Ex Fumo Gaudiam

by Nobilis Reed

  Tears fell from her eyes as she turned and left to pack her things.

  I waited until she had left the room to let my own tears fall as well.

  I returned to my maps, hoping to dispel the dark thoughts swirling in my head, but as I looked down at my sketches, all I could hear was her voice.

  It was just a few days before when she had asked, “Why are you doing this, writing down every rock and river on the lake?” She had come into my office while I was working with my scribe and converting the pile of notes from my most recent survey into correctly plotted symbols on the official map of Lake Ontarius.

  “One cannot control what one does not understand.”

  She laughed. “You wish to make the lake your slave?”

  I scowled at the word, hoping that she didn’t mean it the way it sounded. With a gesture to the east, I said, “There is an even larger body of water, back across the sea, which my people now control in the same way. The Mare Nostrum could swallow a hundred of this one. No one sails upon it without our emperor’s leave. No people who live on its shores do not recognize his authority. It is not such a funny thing.”

  “With your ships and weapons, it does not seem strange. But Marcus Amandus, take care that you do not anger the Spirit of the Lake with your pride. It is not to be trifled with.”

  “Spirit of the Lake?”

  “Ontario. You changed his name but you did not change his nature. The lake is sacred. He swallows canoes which stray too far from shore. He drowns men who swim in his waters. He brings storms to punish the families of those who anger him. He is an angry spirit, and a powerful one.”

  “Well, we’ve certainly seen some storms here, but so far, he’s done no more than knock tiles off the roof. My Lord Mithras protects me. But if it makes you feel better, I will be careful.”

  And now she was gone.

  I swept the maps aside and dropped my head into my hands. It would do no good to send her away, not even if I were to send her to Rome itself. She would be with me, always. Still, to have her nearby was a constant temptation, one that would cost me everything if I succumbed.

  It was best this way.

  I STOOD ON THE DOCK with my honor guard in a precise row behind me as the huge, ocean-going ship slowly settled its nose into the slot in the pier that had been built for it. Ropes were thrown down from the deck and secured around heavy brass stanchions mounted directly into the stone. I could hear huge gears engage with a clank and a great iron ramp rose before me to mate with the widening aperture of the ship’s forward hatch.

  Fourteen legionnaires, their steel armor and brass pressure-bows polished mirror-bright, marched down the ramp to form up in two facing lines, and then saluted as a man in a pure white toga appeared at the hatch. He looked down at me and smiled, and then hurried down to take me in his arms. There were more people aboard ship that were waiting to debark, but they would wait until this official greeting was complete.

  “Marcus!” he said, pulling away. “How is life out here in the provinces? I hear good things about this little colony.” He swept his arm to encompass the docks, the buildings, and the heavy stone walls beyond.

  “I am well, Father. Every day there’s something new to learn, something new to see. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Welcome to Nova Lucotecia.”

  He clapped me on the back. His arm had lost none of its strength, even in his fiftieth year. People complimented me that I had his strong jaw, his commanding voice. It had been he who had taught me to wield the gladius, rather than just carry it the way so many other officers did. “And how is Quintus Ambrosius?”

  “The legate would have been here to meet you himself, but he is not feeling well today.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope,” he said, with a raised eyebrow.

  I paused a second to evaluate the little political trap that faced me. If I said that it was simply a headache, then my father would be right in feeling snubbed; if I said that he was laid up in bed then I would paint the legate as a weak man. Either way, word of what I said to my father in this very public place would get back to him. The legate was fond of putting me in these situations, and quick to criticize if I did not perform well.

  “The legate is a subtle man. I don’t pretend to know his every thought. I am to escort you and your entourage up to his estate. Perhaps he is preparing a special welcome for you?”

  “Ah, old Quintus. I’m sure he just wanted to give you the honor of being the first to meet us here.”

  “Us?”

  “I have a surprise for you, son.” He turned and waved toward the ramp.

  A slender figure, pale as a ghost, slipped between the bodies waiting there to tread carefully down the iron plates, flanked by two servants. A mantle was draped over her head to shelter her from the slight chill in the air, but I could tell at a glance who it was. Ivory skin even without makeup, tinged with just the slightest blush about her cheeks, pale eyes the color of a hazy sky; delicate, refined features; she was my fiancée.

  I plastered a smile on my face and bowed to her. “Livia Ambrosia. A surprise indeed. I thought you were content to stay in Rome?”

  She looked around at the docks, and then up the slope leading to her father’s estate near the top of the hill we had named Mons Regius. Her wide eyes took in everything, from the noisy tractors preparing to offload the ship, to the scattered statuary lining the thoroughfare, displaying a curiosity I had not seen before. She had matured since I had seen her last, transformed from a shy, reserved child to a self-possessed woman. I marveled at the changes a few short years could bring.

  “My father assures me in his letters that Nova Lucotecia is not the wild, uncivilized place I had imagined it to be.”

  “It has its charms,” I said.

  She smiled. I wondered whether it was as artificial as mine. “Will you show me, husband-to-be?”

  “Of course.” I held out my arm for her, and we walked a short distance to the carriage waiting for us. If the legate had met them, he would have used the steam coach he was so proud of, but the noise made conversation impossible. I wanted to be able to talk so instead I had brought the horse-drawn coach.

  Lifting Livia up to the door brought home to me just how slight and delicate she was. It was no effort at all to help her in. I followed and sat next to her, with my father and his secundus facing us. Livia laid a hand on the window sill and watched with intense fascination as the town passed by. She pointed at anything of even slight interest to ask what it was, and smiled and waved at everyone she could.

  I would have liked to have hated her. It would have been so easy if she was shrewish or demanding or even just ugly, but she wasn’t. Even better if she had been dull-witted; then the comparisons to Makki would have been simple. But she was none of these things. She had a genuine charisma that would not admit any ill feeling. It had not always been this way with her. When I had met her in Rome before leaving for the Antipodes she had been so reserved that it was a trial to get a single word out of her. Now there was nothing disagreeable about her at all.

  But that’s all the feeling I had. Warmth. There was no fire in my breast for her, no passion in my heart. Before I had met Makki, this was a tolerable, even comfortable prospect. But now, a life without the feelings that I had learned I could experience seemed empty indeed.

  Finally, as we passed from the streets of the colony proper and began the climb up the mountainside, she turned to me and laid her hand on my arm. “Will this be a place to raise our family, Marcus?”

  “I’m sure that wherever you are will be a fine place for children. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

  I glanced at my father. His eyes were, as always, appraising, but there was a curl of pride in his lips. Events were proceeding according to his plan.

  The darkness in my heart deepened. Not only was I committing myself to a prison for life, I was lying to everyone around me. I prayed I was doing the right thing; that the price would be worth it.

  A
squad of legionnaires stood at attention at the side of the road as our carriage passed. Livia glanced at them and shook her head. “I’m just worried that it’s not safe here. Has there been much fighting?”

  The scene on the riverbank flashed through my mind, along with Makki’s defiant shouts amid the hail of javelins. “Not any worth mentioning. Certainly nothing that threatens the peace of Nova Lucotecia.” If Livia had been there, she would have screamed and run for the hatch, or at least hidden behind me. And who could blame her? Any woman would have done the same. Any woman but Makki.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, and I got out to help Livia down onto the front patio of Quintus Ambrosius’s villa. I could hear the soft whine of his house aeolipile and smell the faint tang of coal smoke on the air. There was always a strong breeze this high on the mountain, so the smoke from the stacks never lingered. Livia took my arm and we proceeded inside.

  His secundus met us in the vestibule. After a precise salute, he said, “Senator, Procurator, the legate is eager to meet with you. He awaits you in the bath.” He turned to Livia and gave a curt bow. “Livia Ambrosia, your mother will meet you shortly in the peristyleum.”

  As we walked, I explained to my father, “Quintus Ambrosius is the only man in Nova Lucotecia with his own bath. He loves to show it off.”

  “Yes, that’s Quintus alright,” he said with a smile and a slight shake of his head.

  In a small changing room servants helped us out of our clothes, and then we proceeded to the bath. The old man lounged in the calidarium, sitting on the low bench under the water, letting the steam rise up around him. The floor around the circular pool was decorated with a mosaic depicting Eratosthenes’ proof of the size of the Earth. One mark, on the far side of the pool from us, was simply labeled “Rome.” Another, a quarter of the way around the circle, read “Nova Lucotecia.” It was an indication not only of our isolation out here in the Antipodes, but also how much more there must be to explore.

  My father and I slipped into the water, causing a sluice of overflow to run into the upper drain. At the sound, Quintus raised his head and smiled. “Senator, good to see you again. I see the journey has not taken too much out of you.”

  “It was quite comfortable, actually, but I thank you just the same. The emperor sends his regards. I have letters, of course, but there’s nothing there of immediate import. They can wait.”

  “Ah, then there can only be one thing that has brought you on this long journey,” said the legate, turning to smile at me.

  I felt like a child being spoken of by his parents as if he weren’t there. At twenty-six years I was too old for such treatment. I took a deep breath and let the hot water relax me, keeping my temper in check.

  “It’s time we made the arrangements for the wedding.” My father’s voice was proud, but matter-of-fact. “I’ve brought everything we’ll need on the ship. Perhaps we can have it all put together by next week?”

  I stifled a groan. “Livia isn’t going to like it here. Probably best if we wait until I return to Rome.”

  “Nonsense!” He waved his hand absently. “That’s going to be years, and she’s at her most fertile now. I want grandsons, Marcus. You’ve waited far too long, and I’ve accepted your delays and excuses too many times. You should already be married.”

  I shook my head. “She really does belong in Rome, Father. She’s a garden blossom, not a wildflower that will take root wherever you toss her.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  I looked up to see the legate watching me closely. Had he heard about my dalliance with Makki? I began to think it was possible. My crew and servants were loyal, but they did gossip. He was watching me, judging, and I was making a royal mess of things by not leaping at the chance to marry his daughter. I met his gaze and said, “All I want is for Livia to be happy. I don’t think that’s going to happen here.”

  “She might surprise you, you know,” my father said.

  Quintus Ambrosius pursed his lips, nodded to himself, and then sat up and climbed out of the water. “Your son has a point, Senator. I know my daughter better than you do. If she’s miserable here, she won’t thrive, and that won’t be good for any children. Let’s give it some time, and see what happens. We’ll schedule the wedding for, say…next month. My astrologer says that the fifth would be a particularly auspicious date.”

  “Very well, the fifth it is. Then after that, I have to get back to Rome. Who knows what sort of troubles will come up while I’m away? I’ve heard rumors that some of the miners are getting ready to demand that I negotiate a pact with them as a group, rather than as individual laborers, possibly even stopping work if I don’t agree. With that kind of nonsense in the air, I can’t stay away too long.”

  We finished cleaning up, had our dip in the frigidarium to cool off, and then dried ourselves and got dressed. The whole time, a plan started forming in my mind about how I could drive Livia back to Rome before the wedding. If I could make her uncomfortable enough, she might decide that marrying me could wait, and if she decided it, she would convince her father.

  By the time we were done, Livia Ambrosia was in the atrium, reclining on a couch beside a table, snacking on a sliced apple. She rose and smiled at her father, giving him a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Daddy.”

  He smiled broadly and stroked her hair. They chatted quietly while my father took me aside. “It’s not so bad, you know. Being married. In fact, it might even be good for you to finally be done with that silly vow of yours.”

  I crossed my arms. “Not this again.”

  “Our family has maintained shrines to Jupiter for generations. The cult of Mithras is for...” He frowned.

  “For men of lower station? Father, I obtained this position with contacts I made with other devotees of the Risen Lord. The cult is very strong in the military. Membership is practically a requirement for promotion. The legate was there when I was initiated, along with most of the other officers here.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand that. But after the wedding, that will not be required anymore.” He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. “I know you. My blood runs in your veins. And it runs hot. Stifling it only invites trouble.”

  Before I could say anything, our conversation was cut short by a squeal of delight from Livia.

  “Oh, Daddy, thank you!” She kissed him again and swung around in a wide circle. “I consulted the oracle before we left, and he said that I would be coming back to Rome with my husband!”

  The legate put his arm around his daughter and kissed the top of her head. “I hope it’s alright, Senator. I told Livia that after the wedding, I’d send Marcus back to Rome for the winter.”

  My heart sank. “What? But there’s so much work to do here—”

  The legate waved away my objection. “There’s also work to do in Rome. I need someone there who knows the situation. Besides, you won’t be able to do any surveying while the lake is frozen. It’ll be good for both of you to have a few months away from here.”

  Three months, probably four counting travel time, away from Nova Lucotecia. Away from Makki. I told myself that it was for the best, that we should be forgetting about each other and getting on with our lives, but I couldn’t help feeling like the best thing that had ever happened to me was slipping away. Our feelings for each other would wither and die in the isolation of winter. I smiled, best as I could, but everyone could see how thin it was, and without meaning to I managed to drain all the merriment out of the occasion.

  Quintus Ambrosius pursed his lips and gave me another appraising look. My father shook his head. Livia’s face was blank as she glanced from me to her father. Before the moment could drag on too far, becoming even more awkward, I clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “Well, then. Looks like the broad outlines have all been mapped out. I’ve got work to do tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind if I get started on the preparations.” Without waiting for the answer, I bowed and absente
d myself from the household. It was an abrupt exit, probably even rude, but I would only make things worse by lingering. I needed time to think.

  Rather than take the coach, I decided to walk from the legate’s home to my own. From this vantage point I could see down into the peristyleum of my villa, on the other side of the plume of smoke coming from my boiler. The symbolism of his house looming above mine felt more than a little apt.

  I set my feet on the half mile of curving pavement stretched out before me. A long walk was just what I needed.

  I tried to figure out some excuse by which I could bring Makki with me back to Rome. I couldn’t make her a part of my entourage; I’d already sent her to Primus Germanicus. I couldn’t just smuggle her on board as a stowaway, she would almost certainly be discovered and put over the side. The only way seemed to be to take her as a formal concubine. There was no ceremony involved, no legalities to consider. All it would take would be to simply recognize the relationship publicly.

  My father would understand, but the legate would be insulted, and rightly so. Clearly, Livia had his ear, and his heart. He had no other children. Everything would hinge on what Livia thought. If she would agree to it and talked to her father, then I would survive the political storm that would ensue. I needed to get her alone, talk to her without our fathers nearby, and convince her that it was in her best interest. There had to be a way.

  It would not be easy. The proprieties of our positions would not be different here in the Antipodes than they would be back in Rome; unsupervised contact was rare. I would have to find a way.

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, we went to the arena for a gladiatorial display put on by the engineers. I urged Livia to come with us, not because I thought she would enjoy it, but because I was sure she would be bored. With luck, I would be able to slip out and find a quiet spot to talk while our fathers were distracted.

  We arrived in separate carriages, carefully timed so that ours arrived just after the legate’s. The games could not start until we arrived, but it would look bad for the legate to be sitting there waiting for us for very long. My father and the legate sat side by side on the highest chairs in the center of the platform. Livia and I were given places just to their right, on a pair of comfortable chairs, next to each other but not close enough to touch or speak privately. Servants were near to hand with fans, refreshments, and anything else we might need.