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Those four months flew by like only four weeks. As Julia had promised, I worked hard every day, but then, everyone that resided on the farm did. Until the ground warmed enough to break with plowshares, we busied ourselves around the villa, and with the animals. Julia commandeered me from Maximus, most of the time. Her reasoning, she explained to him, was that he could do his business himself, or have Justinius assist him. Her explanation to me was, I was too often in the company of men, would be so again, when we left, and needed female companionship, for a time.“Warrior or no,” she said, over a basket of mending we were working on, “you are still a woman. Maximus needs to understand that.”
“He understands it well enough, once a month,” I replied, biting a length of thread from its spool, with my teeth. Julia laughed, and Olivia, separating garments nearby, blushed, when she caught on.
“That’s my point,” Julia went on. “You’re only a woman, when your body tells you to be. What do you want from your life? What are you going to do, when Maximus lets you go? Have you thought that far ahead?” In truth, I tried to avoid doing just that. It was frightening to wonder what would become of me, when I was free. I had always envisioned going home, journeying north of the walls, and living with one of the tribes there. But what would I do, when I did? I was twenty-and-six winters, and would not retain my youth and strength forever. It was doubtful a man would ask for my hand, for I was already considered past my childbearing years. And with regards to the wounds to my abdomen, it was possible that I could bear none, either. There was always my skill as a healer to fall back on, but there were already plenty of those about. As much as I knew Lucius wanted me to come back and be in his guard, that future was uncertain, for the same reasons it was improbable, going home. The stark reality I faced was, I would be alone.
“No,” I lied, but I was sure Julia was not fooled.
She pressed no further, other than to suggest, “Perhaps you could stay with Maximus. I worry about him, spending the rest of his life alone.” Olivia snorted, suppressing the snicker that threatened to explode from her.
What Julia was not aware of, was that I had due warning, regarding her need to pair people off, thanks to the man in discussion, and her own son. “Would you spend the rest of your life with him?”
“I had my chance.” She ignored her daughter’s surprise.
“Why didn’t you take it?”
“How long have you known Maximus?” As though I should understand, already.
“Some five months.”
“There you have it.” The three of us collapsed in giggles, just as the object of our humor strode by, and peeked in at us. It was quite clear he had heard, and he was not amused. Julia looked unconcerned. My laughter died however, and I went back to repairing the seam of a torn piece of clothing.
Warm weather finally came, however, and we saw less of the men, as they made the fields ready for planting. I had been mistaken that most of the people that cared for the land were slaves or hired hands. Instead, they were tenant farmers, who lived in homesteads on different tracts of the property. Most of their labor was to produce for Antonius, who in turn sold it to the army. However, they were allowed to keep what they and their families would need throughout the year.
Antonius and Maximus rode out every day for a week, to ensure everything was going according to schedule, and that each tenant had all that was necessary to get a good crop growing. I was also impressed with the fact that Antonius strip-farmed, dividing the plots into sections, every other one being used for planting, allowing the other to rest for a year, conserving the soil, and restoring its fertility for the next season. My own people had used that method for hundreds of years.
Justinius stayed behind to oversee the main property, but he did not seem happy doing it. It was not that he did not love the farm, or his family. He simply was a young man who wanted to be in the city with his friends, testing his manhood, and indulging in pastimes that would be the stuff of old-men’s tales until true maturity descended upon him and responsibility drew him back to the villa, to take over his father’s headship.
I suspected he was also in a mind for love. With the exception of his mother and sister, there was hardly a female eye, young or older, that did not follow him as he went about his business. All he had to do was give the word he was interested, and some willing body would surely have been available to him. I heard the female servants whisper, whenever Julia or Olivia were out of earshot, that they would not mind, if the young master wanted his way with them. I caught him one early spring morning, with a girl not much older than Olivia, pressed against the wall of the stables. I went back the way I had come, and found other tasks to keep me busy, until they were finished. Justinius found me, the afterglow not quite gone from his face. I hid my amusement, at the sheepish smile he threw me.
“Please don’t tell Father.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I would go bearing stories to your parents, about your exploits? No, your secret is safe with me.”
“You’re a good friend. You understand.”
“And they won’t? You’re not a child.” It was a natural thing for young stags to go about finding receptive does, as far as I understood. I could not imagine that it was different in Hispania, than anywhere else.
“Father expects me to choose a fitting wife. Not some common girl from the farms.”
“Of course. He has to make good alliances. That is the way of things. Just like horses, you have to keep the bloodlines strong, as well.” I remembered my husband, and thought to myself that even the most well-bred mates are not always ideal ones. “Provided you can at least care for one another," I continued. "I think you will find the right one, and probably when you least expect it. Look at your parents. They are happy together. If what I hear about your father is true, then you will be a more suitable husband than he was.” I smiled, and he snickered. Apparently, he knew the stories his mother had told me, about Antonius. The deflowered daughters of upstanding noblemen, the brawls, the hair-raising escapes from cuckolded husbands, all had been recounted, as we went about our daily work.
I had been curious as to why she had run away with the elder Meridas brother, rather than the one she had been promised to. “I’d have married Maximus. He’d have been responsible.” Of course, I had also had a clan to think about, and their needs.
“That’s because you were raised to think about the needs of a good many people, since you were young. My life was about being a bargain struck with another family. Maximus was my father’s choice. And while I know he would have made a wonderful husband, he just didn’t hold my heart prisoner, the way Antonius did. Antonius was adventure, excitement, things I craved. I was not good at remaining silent and obedient, and Antonius hardly wanted that from the woman he would make his. I would listen to my father’s slave girls talk about him, and dream all night about him doing those things with me. Antonius let me joke and tease and play with him, and we could talk about many things, then find still others to discuss. Maximus was quiet, serious, and at that time, his life was the army. He’d have been a better choice for someone like you. I didn’t want to be the wife of a great man; I wanted to be the wife of a passionate one. And, I never doubt my husband’s fidelity.”
Neither did I. Though they got into heated debates over everyday matters, by the time the sun set over the hills and valleys, Julia would be held fast against Antonius, as they watched its disappearance. I never once saw him look at another woman with an inkling of lust. No, Justinius had a wonderful example of deep love, in his progenitors.
When things were in order on the other plots, Antonius turned his attention to his own. Neither he, nor his brother or son relaxed and let others do all the work. From before the first light of day, to long after the stars were out, they would direct the ox-drawn plows over the fields, making deep furrows. The women that were not required in the kitchen or about the house were sent out with the children, to clear rocks out of the way, and later, to sow seed. After my first day of that, Julia kept me indoors.
It was warm enough, that I had worn a simple linen smock, sleeveless and short, while I worked. “You Celts, and your pale skin,” Julia reprimanded, as she lightly rubbed soothing aloe on the burned parts of my body. She examined the freckles smattered across my shoulders and back from previous battles with the sun, and shook her head. Soon after, though, she realized that the girls she sent out with jars of water to the men were taking a long time to come back. When the workers came in for the evening meal, without shirts, she understood why.
“Here,” she handed me one of the clay pitchers, brimming with clear, liquid refreshment, while she went back to kneading a large loaf of bread. “I don’t have time to take it, and none of these trollops needs to be out staring at men, when there are things to be done.”
She sent Olivia out to her brother and father, and dispatched others to their mates or relatives. I was directed to care for Maximus. I donned a light tunic with sleeves, and trudged over the hill, overlooking the patch of land where my owner followed behind his team of harnessed beasts. He was alone; the sowers with their sacks of wheat seeds would not be out until he was finished, completely. I thought it rather unusual, then decided that he needed the solitude to think, and exorcise the demons that threatened to defeat his reason. I made my way down to him, saying nothing as I handed him the vessel with the water.
The first time I had made an examination of him, his conditioning had impressed me. At that point, I had been looking at him with the practiced eye of a Druid. We Celts take great pride in our physical condition, so it is second nature for us to notice that of others. As a warrior, healer, and a prostitute, I had seen many male bodies, but I do not recall that any held fascination for me, until that moment, when I stood in the midday sun, trying not to notice Maximus’.
He drank deeply, the muscles of his thick neck moving with each gulp. His hair, without the oils he put into it to keep it in place, was wild, and was lighter than it seemed, usually. His skin had deepened to a soft bronze, the light hair of his chest and stomach golden in contrast. He was heavily muscled, and every one was well defined, from the slope of his shoulders, to the taper of his waist, front and back. He poured the water over his head, and the light of the sun caught it, as it ran in tiny rivers down his body. No sculptor, not the finest of the Greeks, or to be found in Rome, could have done better than the gods had with this man. I needed to get away, my stomach was aflutter with the need to reach out and touch him, to see if he was flesh, and not marble.
“Thank you.” It was a near-whisper, when he gave the jar back to me. I nodded slightly, pretending to study the animals waiting patiently to get back to the business at hand. He looked at my arm, where a trace of crimson was visible below my sleeve.
“How’s your sunburn?”
“Healing,” I croaked, trying with everything I had, not to meet his gaze with mine.
“Perhaps you should go back, before you get another.” His voice was honey-soft.
“Aye.” He slapped the lines on the backs of the oxen, and I ran to the house, as soon as I was out of his sight. As I set down the jar, and buried myself in other tasks, the thought occurred to me that I should have asked Maximus exactly how many months I would have to serve in the army, in order to pay him. I was afraid it was going to be longer than I could bear.
