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My husband had meant little to me. He was a tool, as much as I had been the same for him. There was a brief courtship, followed by a quick hand fasting. We had no time to know each other, to learn the things that we needed to understand about the other, we had done what was necessary to seal a bargain. There had not even been friendship between us. He was too much a bully, and I would not let him usurp my position within my clan.I knew my parents had loved each other, though I was young, at the time. She was more aggressive than he, but that was probably the reason he had loved her so. He was not afraid of it, but had embraced it, and used it to the advantage of our people. She was his backbone, and when she was gone, he slowly faded from life. She had only good things to say about him, as I recall; though some might have thought him weak. In my mind still, is a clear memory of her stealing up behind him, to slip her arms around his waist, and lay her cheek against his broad back, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips, when he closed his hand over hers. I remember being happy for them. In retrospect, I should have asked my father at some time or other, what it felt like to be in love, in case I ever needed to know, but after my mother was beheaded, it seemed rather pointless, and I had no desire to bring the question up to him. I went on about my life; just assuming I would know, when and if it ever happened to me.
If love was the sense of wholeness I felt with Maximus, in which the path through life seemed not so lonely, and that some missing part of me was found, then I guessed I did know. It occurred to me one time that I knew the general better than any master I had before. I could not recite my first owner's preferences, what he liked to eat, what sorts of things brought him joy, and I had not known the other two well at all, except that Aelius Pontius had a predilection for violence. But aside from the thoughts and secrets he shared with no one, Maximus was no mystery to me; my inventory of him- physical, mental, and the things of the heart, was nearly complete. But if it was truly love I harbored for Maximus, it hurt more than any pain I had borne, before.
I had no idea what to do with my feelings. It would have been easy, probably, to let myself into his bedchambers in the middle of the night, and offer him my body to use as he would. He had told me the night of Saturnalia, that if ever I shared his bed, it was to be when I wanted to, when I felt as though I were not forced. Was that not an invitation? Much time had passed, since. Perhaps he had changed his mind, and preferred the silent acquiescence of a harlot, with whom he need not fraternize again. The night in Tigris' home, when he had caught me, naked and almost undefended in my bath, I had seen the obvious signs of lust, but after, he had been cool through dinner, as though ashamed. Perusing my body one-day as I bathed, assessing the scars that marred it, I considered the idea that perhaps those physical disfigurations caused Maximus consternation, and made him not desire me. I thought about my little daughter, crippled in body, but not mind, knowing it would prevent her from marrying any but a desperate man, had she grown old enough. The idea I might suffer the same fate made me weep, because I knew Maximus' love of beautiful things, and I was imperfect.
Mercifully, Phillip kept me busier than Maximus had hinted at. I was glad of it; it kept me from thinking on the general too much, and I was being used a great deal by the Greek medic. The time was at hand, to start monthly examinations of the women, making sure they were free of disease, or treated for ones they contracted. Those that could not be, were sent away, to whatever fate befell them. Maximus' primary concern was for the health and well being of his men. After we finished with the female population at Vindobona, we would see the soldiers, next.
As I checked each girl, I could not help but remember my days in Aphrodite's temple, servicing men who used me to worship a goddess not mine, and how it felt. It was to me, demeaning, but then, I was raised by noble parents. For some of the harlots, though, it was a better existence than any they had before. I had been in their place, so I did not sit in judgement, just smiled and asked questions about their conditions, and they in turn, seemed comfortable with me. And I found myself wondering which one of them had caught Maximus' eye. But most of the time, I was too busy to give it much thought, at all. When I returned to Maximus' quarters at night, I was so tired, that I finished those things I had to, then went away to my bed, before he could corner me with questions, and I could stumble over my heart. I still reported to him every day, to care for his errands, but he was too busy for more than a brief list of all that he required of me, before I went to the infirmary. For all that I attempted to avoid him, though; I missed his prescence.
When the officers came to see the medical staff, Justinius asked for me. Maximus would too; he had asked his nephew to remind me to set aside time for him. The young centurion and I conversed through his entire appointment, and he apologized for not being as friendly as he had been previously. Waving him off, I simply accepted he was in love.
"Are you all right? Maximus says he's hardly seen but a few minutes of you, at night, or in the morning, since we got here."
"Of course. I've just been busy, and tired. Look straight at me." I looked into his eyes, to check for clouding, or problems focusing. They were clear, dark, and healthy. Like the rest of him.
"You're not avoiding him, or anything?" He breathed as I instructed, while I placed my ear to his back, and listened.
"What makes you think that? I have the same amount of hours in a day that he does. If he wants me to be more attentive to him, perhaps he should keep me out of here," I indicated the stone walls of the physicians' quarters. I was not about to reveal to him, that I was indeed guilty of trying to stay away from his uncle.
"Cassandra says you are." I thought it odd that she would know, since I saw little of her or Justinius, either, and told him so.
"She does go back, sometimes, you know. Actually, a lot, lately. But I guess you're here, so you don't notice." He donned his tunic, again, and thanked me for my time.
"Well, she has to do something, while you are working with your men," I chided. He grinned, and left. After a particularly bloody incident, later in the day, during which the plain tunic I wore was drenched in blood, I headed back home, to bathe and change. Stepping inside the tent I shared with the Greek girl, I saw exactly what she did, while Justinius was busy. She lay entangled with the African wagon driver. Averting my eyes, I retrieved my uniform and a drying cloth, then headed for the baths. I was not angry or put out with her, but intensely curious as to why she would take up with another man, when my friend Justinius was a fine one. It was not my concern, I decided. They were adults, and knew more about it than I did. All I could do was listen. And learn.
Maximus was the last person I saw, as monthly examinations drew to a close. As with all others, he was instructed to strip down to loincloth. Phillip was present, but he may as well not have been, for all that I paid attention to him. Instead, Maximus received my complete focus, and though I tried to make healer's detachment rule my inspection, I could not help but notice things about him, that I had not leisure to, before. There was the conspicuous absence of the SPQR that tattooed every other soldier's arm, denoting that they served the senate and people of Rome. It had been there at one time, but all that remained was an indented scar, from where the markings had been cut out. I had never asked Maximus many questions about his life after his family was taken from him, but to have had the insignia that named him soldier removed was something terrible. It was a loss of identity, of belonging somewhere. I wondered that he had never had it replaced. Above the missing tattoo, was another ugly scar, from a sword wound. It was thick and pink against his bronzed skin, and had not been cared for properly, at the start. I frowned, and went about looking over the rest of him.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nothing. I was looking at your scar, here," I said, tapping it. "It wasn't taken care of, the way it should have been."
He shrugged. "It was a bad cut."
"Aye, but the surgeons could have done a better job, sewing it. It shouldn't have been left open for so long." My own similar scar, left in Galen's capable care, was thin and white, and had had no chance of becoming infected. Maximus' had been.
"There were no surgeons around, when I received it. And I'm not much of a seamstress. If you're a very good girl, I'll tell you about it, sometime."
"All right." Going back to the work at hand, I noted other evidence of a hard life on my master. The lines of the whip stroke crisscrossed his back, and the claws of a big cat had opened his shoulder, at the junction of his neck. Near his left kidney, was a round, neat mark, where some pointed object had punctured him, and he winced, when I brushed it lightly with my thumb. If it was not causing him pain, then the memory of how it got to be there was. Interspersed with those, were the usual war wounds, cuts and scrapes from fighting with many other warriors, long since healed, but each left behind its own story.
While I took him through the routine of breathing, looking in his eyes (which I did a bit longer than necessary, but they held me captive), and checking for discoloration and swelling of body parts, I noted that he was indeed, flesh and muscle. And no less fascinating to me, as the first time I had looked upon him thus. My fingers roamed about him, in the same routine I had used for every other man and woman that had been touched by me, but my brain was cataloging him in a different way. I noted the hardness of the muscles under surprisingly soft, warm skin, the length of his legs, the shape and hair that covered them, as well as the breadth and strength of his back. His hair was long and wild; he had not been to a barber, since leaving Ostia.
The first thing Justinius had said he wanted to do, the night before we reached Vindobona, was hit the baths and donate his hair to the barber's growing collection. He had glanced at Maximus, and remarked that his uncle also needed a haircut. Maximus had refused, explaining to him that where we were going, he would rather keep his hair, and stay warm. Justinius' answer was that he was happy he was staying behind, where there were would be women to provide body-heat, if he needed it.
While I recounted my findings to Phillip, who wrote them on a piece of papyrus, my eyes took a last roaming glance over the general. I should have been searching for anything important I might have missed, but he was in perfect health. What I saw was the embodiment of a god of myth, perfectly formed and beautiful, despite all scars. And all I could do was worship him from the temple of friendship. He dressed, then I walked with him outside. The contrast of sunlight to the lamp lit physicians' rooms was hard on the eyes. I blinked to let my eyes adjust, then looked at everything around, the stables, the barracks, the walls, everywhere but at Maximus.
"Does your new job suit you?" His voice was the ocean-tide, roaring in my ears, drowning out all the other sound around us.
"Aye. I was born to it."
"I agree. Phillip seems to think so, too. He says there will be hell to pay, if I drag you away from here. Or he will beg for a transfer." I smiled. The Greek doctor had a lot of questions, regarding what I knew, but I too, had questions for him. We worked together well.
"It's been good to do it, again."
"I don't see you much, anymore. Where do you take your meals?" Truthfully, I was in the habit of eating only the noon meal, of late.
"Here, with Phillip."
"Perhaps you could eat your supper with me, tonight. There will be another week, before you have to see the prostitutes, again. I would like to talk with you. Can't have you becoming a stranger, again."
"All right." I let my eyes steal up to his face, for a look. He was searching me, trying to find my thoughts, and read them. I hid them deeper.
"Boudicca." He never pronounced my name the Roman way, any more. It had been a formality; a way to hold me away, to remember there was a line not to step over.
"Aye, Sir?"
"What have I said?"
"That you want me to eat dinner with you, this evening."
He tried not to laugh. "No, not that. To make you stay so long away from us?"
"I'm very busy here. Seven thousand is a lot of people to see."
"Yes. But others need you, too. And you have to have some free time." Free time, to make myself miserable because he was all I could think about, when I did have a few moments to myself? That would be torture.
"I will ask Phillip for some."
"Good. How do you propose to spend it?"
"I could show Cassandra how to set your house to rights. There are some Gaul soldiers that I have been teaching the Roman language to. There are many ways I could fill the time."
He sighed. "We are leaving in five weeks. There are things I need to accomplish, in which your help would be appreciated. Which means, you will have to cut back your time here, and with your students. The housework yes, leave to Cassandra." There was no help for it. He was not only my master, he was the general, and I was under orders.
"Aye, Sir." I spent the next hour helping Phillip catch up records and plan the next month's activities, then trudged half-heartedly home.
Cassandra was alone, when I ducked inside. She was brushing her hair, and humming some tune. She smiled brightly to me, then went back to her toiletries.
I watched her for a while, enrapt by the process. I knew it was not for me that she went through so much trouble, so I guessed it was a man. She caught me, and put aside the brush.
"You know, she used to say that you were more a man, than a woman. At least, you think like one." In my head, I could hear Julia say almost the same thing. You are only a woman, when your body tells you to be.
"I don't know how to be anything else."
"Well, it's not something you are going to learn, dressing like one all the time, or not fixing yourself for them. They like that sort of thing."
"I don't like cosmetics. And I dress like I do, because I am a warrior."
"Every minute of the day? Even the men aren't soldiers, all the time." She got up from the chair she was sitting in, and walked to me, taking my hands, and putting me in it. She dragged my packs out from under my bed, and when I made no protest, found the green dress, my gift from Julia, for the purpose of loosing me from the bonds of duty, for a while at a time.
"This is pretty." She felt the silk, and held it against her cheek, briefly.
"It was a gift from Justinius' mother." She gazed sadly at the entryway, when I mentioned him.
"I see." She smiled again, and draped the garment over the edge of my bed, and took up my hairbrush, to get the snarls out of my hair. From nowhere, she produced several pearl and shell studded pins, to hold it in the coif she made of my locks.
I picked one up, and thought about the one I had found in the remains of Maximus' burned out bedroom, in Trujillo. "Where did you get these?"
"Unlike you, I have no trouble going to another woman, and asking for what I need. And I get gifts from a man, or two."
"Like the wagon-driver?"
"Dume? Yes." Her fingers were light and sure, as she swept up certain bits and pieces of my hair, and pinned them. She ordered me to stand, and take off my uniform, so she could help me into the green dress. I have to admit it was fun to be attended on. I felt like a queen, or Lucilla. But her confession regarding her other lovers still demanded my attention.
"Don't you like Justinius?"
"Yes. Just because I have other men, doesn't mean I can't like him, too. But he's not for me. So I take others, closer to my station in life."
"Oh."
"I suppose it hasn't crossed your mind to share a bed with him," she pointed at Maximus' house, beyond the goatskin walls. I studied the floor. I still had to have dinner there. I needed to quit playing dress-up, and get back in uniform. "Why not?" she pressed.
"That's not what he bought me for."
"So? You like him." I picked at the ribbons that crisscrossed my clothing, and said nothing, for a few minutes.
"I don't think he wants me there." She snorted behind me, and turned me around to face her, and inspected me, the way Julia had.
"Then he's missing out. And you don't need cosmetics. Just out of that uniform."
"I have to get back into it. I have to eat with him."
"Go like you are now." I answered no, it was not right. I was a soldier, and I needed to be in uniform, when I had dinner with an officer. "Then think of him as a man." She shoved me out into the star-speckled night, and toward the house. "I have to go meet someone, too." Her tinkling laughter floated behind me, as I drew in a breath, and knocked at Maximus' door, to let him know I was there. The guard stationed close by cocked an eyebrow at my attire, but was discreet enough not to let it concern him. I almost turned around, and changed. There were few rumors about me in this camp now, and I wanted to keep it that way. I asked if General Maximus' dinner had been brought, and he informed me two plates were carried in. I nodded, and waited for Maximus' muffled invitation to enter.
He met me in the atrium, and for moments, I forgot to breathe, so mesmerized was I, by the sight of him. The only thought that came to mind, was wolf. The midnight blue of the Roman toga clasped at his shoulder, and belted over his trousers, made his eyes seem to burn that color, as well. His long stride was the lazy lope of Lupa's ancestors, and I could easily imagine him silently stalking his prey through the forests and undergrowth, following the scent of fright and vulnerability, until he cornered and claimed it, devouring it whole. Dark hair curled around his ears and neck, only adding to the illusion that he was man and beast become one.
My breath came back, but in time with the beating of my heart. Somehow, I kept it even, the stupefaction, from my face. But what unnerved me most, was that in the pit of my abdomen, burned something I had not ever felt, and it moved to my privates, and they throbbed with every wave of blood flow. I was trembling, and my head hurt, from the effort to keep my rebelling body under control.
If Maximus had any idea that I was fighting with myself, he gave no sign, just slowly looked me over, marveling, his smile touched with concern.
"You've lost weight." I knew I had. I was not eating like I had been, on the road.
"All this, for me?" He started to reach out for a stray curl, but drew back.
"Cassandra was playing. She doesn’t like how I am, I don't think."
"She doesn't have to. I do. And I like you just the way you are." He did pick up and replace the hair that had fallen out, then. "This is nice though. And I won't tell anyone you were out of uniform, if you don't." He was grinning, and it was infectious. He guided me to the table, where our dinner lay steaming.
"What is the new general like?" I asked, between bites.
"He's young. He's never seen a battle, in his life."
"Not ever?"
"He's from Rome, and he was trained in the Praetorian. They've only really seen civil disturbance." He filled our cups with wine, more of the vineyard of Gracchus.
"Does that bother you? How will the legions respond to him?"
"I am taking my best officers with me. There are whole centuries arriving, everyday, and many of ours going elsewhere. Soon, it won't be the same army, here. I was granted permission by the Senate to choose my men, for my next post."
"May I ask where it will be?" The wine had made me bold enough to ask that months-old, nagging question.
"Hibernia." He gauged my surprise. I had never been to Eire, but I knew the Celts there were more ferocious still, than those of northern Britannia. But the idea was enthralling to me. And then I understood Maximus' thinking, when he had dropped the bag of coins for my purchase in Aelius Pontius' hand. The Ersemen might not have much to do with a company of Roman soldiers, who could not speak their tongue, or have an understanding of their ways. But with a Celt, and a woman among them, they might be more receptive to the presence of foreigners in their country. I traced the raised geometrical designs, on my cup, absently.
"It's a wild land," I finally said. "At least, that is what my grandfather used to say."
"Yes. That is what I hear, too. I'd like to see it, though. Explore it."
"What will our business be there?"
"Try to establish trade with the Erse. Your people have been doing it for hundreds of years. But for some reason, they don't like us. I don't understand it." One of the things I loved about Maximus was that he understood precisely why peoples resisted the Roman peace. It often drained the nations of their resources, their society (for all that Rome claimed to embrace the differences of her conquests, once they were perceived as a threat, destruction was never far from eminent), and their blood. He still did what he had sworn to do, but he did not like it. I giggled at his joke, and let him fill my cup again. He asked about the men to whom I was teaching the proper way of speaking in the Roman language.
Regardless of my hate for Rome, and my ease with the slave slang, I had made a point in my life, to learn to understand every word my enemy spoke to me. Greek was as much a part of my people's speech, as our own tongue, for that was the language of our business with other nations, and with each other. We had our own alphabet, but it was considered developmental for the power of the mind, to commit everything of our history and education to memory, rather than write it down. I could speak also the language of the Painted People, the ones the Romans called Pictii. Had we stayed long enough in Germania, I would have found someone to teach me that tongue, as well.
Four Gauls had approached me to instruct them, for they were up for promotion, and proper grammar was required of them. Three of them were not regular students, and I could turn them over to one of the other translators, but the fourth, Catavignus, was an apt pupil, and was never late for his lesson. We were building a friendship, and he seemed to me like my cousin that I had adored so, years before.
"Catavignus is a good man. Rufio spoke quite highly of him," Maximus remarked.
"Aye, he's already looked up to as a leader, by others," I observed.
"Where do you hold lessons?"
"Down by the river. Usually late in the afternoon, when I am done with examinations, and he is finished with drills. It's quiet there, no distractions from anyone." I drained my third helping of wine, and felt very dizzy. I was going to have trouble keeping my balance.
"I wish you wouldn't. I realize with an entire army about, you're relatively safe, but one can never be certain. You have a price on your head, still. And the tribes do take slaves. I'd like to see you free, someday."
"So would I," I mumbled. I was drunk, and very sleepy. We concluded our meal, and talked about other things I do not remember. And though I would have given myself to Maximus that night, had he asked, he did not. I vaguely recall being lifted from the low-slung couch I had reclined on after dinner, and being placed gently on a soft bed, where I woke next morning. And through the haze, I thought I heard him say, in a low-rumbling wolf growl, that he wanted me just the way I was.
