For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1)

by Anne Garboczi

  She shoved at him with her knife hand, blood dripping off the blade onto her wrist.

  Aquilus pushed her hand away and the knife fell from her limp fingers, clattering against the wall to the ground below.

  Her gaze followed the knife to the fallen men below. Vocula moved, but barely. Whether the others lived or perished, she didn’t know, but they’d fallen by her or Aquilus’ hand. Ness turned to Lucius on the roof, very much alive, but pale as death.

  Her throat constricted. Aquilus held her tighter.

  Just for a moment, she let herself sink into his embrace, let her trembling hands be stilled by those that could draw blood without flinching. She dug her head into his shoulder and her tears flowed down his tunic.

  “It’s all right now,” he kept repeating, stroking his hands down her back. “It’s all right.”

  The beating hooves of horses pounded outside. She jerked her head up as a host of soldiers swarmed through the narrow gate.

  The rider at the head of the column swung down from his mount.

  “Senator Aurelius?” Aquilus’ eyes widened in disbelief.

  Aurelius swept forward, red cloak flowing majestically behind.

  “Salve.” Aquilus swung down from the roof. “What brings you from Rome?”

  “Surrender your sword, traitor. You are under imperial arrest and will stand trial in Rome.” Aurelius’ voice boomed through the courtyard.

  Aquilus glanced from Vocula to Lucius, then to the fallen legionaries. “Senator, you are mistaken. I had no part with these men.”

  “Not a step further.” The senator motioned the auxiliaries behind him to point their bows.

  Aquilus dropped his blade. It plunged point first into the earth, slicing through the still brown grass. The senator’s soldiers bound the others.

  Senator Aurelius jerked Aquilus’ hands behind his back.

  “These men came to my house in violence,” Aquilus said.

  Rope in hand, the senator glanced up at the bleary-eyed Lucius. “Does he speak truth?”

  “Aquilus?” Lucius ran his tongue over his lips. Ness’ heart pounded in her chest.

  Then Lucius shook his head. “Aquilus is as exasperating a patriot as they come. Make sure you arrest Vocula though.”

  The senator dropped his hand from Aquilus. Vocula’s chortle broke the silence. “Tribune Paterculi was in the plans from the beginning, only his wife made a deal with the governor to save her husband’s neck.”

  Aquilus twisted away to face Aurelius. “You’re going to believe the word of a traitor?”

  “No,” the senator said, “which is exactly why I do not believe your protests of innocence.”

  Aurelius motioned to his soldiers to bind Aquilus with the others, then turned to Lucius’ secretary. He shivered in a heap by a long-dead olive tree. “Who is this man?”

  “The governor’s secretary,” a soldier said.

  Aurelius nodded. “We can execute him before Rome then.”

  “But he’s the son of a consul.” Lucius yanked at the rope that bound him.

  “Illegitimate son by a non-citizen,” Vocula said.

  Senator Aurelius pointed to one of his legionaries. “Do it now.”

  With a piteous cry, the secretary sprang to his knees. “Mercy, sir!”

  “Not mercy. Justice.” Aurelius turned his face away.

  A few hours later, Ness paced the tablinum as the sun fell. Scrolls and writing implements surrounded her. She counted the moments one by one. Aquilus had been behind closed doors with Aurelius for hours now and guards surrounded the house.

  Her heart pounded. For no reason, of course, she tried to reassure herself. Aquilus was a tribune and a Paterculi. He’d work out whatever differences he had with Aurelius with ease.

  Then why had hours passed without the guards letting her see him? Long shadows stretched across the broken tiles.

  “You have a quarter of an hour,” a gruff voice said from outside. A legionary shoved Aquilus through the curtain.

  “Ness.” Aquilus looked at her. The burn of rope marks cut across his now free wrists.

  “What happened?” Her voice sounded shrill even to her.

  He stepped toward the table and sat down. He played with a tablet, his nail scratching across the wax.

  His tunic stuck to his right side, dark brown crusting over a tear. She rushed toward him. “You’re bleeding.”

  Aquilus nodded. “I need to tell you about my meeting with Senator Aurelius.”

  A significant amount of blood stained his tunic. She ran her fingers across the cloth, probing the wound. The gash didn’t feel deep. She made a satisfied noise. “I’ll bind it.”

  She reached behind him for linen strips, salve, and a water jug.

  “No need.” Aquilus pulled his arm up to cover the bloody mess. The failing daylight made shadows across his face, lending a sinister feel to the dusty room.

  She shoved his arm away. “I’ve bound horses’ wounds my whole life. You needn’t fear I’ll mangle it, despite that I’ve taken no Hippocratic oath.”

  The movement of his arm revealed more blood.

  Grasping the collar of Aquilus’ tunic, she made to rip it, but the fabric felt expensive. She flicked her gaze up to his. “Do you care if I destroy this?”

  Aquilus’ lips twitched. “You may rip as many tunics off me as you please.”

  Ness rolled her eyes and made the tear. Moments passed as she carefully peeled blood-soaked tunic away from skin. Dipping a cloth in water, she washed crusted blood from the gash that ran across his chest. “What were you saying about the senator?”

  Aquilus didn’t answer.

  She moved her gaze up to his face. The veins on his forehead stuck out, his eyes bloodshot. She pulled the cloth away. “Did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head. His voice sounded calm, frighteningly calm. “Senator Aurelius went to Germania six weeks ago when the rebellion started.”

  Taking a linen strip, she stretched it tight across his back. She slipped her hand under his arm as she wrapped the cloth around his chest, fingers grazing his skin.

  “Since I didn’t show up to fight, Aurelius assumes that my Germanian trade plan was a cover for rebellion activities.”

  The linen fell out of place as Ness froze. “And?”

  “Aurelius will not be persuaded of my innocence. I will be taken to Rome for trial at first light.”

  “But you’re a tribune.”

  “And Aurelius is a senator, and two traitors who I’ve worked with for the last six-month fled to my house.”

  Ness’ breath caught. They couldn’t do that to Aquilus. Couldn’t.

  Not a trace of emotion tinged Aquilus’ face. Rather, he recited the words as if they were one of those tales in a Roman schoolboy’s primer. Yet, his fingers dug into the table lip like death itself. “The senator wishes you and the children to come to Rome with me.”

  “The babes too?” She could scarcely fathom his words, scarcely credit that a Roman tribune could fall on the wrong side of imperial ire and have others charge him and he obey. “What does Senator Aurelius want, to drag us through the streets in a triumph?” A dry laugh brushed across her lips.

  “Triumphs are for barbarians. If you’re a Roman, they just execute you after the trial.”

  The laugh died in Ness’ throat. “Is it that bad?”

  “There was a rebellion, and led by a governor, more to the imperial embarrassment. Emperor Domitian is not known for mercy.”

  Her arms trembled. She clapped her hand against the table and willed her shaking limbs to take strength.

  “My only hope is a good defense, try rhetoric, play to the crowd. Once after breaking the law, Cicero made the mob so enthralled with him that the Senate couldn’t execute him for fear of a riot.”

  “You should be good at that.”

  Aquilus examined her eyes. “You think I’m attractive?”

  “Any woman would.” She furrowed her brow. How would things progress
at the Senate? Would Cassius aid Aquilus? Surely Domitian wouldn’t kill him. Would he?

  For a moment, the tension on Aquilus’ face dissipated and he grinned. “You think I’m devastatingly attractive.”

  As if he didn’t know that? He’d used the fact to his advantage a thousand times. She rolled her eyes. “You think I’d have been convinced to undertake the folly of leaving my homeland or birth the third child of a husband I wished to divorce by a man who didn’t possess the silver-tongued charm of Orpheus? I may be impulsive, but I do have some standards.”

  The burdened look consumed Aquilus again. He looked like a man seeing his doom and walking straight up to it.

  “Where are the papers?”

  She twined her fingers around each other, but still they twitched. “What papers?”

  “The divorce papers you drew up.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not having you and the children destroyed with me.” Aquilus rummaged for something on the shelves behind her. “You are a Celt, which is good. Rome will have less interest in you. The boys are especially in danger.”

  “But they are not yet three!” Terror shot through her.

  “Yes, but remember that Roman fascination with male heirs you find so abhorrent?” Aquilus closed his hand on the scroll. “I will sign the divorce papers separating us further and then I want you to take the children to as uncivilized a part of Britannia as you can find. I imagine my estates will be seized and placed under imperial jurisdiction. It will merely put you in danger if you attempt to claim them.”

  “Divorce. You’re offering me a divorce?” She shook her head in wonder. “Lamentably, I’m feeling too sorry for you to properly enjoy it.”

  The taut lines on Aquilus’ face didn’t relax at the jest. He looked so grave. All he’d ever fought for was Rome. He loved Rome with a love so deep she’d labeled it idolatry, yet now Rome turned against him.

  Aquilus shrugged. “If it comes to that, I’ll be dead, so I don’t see what difference it makes.” He closed his fingers on a writing instrument. “I will include a clause disinheriting the children. If I am no longer the legal guardian, Emperor Domitian has less reason to pursue them.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Disinherit? They would already be mine by reason of the divorce.”

  Aquilus shook his head. “Roman law gives the father full legal authority in a divorce.”

  Blood surged to her face. “You could have taken the children from me if I divorced you?”

  He nodded and dripped wax from a taper candle on the scroll.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice rose as her blood raced. All those months she’d fought for a divorce, he could have taken Eric and Wryn from her if he’d agreed. What a wretched, unjust law!

  He plunged his signet ring into molten wax. “I thought you knew.”

  “No, you didn’t! What about….” Ness searched back in her mind. “What about at the village when I was ill? I told you then about the children.”

  “Yes, that was the first time I knew.”

  “And you didn’t tell me!” Fury heated her blood. First, he’d tried to sell Eric to Cassius, then he’d planned to take both her sons! “Were you enjoying the prospect of stealing my children? Again.”

  “You were ill, just traversed miles, carrying my child. What was I supposed to say? Threaten that if you divorced me I’d take the boys, rip Gwen out of your womb?”

  She dropped her hands as her pulsing blood slowed. “I didn’t know you had so much decency.”

  As he creased the parchment, she dragged her toe along the grout. Did Roman lawmakers just hate women? Voice low, she muttered, “Men have divorce authority, men expose or recognize an infant, men keep the children. What can’t men do under Roman law?”

  “I can’t make you love me.”

  Ness stared at him.

  “Do you have friends in the north?”

  She nodded. “A cousin.”

  “Good. Don’t stop at your village on the way. That is the first place Senator Aurelius will look. I’ll get you out before the moon rises.”

  She tilted her chin. “Aren’t you forgetting? The guards around the villa.”

  Aquilus waved his hand, his dark skin even darker in the dusk that not even a candle’s flame lit. “Child’s play.”

  An excitement lingered around his eyes as the soldier in him outshone the politician, and for a moment she couldn’t help but admire that impulse. “You’re breaking the law for me and crossing Aurelius?” She almost smiled. “Next thing you’ll disown Horace.”

  Aquilus laughed, but from the throat, not the chest. “I have to go. The senator wants me confined to the stables.”

  Ness’ breathing quickened. “How will you escape?”

  “I’ll be there,” he paused, sandal planted on tile, “and Ness, if” Aquilus said it slowly as if the words cost him something, “if I could do it over, it would be different these years, our marriage. I hope you know that.”

  “Why would I know that?” Ness clenched the table lip. He always justified everything he did.

  Aquilus’ eyes were flat as he shook his head. “Believe me or not, it’s true. And I never should have agreed to Cassius’ adoption offer. Thank you for stopping me.”

  He thanked her? That seemed strange if he meant the words as an apology. Had the band of Stoics invented their own uniquely irritating method of apologizing?

  The guard pounded on the doorframe and Aquilus followed him. The curtain swished shut. Ness stared at the dark cloth. Could the two of them truly outrun Roman soldiers with three children?

  If Senator Aurelius caught them in their flight, he’d kill all of them.

  Chapter 29

  Night fell over the Britain countryside while Ness bound Gwen to her front. The twins slept in her bed, backs snuggled against each other, Eric’s face contorted even in sleep. The knapsack of provisions that she’d packed underneath the guards’ noses stood beside her.

  Her door handle twisted from without. A cool wind blew in from the garden as Aquilus entered. Wordlessly, he threw the knapsack over his back and picked up the sleeping boys. They shifted in their sleep and burrowed small heads further into his shoulders.

  Extinguishing the candle, Aquilus pushed the door open. She followed him down the garden path and past the shadows of the inner rooms to the small gate where Lucius and Vocula had entered. A guard paced back and forth on the piece of earth that sloped downward from the gate. The soldier’s metal helmet flashed in the light that escaped from the inner rooms where the senator burned evening oil.

  Aquilus knelt by the edge of the gate. Lowering the twins to the grass-covered ground, he turned to her. “Stay here.”

  Ness hugged the stone wall. Aquilus mounted the barrier then paused, crouched.

  Through the gate’s bars, she saw him spring from the stone. A series of low grunts broke the air as he and the legionary rolled down the hill, one on top, then the other.

  As they grappled, Aquilus reached behind him for a rock. With a thud, he brought the rock down against the legionary’s skull. The guard crumpled into unconsciousness.

  Aquilus favored his left leg as he clambered back up the ridge.

  She fumbled with the latch. Grabbing the twins, she met him halfway.

  “I miss my infantry days,” Aquilus said, face flushed with victory.

  Ness looked forward to the dark fields and woodland. How many miles of wilderness would they have to travel to escape the reach of Rome? Already the twins’ weight strained her back.

  “I took a horse out of the stables,” Aquilus said. “He’s tied to an oak tree over that ridge.”

  “I’ll go get him. You carry them.” She thrust the twins into his arms.

  Aquilus held onto them a moment, then lay the boys in the grass. “I’m not coming.”

  She stared at him. He had to flee. Emperor Domitian would execute him.

  “I’m who they want, not you. They will give up the search for you.
For me, they would never cease searching.”

  A noise came from inside the wall. “Where is the tribune?” That was Senator Aurelius’ voice. She could hear his footsteps exiting the inner house and moving toward the courtyard.

  Aquilus turned. “Go. I’ll take care of this.” He knelt to touch the boys’ sleeping faces. This would be the last time they’d ever feel their father’s touch.

  Her blood raced so fast she couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t just wait here for execution. He had to flee.

  He took a step up the hill.

  “Aquilus.” She grabbed for his hand. With her other hand, she clenched the fabric of his tunic. “You can’t let them kill you.”

  Inside the wall, the senator’s voice rose louder. “Find him now or I’m having the house searched.”

  Aquilus tore away from her. “Go!” He lunged through the narrow gate, back inside the wall that marked the separation between life and death.

  Gone? After all the times she’d yelled at him that she never wished to see his face again, now she truly never would? He’d die. Ness slung the knapsack around her shoulders. He’d die so that she and their children could escape. A knife stabbed through her heart as she choked on her tears. She hadn’t even had a chance to thank him.

  A faint mist rose off the lowlands, shrouding her in cold dankness. The clouds threatened rain, that soaking Britain rain that no cloak could keep out. She bent for the twins.

  Hand on Wryn, she stopped.

  Since when had she gotten into the habit of doing what Aquilus told her to?

  Rome would never stop searching for him, Aquilus had said. So? No legionary ventured beyond the northern forests, or if they did, they found themselves dead. Together, the two of them could outrun the Roman soldiers and make it to the north. Her cousin was chief of a village there. He’d let them clear land and they could make a new life in the northern wilderness. She’d show Aquilus how to build a wattle and daub house and plant seed. Aquilus would learn fast. He was good at what he did, not as good as he thought he was, but still good.

  In a few strides, Ness stood by the wall again. Placing the sleeping boys down, she clutched Gwen to herself and prayed the babe wouldn’t wake. Edging along the narrow ridge by the wall, she worked her way to the space of wall that bounded the tablinum. A light shone through a crack in the plaster. With her fingernail, she widened the crack.