‘Anything to report?’ He fell into step beside Pulex, glaring ferociously.
‘No, sir.’ His Optio did a double take at the sight of him. ‘Something the matter, sir?’
‘No.’ He forced his jaw to relax. After all, his bad temper had nothing to do with his second-in-command. ‘Have you seen any signs of unrest? Anything out of the ordinary?’
‘Nothing, sir.’ Pulex shook his head. ‘Do you really think there’s something to worry about?’
‘I don’t know.’
Marius rubbed a hand across his forehead, trying to ease the band of tension that seemed to have settled there ever since the woman had mistaken him for her new husband. Such a trivial mistake shouldn’t have bothered him, especially since it had been addressed and dealt with. There was certainly no need to still be thinking about it when there were bigger, far bigger, matters at hand.
A Caledonian rebellion, for a start.
Not that anyone believed him. Quite the opposite—most of the Roman officers in Coria thought he was being alarmist, but then they treated the local Briton tribes with contempt and dismissed any rumours that came from them. Now that Septimius Severus had been declared Emperor and the bulk of the British garrison had returned from fighting in Gaul, most simply assumed that the threat from the northern tribes had gone and the wall was invincible again.
Marius wasn’t so sure. He’d been sent back to Britannia earlier than most, three years before when a distracted Rome had started to take the threat to its northern borders seriously again. He knew what the tribes were capable of, knew that the wall had been breached on more than one occasion, with mile-castles burned down and even a few forts destroyed. The idea of a lasting peace was still fragile. During the past decade the tribes had not only learned that Rome wasn’t infallible, but they’d discovered exactly where its weaknesses lay—and there were still sections of the wall that needed repair and reinforcements.
‘All we can do is stay alert.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Pulex gestured towards the carriage. ‘What was all that about?’
The band around Marius’s head tightened again. ‘She wanted to talk about Scaevola. She’s worried about meeting him.’
‘She ought to be. You have to pity the woman.’
Marius made a non-committal sound, fixing his gaze on the horizon with a scowl. Pity wasn’t exactly the emotion he’d been feeling, though he supposed it was one among many. On the whole, however, his mind, not to mention his body, had been governed by a far different emotion, one that was still making him feel too hot beneath his mail shirt and armour.
To say that he’d been caught by surprise was an understatement. He hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place, regarding the whole mission as a waste of both time and resources, but he’d expected a girl, not a woman, and especially not one who was quite so stunningly beautiful, albeit not in a conventional or fashionable way. Her face was too round, her forehead too wide, her nose and cheeks dotted with clusters of tiny brown freckles, but there was something mesmerising about her none the less, an inner radiance accompanied by an air of sadness that gave her face a deeper beauty than that of any other woman he’d ever come across. She’d seemed strong and yet vulnerable at the same time, the proud tilt of her head putting him in mind of an empress, a woman he might feel honoured to serve. His first thought upon seeing her was that Scaevola was the luckiest dog this side of the Tiber.
As for her hair... He’d seen red hair before, of course, though nothing quite so resplendent. If he didn’t know better he would have thought she was Caledonian. Trailing over a bosom that had raised his temperature by a few more painful degrees, it had looked like some kind of lustrous dawn-kissed waterfall, rippling with amber lights. He’d been acutely aware of her womanly figure, too, all the curves and contours barely disguised by a tight-fitting, silken stola, though he’d tried his hardest not to look, losing himself in the depths of her luminous blue-green eyes instead while he’d tried to pull himself back together. Surely no more than a minute could have passed while he’d simply stood and stared, though it had been long enough for her to come to a mistaken assumption about his identity.
What on earth had caused her to jump to such a ludicrous conclusion? Annoyance warred with self-recrimination. She might have asked who he was before simply assuming! But then it had been an easy mistake, especially for someone who didn’t know anything about her betrothed, as she clearly didn’t. And of course she’d assumed that the man who’d come to greet her, not to mention one who’d stared at her quite so openly, was the man she was going to marry! It had been a natural misunderstanding, though one that might have been avoided if only he’d introduced himself sooner. If only he hadn’t been rendered temporarily speechless at the sight of her. Now he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, himself or Scaevola, but it was no wonder she’d looked so flushed and self-conscious. He could hardly have behaved any more inappropriately!
Perhaps that explained why he’d felt unable to refuse when she’d asked to march alongside him. Granting such a request was against protocol, not to mention his own better judgement, but he’d agreed anyway, distracted by the mention of her legs and the realisation that he wanted, very much, to see them. When she’d tugged her stola up around her calves he’d felt an almost overpowering urge to glance downwards. Besides, he’d been impressed by the fact that she hadn’t simply run away after her mistake. Embarrassed though she’d been, she’d stayed anyway, asking her questions about Scaevola with an air of quiet determination. Clearly she was no shy and retiring Roman maiden, even if he’d been unable to give her the answers she’d wanted. Even his attempt at consolation had failed. Damn it all, he knew how to address a whole cohort of soldiers, to send men into battle when necessary, but he’d been unable to offer comfort to one woman!
He quickened the marching pace, muttering a series of increasingly vehement denunciations against Lucius Scaevola under his breath. He was the one who ought to have come to greet her—she was his bride, after all! Albeit an unwanted one, if the look on that good-for-nothing’s face as they’d passed on the steps of the Legate’s villa that morning had been anything to go by. Nerva himself had looked none too pleased either when Marius entered his office a few moments later, his usually phlegmatic expression tense and agitated, as if he’d just been arguing.
‘You summoned me, sir?’ Briefly, he’d wondered if he ought to have waited outside, but Nerva had beckoned him forward with a wave.
‘Ah, Marius, a man of sense at last! Come in, I need your help. That boy is taking years off my life.’
‘Whatever you need, sir.’
‘What I need is a drink.’ Nerva had poured two cupfuls of wine and then given him a shrewd look. ‘You’ll have gathered by now that Scaevola wasn’t posted here by accident. His father is an acquaintance in the Senate and he asked for a favour.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Marius had nodded discreetly. He’d already guessed as much. It wasn’t uncommon for rich sons to be made Tribunes in the army, doing a few years of military service before joining the Senate, though Nerva’s tone made it sound as if, in this case, it had been more of a punishment.
‘His father wanted Scaevola out of Rome and out of trouble for a while.’ Nerva had dropped into the chair behind his desk with a sigh. ‘Only trouble found him before he ever reached us, it seems. You might recall that he was late arriving? Well, it appears that he broke his journey in Lindum for a week or so, tallying up a considerable gambling debt in the local taverns. Fortunately for him, the entire debt was bought up by the tavern owner. Unfortunately for him, he still couldn’t pay.’
‘Surely Scaevola’s family can afford it, sir?’
‘I get the impression that his father thinks he’s already paid more than enough. I’ll send a message to Rome, but it won’t get there in time.’
‘In time for what, sir?’
Nerva’s expression had d
arkened. ‘It would appear that the tavern owner is a cleverer man than our Lucius. He’s an important man in Lindum, too, one of its wealthiest citizens with political ambitions to boot. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s after a brother-in-law in the Senate.’
‘A brother-in-law?’
‘Quite.’ Nerva had tossed back the last of his wine with a flourish. ‘The tavern owner offered his sister as a bride in exchange for discharge of the debt and Scaevola agreed, though needless to say he’s not happy about it. In any case, the woman’s on her way here now. A messenger arrived last night. She ought to be arriving today.’
‘But Scaevola arrived a month ago. Why didn’t he mention it before?’
‘Doubtless he thought that out of sight was out of mind, but if you’re asking me to explain what goes on in his head then I can’t. He’s a disgrace to the army and to Rome. It’s absurd that a man like that can be a tribune while you—’ Nerva had stopped mid-sentence. ‘Forgive me, Marius, that was tactless of me.’
‘It’s only the truth, sir.’ He’d pulled his shoulders back purposively. ‘My father’s dishonour is mine, too. It’s only right that I pay for it.’
‘You’ve already done more than enough. If it were up to me, you’d be a senior centurion by now. There’s not a finer soldier in the whole Roman army.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Which is why I’m trusting you to go and meet the woman. We need to do the right thing, but Scaevola is too reckless. Unless he finds another way to clear the debt then she’s his only way out of trouble, but I can’t trust him not to do something stupid. Meet her on the road, bring her here and then we’ll see if we can’t find a way to resolve this situation...’
So that was what he was doing there, Marius thought bitterly, marching his men through Carvetti territory—friendly territory, at least—in order to clear up another man’s mess. It had seemed an easy enough mission at first, but now his peace of mind was shattered and not simply because she was arguably the most desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The worst of it was that she was clearly anxious, too, and with good reason. He wouldn’t wish a spiteful, mean-spirited youth like Scaevola on any woman, let alone her... The very thought brought him to a standstill.
‘We’ll stop here for a while.’ He raised a hand, bringing the column to a halt. ‘Tell the men to get something to eat.’
‘Already, sir?’ Pulex looked faintly surprised. ‘Shall I send out some scouts?’
‘No.’ He frowned at his own order. Usually that would be the first thing he’d do, but today his priorities seemed to have shifted. ‘Post sentries, but keep the men here as protection.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He waited for Pulex to walk away before turning his attention back to the carriage. Scaevola’s bride was already climbing down, accompanied by a girl of around fifteen with waist-length black hair, a winsome face and the expression of a startled deer—a slave or a maid most likely. Seconds later, another smaller figure followed them, a child with flaming red hair around a face that looked strikingly familiar, an almost identical miniature of the one he’d seen earlier. He felt a jolt of surprise, his feet moving before he’d even ordered them to.
Nerva hadn’t mentioned anything about a child.
‘Centurion?’ The woman regarded him steadily as he approached. She seemed to have recovered from her earlier distress, though there was a distinct wariness in her manner now.
‘Lady.’ He was irritated by how stern his voice sounded, but he needed an explanation at least.
‘This is my maidservant, Porcia...’ she gestured to the black-haired girl before placing her hands firmly on the child’s shoulders ‘...and this is my daughter, Julia.’
‘Daughter?’
‘Yes.’ Her gaze flickered slightly. ‘Is that a problem, Centurion?’
He didn’t answer for a few moments. Was it a problem? Not for him, but Scaevola was another matter. Was this something else the fool hadn’t bothered to tell Nerva or didn’t he know himself? Marius had the discomforting suspicion that it was more likely the latter. He wouldn’t be pleased, that much was certain... He was still considering what to say when he noticed the girl’s frightened expression.
‘It’s not a problem at all, lady.’ He crouched down, bringing his face level with the child’s. ‘I just wasn’t aware that we had such an important guest travelling with us. Pardon my neglect. Are you enjoying the journey?’
‘No.’ The girl pressed her cheek against her mother’s skirt. ‘It’s too long.’
‘It is.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘When I first came to Britannia I thought the road north would never end, but it’s a great honour to come here. Not many Romans ever get to see the great wall. Even our new Emperor hasn’t yet. You’re very lucky.’
The girl smiled shyly and then leaned forward, studying his face with a serious expression. ‘Are you my new father?’
‘Me?’ The words almost made him tumble backwards in surprise. Apparently both mother and daughter had a knack for asking difficult questions. ‘No, my name’s Marius.’
‘I’m Julia.’
‘That’s pretty. You know our new Empress has the same name. Should I call you Empress, too?’
She giggled and he inclined his head with a feeling of satisfaction. At least he’d made someone feel better. ‘But now you need to stretch your legs and eat. We have tack biscuits and dried bacon.’
‘Perhaps I can offer something else?’
The woman sounded different all of a sudden and he looked up, surprised to find that she was smiling as well. It made her look even more alluring and his sense of satisfaction increased tenfold.
‘We have olives and bread, baked fresh in Vindomora yesterday.’
‘That sounds delicious.’ He stood up to face her again. ‘I haven’t had olives for a month.’
‘Then we’d be happy to share, wouldn’t we, Julia?’
The girl nodded and skipped happily away, following the maidservant around the back of the carriage.
‘You have a good manner with children.’ The woman was still smiling at him. ‘Do you have many of your own?’
‘None.’ He stifled a bark of laughter at the very suggestion. ‘But I like children. They see the world in a different way to adults.’
‘Maybe in a better way.’ Her face clouded for a moment and then cleared again as Porcia and Julia came back with a basket, spreading a blanket over the ground beside them. ‘Will you join us?’
Marius threw a quick glance over his shoulder towards his legionaries. There would be comments later if he sat down to eat with a woman. Not in his hearing, perhaps, but it didn’t take long for gossip to spread round a camp. He wasn’t known for being sociable at the best of times, especially with women. But surely there was no harm in a short respite...
‘I won’t ask any more awkward questions, I promise.’
The obvious embarrassment in her voice decided him. Clearly she thought it was her earlier behaviour making him hesitate and he felt the strange need to reassure her.
‘Then I’d be glad to, lady.’
‘Livia.’ She sat down on the blanket, curling her legs up beside her and tucking her stola beneath. ‘Mother of the Empress Julia.’
‘Livia,’ he repeated. He liked the name, not to mention the way her tongue flicked to the front of her mouth as she pronounced it. ‘Then you may call me Marius.’
Her lips curved again and he crouched down on his haunches beside her. That seemed a reasonable compromise. He wasn’t sitting down, not exactly, and if anyone asked—not that anyone beside Pulex would dare—he could say that they’d simply been discussing the journey.
‘She seems like a good child.’ He gestured towards the girl, leaping and dancing around the moorland now like an animal newly released from a cage.
‘She is.’
‘How
old?’
‘Four years last autumn.’
‘You’re a widow?’
‘As opposed to?’ Her smile vanished and he winced at his own tactlessness.
‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to imply anything else.’
She gave him a long look and then shrugged. ‘It’s all right. At my age I suppose I could just as easily have been divorced.’
He lifted an eyebrow at the words. A lady didn’t usually mention her age, let alone the possibility of divorce. The laws around marriage had been tightened considerably over recent years, so that a man could no longer readily divorce his wife unless he could prove adultery, but for some reason he didn’t want to think about that.
‘Have you been widowed long?’
‘Two months.’
‘Only two?’
He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. If Scaevola had arrived in Coria a month ago and the betrothal had been arranged before he’d left Lindum then it meant that her brother must have betrothed her within weeks of her husband’s death.
‘Only two.’ She repeated the words quietly, though with a distinct edge of bitterness.
He frowned at the implication. Bad enough that she was being sent to marry Scaevola, but to betroth her while she was still in mourning... He felt a flicker of anger towards the unseen brother. What kind of man would do such a thing?
‘You looked surprised when you saw Julia.’ She sounded anxious this time. ‘Weren’t you expecting her?’
He hesitated briefly and then shook his head. So much for not asking awkward questions...
‘No, but I only received my orders this morning. Perhaps it was simply an oversight.’
‘It wasn’t.’ She clasped her hands together in her lap with an air of conviction. ‘My brother must not have mentioned her.’
‘I understand it was your brother who arranged the betrothal.’ He wondered what on earth was compelling him to pursue the subject.
‘Yes.’ She gave a bleak-sounding laugh. ‘He knows an opportunity when he sees one. But I suppose there’s no turning back now...’
The Warrior's Bride Prize Page 3
