He felt an obscure sense of discomfort. The wistful note in her voice made the words sound like a question, as if she were actually asking him to let her turn back, to let her escape.
Escape? The word entered his head unexpectedly, increasing his sense of unease, though he resented its meaning. He wasn’t her captor and Coria wasn’t a prison. He was only following his orders, escorting her to a new life with a new husband, that was all. There was no coercion or force on his part. If anything, he was protecting her. There was certainly no need for him to feel guilty, even if something about her made him feel strangely defensive.
‘Is that what you want, to turn back?’ He asked the question before he could think better of it and saw her eyes widen with a look of surprise.
‘Yes...no... I don’t know.’ She looked and sounded genuinely torn. ‘That is, I want to see the wall. I’ve always wanted to see it, ever since I was a little girl...but not like this.’ She clamped her lips together as if she were trying to stop herself from saying something else and then couldn’t resist, her blue-green eyes blazing with sparks of defiance as the words seemed to burst out of her. ‘As for Lucius Scaevola, I wish he’d never come to Lindum. I wish he’d never set foot inside my brother’s tavern. Most of all, I wish I’d never heard his name!’
Chapter Four
‘We’re almost there, lady.’
Livia pulled back the window curtain at the sound of Marius’s voice. He was walking beside the carriage, looking no different to the way he had earlier, as if the day’s march had been nothing more than a light stroll. His uniform still looked pristine, without so much as a speck of dust on it. How was that possible?
‘You mean Coria?’
‘Take a look.’
He gestured ahead and she craned her head out of the window, surprised to see that they were already entering the outskirts of a small town. There were shops and stalls and taverns as well as several stone villas, more than she would have expected at such a remote outpost.
‘Most visitors from the south are surprised.’ Marius gave her a knowing look. ‘But not everyone here is a legionary.’
‘But I thought it was a fortress?’
‘It is. Over there.’ He pointed down the street towards a tall stone palisade fronted by two massive watchtowers. ‘This is just the vicus, the town that’s grown up around it.’
‘What about the great wall? Is it behind the fort?’
‘No, lady, we’re still two miles from the wall. Coria is a base for the Sixth Legion, four cohorts of it anyway. The forts along the wall are manned by auxiliaries.’
‘Auxiliaries?’ She didn’t understand the distinction. ‘What are those?’
‘Soldiers who aren’t citizens.’
‘You mean they aren’t Roman?’ She looked at him in surprise. ‘Then why do they man the wall? Why fight for Rome?’
‘To gain their citizenship—’ he gave her a strange look as if the answer ought to be obvious ‘—once they’ve served their twenty-five years like the rest of us.’
‘So they do all the hard work while you sit back here?’
‘Not exactly.’ His expression slipped into a frown. ‘The legion was sent back from Gaul by Emperor Severus to restore those parts of the wall damaged by the northern invasion a few years ago. That means hundreds of men doing building work and providing military support where necessary. Believe me, none of us gets to sit back and do nothing.’
‘Oh...no, I suppose not.’
She bit her tongue, already regretting the words. It had been an insulting, not to mention revealing, thing to have said, and she didn’t want to offend him—or to provoke his suspicions either. After his earlier kindness to Julia she owed him better than that and criticising the Empire wasn’t an intelligent thing to do under any circumstances. The way she’d denounced Scaevola earlier had been incriminating enough, but she hadn’t been able to contain her anger at her own sense of powerlessness any longer. Still, if Marius repeated the words... Not that she thought he would. As stern as he seemed, there was something inherently trustworthy about him, or at least she thought there was. Then again, she’d been wrong about a man she’d trusted before.
‘I’m sorry.’ She adopted what she hoped was a suitably apologetic expression. ‘I’m just disappointed. I’d hoped I might get to see it today.’
That was true. Despite everything, she was still excited by the thought of catching her first glimpse of the wall and the land beyond it.
‘Indeed.’ He still sounded offended.
‘Can you see it from Coria?’
‘No, the landscape’s too hilly.’
‘Then do you think I might be allowed to visit?’
He gave her a sidelong look, as if surprised by her interest. ‘I think that might be up to your husband, lady.’
She grimaced, unwilling to talk about what her new husband would or would not let her do. After her earlier mistake, she felt more nervous than ever about meeting him. Loath as she was to admit it, she had the disturbing suspicion that no other man could possibly measure up to the one she’d thought that he was...
A soldier in one of the watchtowers called out a greeting as they entered the gateway and she pulled her head back inside the carriage, smiling at Porcia, though to her surprise, the girl didn’t look happy.
‘What’s the matter? We’ve arrived safely at last.’
‘Yes, but...’ Her maid leaned forward, as if she were afraid of being overheard. ‘What about you? What if it all happens again?’
What if...? She felt a ripple of panic start in her chest and begin to spread outwards, coursing through her veins like poison. There was no point in pretending that she didn’t understand Porcia’s meaning. She’d been thinking the same thing ever since they’d left Lindum, desperately hoping that Tarquinius was only marrying her off to be rid of her this time, without any ulterior motive. Now that she knew who her intended was, however, she had to admit that seemed unlikely. No doubt her brother had big plans for Lucius Scaevola in the future. And if he didn’t comply then Tarquinius would have no qualms about blackmailing him as well... Another ripple of panic spread outwards... And since her new husband wouldn’t be able to vent his anger on anyone else, it would all fall on her again, just as it had with Julius.
What if it did all happen again?
She shook her head helplessly. So much depended on her new husband’s character, on him being willing or able to stand up to Tarquinius. Both her and Julia’s futures depended on it.
Nervously, she peered out of the window again. They were inside the fort now, rolling down the Via Praetoria between storerooms, barracks and granaries towards the Via Principalis and what looked like the military headquarters, a huge stone building with a column-framed courtyard at the front.
‘Are we here, Mama?’
Julia lifted her head from the bench, yawning, as they turned away from the headquarters and rolled to a halt in front of a large villa.
‘Yes, love.’ She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, pulling her close. ‘We’re here.’
‘Is this our house?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘This is the Legionary Legate’s house,’ Marius interjected, already opening the carriage door. ‘My orders were to escort you here.’
‘Then I thank you for your escort, Centurion.’
She spoke formally as she took his proffered hand and stepped down, trying to ignore the way her breath caught and then quickened as their fingers touched. Standing so close, her nostrils filled with his scent of leather and sandalwood, she felt as though all her insides were performing a series of unwonted contortions. She could sense his body heat, too, radiating through his mail shirt, though perhaps that was just her own blood heating in response to his proximity. Every part of her skin seemed to be tingling, from the top of her head to the tips of her t
oes, as if his hands were moving all over her body and not merely grasping her fingers.
She swallowed as her heart seemed to sink and do somersaults at the same time. She’d spent her time in the carriage trying to convince herself that her earlier reaction to him had all been a mistake, a reaction to the tension of the past few days, and yet holding his hand now, the feeling seemed ten times as strong, as if denial had only magnified her body’s response. If it were nerves, then it didn’t feel like any nerves she recognised. It felt strangely, shockingly, inappropriately pleasurable. How could it still when she knew that he wasn’t the man she’d come to marry?
She peeked up at him, but he was staring straight ahead at the villa, as if he felt no reaction to her at all. Perhaps he didn’t. It was hard to imagine such a powerful emotion being entirely one-sided, but judging by the severity of his expression, it clearly was. Which was a good thing, she told herself. If he felt the same then it would only make things more awkward and her earlier mistake had been bad enough.
She drew her fingers away, pulling her palla over her head as he turned to lift Julia down from the carriage, making a small bow as he did so, as if she truly were an empress. She smiled at her daughter’s delighted reaction. Even if she never saw him again, which she supposed was quite likely given the size of the fort, she’d remember him for that kindness. The rest of it she would try to forget, not just for her sake, but for that of her new husband. No good could come of dwelling on what-might-have-beens, on what her future might have been if Marius Varro had been the man she’d come to marry.
They started up the steps of the villa together, Julia in the middle like a shield keeping them apart. It made Livia no less physically aware of him, but at least it made the cause of her flushed cheeks less obvious. Now if she could just keep her daughter between them while she bade him farewell...
No sooner had the thought entered her head than the little girl tripped, sprawling forward on to the hard granite steps. Instinctively, she sprang forward to catch her, only to find Marius there at the same time, so that they both caught an elbow and lifted her up before she could hurt herself. Livia threw him a grateful look, but he only nodded sternly, waiting for her to move ahead before dropping unobtrusively to one side, though staying close enough to reach them, she noticed, in case Julia stumbled again. For some reason, his presence there made her feel better, as if he were protecting them both.
‘Ah, Livia Valeria.’ An aristocratic-looking man dressed in a pristine white toga decorated with a purple band appeared in the villa doorway, bowing his head in greeting. ‘I’m Fabius Augustus Nerva, Legate Legionary of the Sixth Victorious Legion. Welcome to Coria.’
‘Thank you. I’m glad to be here.’ She bent her own head in response. As intimidating as the man looked, she was relieved to find that his expression was welcoming. ‘This is my daughter, Julia.’
She gestured behind her, better prepared this time for the look of surprise that immediately crossed his features. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting a child either.
‘I see.’ Whatever his private thoughts, he recovered himself quickly. ‘Well, we’re always looking for new recruits. Have you come to join the legion, young lady?’
‘Marius says I’m an empress,’ Julia answered seriously.
‘Marius said that?’ The Legate’s eyebrows shot upwards as he threw a swift, questioning look at his Centurion. ‘Well, in that case I await your commands, but first you’d better come inside. My wife has arranged some refreshments after your long journey. You, too, Marius.’
He stepped aside, letting her precede him through the vestibulum and into the atrium beyond. It was a large, airy room with a painting of a garden on one wall and an intricate mosaic of two tigers wrestling on the floor, their claws and teeth bared in ferocious combat. Livia bent her head to study it, so impressed by the intricacy of the design that it took her a few moments to notice the pair of sandalled feet standing at the opposite edge.
‘Oh!’
She exclaimed in alarm, pressing one hand to her chest as she met the critical stare of another, younger man watching her with arms clasped behind his back. Tall and coldly handsome, he looked to be around twenty years of age with short blond hair, piercing blue eyes and an air of arrogant hauteur that seemed to ooze out of every pore. She didn’t need an introduction to know who he was.
‘Ah, Lucius.’ Nerva gave a strained-looking smile. ‘May I present Livia Valeria, your new bride.’
‘I’m honoured to meet you, Lucius Scaevola.’ She felt vividly aware of the contrast with the first time she’d said those words. They were expected of her, but this time she didn’t feel even the tiniest flicker of attraction. Neither, apparently, did he as his gaze flitted over and then past her.
‘She’s older than I expected.’
He spoke in a tone of contempt to Nerva, as if speaking to her directly was beneath his dignity, and she felt the last of her hopes flitter away, replaced by dismay and indignation. Even if she was a few years past the expected age for a bride, he ought not to mention it aloud as if she had neither ears nor feelings.
‘Who is that?’ His gaze homed in on Julia suddenly, his voice turning high-pitched and horrified.
‘That is my daughter.’ She took a step to one side, blocking his view. ‘Julia.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Scaevola drew in a hiss of breath, seeming to rear backwards and upwards at the same time, like a cornered snake rising up on its coils. ‘A daughter? I wasn’t told anything about a child!’
He whirled away from her towards Nerva. ‘Surely I can’t be expected to take on another man’s whelp? It’s preposterous. Just look at her hair! She looks like a Caledonian! A filthy barbarian!’
Livia felt the blood drain from her face, the ball of tension in her chest tightening so fiercely she actually felt winded. She couldn’t speak, only stare, stunned into silence by the insult. Red hair had been fashionable in Rome for a time, years before when the sight of tribespeople from the north had been a novelty, but now it was hardly unique. There were plenty of red-headed citizens scattered throughout the Empire, though she’d heard that some Romans still regarded it as a sign of barbarism. Not that she’d ever heard such prejudices expressed quite so blatantly nor so vehemently before. Even Julius had only looked his disapproval, but then he’d liked her hair at first. He’d called it her crowning glory before he’d turned it into yet another reason to hate her.
A faint sobbing sound emanating from behind her skirts forced self-pity aside and she curled her hands into fists as a rush of maternal fury overcame shock. Insulting her was one thing. Insulting her daughter was a different matter entirely!
‘We’re Roman.’ She pulled her palla back from her head, unveiling her own copper-red curls. If Julia was going to be condemned for her hair colour, then they’d be condemned together. ‘Just like you.’
‘How dare you!’ His expression managed to convey both outrage and horror. ‘You’re nothing like me!’
‘And we deserve your respect!’ She tossed her head deliberately so that the long tresses spilled over her shoulders, speaking with a disdain equal to his own. No matter what else, she wasn’t going to let Julia see her behave with anything other than dignity.
Scaevola’s eyes narrowed to venomous slits before he turned back towards Nerva. ‘How could I ever take a pair like that back to Rome? It’s unthinkable! I’d be the laughing stock of the Senate.’
‘Lucius.’ Nerva’s voice held a warning note, though the younger man seemed not to notice.
‘I won’t do it. I’d rather marry a—’
‘Sir!’
Livia spun around, as startled as everyone else by Marius’s interruption. Despite Nerva’s invitation to join them, he’d kept to one side of the atrium, half-hidden in the shadows, though she’d remained acutely aware of his presence. Even without looking she could somehow sense his proximity
. If he’d left, she had a feeling she would have known it.
She hadn’t counted on his coming to her aid, however, and yet that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. He actually looked angry, she noticed with surprise, his jaw a rigidly set line as he eyeballed the other man, though as a centurion he surely had no right to interrupt a tribune. She didn’t know much about the Roman army, but she knew that hierarchy was everything. Judging by the way that Scaevola’s mouth was hanging open, gaping like a landed fish, he could hardly believe it either.
She held her breath, not knowing whether to feel grateful or concerned. As much as she appreciated Marius’s defending her, she didn’t want him to be punished for it. She had enough to worry about already.
‘Centurion?’ Nerva was the first to recover from his surprise.
‘Forgive my interruption, sir.’ Marius sounded as if he were speaking through clenched teeth. ‘But I believe our guests are tired after their journey.’
‘Of course.’ To her amazement, instead of issuing a reprimand, Nerva agreed with him. ‘We can discuss this another time. Don’t you agree, Lucius?’
The Tribune didn’t get a chance to answer as a kindly-looking matron emerged through one of the archways at that moment, her genial smile instantly defusing the tension.
‘Ah, you must be Livia.’ The woman came forward at once, hands outstretched. ‘I wondered what was keeping you all out here. I’m so delighted to meet you.’
‘This is my wife, Hermenia.’ Nerva looked visibly relieved by her arrival. ‘She’ll show you to your room. Under the circumstances, we thought it might be best if you stayed here as our guest for a few days. Until matters are settled.’
‘If they’re settled...’ Lucius sounded faintly rebellious.
‘Thank you.’ Livia clasped the woman’s hands gratefully, feeling as if she’d just been offered a raft in the middle of a storm-tossed ocean. At that moment anything was better than spending any more time with her intended. Not that running away and hiding was going to solve anything, but it would be a welcome respite.
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