, Archimedes, and other philosophers and scientists and mathematicians. She stared at the statue of Socrates beside the left marble column of the foyer. Even on the marble floor, the mosaics depicted these great and learned men, all of whose work resided here in this great library. She sighed.

She could only speak her own Nubian language, some Arabic, some Latin and a little Greek. Her black eyes went very large when the lady wanted her to enter the library with her.

"Oh no, my lady. I cannot read! That place is hallowed. Only the learned go in there!" she gasped in complete horror that Eleni could invite her into this most sanctified of places with her.

"Well then," the good lady said, touching Neziah's cheek. She almost pulled away in embarrassment. No one extended friendship to her in that way. "Well, then we shall have to do something about it, not so?"

She had just shaken her head mutely. What could she say? That she badly wanted to learn to read and write? She, a girl who was supposed to learn household tasks, learn baking and cooking. Work with the senior servants in the large sewing room of the villa. Girl things. She wanted to read. She so much wanted to. To write. To know about other exotic places she had never even heard of.

"We broaden our minds through reading, Neziah," Eleni would say to her. She wanted to broaden her mind. "Did you know that Julius Caesar invaded Britain ninety years ago?" Eleni asked her. For several seconds she looked nonplussed, then asked:

"Who was Julius Caesar? What is this Br-Britain?"

The lady looked at her, saw her confusion, then asked again: "Do you want to know?"

Neziah shook her head in affirmation, and she was certain Eleni could see the hunger, the thirst in her eyes.

"Do not worry then, Neziah. You will acquire knowledge. Be patient."

She thought her hunger was so great, how could she be patient. But if she could... Why... then she could allow herself to answer her yearning for Amasa, the young Jewish overseer of the lord Flavius' vineyards, and winemaking industry. She knew he looked at her sometimes, with a special look in his eyes. She could always feel her heart fluttering whenever Amasa came to the main house to deliver reports to lord Flavius. He would linger until the lady Eleni would come in to greet her husband, bringing little Marcena with her. She would be with and respectfully keep her distance. Then she would look at Amasa from under her cast down eyelids and glory in his cleverness, his handsome profile. She sighed.

She was very certain that the lady Eleni went in deliberately to her husband, with her daughter and handmaiden in tow, because she knew. And just now, before the lady went inside the library, she looked Neziah in the eyes. The lady Eleni's own eyes seemed to bore like sharp knives into hers. She looked so long that Neziah began to squirm a little. She put her hand out again, and touched Neziah's cheek. Then she said:

"From the morrow, Neziah, you can take lessons with Marcena when my father comes to teach her."

She stood in the library entrance, and right there on the mosaic of Ptolemy I fell on her knees and wanted to kiss the lady's feet. She was almost down when she was jerked back forcefully.

"Never do that, Neziah," the lady said, as angry as she hadn't seen her in a while. "Never." Then she vanished quickly into the library, leaving a stunned Neziah gaping like a fish from the upper Nile.

********

Eleni was sitting on one of the high stools in front of a raised frame containing several scrolls. She fingered them absently. She wondered why in the last number of weeks she had suddenly become so listless, not too much inclined to be studying the wonderful and valuable manuscripts kept here in this library, founded by Ptolemy I, a general who succeeded Alexander after that great conqueror died. Presently a manuscript containing a theorem by Archimedes lay open in front of her. Determining the surface area of a circle, and the area of a sphere. She used to grasp this so quickly. Understanding mathematics and the theories of the great mathematician himself used to come so easily to her.

She wondered how it was that she could lose sight of her interests. How her priorities seemed to change so insiduously. But on the heels of that came the answers in quick succession: She had a husband she loved so much, she would want to die if he died. She had a daughter who, granted not of her blood nor that of Flavius, crept into her heart and made a permanent place there.

Marcena.

Sick and abused. Now all of five years old. At least, that was what Flavius had documented officially when they adopted her. Marcena who in the first few months of being their daughter, was racked by the same nightmares she used to have. Used to. Not anymore.

And Flavius suffered in those months. When Marcena had her nightmares, she wouldn't let Flavius come near her, let alone touch her. She watched how Flavius tried to contain his anger everytime Marcena had one of her nightmares. And the shame that filled him everytime. That grown men could behave in a way that reduced a child to bits and pieces of driftwood, a nervous wreck, filled him with such abhorrence and disgust at his sex. He would withdraw quietly, and much later, in the early hours of the morning when Eleni would crawl wearily into bed next to her husband, he would fold her into his arms. Hold her as if he would never let her go, and cry. She had never seen him cry until the first night when Marcena was with them. That was in the week they were still in Sidon, and preparing to make the journey to Alexandria in one of his merchant vessels.

She had seen the pain in his eyes. And the guilt and shame. Since then, whenever it happened and it slowly became fewer and fewer, she would comfort both husband and child. The lady Melissa would almost physically drag her away from Marcena's bedside and take over the care of the frail looking child. Telling Eleni she had a husband to care for, too.

Yet Marcena loved him...

She had become so well adjusted. During the day she would run around the villa barefoot in her tiny tunic that resembled Eleni's own chitons. Always talking, that the lady Melissa complained about her ears barely able to take in all the chatter, or her own mother, Pennina saying:

"Eleni, she may be adopted, but she talks as much as you did when you were that age."

But it was Flavius to whom she would run during the day. He would sigh with an exaggerated air, then pick her up and swing her round. To which Marcena would screech happily. Flavius' eyes shone nowadays whenever Marcena was with him. She would throw herself in his arms, kiss his neck, ruffle his hair. And he didn't mind that she disturbed him when he had visitors.

It was hard to imagine a time that she had been so scared of him. Of men. The turning point came one night when they heard Marcena screaming, then her voice turning into a pathetic wail. It was Flavius who jumped up first, entering the distraught child's room. Marcena was sitting on the floor again, between the bed and the wall, in the corner, whimpering. Her small hands protectively over the area of her private parts. Flavius stood in the entrance way of the room. Somehow he remained, telling Eleni to stay with him.

He went closer and closer, his eyes never leaving Marcena. He went to sit on the bed, looking down where she was sobbing and quivering. Noting the position of her hands, she could hear in his voice how he tried not to show his anger.

"Marcena, little one...tell Papa what is wrong," Flavius said. Eleni came nearer and she could see his eyes were bloodshot, fevered.

"Please little one, tell me..." he said again. Not once did Flavius attempt to touch her.

Marcena stopped sobbing when Flavius' calming voice broke through her fear at last. She looked at him.

"Hurt me..." she said softly, in Greek.

"Talitha," Flavius said, using the Hebrew term of endearment for little girl, "no one will hurt you anymore."

"Talitha..." she repeated softly. "Am I your little girl?" she asked.

"More than anything, talitha. Papa loves you more than anything. I will never hurt you, my little girl."

"They hurt me, Papa..." it came softly from her. Marcena was beyond crying now, just a soft dry sob escaping. Eleni watched as Flavius closed his eyes for a few seconds, saw the nerve twitching in his jaw. She knew then how desperately he was trying to contain his rage.

"Was that in your dream, talitha?" he asked at length, after recovering himself. He bent over a little to her, Eleni seeing that he just wanted to wrap his little girl in his arms and soothe her.

"Yes, Papa...," it came on a whisper. And even softer, "bad...I am scared..."

"Talitha..." She looked at him again now with tear stained eyes. Flavius held his hand to her for the first time. "Are you scared of Papa...?"

This was the crunch, Eleni thought. Her heart pained. She wanted to take Marcena in her arms and never let her go. With remembered pain she looked at her daughter, who appeared to weigh Flavius' words. She looked long at him. Eleni, watching this scene, would forever stand in quiet amazement at how the fear in Marcena's eyes subsided, all the time she looked at her Papa. She looked at his proffered hand. She watched a small hand come out, and touch Flavius' long fingers, then she rested her hand in his. Eleni watched how his large hand closed around Marcena's. He pulled her gently up. She stood, looked at him, and said:

"I love you, Papa."

Flavius picked her up in his arms and held her to him, careful not to squeeze her small frame too hard. She saw Marcena's short arms go round his neck, heard her say again, "I love you, Papa."

Flavius held his daughter like a drowning man, his hand cupping her head, holding her so close, all the time murmuring soothing words to her. All the time his tears fell silently down. At length he looked at her. He smiled and she smiled back. Then she nodded and quietly left the room. It was going to be alright.

After that, Marcena improved, her nightmares decreased, became less until they faded. She blossomed under the constant love she was showered with by her grandparents whom she loved to distraction, Eleni thought. With Eleni she was the most exuberant child of her age. Always talking, and developing uncannily the same facility for quick understanding of numbers and letters.

"She is a joy to teach, Eleni," her father Silo would say from time to time. "She grasps as quickly as you did. Perhaps," Silo said with his strange apocalyptic visions he had, "you will become the antecedents of future generations of generals and scientists."

Eleni smiled at her father's words. For sure Flavius, although a retired centurion and Tribune, still studied military strategy, and engaged more often than not in heated discussions with Silo, in whom he found the perfect foil. The mathematician-philosopher-linguist and the military strategist. Said military strategist would instruct Eleni to continue translating Caesar's Gallic Wars and his conquest of Britain into Greek.

Yes, Marcena was now well adjusted, secure in the love with which she was surrounded daily.

It was of course to Flavius that Marcena reached out. Him she clung to most of the time. Not that she did not give in equal measure to all, but since that night when Flavius talked and guided her out of her fear, she latched on to him, mostly. Always wanting to ride. At first she used to sit in front of Eleni, but afterwards it would be on the great stallion Orion, Flavius' favourite horse that she would sit. Until one day, not a month ago now, Eleni thought.

"Marcena, Papa and Mama have a surprise for you," he said as she walked between the two of them towards the paddocks behind the magnificent villa. They were holding her hands, and she jumped and skipped excitedly as the walked.

"Are we going to ride Orion again, Papa? Can I ride Zaïde today Mama? Where are we going to ride today Papa? How far is an ell, Mama?" Eleni smiled. She was always directing her mathematics queries at her Mama. All her horse questions at her Papa. Well, anything that could move! Like ships and carts and litters. Staring with fascination at how the wheels turned.

"No, talitha. You will not ride Orion with me today," he said as they approached the paddock, and Flavius beckoned to the stable boy at the far end to come nearer. He was walking a pony, so well appointed and small enough for..."

"Papa...?"

"She is yours, talitha."

Eleni watched how Marcena's eyes shone with so much adoration, her heart contracted again. Marcena lifted her small arms to him, indicating he should pick her up. Then she turned her head immediately to the horse, and touched her nose, running her tiny hands along the neck of the pony.

She looked at her parents, then asked:

"Can I ride her now, Mama?" The excitement clear in her voice, her little body squirming towards the pony.

"Well, Marcena," Eleni said to her, touching her cheek. "You have to give her a name first, don't you think?"

"Oh. Like Orion and Zaïde?"

"Like Orion and Zaïde."

She looked at the pony for long moments, as if she were contemplating what name she should give it.

"Venus."

"Venus?" Flavius asked, slightly amazed. Where did the child learn? Then he didn't wonder. Silo, of course.

"She was beautiful, like Mama." And Marcena turned to her mother, and touched Eleni's forehead, her little fingers caressing Eleni's cheeks. "Like Mama."

"Like Mama," Flavius said, looking at his wife. "Yes, like Mama."

*********

Eleni was woken from her reverie by a sound outside the library. Probably some charioteer using the road as a track, she thought. This was Alexandria. The Circus Maximus was in Rome. If they wanted to show off, that's where they could go. Or to the 'Drome off the Avenue Ptolemaeus.

She decided that she had enough for the day staring at Archimedes. What an inventor, she thought. What a mathematician. What a man. Born at Syracuse, and killed when that city was sacked by the Romans under Marcellus. But she was tired. It was time she went home.

She sighed. Her husband and child became the focal points of her life in the last year. They had been living at his villa on the outskirts of the city, while her parents were in the city. Her father right next to her, in the building housing the Museum. That was where he sometimes lectured. But mostly at the University at the end of the Avenue of Judges. Flavius came in twice during the week to take his position as a metropolitai, a position open only to the privileged Roman citizens, and in his case, a patrician Roman. These few handled the governing of the city. Rome, to this day, had refused to grant Alexandria city status, so that the city could have its own government, ruled by a consul or procurator. Like that Gaius Pontius Pilatus. The one who forever rubbed his hands.

She rolled up the scroll, and took three scrolls she had prepared for translation at home, and placed them in the special barrel used to house scrolls in. Neziah would have to help carry the barrel. It was fortunate the litter was at the west end of the street. She knew that by the time she came outside, the litter would be at the entrance of the Library.

Alexandria was a beautiful city, displaying the signs of the various cultures of its former conquerors. Its most outstanding feature, this Library she thought, unsurpassed in the Roman Empire. Then the magnificent Lighthouse of Pharos on its East Harbour. She sighed again with contentment. She was happy. So happy.

She made her way to the entrance, and did not feel the barrel slipping from her hands as she slowly sank to the floor. A look of total surprise on her face just before she lost consciousness, and just in time to hear:

"Oh, my lady!"

**********

Something cool, like air wafted over her. She tried to open her eyes to see where the cool breeze originated from. She felt a cloth being dabbed against her brow, her cheeks and neck. It felt wonderfully cool. Perhaps if she kept her eyes closed, this languorous feeling would continue. But it was not to be. Because a hand covered her cheek lightly, almost slapping her...

"Come Eleni...open your eyes...it's alright now."

She opened her eyes carefully, trying to gauge if there was some pain accompanying this action. She decided there wasn't, but it was still hazy, she thought.

"There...that's better...." she heard a voice say. A voice that belonged to... A face, no...two faces hovered above her. A blur that slowly receded until the faces took on the form of Flavius and...

"Lucanus?" she said slowly, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

"Well, is that not a fine thing Lucanus? The lady sees your ugly face first," came the voice of Flavius.

"Why should she not, Flavius? She has not seen this sunburnt and weather beaten countenance since your wedding day - "

"Ah, the weary traveler, come to visit his old friend at last, just popping in again, like you did a year and a half ago - "

"Are you two going to argue here forever?" Eleni asked, trying to raise herself on her elbows. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw the concern in Flavius' eyes. "Where am I?" she asked again.

"Shhh...Eleni, Flavius crooned to her. You are in your parent's home. It was nearer than rushing you all the way to our villa. Lucanus just arrived."

"What happened? I - I remember the...marble floor of the... Neziah! Where is she?"

"Calm down now, Eleni. She is fine. She is waiting outside, with your mother and one very excited but concerned little girl."

She lay back again, feeling still slightly dazed and a little sick. She frowned. She saw Flavius smile, frowned again, then looked at Lucanus, who also smiled indulgently. What was going on? Why were they smiling when she was feeling so miserable? Her eyes fixed on Lucanus again.

"You are with child, Eleni," he said.

Eleni closed her eyes. Even as she did so, her hands went to cover her belly in caressing protectiveness. Flavius nodded to Lucanus, who left the room quietly. Flavius saw how the tears seeped through her closed lids, running down into her neck. They waited so long for a child. And now blessed at last.

"So long...so long..." he heard her soft murmur. She opened her eyes and looked deeply into the eyes of her husband. She thought the gods punished her for the life she was forced to lead before Flavius came into her life. Now, a miracle...a small miracle. She thought they would never have children of their own, brothers and sisters for Marcena. She tried to sit and, and Flavius helped her.

She gasped into a bout of tears then, and hurled herself into his arms. He enfolded her protectively into his embrace. His hand on her hair, stroking it, caressing, soothing while she cried softly. He felt like crying. He had been so concerned about her the last months. She had gradually begun to lose interest even in her studies. She had became preoccupied, would cry whenever she saw one of the servant women carrying their babies, or saw one or two of her new friends she made here, with child. There was a hunger in her eyes, and longing. He prayed quietly to God for the many blessings he already received: for bringing Eleni into his life, for bringing little Marcena into their lives. He smiled inwardly, hearing Marcena's young childish voice always asking:

"Am I your talitha, Papa?"

"Yes, Marcena. You will always be our talitha."

"Will talitha have a brother, Papa? Like the lady Livia who lives in the city?"

He sighed. Livia. Already with four children. Three daughters and the youngest, a son at last for Rufus whom they named after him. What could he say to Marcena? So he picked her up on to his lap, where he was sitting in the wide and spacious room he used as his office, and to which Marcena had little regard for disturbing him at times.

"You know Marcena that we pray to God Almighty for strength and guidance?"

She nodded vehemently, her little head shaking up and down. Her short hair, which Eleni only the previous day cut so it bobbed just below her earlobes.

"Well, talitha, then we must keep on praying for a little brother or sister for you - "

"A brother, Papa. A brother!" she crowed.

He nodded indulgently.

"Then we can call him - "

"David. Yes I know. You like David."

"He was a shepherd boy who became king of Israel, Papa. He wrote - "

"The Psalms?"

"Yes, Papa! How did you know?"

Indeed, Flavius thought. So he tried to test her:

"You know that David is a Hebrew name, talitha?"

"Yes, Papa. But Papa, my name is Greek. And Mama's name is also Greek." As if she thought what difference it made if he gave a Hebrew name to a Greco-Roman child.

When did this child become so clever? he thought. There was not a way he could out-argue this five year old child who imitated her mother so.

"Then David it is, talitha. That is, when our prayers are answered."

*******

"David," he heard Eleni murmur against his chest as her voice broke into his thoughts. "Strong and young and fearless."

"David it is. I, Flavius Tomas Parisius of Alexandria, son of the illustrious Aurelius Tomas Parisius and his wife Melissa, is outnumbered and bows to his wife and daughter."

He looked at her, then kissed her deeply, feeling the familiar fire spreading through him just at the touch of her lips. She would be fine in the first months, Lucanus assured him. There was no reason they could not continue being intimate. And tonight. He sighed. It was still a long way to tonight. Right at this moment, three eager persons waited to come in.

He sighed again. Marcena, on hearing that her Mama had fallen ill, became hysterical. He battled to quieten her, and it was a while later it came out in a stammer. She remembered her own mother, lying dead in the market, her hand tied to Marcena's.

"Is Mama dead, Papa? Like my other mama was dead? She did not move Papa." Marcena stared crying brokenly again. "She did not want to wake up. Then a man came and said - and said she - she was...dead."

Flavius covered her small body, his hands caressing her face.

"No, talitha, Mama is not dead. She will be fine in a few moments. Just wait till Uncle Lucanus comes out." She seemed little appeased by that, especially as Lucanus called only him into the room, leaving three anxious ladies waiting. He was pretty certain, thinking about it now, that Pennina knew something...

"Eleni, I'll be out with Lucanus. Right now, we have a daughter to tell she will have a new baby brother or sister."

"Brother," she said.

"You are certain, Eleni."

"Of course."

"How can I argue?"

He got up, and left the room, allowing three eager bodies to move quickly past him. Women, he thought as he watched Pennina perch on the side of the bed, Marcena jumping on it, throwing herself into her mother's arms and Neziah standing a discreet distance away. Smiling, he closed the entrance and went to look for Lucanus, finding him in the small courtyard, talking to Silo.

"We are to be grandparents again," Silo said, gripping his hand in the Roman gesture of greeting.

"Yes...already they have ordered it to be a boy..." he said, smiling broadly for the first time now. He was happy. Ecstatic.

********

That night, in their own villa, in the bedroom they shared, Flavius lay beside Eleni. She was naked, and he kept on staring at her stomach. His hand went reverently over the gentle planes which already now, was showing a swelling. She was three months into her pregnancy, Lucanus said.

"Are you finished, Flavius?" she asked. Her eyes burned hotly on him.

"No," he murmured as he bent to kiss her navel, feeling her shiver beneath him. He moved his lips along her stomach, his tongue lapping gently at her skin, until he came to her breasts, which were looking more tender than before. His mouth covered her nipple and he smiled to himself at the way Eleni gasped, her hand coming up to press his head closer.

"More, Flavius... I am...I need to feel you...in me..." she purred huskily. Bolstered by her assurance, he slid his body over her, parting her legs and lay between them.

"Be patient, my love...I want to worship you...your body," he whispered hoarsely as his mouth trailed hotly down her stomach, till he could feel the hair at her centre. It was damp with her juices. He groaned aloud seeing how ready she was for him. But he wanted to take his time, wanted to enjoy touching her, enjoy feeling her respond in such joyous abandon to his touch, his hands, his mouth. He felt her hand on his hair, her fingers running through it, then pulling hard as she tensed her body.

He knew he could drive her wild with passion, just as he would allow her later to feast herself on his body. His tongue lapped at her core, the very centre of her desire, he thought, feeling how her muscles contracted, arching her body so that she tried to push her centre towards his mouth.

"You are mine..." he murmured as he parted the soft wet folds, and pressed his tongue into her. She gasped.

"Flavius..."

But he was almost overcome himself with desire, the blood rushing in his veins as every nerve seemed to respond to the touch on her skin. He lifted the little skin to expose that core, the pink nub that made her squirm against his mouth as his tongue flicked over it, in perfect rhythm. She arched again. Then almost screamed out as his tongue plunged deep into her again, and with a single cry of his name, spent herself against his mouth.

She was gasping, and her breathing was intensely erratic. He raised himself above her and waited for her body's shuddering to recede.

"I love you, my Eleni, mother of my children.

"I need you Flavius," she whispered against his mouth as he kissed her. She whimpered as she tasted her juices on him. She reveled in this way that Flavius, her husband, her lover could let her taste the freedom of giving her body to him. She looked deep into eyes as blue as the Egyptian sky, his hair as gold as the sands of the Nile. "Take me now..."

But Flavius was in no hurry as he started sucking gently at her breasts, he could feel himself drowning as her nipple became taut in his mouth. She pressed closer into him, rubbing her hips against him in a provocative gesture that made him moan. Her hands trailed the muscles on his back, sliding lower down to cover his buttocks, kneading them and willing him to made their union complete. But his mouth sought out the other nipple, taking it now greedily into his mouth. She gasped out loud as he sucked, feeling the delightful shivers of desire flow through her.

"Please now, Flavius," she pleaded as he slid comfortably between her thighs. His fingers slid down and touched her centre, feeling her ready for him again. "I love you..." she whispered as she felt him enter her and fill her completely. She sighed as she felt the hardness of him in her, then started gasping as he moved, rocking them until she felt she could no longer hold back. Every muscle protested as her body spasmed, her fingers digging deeply into his back.

"Flavius!!!" she called as she spent herself. Her fingers scoring long scratches down his back... They floated slowly down until their breathing became normal again.

Then Flavius lifted his head, and said softly, almost dangerously:

"Now take me, Eleni..."

********

Eleni's pregnancy was relatively without complications, proving quite healthy, blossoming into the quiet beauty that made Flavius stare breathlessly at her sometimes. She became if anything, even more beautiful, her eyes shining, her hair now cut short, but still long enough for Neziah to do up in a hairstyle. Eleni wore no make-up, as so many Roman and Greek women did. If truth be told, she did not need any.

Neziah observed her mistress - how could she not think of the lady Eleni as her mistress? And she watched with some concern that lady burst sometimes into wild bouts of tears, sending the good lord Flavius out of her room, then calling him back, and crying in his arms.

She shook her head. The lord Flavius had the patience of the pyramids, she thought. He just let the lady fly at him. Once she stared in shock as that lady slapped her husband, then started crying again.

And the lady Eleni was most unhappy when her husband insisted upon her walking in the colonnade, which was the covered walkway at the entrance of the villa. Or walk in the shade of the courtyard garden.

"I want to ride Zaïde," she wailed.

"Nonsense," he said. "You can ride her after the baby is born." And Eleni could see how resolute he was. Neziah watched this interplay between husband and wife, and thought how much in love they were. Her last two mistresses did not love their husbands. Their marriages were arranged. And sometimes she had to put on make-up for them to cover the bruises their husbands put there. She sighed. They only ever stayed in the women's quarters. Then their husbands would come to them. And leave again as soon as it was over. She understood now why they were always so bitter.

But with her employers...it was clear that the lady Eleni loved her husband so much. And they fought sometimes, but soon after she would see Eleni standing in his embrace and he would kiss her.

I would like to be loved like that, she thought. And unbidden came the face of Amasa. Amasa who more and more came to visit the big house, and she was vain enough to think that he had a great regard for her. Her heart jumped wildly everytime she saw him. She thought, how could he even look at her, let alone want to make her his wife? But dreams she thought...it was sometimes so nice to forget herself in these dreams...

Now Eleni was near her time. In a little more than six weeks the baby would be born. Lord Flavius was expecting lord Lucanus here in two weeks time. She was very happy to hear that.

She went to that lady's room, which was cast in shade, the windows open, the cool air circulating as one of the servants waved a huge palm frond to create a breeze.

Eleni was lying down, much calmed after backing down on walking to the library, riding Zaïde. She cried the day Marcena sat astride her horse, saying she was getting too big for her pony and that David could have him. Marcena was lying next to her mother, her hands on Eleni's stomach, stroking all the time softly, and... talking to the unborn child? That was something strange to her. The lady had her arms protectively around her daughter. She looked so beautiful, Neziah thought. So beautiful, with the goodness of all Egypt in her. Neziah smiled. She could now read and write, and was still attending classes. She love it so much!

"Come nearer, Neziah. Do not be scared," Eleni said smiling, her hand on Marcena's head.

What a picture this made, Neziah thought as she stepped closer, watching mother and daughter. Her own heart had that sudden yearning. But she pushed it away from her. Hers was not to have dreams like these.

"Lord Flavius wishes to speak with you," Eleni said, a smile curving knowingly at the corner of her mouth.

"With - with me?"

"Yes, you are to go into his sanctorum now."

"But my lady! No one goes in there! Only you and Marcena. I could not - "

"Go now, Neziah. Do not keep lord Flavius waiting," she said with that same peremptory tone the paterfamilias of the house used. Paterfamilias. Father of the house. Head of the house.

"I - my lady - "

"Go, Neziah," she said again.

Neziah turned on her heels and fled from the room. What had she done wrong? Was she going to be sacked? She knew lord Flavius was unlike other masters, who kept lovers besides their wives, masters who slept with the slaves...But lord Flavius...he was the most faithful man and husband. What could he want of her? There were tears in her eyes as she stood in front of the sanctorum. The master's sanctuary.

********

He sat in his chair that had the sides curled up so his elbows rested on them. Dressed in his tunic and covered with the white toga that had the purple border at its edges. Nobility...

His eyes were very blue, and his hair combed to rest as a fringe on his forehead, in the style of the Romans. He wore no beard, like the Greeks or...Amasa... She looked down suddenly.

She bowed her head as she stood in front of him. Not daring to look.

"Are you going to look at me at all, Neziah?" he asked.

She looked up slowly, and stared into the bluest eyes she ever saw. She almost blinked.

"That's better," he said. He looked at her, and opened the scroll he held in his hand.

"Now Neziah, you know you are a freed woman. Do you wish to stay here as the lady's handmaiden?"

She shook her head, and felt miserable. He was going to sack her...

"Neziah, I have here an official offer for your hand in marriage."

Flavius smiled at the surprise he saw on her face, then the surprise turning to dismay.

"I - I do not wish to - "

"What, Neziah? Don't you want to marry?"

"It is arranged, my lord. I have nothing. I do not know who it is, sir."

"I see. You wish to marry...for love?"

"Yes, my lord," she said very softly, feeling the embarrassment of tears forming. "I - I know your permission must be asked. I must say...yes." Then she burst into tears.

"Now, now, Neziah. Calm down." It was an order. What could she do?

"I have here for you your dowry that the lady Eleni and I agreed upon, Neziah. I have given as paterfamilias, my permission for you to marry Amasa."

Neziah looked at him in total astonishment. He watched how her eyes filled with tears, this beautiful young Nubian girl in whom his wife sensed the same hunger, the same drive. And for once lord Flavius Tomas Parisius did not mind that Neziah threw herself at his feet, and thanked him. He silently thanked Eleni for bringing this child into their home.

********

"I have to warn you, Flavius," Lucanus said as the two of them attended the heavily swollen about-to-give-birth Eleni. "She will scowl at you, smack you even. Since you want to break tradition and watch her give birth."

They both looked as Eleni was racked by another contraction. The nurse, ready to wipe her brow looking none too happy that two MEN were in attendance at the lady Eleni's birth. Granted, the lord Lucanus was a surgeon. But he was also a man. Her lips curled almost derisively around that word. But who was she to argue with one of the richest men in Alexandria? And the other, documenting the stories around the birth and death of another great man. One that she thought would become King of all. Is King of all, she corrected herself.

She sighed. The lady Eleni was in good hands. Her husband's and her surgeon's.

Lord Flavius did not, as was Roman custom stand one side outside the room and wait for the baby to be placed on the floor at his feet. When Roman fathers picked up the babies and thereby declared their intent and willingness to be responsible for their new son or daughter.

The lady, exhausted after the last push which expelled her son from her womb, looked at her son, then let the surgeon place the bloodied infant just like that on her bosom. What new things were these? she thought. Only a few minutes later she was allowed to handle the baby boy, with the proud father kissing his wife, who was about to drift off to sleep. When she had cleaned the baby, lord Flavius stood up, and waited for her to place the baby in his outstretched arms.

He looked at his wife and said:

"Our son David, Eleni. God has been good."

Nine days after the Ides of March, David, son of Eleni and Flavius, brother to Marcena, and grandson to Melissa Parisius and Silo and Pennina, was baptised and a bulla placed around his neck.

A proud Amasa ben-Hadar and his young wife Neziah looked on.

His name was entered into the records as David Tomas Argonne Parisius. But for such a small baby, proudly held by his mother, he was blissfully unaware of all the illustrious names that would be passed on to his descendants forever.

Let me know how you found this story.

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