Alluring

Alluring
Marcus

Just as the sun is rising, I fall into step beside Quintus, following the priest of Venus, Spurius Atilius, through the waking streets. The early sun strikes the plaster walls, brightening the city in shades of gold and ocher. Women pass with baskets of bread and vegetables, laborers call greetings to each other, and carts creak along the stone street.

“Have you prepared the first offering?” the priest asks, glancing at me. His voice carries easily over the chaos.

“I’ve arranged the altars,” I say. “They are near the temple steps, and the smaller one are by the fountain. It should be enough.”

Quintus looks at the priest. “And the timing? When do you want the first libation poured?”

Spurius Atilius lifts a hand. “Just as the sun reaches the temple entrance. The light must touch the statue as we begin. That is the ritual’s heartbeat.”

A wine merchant walks over to us, rubbing the back of his neck. “The new wine is excellent. But the festival will bring crowds,” he says. “I need my amphorae in a different place while the parade passes, or the barrels will be tipped over by the throng.”

“We’ll place your barrels on the forum’s edge,” I reply. “That way there’s enough room for everyone. You’ll need to get your barrels set up before the first libation.”

He grunts, apparently satisfied. “And the offerings?”

“The first grapes go to Venus,” Spurius says. “Then figs, bread, and wine in turn. Each consecration follows the other with no interruptions. The people will notice if anything is misaligned, and the gods will not be pleased.”

I watch the crowd as he speaks. The merchant nods and returns to his barrels. Children chase each other in the center of the square, and a stray goat nudges its way through the crowd toward us. I weave carefully around him, keeping up with Quintus and the priest. My mind ticks through the streets, noting where congestion will build during the festival. 

My friend leans close. “Marcus, you’ve counted the altars and the attendants?"

“I have,” I answer. “Everyone is aware of their duties.” 

The priest chuckles softly. “You’re always thinking ahead. I trust your expertise will keep the festival flowing.”

“I hope so,” I say. “Disorder spreads faster than a rain-swollen river.”

When we walk past the animal stalls, I notice a pile of straw too close to a brazier. The festival crowds will only make it worse once the torches are lit. I step forward, nudging the straw back a few feet and warning the shepherds. “Keep the straw piles away from the fire!” I shout, pointing to the brazier. 

With the morning in full swing now, the market is stirring. Merchants lift baskets of cheese, jars of honey, and bundles of herbs onto their stalls. One spreads colorful bolts of cloth. Another arranges clay lamps and small bronze utensils. A woman sweeps the steps of her taberna, while a boy carries a basket of sandals past a stand of perfumes and oils. People move with purpose, setting out their wares and waving to one another. The city is waking, each person absorbed in their tasks, and I take it all in, noting where the crowds will gather once the festival begins.

Ahead, I notice a small group of women. It’s not the way they’re dressed or how they speak that catches my eye, but the beauty of one of them. Her braid is long and pale, catching the sunlight like golden flower petals. It isn’t dyed or powdered–it’s natural, and impossibly bright. I find myself watching her a moment longer than I should.

When she turns, and I see her eyes, my jaw falls open. They are a vivid blue. I find her to be striking, though I do my best to look away. Still, every step she takes holds my gaze.

Quintus nudges me with his elbow. “Marcus, you do realize the city is full of people, yes?” he says, smirking. “Or are you studying one in particular?”

I toss him a sideways glance. “I’m… observing the people,” I mutter, trying to sound authoritative.

“The market? Or the woman with the golden hair?” he teases, but I can’t help but watch the woman as she follows her friends, laughing and chatting while they buy their breakfast.

Spurius stops, his eyes moving back to the temple. “I have something I need to take care of. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course,” Quintus says.

“We’ll handle things from here,” I add.

The priest nods and slips through the crowd, disappearing from view. As he walks away, my attention drifts back to the gorgeous woman. 

She’s intriguing, alluring, and I can’t take my eyes off her curves, the smoothness of her skin, and the way her hair, her eyes, even her lips are unlike anyone else’s. I’ve never seen anyone like her, and I want to know everything about her.

Quintus notices I’m distracted again. “Shall we go speak with her?” he asks.

I feel my face heat. “Of course not. We have work to do.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, but doesn’t press the issue further. We spend the morning moving through the forum and toward the temple courtyard, checking platforms, ropes, and the placement of ceremonial vessels, making adjustments as we go. Quintus points out where attendants will need room to move on the steps, and I note which of them should handle each task when they arrive. 

By midday, the courtyard feels organized, every step of the procession accounted for and no detail overlooked. We pause to rest in the shade of the temple portico, sipping water and scanning the space one last time. 

The afternoon passes quickly as we walk the paths again, confirming timing and events, and ensuring everything is marked for future setup. As the sun moves westward, I step back and let myself relax, the weight of planning it all lifting from my shoulders. 

“That should hold until tomorrow.” I brush my hands together to remove the day’s dust.

Quintus looks at me, grinning. “Are you finally dismissing me, then?”

I grin. “For the day. Go rest and say hello to your wife and children for me.”

He nods, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. “I will. See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you,” I say with a wave. 

I watch him walk off across the courtyard and then lean against the temple wall. Our work is finished. Yet, my thoughts returns to the radiant woman from this morning, and I find myself wondering about her name, where she’s from, and where she might be now.

I push the thoughts of her aside and walk across the courtyard and into the street, until I see the thermopolium ahead, its awning casting shade over the entrance. I slow as I reach it and step inside. The smell of warm bread, stewed lentils, wine, and smoke hits me immediately. A few people are already gathered at tables, eating their early evening meal. 

“Marcus?”

I turn at the sound of my name and find my brother, Lucius, already here, seated on a stool, cup in hand. He lifts it in greeting as I cross the room. 

“Have you been here long?” I ask, taking the empty stool across from him.

“Long enough to finish one drink and begin another,” he replies, setting his cup down. “You look like you’ve come straight from work.”

“I have.”

“Then you’ve earned this.” He gestures to the counter. “Wine?”

I step up to the counter and order my dinner. The server nods as she listens, already turning to prepare it.

“I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready,” she says.

“Thank you.” I return to the table and take my seat next to my brother. 

“You’ve been scarce lately,” he says. “Is the festival planning taking up all your time and energy?”

“It’s quite a bit of work,” I remind him. “Let’s just say I’ll be relieved when it’s over.” 

The server brings a tray and sets a bowl and bread before me. “For a man who carries the festival on his shoulders, you seem to manage well,” she says, her tone light, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she bats her lashes and looks away again.

“Oh? In what way?” I ask, curious. 

She smiles. “Just that you look well.” I notice her cheeks turning slightly pink. 

“Thank you, Domina,” I reply, trying to maintain my composure. 

She nods and steps away from the table, going back to her work. Lucius waits until she is out of hearing range before leaning in and lowering his voice with a grin. “Careful, Marcus. You may find yourself with admirers you didn’t intend to collect.”

“I think you read too much into a simple comment,” I say. 

“She was clearly flirting with you,” my brother presses, unable to hide his amusement. “And don’t you want to find a wife one day?”

“I do,” I admit. “It’s something I’ve been considering more often lately.” I look at him. “What about you, Lucius? Do you see yourself marrying?”

“Me?” He leans back, startled. “I’m only twenty. I’m not some old man like you. I’ve hardly thought about it.”

I let out a short laugh. “I’m not old. I’m twenty-seven.”

“Yes, but you have a fine position, a fancy house—hell, even your dog carries himself with more dignity than most men. You’re already set. A wife and children are the natural next step.”

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” I say before taking a sip of my wine.

I look back toward the counter. The server catches my eye again, offering me a smile and a little wave. I nod to her in return.

Lucius follows my gaze and chuckles. “Perhaps Mother will get those grandchildren she’s been hoping for sooner than we think.” I kick him under the table, and he laughs even harder. 

Fortunately for me, the rest of the meal is shared in simple conversation–talk of the festival, the small household troubles my mother has been dealing with, and Lucius’s ongoing money problems. 

By the time we start to run out of topics to speak about, our bowls are empty, and the last of the wine has been shared between us. Lucius pushes his bowl forward. “That should carry me through the evening,” he says, rising from his stool. 

I set my cup aside and stand with him. “Yes, that was a good meal.” 

I leave some coins on the table, and we head for the door, stepping outside and pausing just beyond the entrance.

“Goodnight, Marcus,” Lucius says.

“Goodnight, Lucius,” I reply. “Send Mother and Father my love.”

He nods and turns to head home. I go the other way toward my house. 

As I walk, my mind wanders back to the fair-haired maiden from the market this morning. I wonder why I can’t stop thinking about her. Who is she, and what is this power she has over my thoughts?