‘He may be the Emperor but he can’t stop the pigeons shitting on his statue,’ Efa snapped bad temperedly as she gazed up at the statue.
Silently, Marcus steered her in the direction of the doctor’s house. Efa had not wanted to go to see the doctor. She had said she did not wish to be a burden and that the doctor’s time would be better spent looking after the poor and those who needed it more than her. But Marcus had brooked no opposition and, quietly but firmly he’d coaxed her into having herself examined. He needed her to get better, he had explained, for the family was counting on her, in this dark hour. They were all counting on her strength and wisdom. That had silenced her.
As the doctor ushered Efa into the back room of his narrow, strip-house he shut the door behind him, leaving Marcus alone with Elsa. Marcus glanced around at the simply, furnished front room. Elsa was sitting on a chair with her hands neatly folded in her lap, looking sullenly down at the floor. She had barely said a word to him since he and Cunomoltus had returned. Now Marcus sat down and studied her carefully. Their lack of interaction was not only her fault. There had been so much to do since he had returned and he’d had so little time to spend with her.
‘Are you enjoying your new home?’ Marcus muttered.
Across from him, Elsa nodded obediently but did not look up.
‘The other children are treating you and your brother well?’ Marcus inquired.
‘I am not a child,’ Elsa snapped sullenly.
‘No, you are not,’ Marcus replied sternly. ‘And I am glad to hear it.’ For a moment. he was silent as he studied the girl. ‘You know,’ he said at last, ‘I was only a few years older than you are now when I ran away and joined the army. That is the bravest thing I ever did.’
Sullenly Elsa stared down at her hands, determined not to look up at him. Kyna had told him that the girl felt abandoned and it had made her sullen and resentful.
‘Why,’ she muttered at last. ‘Why did you do that?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘It was hard, because I had to leave my mother behind on her own. But I wanted to belong somewhere,’ he muttered. ‘My father had served in the legions and maybe I thought that, by joining the army, I could prove that I was a better man than he was.’
‘And are you?’
Marcus said nothing and turned to look at the door behind which Efa was being examined.
‘We have not had much time together since your father’s death,’ Marcus said at last, turning to look at Elsa. ‘But I remember when we first met, that you told me that you wanted to become a healer with a practice in Londinium. Well here we are, in the house of one the finest physicians in the province.’ Marcus paused and gazed at the girl. ‘Do you want me to ask him if he needs an apprentice? He is just there, beyond that door. If you want to do this, now is the time.’
Startled, Elsa looked up at the door but she remained silent, fidgeting with her fingers, avoiding Marcus’s gaze.
‘Well, that’s what you want isn’t it?’
‘If my brother can come with me,’ Elsa muttered. ‘I promised my father that I would look after him, that we would never be separated.’
‘No Elsa,’ Marcus firmly shook his head. ‘You and your brother are part of my family now. You cannot look after him on your own. Your brother will stay with us on the farm on Vectis and you shall see him when you come to visit us or when he is old enough to visit you. We are family now, you, I, all of us and family look out for each other. There is nothing more important than family.’
‘But you promised,’ Elsa cried out, looking Marcus straight in the face, her eyes glowing with bitterness. ‘You promised that I and my brother would never be separated.’
‘You are not a child anymore,’ Marcus replied sternly. ‘You are a woman now and you must learn to trust me. Your brother will be safe on the farm. It is time you grew up and became what the gods want you to be. I need you to do this, all of us do. It would be a great shame to waste a talent like yours. And having a doctor in the family will help all of us. Think about it.’
Elsa looked away and suddenly there were tears rolling down her cheeks. For a moment, she was silent, and he could see she was struggling to make a decision.
‘Why?’ she said at last in a hoarse voice turning to glare at Marcus. ‘Why do you care about me and my brother? Our father betrayed you. You owe us nothing. We are just two more useless, ungrateful mouths to feed.’
But Marcus shook his head.
‘No, you are as much a part of my family as my own son,’ he said sharply. ‘And nothing will change that. I want to be your friend Elsa for I have a sense that you are going to make a great doctor one day.’
Marcus rose to his feet and looked down at the girl.
‘So don’t let me down,’ he said.
***
When the door to the back room finally opened, Efa appeared and smiled brightly at Marcus. She was followed by the doctor who was not smiling. Marcus rose to his feet as Efa came and sat down beside Elsa. The doctor lingered in the doorway.
‘Marcus, can I have a word,’ the surgeon muttered beckoning for Marcus to join him in his surgery.
Frowning, Marcus joined the doctor in the back room and the surgeon quickly closed the door behind him.
‘So,’ Marcus exclaimed. ‘How ill is she?’
The doctor scratched the back of his head and sighed. Then he looked up at Marcus and Marcus’s spirits sank, as he caught sight of the man’s expression.
‘The cancer and infection is too widespread,’ the doctor said wearily. ‘There is nothing I or anyone else can do. Death is certain.’
Marcus took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. Then he nodded.
‘How long has she got?’
‘Six months, maybe a little longer, it is hard to say,’ the doctor replied grimly. ‘But before that she will weaken. It will happen quickly and suddenly. You should be prepared for this.’
‘Does she know,’ Marcus said.
‘I think she does but I thought I should speak with you first,’ the doctor replied. ‘I haven’t told her what I think and maybe its best if you don’t either. She will be happier that way.’
‘Shit,’ Marcus said, taking a deep breath as he looked away.
Chapter Thirteen – The Ludi Magister
From the outside, the Ludus Maximus looked like any other wealthy Roman town house Marcus had seen. The stone villa with its sloping, red-tiled roof, stood in a smart and quiet district of Londinium. A freshly-painted sign with the school name hung above the entrance gate and beside the door, in a vestibule, a fine, stone bust of Emperor Trajan reminded visitors who the school’s patron was. Marcus paused beside the gate and glanced back at Efa and Elsa, who were still a few steps behind him, coming down the quiet street. It was afternoon and barely a few hours had passed since the doctor had given him the grim news that Efa was dying. But if Efa knew, she was not showing it. Instead she seemed in a cheerful and talkative mood as she strode along, clutching Elsa’s arm. And as they approached Elsa suddenly burst out laughing at one of Efa’s comments. Marcus frowned. The girl had never done that before. As he waited for them to catch up, Marcus looked away down the street so that the women would not see the expression on his face. Since arriving in the capital, the news had been relentlessly bad. The refusal of the Land Surveyor’s Office to conduct an official census on his farm had been bad enough, but it was positively catastrophic that Priscinus enjoyed the favour and protection of the Governor of Britannia. It had proved that he had been right to be cautious with Priscinus and try to negotiate with the man. And now Efa was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. But at least he’d been able to arrange something for Elsa. The doctor had been impressed by Elsa’s knowledge and skill at healing and after some negotiation Marcus had managed to get her an apprenticeship, with the doctor, starting at the end of the summer. And now he thought wearily, they had come to the Ludus where Ahern, Jowan’s bastard son, was studying because the school fees needed to be pai
d.
A slave opened the door and, on hearing the purpose of their visit, he gestured for the three of them to wait in the small hallway. Impatiently Marcus paced up and down over the fine, black and white mosaic floor showing a teacher instructing a class of students. He waited for Ahern to show himself. At last footsteps echoed on the stone floor and a tall, elegant-looking man with a white beard appeared, clad in a simple toga. A short, wooden-cane hung from his belt and for a moment it reminded Marcus of a Centurion’s army vine-staff, which was used to beat their men for the slightest disobedience. The man clasped his hands behind his back.
‘I understand that you have come to see one of my students,’ the man said in an accent Marcus could not quite place. ‘I am the Ludi Magister, the school master,’ the man continued quietly. ‘You have come to visit Ahern?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Marcus replied. ‘I have also come here to pay his school fees,’ he added reaching for a bag coins from inside his pocket and tossing it at the school master.
Startled, the man hastily bent forwards and stretched out his hands to catch the bag. For a moment, he looked down at the money with distaste. Then he snapped his fingers and the slave came hurrying over.
‘Take this to the master,’ the teacher snapped. ‘Tell her it is for Ahern’s account and bring Ahern here from his room. His family have come to visit him.’
Smoothly and politely the school teacher turned and dipped his head in a gracious greeting to Efa and Elsa.
‘Ahern will be here shortly,’ he said.
‘How many boys do you instruct in this place?’ Marcus muttered as they stood waiting for Ahern to appear.
‘We have thirty boys, aged between six and eleven; no girls,’ the Ludi Magister sniffed. ‘We do not take commoners. Lessons start at the sixth hour each morning and finish at noon every day. We teach them maths, reading, writing, poetry, geometry and rhetoric. We are the best school in Londinium, believe me. The boys here are destined for greatness. Your son is getting a fine education.’
‘I don’t doubt it by the amount it costs,’ Marcus growled. ‘But he is not my son. He belongs to my brother in law.’
‘I see,’ the teacher muttered.
Just then a little boy of around six came waddling down the corridor towards them. The boy was clutching his wax tablet and he was smartly dressed. He looked nervous and, as he caught sight of Marcus he stopped, and his face grew pale.
Marcus opened his mouth but it was Efa who was the first to speak.
‘There you are Ahern,’ she exclaimed with a broad smile as she strode towards the little boy and stretched out her hand. Gingerly he grasped it and she led him into the hall way. Marcus too tried to smile as he looked down at Ahern.
‘How are you boy?’ Marcus said.
Without saying a word Ahern nodded, not daring to look up at Marcus.
‘He is still terrified that you are going to kill him,’ Efa said scolding Marcus with a little wink. ‘But you are not going to do that are you Marcus?’
Marcus did not reply as he squatted down on his haunches, and gently turned Ahern’s head so that the boy was forced to look at him.
‘Remember me?’ Marcus growled.
Ahern nodded.
‘Let’s have a look at you,’ Marcus said patiently. ‘Let’s see what kind of boy you are.’
For a long moment Marcus studied Ahern’s face. Then he grunted.
‘So who are your heroes’ boy?’
Ahern bit his lip as he looked down at his wax tablet. ‘Heron of Alexandria,’ he said in a soft childish voice. ‘He was the greatest scientist who has ever lived.’
‘Who?’ Marcus frowned.
‘Heron of Alexandria, he was a Greek scientist,’ Ahern replied. ‘He lived three hundred years ago and he invented a machine that was driven by steam. One day I will carry on his work.’
Marcus leaned back and shook his head in puzzlement. The boy’s answer had caught him by surprise. He had heard of Alexandria, although he would not be able to place it on a map, but he certainly had never heard of a scientist called Heron. He’d been hoping the boy would have said he wanted to be soldier.
“Well, we must all have our heroes,’ he muttered rising to his feet. ‘Even if they are Greeks by the name of Heron.’
‘Ahern is one of our finest and brightest students,’ a confident female voice said suddenly from the doorway leading into the villa. ‘He is brilliant. His mind is one of the most gifted I have ever encountered.’
Marcus turned and saw an old and elegant woman, bedecked in fine rings and jewellery standing in the doorway. She was clad in white robes and her head was covered in a hood made of pure silk. She looked in her fifties. Marcus frowned. The woman looked strangely familiar. Then abruptly some colour shot into his cheeks as he recognised her. It was Claudia, the Legate’s wife, with whom he’d had an affair at the Fort in Luguvalium, all those years ago, when for a brief summer, Marcus had been the Prefect of the Second Batavian Auxiliary Cohort. For a moment, no one spoke. Then a little smile appeared on Claudia’s lips as she recognised Marcus.
‘It’s been a long time Marcus, since you rescued me and my daughter from the rebels,’ Claudia said smoothly, inclining her head in gracious gratitude. ‘I always wondered what had become of you and now you are here in my school. What a happy coincidence.’
‘Your school,’ Marcus muttered, trying to look as normal as possible.
‘Yes, Claudia said confidently with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I own the school. Its creation was my idea and Ahern is one of my star pupils, aren’t you Ahern?’
In response, the little boy nodded and clasped Claudia’s outstretched hand.
‘Then that makes me feel even more confident about his future,’ Marcus said looking down at the ground.
‘You know each other,’ Efa interrupted glancing from Claudia to Marcus.
Claudia nodded. ‘Marcus was the Camp Prefect at Luguvalium during the great northern rebellion,’ she said, smiling at Efa. ‘It was years ago now but he saved me and my daughter from being captured by the rebels. We are alive because of him and his Batavians.’
‘I am glad to see that you are doing well,’ Marcus said, trying to change the subject.
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Claudia sighed. ‘My husband is a Senator now in Rome. I am waiting for him to call me to Rome, to be at his side, but so far he has declined to do so. But I have the school and that is something I suppose.’
Marcus nodded and looked down at Ahern.
‘I am pleased that he is doing well,’ Marcus exclaimed. ‘And when I am next in Londinium I shall come to visit him again. But we must go now. There is urgent business that cannot wait.’
As Efa and Elsa turned to say goodbye to Ahern, Claudia came up to Marcus and took hold of his arm running her fingers lightly across his skin. She smiled as she looked up at him, her eyes twinkling in delight and for a moment Marcus was back in his quarters at the Fort in Luguvalium watching her lithe, naked body lying on his bed.
‘If you ever need anything from me,’ she said quietly, ‘then all you have to do is ask. I reward those who have helped me and you have done more than most. I want you to know that you have an ally here in Londinium.’
***
Looking troubled and somewhat embarrassed, Marcus led Efa and Elsa back to the Cum Mula Peperit II tavern, where they were staying. As they walked down the street Marcus remained silent as Efa chatted to Elsa in a cheerful voice. The chance meeting with Claudia had thrown him. What was she trying to do? Was the woman trying to become his patron? It would certainly be useful to have such a wealthy and influential woman as his ally, but for any favours granted to him she would surely demand favours in return and that made him nervous. He wasn’t yet sure whether he wanted to become her client, indebted to her kindness and support.
‘There is history between you and that woman isn’t there,’ Efa said suddenly, turning to give him a wise, thoughtful look.
‘There is
,’ Marcus growled. ‘But this is the last time that we are going to talk about her.’
The Cum Mula Peperit II tavern stood close to the busy Forum and as they entered the building Marcus gestured for Elsa to take Efa upstairs to their room.
‘We leave for home at dawn tomorrow,’ he snapped. ‘So get packing. I want to get back to the farm as soon as possible.’
Without looking again at the two women, he ambled over towards the bar where the bar owner, a hulk of a man, was cleaning cups with a wet rag. On the opposite side of the tavern, hanging from the wall, were numerous Batavian military artefacts, old swords, helmets, knives, shields, a captured Brigantian battle-axe, a human skull and an old, boar-headed, Celtic war trumpet. For the Mule was not only a commercial tavern, it had also become, under its new management, the social meeting place for the province’s Batavian military veteran community.
In front of the bar, Marcus paused as thoughtfully he looked down at the two remaining fingers on his left hand.
‘Any news from the boys?’ Marcus muttered. ‘We leave for Vectis tomorrow at dawn.’
The tavern owner glanced at him, as he replaced the cup on a shelf. ‘I spread the word like you asked me too,’ the retired Batavian veteran replied. ‘If anyone is interested, they will be here before nightfall. They know the deadline. That’s all I can do. You will just have to wait and see who shows up.’
Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5) Page 11