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The end of planting brought a time of celebration to the Meridas family and their servants and tenants. Beltane, the first of the month of Maius, according to how the Romans kept time, I observed quietly, silently invoking Brigantia’s blessing on the fields and crops for Antonius. I did not light the traditional bonfire, but I knew she heard. The sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms filled my tiny temple in the orchard. The gods that Maximus’ family worshipped were different, but the old gods their ancestors had believed in still made their presence known to me, as I prayed.As for Antonius, he arranged a feast to give thanks for the good weather, the hard workers, and the fortune he felt he had. No one would do any work, that day. All food was prepared the day before, and lodging set up for guests from neighboring villas, friends of the Meridas family. Maximus politely offered to move out of his quarters, to allow others to use them, so Julia moved him into mine and me in with Olivia.
It was late, when I finished setting up beds and cleaning. I went to my room, to find a few things, and take Maximus his wine. I opened the door, to hear him finishing his communion with his family. He accepted his cup, and sat on the edge of the bed. It was small, but comfortable. He liked fine things, I knew from the inventory in his tent, but would not complain about my plain sleeping place. I fished through my pack for my dagger, and some clothing. I had little, but I found the best dress.
Maximus eyed the knife, and his eyebrows knit together. “Do you really think you’ll need that?”
My gaze shot to the hilt I could see under my pillow. “For the same reasons you need yours.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Habit.”
“Aye.”
He sighed, and stroked his beard. I knew all his habits and gestures, every expression. They were all cataloged in my memory, and I knew he was trying to say something, to find the words he needed to do so. Half of me wanted to have our former ease back, the other warned me not to forget who he was, and what I was.
“Do you hate me, again?” I shook my head, no. I had never hated him. I had despised the soldier, the wolf of Rome, but not the man in the armor. He seemed relieved. I retrieved the cup, as he bid me goodnight, and lay down to sleep. I whispered at him to sleep well. If he heard me, he gave no indication, so I blew out the candles in the little ancestral shrine he had set up, leaving him to his dreams.
Watching Julia help her daughter dress and fix her hair, brought memories of my mother. The warmth of her arms about me, as she would explain carefully all the properties of some new plant, how to boil it, or preserve it, and what to use it for, I can still feel. Her soft, low voice in my ear, as she would tell me stories or correct my Greek lessons, echoes in my memory today. I missed her terribly, I realized, as mother and daughter giggled over what garment would look better, and which hairstyle Olivia wanted. I do not remember that mine ever fussed over my appearance, or whether or not I understood the intricacies of womanhood. I think truly, her focus was on my education, making sure I learned what I needed, to replace her and my father, one day. Had she lived longer, I wondered if the scene before me would have occurred between her and me.
This was to be the first time Olivia would lay eyes on her husband-to-be. She had draped herself over the end of her bed, the night before, after I situated myself on the pallet set up for me, and shared her fears and hopes for the man.
“I want someone like Uncle Maximus, or Father,” she whispered, as her feet waved in the air.
“Did you tell Antonius that?”
“No. I wanted to, but I know he needs as many friends as he can get.”
“He seems to win them, on his own. He’s a good man. People speak his name, well.”
“For now. Father says that trouble is brewing, and he doesn’t like the way things are changing. Soon, he won’t know who to trust.”
I knew what she was talking about. Before plowing and planting had begun, I had listened as I served dinner, to the brothers and Justinius, as they discussed the politics of Emerita, and how they affected the Meridas family. Talk had shifted to the governor of Emerita Augusta, Publius Septimius Geta.
“He seems a good enough sort,” Maximus had observed, though he admitted, he had only met the man once.
Antonius nodded, but then cautioned, “He’s a good administrator, as far as that goes, appreciates the military man. But he’s shifty, and his brother has his eye on the throne. No love for the Senate. He’d as soon see the army rule Rome. Mark my words, Little Brother, if ever Severus plants himself as emperor, any man that protests, will pay the penalty.”
“Lucius is heir. Who can dispute that? He’ll be old enough soon, to take Marcus’ place. And he will be a good ruler. He’s had the best teachers.”
I had to agree with Antonius, however. “That might be true. But he’s a boy, yet. Easily enough disposed of, if one goes about it right. Severus would know how. I know you love the boy, and are devoted to his mother and the senator, but you might want to consider what problems that loyalty will bring you, in the future. It has already cost you dearly.”
One of the things I admired most about my master, was his unswerving faithfulness to his family, friends, and his determination to live by his word. “I will always serve Rome,” he swore quietly, gazing into nothingness, and absent-mindedly pitching a bone to Lupa, “but I made a promise to Marcus, and I will find a way to reconcile the two.” Sometimes, that is easier to say, than actually do.
That was still on my mind, when I smiled at Olivia, who did not have enough girls her own age around to talk about things with, and obviously thought it was great fun to have me in her room. “I will wager your mother helped him make his choice. And he won’t let you be unhappy.” She sighed, happily.
Then conspiratorially she grinned. “Mother thinks you and Uncle Maximus would be good for each other.” I suppressed a giggle. To young girls, romance is everything. And I knew she was masking her worry about her own unknown betrothed.
I was also aware Julia had sent me to start looking after Maximus, as a way of apologizing to him, for keeping me near her, most of the time. I needed to get back into my routine, though, for we would leave again, soon. But I figured out quickly, that she only seemed to let me go when I would be sure to catch Maximus alone, in various states of dress, and for frivolous things that I would not normally do for him. Maximus had no illusions as to what was taking place; after the first few days, he would be completely clothed, and the duties done, by the time I arrived. His meaning was clear- as far as he was concerned, I was to do what he had outlined for me, when he had taken me to Ostia, and serve in whatever capacity the army needed me in. Julia’s match-making was not wanted, or needed.
But I feigned innocence, because the girl was not as closed-mouthed as her brother was, with secrets. “Oh?”
“Yes! She says the only time either of you seems alive, is when you are near each other, even if you don’t like each other, sometimes.”
“Is that something I am supposed to hear?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Probably not, or Mother would have told you or Maximus. Do you want to be married, again?”
“I suppose, someday. If I find a man I want to wander the world with.”
“Will you choose him, for yourself?” She was staring at me, with avid interest. I started to tell her that I would certainly select my next mate without input from another and without worry whether it was for the good of any but myself. At that moment, however, Julia poked her head in the door, and gave me a reprieve from her daughter’s curiosity, with the admonition that we had to be up early in the morning.
My dagger was tucked under my pillow, but she eyed my attire for the next day’s festivities. “You’re not wearing that, are you?” It was plain, devoid of decoration and color. But it was clean, and well made. I shrugged. I had nothing else, save the breeches and tunics I had made, while still in Rome. She rolled her eyes, and shut the door. Olivia blew out the lamp.
Julia finished with her daughter, and turned to me. “Come here.” She unwrapped my braid, and gently untangled my hair with a stiff boar-hair brush. It was long, and reached almost to the backs of my knees, in wild waves and curls. Julia remarked that I was lucky I had not been shorn, to provide some rich Roman matron a flame-colored wig. She set about playing with it, twisting ends, and curling others about my face. Then she made two braids, and wound them about my head, like hers. Deciding she did not like it that way, she took it all out, and left it loose. Satisfied, she handed me a dress of a soft verdant hue that I knew was not one of her older ones. It was ankle-length on me. It would have covered her head to toe. I started to protest.
“Don’t say it. You can accept it, and you will. It pleases me to see you in it. It’s a good color, don’t you think?” I turned around, so she could see that it was a perfect fit. Impulsively, I hugged her. Julia had a heart larger than the Empire, and she was the closest thing to a mother I had had, in a long time. And a dear friend.
She held me hard for a minute, and as though she read my thoughts, “Do you favor your mother?”
“Only a little. I have her facial features. The rest of me, is my father.” She nodded, and stepped back to look me over, one more time.
“Beautiful. Well, girls, shall we go out, and enjoy ourselves?”
The first of the guests arrived, early in the day. While the men passed wine beakers around, the ladies settled themselves indoors, out of the sun. Many of them had brought their own slaves, knowing that Antonius’ were not going to care for their needs, beyond seeing them to their rooms, and helping to bring out platters of food and containers of wine and water. Other than that, they would be as freemen, and allowed to do as they wished.
Olivia’s future husband was just as nervous about meeting his betrothed, as the girl was, but seemed a pleasant enough youth. He was deferent and kind, and seemed to be happy at his own father’s choice of brides. He was not the kind of man one noticed, right away, as were the Meridas men, but I knew he would not be trouble for Olivia. I was glad of it. She was glowing, all through the holiday. Justinius snickered quietly that if her smile were any bigger, they could use her head for extra wine storage. I noticed that he was glancing over at several of the daughters of some of the visitors. And most were looking back at him. I watched Julia, smirking as she took notes on all of them.
Toward evening, the musicians began to play, and there was dancing. By that time, many were drunk, or stuffing themselves, while congratulating Antonius and his family, for their accomplishments. Maximus was greeted by numerous individuals, particularly those who thought they might gain a bit of favor with the famous general of the northern armies, and drawn into discussions on everything from horses to political matters. The latter he would extract himself from, and find a place by Julia or his brother to hide.
Justinius approached me for a dance. I was mortified, until he laughed, and promised he would make me look like I had known the steps from childhood. He did, and I found myself having a wonderful time, especially when Antonius took me away from his son. I danced with many men, that night, and finally made my way back to the table, giddy from wine, and excitement. One or two of my partners had asked if I would consider slipping away with them to somewhere private, but I had refused.
I reached for a cup of ale, only to find my wrist in the strong grasp of my owner. His gaze was cold and unforgiving, as he spat out, “You have had plenty. Get to your bed, and get some sleep. We are going to Emerita, tomorrow.” Sober, I would never have dared to aim a punch at Maximus’ head. Drunk, I had no qualms. Had his own reflexes not been so quick, I would have landed it to his temple, and no doubt killed him. He caught my fist, and held it, not crushing, but firmly, while I glared at him with all the anger I could muster. He had said nothing earlier about going to the city. And I suspected he was probably a bit inebriated, himself.
Julia had been observing us. “If you’re going to going to act like a jealous husband, you could at least dance with her, yourself.” He threw her a hard glance, but she looked liked a dog worried by a mere puppy. Antonius whispered something to her, but she waved him off. “Or are you afraid you might enjoy it too much?” Maximus dropped my hand, and whirled on his sister-in-law.
“This is not your business.” He stomped off then, leaving us to watch his retreating back.
I no longer felt like having further fun. I wanted to find my master, and make amends for my behavior. Julia laid a hand on my arm. “Dance with Antonius, some more. Maximus will be all right. I’ll go talk to him.” Regardless, I left the celebration, to catch up with Maximus. I found them in the hall, their lowered voices clashing against one another, in the quiet house.
“She’s not your slave, Julia. She is mine. When I give her orders, I expect them to be obeyed. I’ve indulged her, and you, for weeks. I don’t ask anything too difficult of her, other than to be faithful, and diligent.”
“And to tolerate you.”
“What does that mean? I’m not cruel, or indifferent. I don’t forget how it feels to be a slave.”
“No, but you forget what it is to have emotions. For a time, you were comfortable with her. She was becoming a companion, something more than a slave to you. She felt it, too, or she could have run away, a long time ago. She’s not Flavia…don’t you walk away from me.” Julia caught up to him, very quickly, and blocked his exit.
Maximus would never strike her, but he drew himself up to full height, and stared her down, intending to itimidate her. I doubt it had more than a smidgen of effect. “Julia. Don’t bring up my wife to me, again. She is gone. I don’t want another.”
“Then leave Boudicca here, so she doesn’t have to endure a warm word, then a cold heart. Find another Celt to take to Britannia with you. Preferably, a man.”
“She is not staying. We made a bargain, and she is going to uphold her end of it, just as I will.”
“Well, if you are going to drag her with you all over the Empire, don’t deprive her of finding someone who will desire her, since you are adamant about not wanting her for yourself.”
“When she is free, she can find whomever she chooses. Until then, she will conduct herself as a soldier, like everyone else in the army.”
“Somehow, I don’t think using one of the camp harlots is something she is interested in.” Maximus had to concede that Julia was right. He was just as guilty of visiting the other end of the rows of tents as anyone, though hardly as often. If the loneliness in his soul did not require relief, the ache in his body did, occasionally. And sometimes, a man’s own hand is not enough.
“Julia,” he began gently, “I know you want for me to find love again. I know how fond of Boadicea you are, as well. But love like I had before will not happen again. I will settle for no less. And I won’t make any woman accept being a substitute. Please, leave it alone. If it makes you feel better, I will try to be sure Boadicea finds a man worthy of her.” It was settled, at least as far as Maximus was concerned. Julia acquiesced, but not without a parting shot.
“I hope the gods are better to her, than that.” I would tease her in a letter, later on, that I wished she had been more specific in that prayer.
