Aquilus whipped around. His feet pounded against the fallen leaves. He yanked Wryn out of Cedric’s arms. “Don’t touch my sons!”
Wryn screamed and flailed his legs.
Cedric looked from the screaming babe, to Aquilus, to her. He cocked his head and mouthed, later?
She’d prefer if all the men in the world disappeared for a month so she could collect her churning wits, but she nodded.
Then Cedric left and the time had come for her to have her answer. She strode up to Aquilus and took the screaming Wryn out of his arms.
Aquilus didn’t protest overmuch.
“So, what will it be, Aquilus? Are you taking a post in Camulodunum?”
“I can’t just take a post in Britannia. For career advancement, I need to spend time in Rome and the Germania trade situation is shaping up to be monumental.”
The Germania trade situation he’d chosen to watch rather than see his own sons born. “What about me? I can’t even have a sheep farm in Rome.”
“What by Pollux is it about sheep?” He struck a wheat plant and the stalk broke. “You were always ranting about them a year ago. Buy some wool if you want it so bad.”
“That’s not the point.” She clutched Wryn. “A sheep farm is my dream and you should understand that.”
“Pardon me if I find the fate of provinces a slightly more pressing need than a few dirty sheep.” He snapped another wheat stalk between his fingers, wasting her precious grain. “I’m not taking a post in Britannia.”
“May you enjoy your empty villa in Rome then and never regret abandoning your sons, because if you leave, I’m marrying Cedric.” She hooked one thumb in her belt.
“You are not marrying that filthy barbarian.” Anger filled his voice.
“Give me a reason not to.”
Aquilus glanced at the sun. “I have to be in the Camulodunum garrison arranging for the next day’s sea travel by morning light. Now you have about two more moments to come up with a reasonable request to ease the apparently great unpleasantness of marriage to me, then we’re saddling up horses and leaving.”
“What do you mean reasonable request?” She slid Wryn to the ground. “And I resent your tone.”
He moved his still smoldering gaze to her. “A nurse to aid you with the children since you’re leaving your familia? Arrangements for a less taxing travel route to Rome than sailing the Rhine with me and going overland across the Apennines mountains? I have to stop by the native villages on the way for the trade plan. It’s a beautiful route, but not the easiest way to journey with small children.”
“Why would I even want those things?” She grabbed the wheat stalk Aquilus had broken and tossed onto the dirt. “I planted and tended three fields this year. I’m not some weak Roman woman who’s going to die because she had to get out of her litter and walk a mile. And I’m not going to be your wife unless you take a post in Britannia.”
Aquilus grunted. “That’s not happening.”
The pensive scent of apples hung in the air and the sun made patterns on the ground as he ruined the most beautiful autumn day. She stiffened her back, jaw clenching. “Very well. I’ll go tend my dirty sheep with my filthy barbarian.”
He looked at her. “So be it. You don’t wish for the civility of talk. Neither did Romulus.” Turning on his heel, Aquilus marched away.
She watched his stubborn back disappear. Romulus had founded Rome. Had he done anything else?
Aquilus had left. Ness breathed one sigh of relief and another of regret when she heard it from Mailmura, who had heard it from a village boy, who had seen Aquilus and the soldiers with him pack up their tents.
Full water jars bore down on her arms, as heavy as sin. She clamped her jaw tighter. He could take his divorce and go marry some Roman woman used to dealing with work-obsessed, tyrannical men. Her heart clenched.
Who would he marry? One of those girls from Bernice’s house, the ones dying to sink their nails into the Paterculi legacy? Someone else touching his Mediterranean skin, brushing her lips against his, pressing against the armor at his chest in a welcome home. Other children bearing the black waves of his hair.
She dug her teeth into her lower lip to hold back the tears. Would he even wish to see his sons through the years? No, he’d not want his precious political career tainted by sons bearing the blood of ‘filthy Celts.’
Hoisting the jars higher, Ness continued down the path. The fall leaves crackled beneath her feet.
“Ness.”
Turning, she saw Cedric.
Dirt dulled the bright plaids of his clothes and the smell indicated he’d been mucking horses’ stalls. An unspoken question hung in the crisp air. He paused a pace away from her. “Still marrying me tomorrow?”
She startled. That was right. They’d planned to wed tomorrow. Then Aquilus had come.
“Those first months after I lost everything, I thought I’d never love again. You made it possible. You made me laugh again, love again. I love you, Ness.” He fixed his gaze on her as if he feared she’d run out.
Run? She had nowhere to run. Aquilus was gone; she’d assured that by her stubborn words yesterday. She looked up at Cedric, at the man she’d marry after another day’s dawn.
His sleeveless jerkin revealed the jagged scar on his arm that she’d made with her arrow. Those large hands had brushed horses with her, held a fishing spear, and vied against her in all the festival games.
That rugged face of his, covered with bruises at present, was the face she intended to wake up to every morning for the rest of her days.
“Wake up.” A shrill voice penetrated Ness’ sleep, but it wasn’t a babe’s cry, so she rolled deeper into her blanket.
“You have to wake up now!” Isobel grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
Ness opened one eye wide enough to note that her hair was a tangled mess and the long tunic she wore had ridden up past her knees. “I’m getting married in the morn. Let me sleep.”
Mother entered the annex. “Ness, you need to go outside, now.” Her hands trembled.
Ness threw her bare feet onto the cold ground. “What is it?”
“Soldiers.” Mother’s voice lingered in the dimness.
“Vocula?” Ness’ breath made mist as she whispered the word.
“I don’t know.”
Tugging a tunic dress over her head and slipping her feet into leather boots, she moved toward Mother. She lay a hand on Mother’s shoulder. “Father’s a good chief. The Romans wouldn’t do anything.”
Then again, Romans had conquered Britain without provocation.
In the main house, Father stood, knife at his belt, blocking the door with his body. Worry mounted his features.
Her heart beat in her throat. She looked past him to the darkness beyond.
A decurion, a short man with hairy arms, thrust his head through the entrance. He stabbed a thick finger in her direction. “Where’s Domina Paterculi?”
Ness jumped and her foot clattered against a pail. She glanced at Father. He looked as puzzled as she.
“Where is she?”
“Here, I guess.” What did Vocula care about the Paterculis? Through the shadows outside, she spied the shapes of frightened villagers gathering behind trees.
The decurion blinked. He twisted to a taller soldier behind. “The tribune married a Celt?”
In the darkness, the tall man shrugged. “Are you sure he said wife, not concubine?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” The decurion turned to her. He tried to bow, but his muscles proved more large than flexible. “I am Decurion Alphus Originalus and your husband sent me to escort you to Camulodunum.”
She blinked. “Aquilus sent you?”
The decurion frowned. “We are in some hurry, Domina.”
Relief surged through her. All that fright for nothing. These soldiers hadn’t come to wreak Vocula’s vengeance. “I spoke with Aquilus a day ago about our ‘marriage.’ Let him come to me if he wants more talk.”
Th
e decurion spread his wide nostrils.
She tapped her foot against the ground. “May I go back to bed now?”
The decurion crossed his arms. “The tribune’s orders were for you to come.”
The flames of the hearth fire cast weird shadows in the house as the midnight breeze whipped through the door. Ness held herself tall. “My apologies for his disappointment then.”
The decurion rested one hand on his sword. With his other, he motioned behind him. “Orders are orders. You’re getting on that horse if I have to throw you over the saddle horns.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I can tie you to the back if you’d prefer.”
She glanced sideways at Father. By now, the whole village had likely heard the commotion and gathered in the shadows. Little good that would do. One Roman towered as strong as a thousand when the law dictated that striking a Roman soldier meant death.
What kind of wretched gambol was this? If Aquilus had come, she’d have told him in no uncertain terms that she refused to go with him, but this wretched decurion couldn’t think beyond tribune’s orders.
Taking a step forward, the decurion grabbed her arm.
She threw her head high. “Don’t lay a finger on me, unless you want to explain it to your tribune.”
Turning crimson, the decurion withdrew his hand.
“I will make preparation. You may wait there.” She pointed outside, beyond the house’s light.
“We will be waiting, Domina,” the decurion said through gritted teeth.
Grabbing the door, she tried to shove it closed. The decurion jammed his foot in the doorway.
She turned to face her family. Pandemonium greeted her.
Behind her, Isobel whitened as she tried to jounce two screaming babes that blasted decurion had awoken. Mother wrung her hands and looked at Father. “You can’t let them take her.”
In the darkness, Father hardened his jaw. “What would you have me do? We’ve trouble with Vocula already. If I cross the tribune, he could raze the village. He threatened as much only two days ago.”
Ness rolled her eyes. Aquilus might have said that, but he didn’t mean it. He had far too many Stoic principles to ever commit such injustice.
“But what if he hurts her?” Mother’s chest heaved with tears.
Father looked like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders as he shook his head. “How do I weigh that against the fate of the village?”
As a wave of tears and baby wails assailed her, Ness groaned. Her family acted as if Legate Vocula had sent an invading force against the village. This was only Aquilus. She could handle Aquilus. “Listen,” Ness raised her voice, “I’m going. I’ll be back in two days. Take care of my fields for me.”
Catching up a satchel of food, she glanced at her sons. Traveling with them would be misery, but they were too young to leave.
From the doorway, the decurion coughed. “You’re bringing his sons as well.”
She whipped around. “I think I’ll make that decision.”
“Tribune’s orders.” The decurion crossed his arms and looked smug.
Aquilus had mentioned the twins? Blood drained from her face. As Father had said months ago, Aquilus would want his heirs. Her lungs urged her to scream, but she had no choice except to comply.
A quarter of an hour later, she stood outside, strapping the babes into a woven carrying saddle and ignoring the decurion’s repeated cries to hurry. In a tight circle behind the decurion, ten other soldiers stood, hands on their weapons as their dark-eyed gazes darted around the shadows just beyond the circle.
In those shadows, she noted Mailmura’s graying head and the whimper of Fiona’s babe.
From the darkness behind her, a hand touched her shoulder.
Turning, she saw Cedric. Her throat constricted. The freezing midnight wind tore at her hair. Behind her, a sword clanked. She clutched at Cedric.
He clenched his arms around her, his hold so tight.
Her heart pounded furiously anyway. Cold chills slid down her arms like winter sleet and her breaths raced over each other, threatening to split her chest in two. What would she do if Aquilus demanded the children? What would she do?
“Cursed Roman pig.” Cedric’s angry breath blew across her ear. “Run away with me. We can flee so far to the north, Rome won’t even have put a name to the spot.”
“Don’t speak lunacy. You’d lose your farm. Besides, the responsible thing to do is go talk to him one more time.” She forced her breathing to slow. Beyond yanking them out of Cedric’s reach, Aquilus hadn’t shown any great interest in the twins. Everything would work out.
Once she got rid of this cursed decurion and his sycophantic little army, she’d see Aquilus, reiterate her decision not to leave Britain, and that would finish it.
She twisted her cloak tighter around her, blocking the cold air. Yes, her largest problem was wasting valuable harvest days. She glanced up at Cedric. “I asked my father to harvest my fields if I get delayed.”
Cedric didn’t respond. Reaching toward the horse, he stroked each boy’s mop of hair and listened as their frightened whimpers settled into sleepy yawns. “Ness.”
The moonlight played on the ground, lending a surreal feel to the night air. His voice caught. “I wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“The reason I chose Elena over you—”
She wanted to slam her hands over her ears. “How is this relevant?”
“The reason I never asked you that first time you loved me was because I was ashamed. You were strong, capable, learned in Celtic lore and Roman ways. I didn’t want a girl that was better than me.”
She felt her eyes widen.
“Then this time, when you came back and Elena… and she had passed on, I realized I needed your strength and that you made me stronger.” Cedric brushed his hand across her cheek, his long fingers touching the same place Aquilus’ dark ones had.
“Time to go,” the decurion bawled. Turning to the taller soldier, he curled his thick lips. “She won’t be the tribune’s wife much longer acting like that.”
The tall soldier swung up on his horse. “Better question is why he let that Celt live acting like that with his wife.”
Cedric wrapped his arms around her again, crushing her to himself. Her head against his shoulder, she smelled the scent of Britain wheat and horses in his fierce embrace.
She met his gaze, but she couldn’t read his eyes. “Two days.” She grabbed the saddle’s pommel.
His hands spanned her waist as he boosted her up. “I’d wait years for you.”
Chapter 13
Trees covered the trail to Camulodunum. Now that the sun had finally risen, the brilliant hues of the foliage above painted a path along the leaves. Ness tugged the horse’s reins, bringing him to a halt.
“No, we are absolutely not halting again.” The decurion dug his heels into his sturdy steed.
Ness shrugged. “You think the tribune would want his sons ill-cared for on the journey?” She swung down from the saddle for the ninth time. The twins had eaten an hour ago, but why waste a perfectly good opportunity to annoy Aquilus’ henchmen?
The decurion scowled but circled his horse back. “The more I consider it, the less I resent that enlisted soldiers aren’t allowed to marry.”
The journey’s halt passed much too quickly, and Eric and Wryn protested remounting the horse. As the day progressed, the sun grew hotter, her sons more frustrated, and her patience thinner.
Hours later, as shadows fell, they rode under the Camuludonum garrison’s archway. Ness twisted back and looked toward the horizon. The massive iron gate creaked as the legionaries swung it shut. With a clank, a soldier let the heavy bar fall into place, locking the gate.
Her head pounded from the twins’ last three hours of complaining and her legs ached. She’d have married today. Instead of dancing in the village green and partaking of the wedding feast, she’d ridden dust-caked on th
e back of a horse as Eric slammed his fist against her. To make matters worse, she also enjoyed a pounding headache from a missed night’s sleep.
Could Aquilus have conceived a way to make this meeting more unpleasant? What had she’d been thinking saying she’d go back to him if he stayed in Camulodunum? Only two days since he’d arrived back in her life and already the man drove her insane. She dug her heels into the horse and it trotted up to a private house adjoining the garrison.
“You can stay there.” The decurion pointed to the building.
Ness eyed the place as the ache pulsed through her head. Just last month the twins had stopped waking her every hour through the night and now Aquilus made her lose another night’s sleep? “Where is your tribune?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.” She jumped off the horse and threw the reins to the soldier.
The decurion grit his teeth, but he took her horse’s reins.
Grabbing Eric and Wryn, who felt even heavier asleep than awake, she marched up to the house. A middle-aged woman with a responsible air opened the door. The woman smiled at the babes. “Tribune Paterculi’s wife?”
Ness considered a violent denial, but Eric and Wryn grew heavier by the moment. She nodded.
“Domina.” The woman inclined her head.
“Do you know where the tribune is?” Ness rubbed her pounding forehead. Her stomach growled.
The woman reached for the twins. “No, deary, but I’ll take the little ‘uns and you can go find him.”
The house spread out in a familiar pattern behind the woman. She’d stayed at this garrison in just such a house for two days after they first married while they waited for a ship. Ness tightened her chest and held her breath.
Reminiscing would only bring more pain. She needed to endure this last meeting with Aquilus and whatever harsh words he intended to mete out then return to her village for harvest. Pressing a kiss on Eric then Wryn’s forehead, she handed the boys to the woman.
Outside, the moonlight illuminated the decurion, tapping his slab of a foot and scowling.
She crossed to the fence that he leaned on. “Did you find Aquilus?”
For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1) Page 18
