Chapter Text
It was a good day for Sansa Lupusina Baratinus. Each day since the death of her husband Primus Iofrecus Baratinus had been a good day, to be precise. Her late husband had died of a fever recently, and finally, Sansa Lupusina was free of the sadistic tyrant she had married. Now, people didn't rate her as the dirt under her husband's sole any more, but simply the respected widow of one of the richest men in Pompeii – and there were many rich men in Pompeii. The rest of the small Baratinus family (and thus also the more numerous, notorius, noble and rich Lanistrus clan connected to the Baratinuses in marriage) lived in Rome. Those family members only resided in Pompeii for a few weeks each year: in the summer, when it was so hot that you could barely breathe in the capital of the Empire, they moved to the coast.
Sansa Lupusina's uncle-in-law, Tirinus Impius, a man who evened out with his extraordinary intelligence what he lacked in body height, was always first to arrive with his waddling gait, because he loved to frolic around in the various whorehouses the town was renowned for. He had also been the one who had stayed next to her when Primus Iofrecus had drawn his last feverish breath.
At once, the funeral had been organised, and Sansa Lupusina's disgusting husband had been burned and his ash been laid to rest in the necropolis beyond the Porta Nocera. The tomb was as ornate and impressive as anyone could wish for – and Sansa Lupusina had not visited it once since the funeral procession. Neither had Tirinus, who, amongst all those horrible Lanistruses was probably still the most acceptable one.
Right now, Sansa's uncle-in-law was having some hours out: he had announced he'd go to the Odeion to listen to a philosophical lecture, and later, he meant to visit a sumposium in the house of his best friend, Bronnus. It was clear as daylight that the two would indulge in food and drink and whoring, so Tirinus Impius would be gone for quite a while and Sansa Lupusina could be alone for a while.
Since she was expected to be in mourning she couldn't go out much herself, but she didn't mind. She decided to relax in the thermal bath Primus Iofrecus had had built before his demise. The bath had actually been one of his very, very few good ideas.
So she left the lararium where she had been praying – for her own family, not for her dead husband, of course. Then, she followed the overgrown portico with the marble floor tiles, passed the atrium, walked on to another wing of the house and finally reached the bath.
To her surprise, the caldarium – the room with the pool that contained warm water – wasn't quite as empty as she had expected. A tall, heavily-muscled slave with dark, long, lank hair and a partly-burned and heavily-scarred face was there and in the process of cleaning everything, of arranging new phials with scented oils and of providing clean towels. The man, Sandor Canisius, had been Primus Iofrecus's personal servant and bodyguard, so Sansa Lupusina had despised the man, even more so, because he was a grumpy fellow with an aggressive, raspy voice. Sansa had toyed with the thought to sell him to a gladiators' school. A slave like him, a giant of a man who featured such unequalled physical strength and swiftness was really made for the fighting pit. Gladiators were famous, prominent, even if they were slaves; besides, the most successful ones would be awarded a wooden sword in the end and could thus gain their freedom after many victorious combats. Selling Sandor Canisius would bring Sansa Lupusina a nice amount of money.
She sighed and didn't quite know what to think. Her husband had always ordered one or another slave to hit her, to beat her up until she was more or less unconscious, but coarse and vulgar as Sandor Canisius was, he had never hurt her.
The slave turned around and bowed. He was only wearing a short, simple garment, which meant she had a plain view of his muscled arms and legs and the coarse hair that was growing there.
“Mistress”, he growled. “What can I do for you?”
“I am about to take a bath.”
Her eyes flitted to the wall where various frescos could be seen. The scenes and motives were all disgustingly obscene, just like Primus Iofrecus had liked it. In one picture, a faun was presenting an outsized erect member while around him other fauns were copulating with nymphs in different poses. Sansa Lupusina had never understood how one could possibly want such paintings, but her deceased husband had delighted in everything lascivious, as long as it embarrassed her. He had always loved to humiliate her. So she decided now that she wanted to have the bath painted differently. The price for Sandor Canisius would suffice to pay a new design. Tirinus Impius would naturally be disappointed of the new style, but she didn't care overly for the man's lecherous gusto.