The Warrior's Bride Prize

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘So when you said that Scaevola staked me, you meant all of me?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was clipped, as if he were angry.

  ‘I thought...’

  ‘I know what you thought.’ He was definitely angry. ‘But as I said, I wanted to help. You said that you couldn’t go back to your brother and that you had no money to be independent. You also said that you didn’t want to marry Scaevola. If you’ve changed your mind about either of those things, then you’re free to do as you please. I’m only offering you an alternative. It might not be the same as freedom, but it’s the best I can offer.’

  She stared at him in wonderment. He could hardly have looked or sounded any less like a suitor. In fact, it was hard to believe he was the same man who’d kissed her so passionately the night before. His expression was almost fierce, his dark eyes gleaming like obsidian stones in the half-darkness, as if she really had offended him this time, which given the nature of her assumption was a reasonable response.

  She seemed to have made a habit of mistaking and misjudging him. But then the very last thing she’d expected was for him to propose! True, there had been an undeniable physical attraction between them from the start and she believed that he was honourable enough to want to rescue her—and surely he’d played the game of his own free will!—but neither of them had ever mentioned feelings.

  Her heart seemed to stall in her chest. She knew why she preferred him to Scaevola, but why did he want to marry her? It made no sense. He’d said that he wanted to be Senior Centurion. Winning her away from a tribune could only damage his career prospects, so why had he gambled? Was it because he’d felt honour-bound after their kiss—the kiss that she’d asked for? Had she trapped him somehow? Or was it possible that he might care for her, too?

  On the other hand, what did it matter why he was asking her to marry him? The reasons were surely irrelevant. All that mattered was that he was prepared to save her from a life with Scaevola. Even if he was acting out of a sense of honour, how could she say no? She ought to grasp at the opportunity. Still, she wanted to know...

  ‘How much did you bet?’

  She asked the question lightly, hoping that the amount he’d risked would tell her something about his feelings, but his frown only deepened.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I won.’

  ‘I’d still like to know.’

  ‘Some money...and this.’ He gestured towards his gladius. ‘It belonged to my father.’

  ‘Oh... May I?’ He nodded and she reached out, curling her fingers gently around the hilt. ‘It looks valuable.’

  ‘It is.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It’s also the sword of a man who brought dishonour on his family, who was accused of cowardice, disobeying orders and inciting mutiny. Before you make a decision, you ought to know that Varro isn’t a name most people would choose to associate themselves with.’

  She lifted her head to look at him, her fingers tightening around the hilt. He was telling her something painful, she realised, something important about himself before she gave him an answer. He was telling her about his family history under the assumption that there was nothing out of the ordinary about hers. Ironically, he was giving her a chance to say no. Surely she owed him the same? It was only fair that she told him about her mother, too.

  ‘In that case, there’s something I ought to tell you as well.’

  ‘I can’t offer you riches, Livia.’ He seemed to not hear her. ‘But I’ll be a good husband. A good father, too.’

  She caught her breath at the words. A good father. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted most when she’d come north, a good father for her daughter? Providing a stable home for Julia was the most important thing of all. How could she risk telling Marius anything that might jeopardise that? After all, he was a Roman soldier facing a potential Caledonian rebellion. What if she told him about her heritage and he was horrified?

  No, she decided, now was hardly the time to complicate matters with the truth. Besides, he hadn’t seemed to care about her being half-Briton, and as for her mother’s tribe and the rest of it...well, she could tell him all that after they were married...when she was ready...or perhaps never... Marius didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d tolerate blackmail, but surely there’d be no reason for Tarquinius to blackmail a centurion either. Her secret would be safe. Even if it felt wrong not to tell Marius, as if she were misjudging him again.

  Yet, ironically, she wanted to tell him the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of her mother or her heritage. No matter how often Tarquinius had denounced her, she was still proud of her mother, a woman whose warmth and vibrancy had shone like a beacon in her early life. She could never be ashamed of anything connected with her. She wanted to tell Marius about her, to be as honest with him as he was being with her, but the habit of secrecy was so strong that she didn’t know where to start.

  ‘If you need time to consider...’

  He seemed to interpret her silence as a refusal, starting to move backwards, but she tightened her grip on his gladius convulsively, stopping him from leaving.

  ‘No. There’s nothing to consider. I don’t care about your name, Marius. I don’t care about your father’s dishonour. If you’ll have me, then I’d be honoured to marry you.’

  Chapter Twelve

  The door to Nerva’s office was open. Which was a good thing, Marius thought, since his senses were so addled he might otherwise have walked straight into it. He’d just asked Livia to marry him and she’d accepted, though her exact words had taken him by surprise. She’d be honoured to marry him? Honoured? No one had been honoured to be connected with him since...ever. The very word sounded bizarre. He’d wanted to catch her up in his arms right then and there, but he’d felt as stunned as if he’d just been hit over the head.

  So had she, apparently. He’d started his proposal off badly, almost disastrously, leading her to think first that he wanted money, then that he only wanted to sleep with her, though when he’d finally told her the truth she’d seemed equally shocked. It had taken her a few minutes to answer, long enough for him to wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake after all.

  Then she’d said yes, though there hadn’t been time for him to say anything in response. Or if there had been, he’d been too dumbstruck to use it. He had a vague memory of Hermenia entering the courtyard a few seconds later, of Livia saying something that had made her smile, albeit somewhat over-brightly, and then of the two women leaving together.

  At the last moment, Livia had looked back over her shoulder and he’d immediately regretted not having seized the opportunity to kiss her again. If his thoughts hadn’t been in so much turmoil, then he would have. He would have sealed their betrothal with a kiss like the one they’d shared the previous night, a real kiss, not a chaste peck on the cheek, only this time one that didn’t have to be clandestine. Because she was going to be his wife.

  He felt a soaring sense of elation. She’d chosen him. Him, despite what he’d told her about his father, despite the fact that he had no money and probably not much of a future now either—not that the last part was necessarily true. He hadn’t surrendered his ambition. He still intended to win his promotion, even if he’d probably just made it a hundred times harder for himself with Scaevola as an enemy, only now he was going to achieve it with a wife at his side.

  Livia. A woman he liked and admired, whom he’d desired from the first moment he’d seen her, who preferred him to a tribune. Despite everything, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

  ‘Sir.’ He walked up to the Legate’s desk with a spring in his step.

  ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself.’ Nerva’s voice was the one he normally reserved for formal occasions, distant and impersonal. ‘Can I assume that you were successful in your suit?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She’s agreed to marry me, sir.’

  ‘I see.’ The Legate slammed the tablet of wax he w
as holding down with a thud. ‘So, to be clear, after I dismissed you both last night, you and Scaevola took it into your heads to start gambling?’

  ‘It wasn’t intentional, but, yes, sir, something like that.’

  ‘I’ve just spoken to Pulex. His story matches yours.’

  ‘Didn’t you believe me, sir?’

  ‘Of course I believed you,’ Nerva snapped, ‘but if I’m going to make a report—and I’m going to have to make a report—I need to have witnesses. Fortunately, Pulex confirms everything you said when you dragged me out of bed so early this morning. No doubt Arvina and Drusus will do the same. I only have one question.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘What the hell were you thinking, gambling over a woman?’

  Marius gave a small shrug. At that moment, it was just about the only answer he could think of. ‘I believe we’d both drunk a fair amount, sir. The game got out of hand.’

  ‘I’d have to agree. You bet everything you owned on a game of chance! Do I need to tell you how reckless that was?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Or how impulsive?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Or how much like your father?’

  Marius jutted his chin out. ‘I’m not my father...sir.’

  ‘No? You know, there are times when I look at you and it’s like I’m looking at him again. You’re so similar. He was my dear friend and a good man, but he had a temper and he flouted authority. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of doing so, sir.’

  ‘Pulex says you gambled your sword. His sword.’

  ‘As you said, sir, I was being reckless. My stake wasn’t high enough and it’s the most valuable item I own.’

  ‘The most precious, too, I’ll wager.’ Nerva’s eyes narrowed. ‘You told me once that you carry it as a reminder so that you never forget your purpose in life—to redeem your family honour. That was what you wanted most, or so you told me.’

  ‘It still is.’

  ‘Yet you risked your sword, the very symbol of your family honour, in a game of chance? Why? Are you in love with her?’

  Marius clamped his brows together, his mind instinctively shying away from the idea. Love wasn’t an emotion he recognised, not any more. He had personal attachments—to Nerva, to Hermenia, even to Pulex. He cared about them all, but love? No, he hadn’t loved anyone since his father, and as for his father...

  He felt a familiar tightness in his throat. What did it matter what he’d felt for his father? If his father had loved him, then he wouldn’t have behaved in the way that he had. He wouldn’t have put himself and his opinions ahead of family honour. He wouldn’t have come home in disgrace and then simply wasted away, leaving his son all alone in the world.

  No, he could honestly say that love hadn’t entered into his thoughts at all, although he could see why Nerva might think so. In some ways it was the only answer that made sense. Why had he been prepared to gamble so much if he wasn’t in love with Livia? Could he be in love with her? Was he capable of it? The very idea made him uncomfortable. His love for his father had brought him only pain and betrayal. What if the same thing happened with Livia?

  ‘Tell me the truth, Marius.’ Nerva steepled his fingers beneath his chin. ‘You haven’t been yourself since she arrived and now this.’

  ‘I only want to help her, sir.’ The answer rang true to his own ears, even if it didn’t seem quite enough either. ‘She doesn’t want to marry Scaevola.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you have to marry her yourself instead! If that’s all you’re worried about, then send her back to her brother. Don’t shackle yourself.’

  ‘It’s not shackling.’ He resented the word. ‘But she can’t go back to Lindum. She already told me as much. There’s no other choice.’

  ‘So you’re really prepared to marry a woman whose dowry’s already been spent by another man?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I am.’

  Nerva sighed heavily. ‘What makes you responsible for her, Marius?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered honestly. ‘It’s just a matter of honour.’

  ‘Honour...’ Nerva ran a hand through his hair with a grunt. ‘Perhaps I should have expected something like this eventually, but you’ve always been a model soldier... But are you sure this isn’t just about revenge?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘About getting back at the class of men who condemned your father? Scaevola’s one of them, after all.’

  Marius took a moment to answer, offended by the suggestion, as if that were all his behaviour was, a rebellion against Rome, against Scaevola and all the other Tribunes who’d condemned his father. No. Even if he didn’t know what his feelings for Livia were, they were more than that.

  ‘It has nothing to do with revenge, sir.’

  Nerva made a sceptical expression. ‘Very well, if you’re certain this is what you want?’

  He nodded. He was certain.

  ‘All right, on your head be it. Hermenia made all the wedding arrangements for this evening so the ceremony can still go ahead. In the meantime, I suggest you start packing.’

  ‘Packing?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve told Pulex to take over your duties for the foreseeable future.’

  Marius felt a painful lurch in his chest. ‘You’re relieving me of my command?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Nerva picked up his wax tablet again. ‘I’m simply giving you what you’ve wanted these past few weeks, a transfer to the wall. You want to find out what’s going on over there? Well, this is your chance.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ His spirits lifted again. ‘But I don’t understand. Why are you sending me now?’

  ‘Why?’ Nerva peered at him over the edge of the tablet. ‘Because after the ceremony, I think it’s a good idea for you and your new wife to get out of Coria and as far away from Lucius Scaevola as quickly as possible.’

  * * *

  Livia was already dressed and eating breakfast with Hermenia, Julia perched on her lap, when Marius entered the triclinium, his earlier elation somewhat muted.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ She sat bolt upright when she saw him, her face expectant and slightly anxious.

  ‘It’s all settled. With your permission, we’ll be married tonight.’

  ‘So soon?’ Her eyes widened a fraction, though other than that he couldn’t judge her response.

  ‘Would you prefer to delay?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated for another moment and then shook her head emphatically. ‘The sooner the better.’

  ‘Good.’

  He drew in a breath, wondering how to tell her about his new posting. It was something he ought to have expected, an understandable response from Nerva, though he only hoped Livia would understand that, as well as the rest of what he was about to ask her.

  ‘Under the circumstances, Nerva thinks it would be best if we left Coria for a while. He’s posting me to Cilurnum, one of the forts along the wall.’

  ‘Because of Scaevola?’

  He nodded. ‘Just until his temper’s cooled and the situation with your brother is resolved. Things might get unpleasant.’

  ‘Probably.’ Her face clouded at the mention of her brother and then cleared again suddenly. ‘So I’ll get to see the wall after all?’

  ‘It appears so.’

  ‘Do you hear that, Julia?’ Her smile widened as she looked down into her daughter’s face and then back up at him. ‘When do we leave?’

  He cleared his throat slightly louder than was necessary and threw an imploring look towards Hermenia.

  ‘Well now—’ the older woman took the cue at once ‘—I think we’ve eaten enough, don’t you, little one? Let’s go and find you something to wear for the ceremony tonight.’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Liv
ia frowned as Julia jumped down from her lap and Hermenia bustled her quickly out of the room.

  He cleared his throat a second time. Apparently there was no easy way to say it...

  ‘It would be better if the child stayed here.’

  ‘What?’ She jumped to her feet, her expression turning rigid with a look of horror. ‘No! She’s my daughter. She comes with me.’

  ‘Ordinarily I would agree...’

  ‘Even Tarquinius didn’t try to separate us!’

  ‘I’m not trying to separate you, but it would be safer if she stayed here.’

  The look of horror receded slightly, replaced by one of understanding. ‘You mean you really think there might be a Caledonian rebellion?’

  ‘I do. I hope that I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. Given a choice, I wouldn’t risk taking either of you, but I have orders from Nerva. We both have to go. Besides, if you stay here, I wouldn’t put it past Scaevola to try something.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘A month at the most.’

  ‘A month?’

  ‘I know it might seem like a long time...’

  ‘It is a long time!’ Blue-green eyes flashed and then faded again. ‘I can’t just abandon her here.’

  ‘You won’t be. Nerva’s already agreed that she can stay with him and Hermenia. They’ll take good care of her.’

  She gave him a long, penetrating look. ‘Do you truly think she’ll be safer here with Hermenia?’

  ‘Yes. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she could have a better protector in the whole Roman army.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  He held her gaze solemnly. ‘I do.’

  ‘All right.’ She bit her lip, her gaze drifting towards the door as if her thoughts were already elsewhere. ‘In that case, I need to go and explain to her.’

  ‘Of course.’ He raised a hand, staying her for a moment. ‘Then perhaps afterwards you’d like to visit the market with me? Both of you, that is.’