Claimed by the Barbarian Princes (Skatha Chronicles, Book 2) by Lily Reynard

Author:Lily Reynard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, ancient rome, roman history, menage romance, mfm menage, barbarian romance, mfm romance, romance menage
Publisher: Philtata Press LLC

Chapter Six

We ate, standing because we were too sore to sit, in the taberna, the restaurant associated with the inn where we would be staying tonight. There was no conversation because we all felt too weary. Even Tertia was subdued with exhaustion.

The food was delicious—round flatbread baked to a blistered crisp and topped with melted cheese, caramelized onions, and diced bacon; small dishes filled with various kinds of pickled vegetables; sliced hard-boiled eggs sprinkled with herbs and coarse salt; thin-sliced ham wrapped around fresh figs.

I was worried because Mother's voice sounded breathier than normal, as if she were having a difficult time catching her breath. Alarmed, I saw faint blue tinging her lips, which were bare of cosmetics.

Palakus had rented rooms for all of us, saying that he thought we might appreciate a soak in the baths and soft beds before resuming our journey tomorrow.

I had been too tired to ask the name of this town, but it was obvious to me that it existed to serve the needs of travelers on the Via Postumia, which was the busiest highway through northern Italy, crossing from the port of Genoa in the west to the port of Aquileia on the Adriatic in the east.

Ateas and the rest of the Skatha were camping outside the town walls, in nearby fields. We had followed Palakus into the town by passing through the triple-arched gate, accompanied by others from the Skatha camp drawn by the lure of the baths, brothels, and taverns.

Palakus had escorted us to the inn, ordered food for us, and then left to run an errand with a promise to join us later.

With my sheltered upbringing, I had never set foot in a taberna before. I looked around with curiosity as we ate. The room was large and low ceilinged, with a bar running along the back wall that held clay jars sunk into a countertop made from broken bits of colored marble.

The innkeeper, a stout woman with gray hair and a no-nonsense air, dipped into those sunken jars to fill serving plates with an assortment of pickled vegetables, brined olives, and nuts.

The taberna's walls were plastered and painted with alternating panels of red and ochre yellow, decorated with an uneven frieze of grapevines and an ineptly executed portrait of a dyspeptic-looking Bacchus reclining on a couch under clusters of ripe grapes.

We were just finishing a dessert of apples baked in spiced honey when Palakus joined us.

As the innkeeper began refilling dishes for Palakus's supper, Stephanus excused himself to escort my sisters and the rest of the household to the baths, located just on the other side of the forum from the inn.

Mother and I remained at the taberna to keep Palakus company while he ate.

At first, he was silent, shoveling food into his mouth with hearty appetite, and we refilled his cup of wine from the pitcher that the innkeeper left us.

Then he pulled a clay flask from his belt and handed it to Mother. "It's an infusion of herbs to strengthen your heart.

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