by R. W. Peake
“I will,” he assured me. “But I don’t think it will come to that. Germanicus,” he shook his head, “isn’t that kind of man.”
I certainly hoped he was correct, and I confess I felt the same way, but I had decided to remain cautious in my outlook.
“Well,” it was all I could think to say, “my father always said that I suffered because I was a paid man and hadn’t been in the ranks, so maybe I’ll get my chance to find out what it’s like.”
As I hoped, this made him laugh, but of course he had to ruin it by reminding me, “You know we’re going to be stopping at Mogontiacum.”
“I know.” I sighed, but then I told him what I had been considering. “And I think I may try and convince Bronwen to stay with my mother. At least until we find out what’s facing me.”
I had expected him to burst out laughing; I was completely unprepared for him to give me a thoughtful look before saying, “That’s actually not a bad idea. Now,” he shrugged, then jerked his head to where Bronwen was sitting, engaged in a conversation with the girl, “convincing her might be difficult.”
This was something I could not argue, so I did not even try.
Once we reached Cambete, this marked the point of the journey where we changed from upstream to downstream, which meant our progress was swifter, but this was offset by the difficulty in hiring another master now that we were on the Rhenus. This master, and he and his boat were as indifferently maintained as Tullius’, although there was a young girl who found Bronwen fascinating, not that I blamed her. She was very young, younger than Bronwen but older than Atia, and what her status was and how she was connected to this master was something that I made the decision early on not to ask about. With every mile, I had to decide what and how much to tell my mother, since there is no way to get to Ubiorum without going through Mogontiacum.
For this, I relied on Alex, although I was not particularly surprised when he said, “She has the right to know everything, and most importantly, why you did what you did.”
And, I agreed with him, although I was still trying to decide the best way to tell her, but when the walls of Mogontiacum came into sight, I was still no closer to deciding. As we had done the year before, I wanted to send someone ahead to warn my mother of our arrival, but the ship’s master flatly refused to allow the girl, who I had offered to pay generously, to leave the boat.
Once we were unloaded and riding to my mother’s villa, Alex said flatly, “That tells us everything we need to know about that girl’s situation. He knows that if he lets her off that boat, she’ll never come back.”
This had been my assessment as well, although I was slightly surprised how much her plight bothered me. Later, when I thought about it, I realized that watching Algaia and how she behaved when she was forced to be in Gaius’ presence had affected me in ways that were not immediately apparent. And, in fact, we briefly discussed the idea of returning back to the boat to try and purchase the girl outright, but it was Bronwen who convinced us that it was pointless.
“I already asked him how much he would take for the girl,” she told us as we moved at what can only be called a sedate pace towards our destination. “And he told me not to waste my breath, there was no amount he would take. Apparently,” she sighed, “this is not the first girl this man has had, but she is the one who has lasted this long. He,” she concluded sadly, “will never let that girl go.”
As she said this, I was reminded of something, and when I glanced over at Alex, I was certain his thoughts were running along the same vein, recalling how, in his own twisted way, Gaius Pullus had loved Algaia to the point he was willing to betray his family and die for her; the fact that she loathed him never seemed to enter into his thinking. We arrived at the villa just after Bronwen’s pronouncement, and I slid off the horse and used the iron clapper to strike the bell set into the wall next to the gate. It was snowing again, although it was light, and as we waited for someone, presumably Mandalonius, to come to the gate, I admonished myself for feeling the same way I had the year before, worrying about my reaction if my mother was not alone. I heard the crunching sound when someone is walking on freshly fallen slow, and as I thought it would be, I recognized Mandalonius’ eye, which went wide, again as I expected.
“M-master Gnaeus?”
“I’m glad to see your advancing years haven’t affected your memory,” I said this in a teasing manner, temporarily forgetting that, of his many qualities, a quick mind is not one of this freedman’s strength.
“No, Master Gnaeus,” he assured me seriously, “I remember who you are.”
He was already moving away from the peephole to open the gate, and when it swung open, I enjoyed his reaction as his eyes went to Alex, who he knew, then to Bronwen. His eyes went even wider as his jaw dropped, which made me laugh.
“I’ve gotten used to seeing that reaction when men see Bronwen for the first time,” I said as I led my horses past the freedman. Clapping him on the shoulder, I also jokingly warned, “And you better hope Carissa didn’t see you looking like a moonstruck cow.”
This did get his mouth shut at least, and he hurried to help Bronwen down off the horse, or at least this was his intent, but as both Alex and I had learned, she neither wanted or appreciated help, yet when Mandalonius raised his arms to lift her out of the saddle, she meekly accepted his help, and I realized she was every bit as nervous as I was.
“Your mother is not here, Master Gnaeus,” Mandalonius informed me once we were inside the walls and the gate had been closed. Before I could ask, he supplied, “She is out in the city visiting a friend, but she will be back before nightfall.”
What kind of friend? This was the first thought that went through my mind, but thank the gods that was where it stayed. Alex said he would help stabling the animals, although it was going to be cramped with so many of them, while I escorted Bronwen to the door of the villa, where Carissa was standing, having been alerted by the bell as her man had. It was somewhat strange, but I learned more about how Mandalonius and Carissa became a couple and under my mother’s employment from my father’s account than from my mother herself. Carissa’s reaction was similar to Mandalonius’ at seeing Bronwen, who had pulled back her hood and was wearing her hair loose and free.
“This is Bronwen, Carissa. She’s my woman,” I had gotten more used to saying that, but we were still both tentative about it, and I saw that it pleased Bronwen whenever I said it.
“Salve, Bronwen,” Carissa bowed deeply, then stepped aside to let us in as she began babbling, something I had learned she did when she was nervous or unsettled. “Your mother will be here before dark, Master Gnaeus. She was just out to visit a friend, and she said she was going to stop at the Temple of Jupiter to make an offering.”
This sounded odd to me, and I asked, “For who?”
“Why, for you of course! The last message we received about you was from Mistress Algaia, when she let us know that you had been successfully ransomed. But then, you didn’t show up, and we just received word from her that she hasn’t heard anything more!”
I was just happy that Alex was not there to hear this last part, but it did make a decision for me, because the guilt that I felt that had slowly been receding came rushing back.
“We’ll only be staying a night,” I told her, and she did not try to hide her disappointment as she collected our cloaks.
“Your mother will be unhappy to hear that, Master Gnaeus,” she said this reprovingly, but I did not fault her.
“I know she will,” I agreed. “But once she hears why, I’m sure she’ll agree.”
This was my hope, anyway, and Carissa led us into the triclinium, which my mother actually does use. Alex arrived then, and I decided to take Bronwen on a brief tour of my mother’s home, which is considerably smaller and only has one floor. She was still impressed, though, and was particularly taken with the painted fresco on one wall of my mother’s personal room that portrayed a pastoral scene that, as far as I could tell, seem
ed to attempt to represent what the view would look like if there was not a city here. Once the tour was over, we rejoined Alex to find that Carissa had heated up some posca for us, another first for Bronwen, and we watched her eyes above the rim of her cup with amusement as she tasted it for the first time.
I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was not her face lighting up as she exclaimed, “This is very pleasant tasting!” Without hesitating, she drained her cup, then held it out to Carissa, smiling as she asked, “May I have some more?”
Naturally, Carissa was happy to comply, but I was only partially jesting when I said, “You might want a clear head when you meet my mother.”
I instantly knew I had said the wrong thing, her face losing its color as she set the cup down so hastily that some of it splashed out of it onto the table. Despite my best attempt, I was unable to ease her mind, and she did not touch the cup again. More to pass the time, I asked Carissa for news, hoping to glean some information about the plan for the Legions, and I had even considered the possibility that, if Germanicus was present here in Mogontiacum for some reason, I would report directly to him instead of going through the normal process of returning to Primus Pilus Sacrovir. This, thankfully, was one of the few things that Carissa did know.
“The Propraetor isn’t here in Mogontiacum,” she informed us.
“That’s probably for the best,” I said. “This way, I can report in to Sacrovir, then Germanicus can punish me as he sees fit.”
It was the manner in which Carissa reacted that gave me forewarning, “Master Gnaeus, the Propraetor isn’t in Ubiorum either.”
“Did he go back to Gaul to finish the census?”
This seemed to be the most likely explanation, which was why I offered it, but I was wrong again.
“No, he’s not in Gaul either. He was summoned back to Rome by the Imperator.”
This was the moment where we heard the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the sight of my mother rushing in, her cloak still on and flecked with snowflakes. I barely got to my feet when she launched herself at me, hugging me so fiercely that I thought I might strangle, although I was laughing. Whether it was my reaction, or she had planned it all along, I never asked, but she released her grasp of me, then drew back her right hand and slapped me, hard, across the face.
“That’s what you get for worrying your mother to death!”
It was probably for the best that she burst into tears; I do not like being slapped by anyone, even my mother, but the sight of her so distraught meant that all that came out of my mouth was, “I’m sorry, Mama.”
As is her habit, it did not take long for my mother to recover her composure, although she spent some time fussing over the new scars I had earned before she naturally hugged Alex next, then the moment I had been alternately looking forward to and dreading came as she turned to face Bronwen, who had also risen. She looked calm enough, but I had observed her habit of twisting her hands together as they hung down in front of her whenever she was nervous.
“Mama, this is Bronwen, of the Parisii people of Britannia, daughter of Praesutagas, one of the richest merchants of all the tribes of Britannia.” I had no idea if this was anywhere near the truth, but it sounded good, and Bronwen did not object as I finished, “Bronwen, this is my mother, Giulia Volusenus.”
“Mistress Volusenus,” Bronwen performed the feminine version of a bow, “it is my…”
She got no further, because my mother had come to her and, without a word, swept her into an embrace. I was standing in the right place to see the look of first surprise, then happiness suffuse Bronwen’s face.
“You,” my mother’s voice was almost husky with emotion, “are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Bronwen.” I should have known what was coming, because now she turned so she was looking at me, although she still addressed Bronwen, “Which makes me ask, how did my son manage to win your heart?”
Honestly, it felt good to fall back into our more normal pattern of teasing each other, so I replied with mock indignation, “How couldn’t she fall for me? I,” I turned slightly to strike a pose like a statue, “am a model of Roman manhood.”
“Which is why I’m asking her,” my mother replied tartly.
This made us all laugh, then with the introductions done, my mother handed her cloak to Carissa, then led Bronwen to sit on the couch next to her, but it was to me she commanded, “Now, tell me what sort of foolish thing you did, Gnaeus.”
Ignoring her jibe, mainly because I was certain that trying to argue about whether what I had done was foolish or not would not end well for me, I did much as I had with my father’s family, offering up a bare recitation of the facts. She quickly became impatient because I chose to start with our time aboard the ship with Motius, and she cut me off.
“I know about that, Gnaeus. Your Pilus Posterior Saloninus came here personally to tell me what happened. And then, I got a message from Algaia that your ransom had been raised by your father’s family. Which,” her voice turned stern, “I could have contributed to, and I would have gladly given everything up to raise as much as I could.”
“I know that,” I assured her, and I was being honest. “But you’re much farther away than Arelate was, and this had to be done quickly.”
“I assume that you met Bronwen during your captivity,” she commented in an offhand manner.
This was when Bronwen inadvertently made things worse, because she suddenly dropped her head to look at her hands, something that my mother immediately noticed, although it was me she looked to for an explanation.
Before I could say anything, Bronwen said dully, “I was used as bait to enable my King Cogidubnus to capture Gnaeus.”
“Against your will,” I cut in, forcefully. “You know I don’t blame you for that now that I know why.”
“Perhaps,” my mother said quietly, “you should let Bronwen tell her story, Gnaeus.”
I have no idea whether or not Bronwen was deliberately copying me, but she did as my mother commanded, giving a basic recitation of the facts, while I studied my mother’s face. Since we had not discussed this beforehand, there was no way to warn her not to discuss what had happened at Petuar, knowing exactly how my mother would react to this. Consequently, I watched her features harden as Bronwen told of how I had not only helped defend Petuar, but had saved Ivomagus’ life.
When it was clear Bronwen was finished, there was a long silence, and when I glanced at Alex, I could tell he was bracing for some sort of outburst as well.
“It seems,” my mother finally said icily, “that your King Cogidubnus is a man totally without honor. I hope that does not extend to all of the Parisii.”
As I said, I knew my mother would be angry, and in spirit, I agreed with her, but this was too much, and I came to my feet to stare down at her as I struggled to keep my voice under control. “That’s enough, Mother. Bronwen left everything and everyone behind, her father’s essentially being held hostage by Cogidubnus, who, yes,” I agreed, “is a faithless cunnus, but if it wasn’t for Ivomagus and Tincommius,” I pointed to Bronwen, “and her, I wouldn’t have made it off that fucking island.”
To my shock, my mother smiled suddenly.
“That,” she said, “was what I needed to know. You truly love her, Gnaeus.” She addressed Bronwen then, and her tone was apologetic. “I was simply trying to make sure that my son understood your worth, Bronwen, and now I know.”
Utterly flummoxed, all I could do was drop back onto the couch, shaking my head, glaring at Alex, who was grinning broadly.
“Now,” my mother turned back to me, “tell me what possessed you to not return immediately to Ubiorum. I assume you went to Arelate, but why were you there all this time?”
This surprised all of us, but it seemed natural for Alex to ask, “Didn’t Algaia’s message tell you what happened?”
“Yes.” My mother nodded. “She said she received word that you and Gnaeus were going to Arelate.”
“That�
�s the only message? Because that’s the one I sent when we landed in Gesoriacum,” Alex replied. “But when we left for Alexandria, I sent another message with an Imperial courier who was heading for Ubiorum carrying some sort of dispatch for Germanicus.”
“Alexandria?” I have never seen my mother that surprised. “What on Gaia’s Earth are you saying? That you have been to Egypt?”
“That is where Alexandria is, after all.”
Whether it was the words or the manner in which I said it, my mother burst out laughing; once she caught her breath, she said, “There’s clearly quite a tale here, and I don’t think I should hear it on an empty stomach. I’m going to tell Carissa to get started on a meal.”
Before we could say anything, she got up and left the room, and I grinned at Bronwen. “My mother likes you.”
“I like her as well,” Bronwen replied, but she must have seen the doubt on my face. “No, my love, I do,” she assured me. “She did what a mother should do, and that is test the woman her only son brings to her.”
“I thought she was testing me,” I chuckled. Then my good humor vanished as I realized, “We haven’t told her that we’re only staying the night.” Deciding to get it over with, I stood up and followed her into the part of the house that contained the kitchen, where I found her discussing with Carissa and the pair of slaves who worked as cooks what to prepare.
I waited for her to finish, then I began hesitantly, “Mama, I need to let you know…”
“What? That you’re leaving at first light?” she asked with a smile, albeit a sad one. “I knew that the moment I walked into the villa, my son. You have to get to Ubiorum as quickly as possible, I know that.” She added, “Do you know about Germanicus?”
“That he’s not in Ubiorum anymore.” I nodded. “Yes, Carissa just told us.”
Now, for the first time, I saw the anxiety in my mother’s eyes as she asked, “Do you think that’s a good thing? Or a bad thing?”