Amare: Part V

Insomnium


Ianus felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder. He rolled onto his back and looked up to see two bright blue eyes looking down at him. He looked across the room at where Timeus slept soundly. Ianus sat up and searched Ricardus’ eyes. They darted in fear, yet seemed to be memorizing Ianus’ face, even in the dark.

Ianus gently helped Ricardus to his feet. He took Ricardus’ hand and led them out the slave entrance and into a field. “What is it?” Ianus asked, trying to keep his voice down so they would not be discovered.

“I had a nightmare.”

Ianus was taken a back, “You had a nightmare?”

Ricardus nodded, “I know, I know. It is childish that I seek comfort after a dream. Normally, after nightmares I grit my teeth and try to forget it. This dream was different, real.”

“Real, how?” Ianus held Ricardus at arms’ length. His hands were steady on Ricardus’ shoulders.

“I saw you in the arena. The crowd cheered your name over and over. You came out of the gates wearing the finest of armor. Your breast plate was emblazoned with a sort of bird, a red one. You wielded a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. You stood in the middle of the arena, looking up at me. Then, the gates opened once again and another man entered the arena. He is a gladiator known for taking joy in the screams of his victims, laughing as they bleed. I cannot think of his name, only his cruelty and haunting smile.

“You took the first step, thrusting your sword at his chest. He blocked it with ease. The battle went on, at some point you stole his sword. You were advancing on him, a sword in either hand and your shield in the sand. You looked up at Brutus for approval, and you received it. You prepared yourself to deliver the final blow, but instead, you received it. Your opponent had found a piece of metal, something seemingly useless, and thrust it through you.

“I woke covered in sweat, my chest aching, and my hands trembling. I do not think much of dreams; then again, I never did until I met you. Now I see you every day and am reminded constantly of the dreams I had once deemed childish. Is it so farfetched to think that I did not just witness your death?” Ricardus’ hand gently touched Ianus’ face, “Say something?”

Ianus leaned into Ricardus’ touch before gently pulling the hand away. “I believe it was just a dream. I would not be so foolish as to let my death be so swift. I promise you, when I die it will be for a cause nobler than entertainment.”

“Ianus?” Ricardus’ voice had dropped to a whisper almost as quiet as breathing. “I feel like a child, trembling at nothing.”

Ianus’ arms wrapped around Ricardus, “Death is not ‘nothing’.”

Ricardus’ fingers curled over Ianus’ bare chest, “It was not a real death.”

“It is death, just the same.”

After a moment, Ricardus sighed into Ianus’ chest, “Sleep beside me tonight?”

“What?”

Ricardus looked up at Ianus with eyes that were still stained with terror, “Sleep beside me.”

Ianus nodded, following Ricardus back to his room. Ricardus slipped onto the bed and rolled to his side. Ianus laid himself behind Ricardus. He hesitated a moment before letting his arm slip over Ricardus’ side and pull him closer. Ricardus did not object, instead, he laced their fingers together.

Ianus remained silent, listening for Ricardus’ breathing to steady in sleep. His room did not smell of perfume as it did upon Ianus’ arrival. Ricardus’ room now smelt of the fields they would lie in and the dirt that clung to their tunics.

Ianus smiled, breathing in the scent of Ricardus. He smelled of the same grass and dirt as the room, but there was something else. Beneath the scent of earth, was something sweeter. It was not sweet like honeyed flowers that were often made into perfume. Rather, it was sweet like rain and the breeze of the forest. The sweetness was luscious and addictive, not choking and powerful. The sweetness was the scent of Ricardus’ skin, not covered in the smell of his wife. His skin was his own as was his scent; no one else’s covered it.