The woman shrugged and flopped on Ness’ bed. “As long as I get my fifty denarii a month.” Pulling a leg of mutton from her pocket, she put her big, not so clean feet on the sheets.
“My name’s Cornelia,” she said between sloppy mouthfuls.
Was discharging the woman worth the unpleasantness of speaking to Aquilus? No. Ness sighed. “You’ve got to be the worst nurse I’ve ever met.”
Flashes of metal breastplates and red plumes surrounded Ness in the midst of rocky crags. She looked at Aquilus who rode a few paces ahead, searching the heights above. Days now they had journeyed and, compared to trying to entertain two babes in the back of a cart, Rome sounded pleasant.
A lone wildcat shrieked from the heights of the mountain pass on the Via Belgica road. Above the path, a rock gave way and tumbled down the heights. The rock hit another, then another as the entire face of the cliff began to give way.
Cracking his whip, the driver sent the cart hurtling on. The horses’ legs twisted beneath them. With a wrenching creak, a wheel spiraled off the cart as the driver urged the cart on and rocks tumbled down behind them.
Hours later, they, with the entourage of ever-present soldiers, managed to hobble to the next garrison town. Worse, a light snow started to fall.
Aquilus looked up to the dark clouds hovering over the mountains. “This increases much and the pass will be impenetrable.”
She glanced at the garrison town. A stockade of pine timbers surrounded a shabby barracks. It didn’t even boast a market. Sharing a roof with dozens of unwashed men? Not her idea of pleasant and legionaries complained when babes screamed all night. “Get us some horses then.”
Still seated in the broken cart, she tugged another fur over Eric and Wryn. Cornelia snored in the back of the wagon, one leg stuck out of the furs at an awkward angle. She pulled another fur over Cornelia too.
Aquilus disappeared into the barracks. Scrambling up on the hard wagon seat, she looked across the barracks’ yard. An auxiliary soldier with the height and coloring of a Celt spoke to a peddler. Two thin children clung to the Celt.
“Can you lower the price?” The Celt looked desperate.
The wrinkled peddler crossed his arms. “Best salve in the province. Plenty of people would pay twice as much.”
The older of the two boys tugged on the peddler’s leg. “Mama’s sick. She needs medicine.”
“No.” The old man circled behind his massive pack.
The Celt turned and moved away with the boys.
She tracked them as she tapped her foot against the wagon board. The snow fell faster now. She scooted Eric and Wryn closer to the front where the driver’s seat could shield their heads.
The Celt with the children moved under the shelter of an awning. A perfectly serviceable cart stood there already hitched to horses!
Where was Aquilus on the rare occasion that one wanted him? A cold wind bearing the smell of snow whipped through her clothes as she waited.
Finally, he exited the barracks. The wind whipped his crimson coat back from his cuirass. The metal of his armor looked so cold in the dim winter sun. A shiver colder than the snow made her chest tremble. So many fights these last months. So many harsh words. A silent scream tore through her. She couldn’t take much more of this.
Hardening her heart, she forced the desperate thoughts away. She shook Cornelia awake, then jumped off the wagon and grabbed the twins.
Aquilus walked closer. “No rush. There are no horses or carts to be had.”
Arms too full to point, she indicated the hitched wagon with her chin. “I see a cart.”
“They’re saving that one for the Germanian governor.” Aquilus looked up to the mountains. “I made arrangements for us to break our journey here.”
The first snowflakes started to splatter against the garrison courtyard’s stone floor. Ness’ voice rose as she glanced overhead. “We’ll get snowed in for weeks.”
“I’m no happier about it than you.”
A wet flake hit Eric’s nose. He screamed. “Here,” Ness shoved the children toward a blinking Cornelia.
Her boots crunched on frozen dirt as she marched up to the Celt.
The man turned.
“I want that cart and horses.”
“It’s the governor’s.” The man rubbed his snow-dusted hands.
“We’ll send it back.”
The man’s children had left now, and he’d tugged on a breastplate. “Governor Lucius is due within the hour.”
She glanced up at the mountain pass. “Fifty denarii and the governor’s cart broke and both of his horses pulled a leg.” She pointed to the broken wheel on their own sad affair and their sorry beasts.
The man took a step back.
“Your wife….” or woman, probably woman, since legionaries couldn’t marry. Now if only that rule bound tribunes. “She needs the medicine a lot more than the governor needs to be on time for the Emperor’s social calendar.”
“Well.” The Celt chewed his lip.
“And they’re not our people, the Romans.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m a faithful soldier of the Germanian legion.”
“They’re still not our people, and you really want to be raising those children alone?”
The man dropped his arms and eyed her. “I’ll do it if you make it a hundred.”
A protest rose to her lips.
“I have to bribe the late shift too.”
“Very well.” Abandoning the man, she crossed back to Aquilus. “Give me a hundred denarii and I’ll get you to your wretched Rome.”
He stared at her.
“Pay it to him.” She pointed at the Celt. “Oh, and I need to get the broken cart and horses over there.”
Aquilus stiffened. “I don’t give bribes. Especially not to defraud the governor of a province, no matter how unworthy the man is of the title.”
Oh, right, she’d forgotten this was Aquilus. Wrapping red fingers tighter in her cloak, she squinted at him through the falling snow. “The man’s wife is sick and he has a horde of little ones. Think of it as Christian charity.”
Aquilus still stared at her.
“Just give me the money and I’ll do it. Save your conscience.”
“They’re the governor’s horses, not ours.” Aquilus rested his square hand on the cart.
Tears sprang to her eyes, hot against the cold air. She turned away. So now she’d have to find a way to entertain Eric and Wryn in this uninviting barracks for weeks.
“Oh, quidquid. The governor’s an incompetent wretch who’s created half of Germania’s trade problems.” Aquilus passed a bag of coin to her. “But if anyone discovers this, I’m claiming temporary madness.” Did the hint of a grin twist up one corner of his mouth?
He used to grin like that the first year of their marriage. She shoved the thought away.
In a half-hour, they departed on fresh horses. This victory assured what? That she’d be in Rome within the week.
Now she not only needed a divorce but also money for ship fare back. Maybe that tiny garden at Aquilus’ house would work better for Mediterranean spices than Britain transplants. Spices brought a good price at market, and she needed to practice her rug-making skills.
Chapter 16
The City of Rome, Junio, 88 A.D.
Aquilus scratched the gray mutt he’d bought for the son he wanted when Ness had first told him she was with child. Little did he know she’d disappear before those sons even came into the world. Nowadays the dog was the only one not screaming at him.
Nine months since he’d gone to Britannia and Ness, and five since they’d reached Rome. Despite his best efforts, she still bandied words about divorce. Did all children scream that much or just his sons? Especially Eric.
Now the housekeeper complained too since supplies hadn’t come in properly. Ness, as matron of the house, should handle it, but did she? Of course not.
Leaving the house, he made his way to the Regia to once more check the f
acts in the Germanian plan he’d given Cassius. Passing under the Regia’s arched doorway, he moved past the shrine to Mars to the long rows of shelves behind it. He thumbed through scrolls.
“Salve, Tribune.”
Aquilus swiveled, scroll in hand. Praetor Ocelli stood in the next row. “Salve.”
The praetor straightened his silky robes over his spare frame. “I hear your wife gave you a child.”
A grin split across Aquilus’ face. “Twin boys, like Romulus and Remus.” Though Vergil never mentioned Romulus and Remus screaming. Perhaps Vergil had shaded the truth. “They’re intelligent, too. Someday my sons will—”
“Yes, yes, of course.” The praetor flicked lint off his toga. “Victor.”
A boy of maybe eight years of age tore around the row of shelves, his sandals sliding on the polished marble. “Look, Father, I found a picture of Hercules.”
With a smack, the praetor struck his thin hand against the boy’s cheek. “Put that back before you ruin it.” In the praetor’s time governing cities in Gaul, he’d developed a reputation for viciousness.
The ingrate almost deserved Bernice’s ostentatious airs. Aquilus glanced out at the sun and shoved his scroll back. Leaving the Regia, he jostled through crowded streets to Cassius’ house.
A slave appeared and showed him to a marble-filled garden. Aquilus smiled.
As a boy, he’d run circles around that fountain chasing Cassius’ dog. Once, he’d painted mustaches on the wood nymph statues adorning its base. He’d thought his father would reprimand him, but Cassius had laughed so long he’d forgotten to punish him.
“Aquilus.” Cassius rounded the corner and slapped him on the back. “Welcome.” Cassius motioned to a bench under the portico.
Another slave brought a tray of food.
“Eat.” Cassius took a drumstick off the silver platter.
Aquilus shook his head.
A laugh roared from the paunch of Cassius’ belly. “Zeal was never the worse for a piece of meat.”
Frowning, Aquilus touched a wing. Had Cassius asked for him because he liked the Germania plan? Though one wouldn’t know it from Cassius’ jovial appearance and complete lack of military experience, he’d reached a high rank and knew the affairs of the provinces better than many men.
Cassius leaned back against the peristyle wall. “Scorching summer, isn’t it? The domina’s pushing for a trip to the mountain lakes.”
Aquilus dropped the wing. “My sons are eager to swim already. They splash in the portico’s pool and I want to take them to the Mediterranean Sea this summer.”
Cassius’ lips twisted up around a drumstick. “Conquering water, a very Roman virtue.”
“And a soldierly one. In fifteen years they’ll be swimming the Rhine in winter, beating the natives in their own sports, and—”
Abandoning his bite, Cassius laughed. “Aren’t you the proud father? And that wife of yours, how is she?”
Aquilus swallowed.
“It still puzzles me.” Cassius’ expression was amiable. “Why did you marry her?”
Aquilus scowled. “You and the rest of Roman society. Over two years have passed. Can’t anyone find new gossip to entertain their minds?”
“Momentous news stays momentous. She had no family connections, no dowry, no political clout.” Cassius stifled a yawn and stretched in the afternoon sun. “Now don’t get me wrong, Son. She’s lovely, but that doesn’t sound like you.”
Hand on his knee, Aquilus glared at the grass. He certainly wouldn’t have married a woman just because she was lose-your-heart enchanting. He hoped.
“Is she even a citizen?”
“Jus Latii.” Aquilus growled the answer. He’d exhausted the last of his patience this morning with Ness, and yesterday, and last month, and the last nine months.
“And the dowry and connections?”
“The Paterculi name has enough fortune and connections.” Aquilus glowered at the portico’s pavement where the sun created patches of light and dark. If Ness thought he’d divorce her for her infuriating ways, she’d missed the mark.
“You could use connections to implement your Germania plan.”
“I can get those on my own without a woman’s help.”
No, he would not divorce her. Forswear his nuptial promise because he was frustrated, irritated, livid? Not happening. He’d live by his choices. He had that kind of integrity. She obviously did not.
Cassius chuckled. “Can’t fool me, Aquilus. I see how it was. The famous Stoic surrendered to a love match.” He slapped his knee, chortling.
Aquilus brought his eyebrows down in a hard line. Why had he been fool enough to marry for love? Why had he married a woman just because she made his heart feel things he hadn’t known possible?
What had it gotten him? An unpresentable wife who not only hated him but also refused to take part in society. Soon the excuses he made for her at weekly dinner parties and events would wear thin and Rome’s elite would realize she refused every invitation because she despised them. See how that affected his political career.
Quidquid. Anyone petty enough to value the misdeeds of a man’s wife over the good of the Empire wasn’t someone he wanted to work with anyway.
“How many hours did you put into that plan of yours?” Cassius laid his food aside. “It took me a week just to read the thing. Do you ever sleep?”
“Three years for the plan and once in a while for the sleep.” His fingers twitched almost imperceptibly as he waited for Cassius’ judgment.
“The plan’s magnificent.” Cassius slapped him on the shoulder and reached for a handful of grapes.
Superb. Now he needed a way to overcome the Germanian governor’s imbecilic denials. Aquilus tapped his fingers against the marble bench.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting it to come to the Emperor’s attention?”
Aquilus looked up. “Can you do that?”
“I don’t completely waste my days at the Senate.” A smile came to Cassius’ round face. “I mean, it might take a month of hard work calling in favors, but I could definitely accomplish it.”
“Thank you.”
Cassius laughed. “Unlike you, I don’t write annuls in my spare time just because I can.” He stretched again. “These days I dream of retiring to my villa and watching my grapes grow. If I’m to spend a month scurrying around Rome, I want something from it.”
Narrowing his eyes, Aquilus studied the man. “What?” The Senator had wealth and connections. What could Cassius possibly want from him?
“As you know, my wife is childless. I have no heir. I want to adopt a son before I retire to that villa.”
Aquilus’ jaw dropped. “You want to adopt my sons?”
“Just one, either one.”
A chill spread through Aquilus. His guts churned.
“If you say yes, I could exert myself, get the Emperor’s approval. You won’t find many men in Rome with better connections than I.”
“I know.” Aquilus tightened his arms against his chest. “So why not use them? This is going to help Germania, bring peace to the provinces, serve the Empire.”
Cassius laughed. “You assume people want to serve the Empire.”
Aquilus hardened his brow. “Believe me, I’ve met plenty of self-serving people.”
“Not counting me in that number, are you?” Cassius asked with a faint smile.
“Of course not,” Aquilus said in a tone that implied that he absolutely was.
Cassius yawned. “How about it?”
“The Germanian border struggles with insurrections already. This plan could save Rome from war.”
Cassius reached for another grape. “Save the zeal for people who still care. I’m going to retire to a vineyard.”
Aquilus opened his mouth.
Cassius held up his hand. “Adopting from one patrician family to another is a respected tradition. I would give the boy a splendid life. Don’t you trust me?”
Aquilus knit his forehead
. He did trust Cassius. He’d not say that of many men, but these were his sons.
“What’s keeping you? You have another.”
“I can count.” Yes, he could count his two sons, but he still couldn’t believe he had them, that he was a father.
Genuine pain crossed Cassius’ face. “I am childless. I’ve lamented that for years. You have two sons, and your wife is young. She will bear you more sons.”
A red tapestry hung behind Cassius’ head, separating the triclinium from the garden. That was the angry shade Ness’ face would turn if she heard Cassius’ words. Aquilus noticed a paternal gleam in Cassius’ eyes. More than likely, Cassius knew more about fatherhood than he.
“Your father and I had an agreement. Back when you were young and I had no child, your father said when he had a second son I could adopt him. But he never had another child, and your mother died, and he followed.” Cassius’ voice grew somber. “I would like my heir to be a Paterculi.”
Aquilus shifted on the bench. If his father lived, he would say duty called him to put aside personal feelings, serve the Empire in Germania, and honor a Paterculi agreement.
Aquilus gripped the bench’s marble lip. Senator Aurelius would do it without flinching.
His teeth scraped his lip. Duty or no duty, he didn’t want to do this. “My wife would be distressed.”
Cassius’ lips twitched. “Ruled by a woman?”
“No.”
“Just think on it,” Cassius said.
Aquilus roved his gaze across the juniper hedges and amaranth flowers as sweat built on his forehead. His fingers tightened until his knuckles went white.
It was tradition, an honor to be asked. The code demanded this sacrifice. Men died in Germania for need of this plan. His own father had made an agreement and what kind of son dishonors his father’s word?
The heat of the afternoon sun beat on the grass.
He saw his sons’ faces as they had looked this morning—Eric’s red from screaming, Wryn’s open in babbling as Ness swept, angrily, through the atrium.
Cassius looked at him.
Aquilus’ shoulders dropped as he shook his head. His refusal was probably wrong at some level, immoral even, but he didn’t care.
For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1) Page 21
