Servants moved Direca's belongings into the room August had chosen for her. It wasn't the grandest room on the second floor, but they did as they were told. They were good at following orders. After, they moved her properly into her room, they would finish with young Marcus' belongings.
Direca pouted as she stood in the center of her room. It was hardly fitting for someone of her status. There was another room on this floor better suited for her. Prior to moving in, she looked at all the rooms to ensure she was getting the finest one. She wasn't.
The insults didn't stop. August and his brothers barred her from the rooms of their deceased parents. They barred others, but she took offense at the rule. Her husband and his brothers decided any inheritance would go directly to the grandchildren.
If she were in charge, Direca would have used any jewelry or other valuable items until she died. Then she would have passed them on to the grandchildren...unless some of the jewelry and other valuables should adorn her corpse.
Her thoughts brought her back to the current situation. She didn't' understand why this was her room. Then a horrible thought struck her. She wanted to see Marienta's room. Direca would not tolerate her husband giving that grand room to any servant, let alone a slave. The humiliation would be too much.
Turning to one of the mansion servants, Direca said, "I want to see my slave's quarters."
Quintes bowed low, "Yes, Mistress. As you wish." He turned and walked from the room expecting Direca to follow.
She almost turned the wrong way when Quintes turned right. Direca expected to go to the left in the direction of the elegant room, because she was so convinced of her husband's admiration of her slave, Marienta. Relief washed over her features as he took her to the tiny room directly off the stairs.
Smiling at the servant she said, "Thank you, Quintes. Now, I need you to move my belongings into the largest room on this floor, the beautifully decorated one."
Quintes gave her a quick bow replying, "I'm sorry, Mistress, we have our orders."
Direca's hand shot out and slapped the servant hard, turning his face, and leaving a perfect red imprint of her hand on his cheek.
Quintes bowed again. "Yes, Mistress, I understand your dismissal of my services and I respect that you no longer want or need my skills." He turned descending the stairs with a grace and dignity of one whose years of service had bred a granite strength of confidence.
Direca was shocked. "I did not dismiss you from our employ." Quintes ignored her and continued down the stairs. "I did NOT dismiss you." He kept walking. "I DID NOT DISMISS YOU FROM OUR EMPLOYE!"
The other servants heard her and stepped into the hallway. They saw Quintes' head vanish out of view. They formally bowed to her, turned, and descended the staircase following Quintes.
Direca was confused. She had not fired any of them, yet, they were leaving. Quickly, she glanced back into her room. No people remained. Only large crates sat in various locations in the room.
Hearing footsteps grow louder from the stairs, she turned to see August's scowling face. He slowly walked to her and stopped in front of her.
"Why did you strike Quintes?" he asked in a low voice.
Direca feigned frustration, "He wouldn't do as I asked. I was glad that he and the other servants left. We don't need any like them."
August leaned against the wall. "Well, I'm glad that you think so. The contract that mother negotiated for the house servants, indicated that if they suffered any violence or mistreatment then they would receive a year's pay for compensation of abuse."
Her mouth fell open. "Well, that is ridiculous. Why would she be foolish enough to do that?"
August was angry before, but the insult to his mother reddened his face. "She was not foolish. Mother was a lady, well-mannered and sophisticated. She believed the clause in the contract gave the servants the message of how important they were to her. She never thought it would have to be used."
Direca tried to placate her husband. "I never knew about the clause. We will just hire more servants."
He shook his head. "We can't. You have no idea how drained the funds are going to be in order to pay each servant for a year's work."
She tried to minimize her actions by saying, "Then just raise taxes."
August shook his head, "No." She tried to speak, but he interjected, "And the festivities to celebrate my rule with the socially elite have to be canceled. We can't afford that, either."
This was too much for Direca to take. She had waited a long time for people to honor her as their better. "Just raise taxes. It can't be that hard."
August reigned his temper. "I will not raise taxes because my wife cannot act like a proper woman of her station and instead behaves like a bar brawling wench. How common do you wish to appear?"
Direca's initial instinct was to slap her husband for saying such a thing, but slapping someone was the reason she was in this predicament. "We can have Marienta fill in for the servants who have left."
He asked, "Who will care for Marcus?"
She gave him an adoring smile, "I will. I am the boy's mother."
August didn't bother to hide the sarcasm from his voice. "You believe Marienta capable of cooking the meals for us and the soldiers, to single handedly clean the mansion, and to assist my brothers whenever we need her to. You think she is capable of all that. Well, we really have been wasting money on servants if only one slave can manage where a full staff had difficulty." He rubbed his chin thinking. "Let's do an experiments. For a week, you will watch and care for Marcus with no help from anyone. Marienta will be the assistant to my brothers and my generals. Then you decide if you need her or not to help with our son."
She didn't like the sound of that, but nodded. She didn't always like spending time with the boy and always insisted on helping him to nap so she could limit their interaction. "And who shall help with the cleaning?"
August turned to walk away, "Our house servants shall do all the cleaning, but don't expect to see them much. This is a bigger place than our house from where we moved. Have fun unpacking."
Direca was quickly running out of time. Her opportunity slipped away the farther August walked from her and she blurted out, "So you understand why I need to have the larger bedroom and why this one won't do." She smiled as his footsteps halted. She had his attention now.
The anger within him was irrational. August understood that. He knew his wife had a right to claim the better chambers, but he didn't want to keep the room from Marienta. To give it to his wife seemed wrong. The room should go to the woman who would keep him connected to his humanity.
Deliberately, he turned and said, "No." Then August spun on his heels and quickened his pace down the hall.
Direca, still smiling, called, "I'm going to take it anyway. It should be mine. Who else would have it?"
August stopped again, took a deep breath, and turned reluctantly to look at his wife. "You will not disobey me. You have no one to help you move your crates. Besides, I'm giving it to Marcus, the next ruler of the city. Unless you believe Marcus should not have a grand room to call his own, a place where he can study and have some peace?" He glared at his wife. He didn't mind giving the room to his son for all the reasons that he stated and he didn't feel as though he were betraying Marienta.
Direca didn't know a lot about strategy, but she understood that he had bested her. She was in no position to deny her son anything. Her son was the reason she would live nicely in the years to come. She had given birth to the next ruler. She had no choice, but to acquiesce.
"Of course, husband. It should go to Marcus." She even curtsied to show her elegance and breeding.
August didn't acknowledge her any longer. He stormed to the stairs. He was sick of her and her games. He was tired of all the problems she caused. There were no mansion servants, because of her. There was no one to move his son's belongings into the large bedroom, because of her. He had to get the soldiers to move his son's belongings into that room before Direca came up with a reason of why she should claim it from her son.
August felt as though he married a pampered whore who used her body and sexuality as a weapon. She was hardly the woman to sit alongside a ruler such as him. She was someone who sought social status. She was someone who used him. She was someone with her own agenda.
At the bottom of the stairs, he steadied himself grabbing the rail. August knew that his unhappiness was because of his inner beast, but Direca wasn't helping. She did her best to manipulate him. He wondered if she had always been that way or if this was a recent development.
Her demand for the bedroom was strange and persistent. She should not have thought twice about it. She should have expected a move to the upper floors after he and his brothers were finished mourning their parents.
August felt a dread settle into his stomach. Direca knew. She suspected. She knew that he wanted to give the room to Marienta. There was no other reason for her to want the room, let alone demand that it be hers.
August must hide Marienta. He had to hide her before Direca punished or harmed her slave in anyway. He felt his demon stir at the thought of Marienta being in danger because of his wife. He had trouble thinking straight.