For Life or Until (Love and Warfare Series Book 1)

by Anne Garboczi

He narrowed his dark eyes. “I’m Roman.”

  “I didn’t mean you.” She slid her fingers across his upper arm. His skin possessed the darkness of exotic spices imported from far-off lands. “I like you.”

  He looked less than pleased by her explanation.

  “Let’s go outside the city’s hills tonight. Walk along the Tiber?” She trailed her finger across the fringe of his tunic’s sleeve where white linen contrasted with his dark arms. Underneath that tunic, sheltered from the sun’s darkening, his skin lightened. The scent of olives clung to that skin just the same, though. When she ran her hand across his chest, she could feel the smoothness of the oil of olives.

  She gazed longingly across the peristyle gardens to the Cyprus door adorned with the engraving of some statesmen ancestor that led to their bedchamber. What if, instead of walking the Tiber, they disappeared behind that door?

  “Can’t. I have to finish all this, then there are several traders I want to meet with to learn more about Germanian trade.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her hand from his arm. She traced a grout line with her foot as he gathered up his all-important parchments. “Is it true Romans kill unwanted infants?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “And give them to childless couples for adoption?” She’d hoped the women lied.

  Aquilus raised his black eyebrows. “Yes, but what does that have to do with exposure?”

  “It seems similar to me. Abandoning your child.” She shook her head in marveling condemnation and glanced across the hedges outside. How many tender ministrations had the housekeeper lavished on the slave boy?

  Aquilus spread his feet in that soldier stance of his. “They’re nothing alike. One is murder. The other is a time-honored practice. My father almost participated in it once.”

  She jerked her chin up. “Your father? Thousands of orphaned plebeian children roam the streets, let alone all the slave children without parents. Why don’t Romans adopt them? And do the mothers get no say in this convention either, just like the vile Roman naming ceremony?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “The Roman system of government is what has brought peace and prosperity to this entire empire. Without the Empire’s influence, most provinces would still be fighting petty border wars as they tended their pigs.”

  What was so wrong with tending pigs? She would prefer a sheep farm to a pig farm, of course. Ness sighed. As if she had any hope of starting either in this foreign land where he’d dragged her.

  Picking up the last parchment, Aquilus shoved aside the tablinum curtain. The scorching air carried the scent of refuse from the streets beyond.

  One would think after dragging her to this cesspool, he could find it in his heart to spend a few moments with the woman he married.

  Ness took a deep breath and released her clenched fists. She only needed to survive a few more months of this, then he’d get transferred to Camulodunum and all would be well. Likely this filth-strewn city made him as on edge as her, hence his unpleasant words.

  Now she’d take that slave boy his afternoon meal.

  Chapter 5

  Kneeling, Ness unwrapped the slave boy’s bandages. A broad window let in the last rays of evening sun. A faded red rug covered the plain white tile of the slave quarters. Unlike the atrium floor that the housekeeper avoided cleaning at every opportunity, this tile sparkled.

  “Does that hurt?” She bent the lad’s newly unbound leg. Dark hairs had grown underneath the bandages.

  The lad shook his head. He toyed with the fringe of his mat and then swung his gaze up. He opened his fist. A bit of carved wood sat in his fingers. “I made you this, domina, as thanks for helping me.”

  Sandals rustled the grass outside. Aquilus stood in the entrance. He rested his hand on the doorframe. “You’re making us late for Cassius’ dinner.”

  “Can’t Cassius wait?” She bent the boy’s leg in the other direction. He’d already stuffed the carved wood back under his mat. “Does this hurt?” The boy’s stiff muscles stretched under her hand.

  “No.” Aquilus’ frame filled the doorway, his face in shadow.

  “Why?” She worked her fingers up and down the boy’s stiff muscles that would need weeks yet before they obtained full strength. The boy pulled away, his gaze on the doorway.

  “He was my father’s friend and he’s a senator.”

  “Very well.” With a sigh, she stood. She dropped her gaze to the boy. “Now don’t be putting weight on that leg ‘til I finish checking it, you hear me?”

  The lad nodded.

  Exiting the slaves’ quarters, Ness walked out to the dusty streets. The sun sank slowly beneath city roofs, but the oppressive air hadn’t cooled. Dirt caked the streets, the air heavy with the stench of refuse on hot stones.

  Aquilus didn’t seem to notice. His voice was eager. “A consul and several senators will attend tonight. A perfect time to make connections for my Germanian trade plan.”

  This time of year in Britain, the wildflowers would open up their petals to drink in the summer rains. If only she could see them. “I don’t much like senators. Most probably couldn’t lift a seed sack, let alone plant a straight row.”

  “Senators keep this land safe. They should have your respect.”

  According to Aquilus, many people should have that, including himself. She groaned. Perhaps she wasn’t being fair. Perhaps this all-encompassing heat had frayed her spirits.

  “Let’s go.” Aquilus motioned to the litter standing in the courtyard.

  “I’m not ill, why would I take a litter?” She squinted at the wood and cloth contraption. Hadn’t the Romans ever heard of a horse?

  A man appeared at the gate. Underneath a red-crested helm, a centurion snapped to attention. “Tribune Paterculi.” Body taut, the centurion saluted.

  Aquilus touched her shoulder, his fingers warm on the spot where her stola split to expose the arm. “One moment.”

  He moved back toward the atrium. With a sharp hand movement, he summoned the centurion closer.

  Being late didn’t concern Aquilus now? She glanced toward the slave quarters. Bernice and the other vindictive women would likely attend this dinner too.

  Even the centurion’s voice sounded at attention. “A Germanian cohort arrived at garrison today with a missive from their governor. The barracks are full and this year’s grain stipend spent.”

  Aquilus’ black eyes showed impatience. “The man takes as poor care of his soldiers as his province.”

  The centurion scratched the back of his neck. “We could command the townsfolk to feed them?”

  “And break protocol?” Aquilus wrenched the parchment out of the man’s hand and spread it on the narrow entranceway table.

  “Here, here, and here.” Aquilus jabbed sections of the parchment with his finger. “Take the officers’ feast budget for garrison grain and send the Germanians packing. Also, the weapons column is miscounted and the tally neglects last month’s recruits.”

  The centurion turned red but held out a letter. “And the governor’s note?”

  Slapping the parchment on the table, Aquilus dug a writing instrument in a large X over the page. Reaching up, he yanked a lighted tallow from its socket and dripped wax onto the page. He plunged his left-hand ring into the molten stuff, then drew it out, leaving the imprint of the eagle and the raven.

  Aquilus thrust the parchment into the centurion’s stiff hands. “Tell the governor to spend his own province’s money. Anything else?”

  “No, sir. Thank you very much, sir.” The centurion disappeared.

  In two strides, Aquilus moved out of the courtyard. He slipped his arm around her. “Come.”

  She looked from Aquilus to the retreating figure of the centurion and back. Strange, a single legionary could inspire fear in her village, yet now she’d married a man who ordered centurions, commanders of a hundred legionaries, as comfortably as breathing.

  Half an hour later, the marble colonnades of Cassius�
� domus stretched out before them. As they walked under the archway into the main corridors, Ness gaped.

  Low tables laden with delicacies filled the triclinium, surrounded by couches that could hold two reclining people. Silver and gold appeared as liberally as chaff, and candles floating in crystal bowls lit the room.

  “Back in the days of the Republic, you wouldn’t have seen such decadence,” Aquilus said.

  Unlike Rome’s Forum, these decorations possessed the beauty of moonlit nights. She gazed at the head-high towers of crystal and lights, so different than anything in Britain. What quarrel did Stoicism have with anything lovely?

  “Hail and well met.” Cassius moved through the crowd of milling people. He slapped Aquilus on the back. Gray hair mostly covered Cassius’ round head, and his purple-rimmed robes hid the trace of a potbelly. “Glad to hear you’re back from Britannia. Only the Empire’s faithful go to that wilderness.”

  Gaze still on the crystal arrangement, Ness lowered her eyebrows.

  “Though you seem to have found your stay worthwhile, Aquilus.” Cassius smiled at her. “You’re filling the ears of all Rome, young woman.”

  No pointed insults about the inferiority of Celts or marveling at why Aquilus would ever want a farm girl like her? Ness smiled at the man. She took it all back about pompous senators.

  “I apologize that my wife isn’t here to greet you. She’s indisposed.” Cassius scratched a large bug bite on his elbow.

  Ness nodded. “Best wishes for a swift recovery.”

  For a moment, Cassius eyed her with a puzzled curiosity, then he turned to Aquilus. “You escaped Britannia just in time. The Emperor’s pulling back from the new conquests and focusing on governing the established territories. Now a Britannia post isn’t just cold and barbaric, it’s a career-ender.”

  Career-ender? Ness felt a smile tug at her lips. Perhaps that meant that once they got back to Camulodunum, Aquilus wouldn’t have such hordes of work to do. She swore he hadn’t taken an entire day without looking at work since they’d arrived in Rome.

  Aquilus’ eyes lit. “Which gives the legates even more discretionary power. Not necessarily a good thing with men like Vocula.”

  “I hear he’s quite competent.” Cassius dug his fingernail deeper into the bug bite.

  Aquilus nodded. “But he doesn’t consider the interests of the natives.”

  “Few do. The Germanians have protested even more violently of late.” Now Cassius scratched the bite with his thumb.

  Outrage spread across Aquilus’ face. “Exactly. And the governor doesn’t even care. I tried to see him five times last month with no success.”

  Someone tugged on Ness’ arm. The girl from Bernice’s house, Julia, beckoned her toward the knot of women to the left. Ness glanced at Aquilus. Another distinguished-looking man joined Cassius and Aquilus and they sank even deeper into talk of politics. She swallowed. Politeness did dictate at least greeting the other women.

  A huge tapestry hung ahead of her. Earth tones made up the tiles of a man’s face. He held a spear in his left hand, a shield in his right, and wore a cloak without much else. The inscription read Mars, god of war and guardian of Rome’s soldiers.

  The women she met at Bernice’s house stood beside the mosaic. Ness rubbed her slick fingers against each other. If only she could summon Fiona here to insert irreverent humor.

  Hanging back a pace, she turned to Julia. Silver curlicues twisted into blossoms on the chain around the girl’s neck. Ness pointed to it. “That’s a pretty necklace.”

  A spot of red rose to Julia’s cheeks. “I got it last month for my thirteenth birthday.”

  Ness stared. The girl was her sister’s age. “You’re thirteen and you’re married?”

  Bernice sprang to Ness’ side like the preying vulture she resembled. “You disapprove of our marriage traditions as well as our child naming ceremonies? What age did you marry?”

  “Eighteen.” Ness pulled one arm up to shield herself.

  “Eighteen!”

  “An old maid,” the stout woman said, clucking to herself.

  “I still can’t believe the tribune chose you,” the bony, big-nosed one said.

  Bernice brushed an invisible spot of dust off a polished nail. “Do all barbarians marry so late or did no one want you?”

  Ness clenched her fists. “We barbarians do not let children marry.”

  Bernice parted painted lips.

  Ness winced, waiting for what would come. Something brushed her shoulder blade. Instinctively, she slammed her head back, the bony part connecting with flesh before she saw Aquilus’ face.

  Her cheeks flushed as she spun around. “Mea culpa. It was instinct.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “What kind of instincts? You drop a blow worthy of the arena.”

  “Yea.” She felt all the women’s disapproving gazes on her as swelling rose on his chin where her head had made contact. Worse yet, the women stood close enough to hear their conversation. Her tongue felt thick as her words tumbled over themselves. “I thought. I mean. Cedric used to drop insects down my back sometimes.”

  “You can let down your guard. Unlike your brother, I’ve no interest in pestering you with insects.” He smiled at her.

  Cedric, still not her brother. She squirmed inside her tunica, yet if she disclosed that fact now all these women would overhear.

  Aquilus slipped his arm around her waist from behind. She tried to face him, but his arm pinned her to himself, his dark fingers pressing the cloth of her stola to her stomach. Leaning forward, he let his mouth brush her ear. “Though I could have great interest in helping you remove such an insect.”

  Ness felt even her ears heat as Bernice and the other women watched.

  Then he moved on, catching some dignitary’s ear, talking to another political ally. She forced her gaze back to Bernice and the woman’s horrid friends.

  Silence reigned.

  She waited.

  Bernice’s crimson stola swept the tile as she turned and walked back to the mosaic.

  Ness glanced at the stout woman and the bony-nosed woman. Neither spoke a word.

  The stout woman moved her gray-eyed gaze toward where Aquilus stood a few paces off, deep in conversation with a man in a purple-edged toga. She glanced back at Bernice. Scowling, the woman cast a wary glance in Aquilus’ direction.

  So as much as these women thought her unworthy of joining her name to the illustrious Paterculi pedigree, they didn’t dare say as much in front of the aforesaid Paterculi heir. For the first time that evening, Ness smiled.

  Cassius announced the dinner from the front of the room. The crowd moved toward the triclinium. Cassius reclined at a table in the front of the room and servants ushered other guests to seats in a pre-assigned order. She looked for Aquilus. Her newly-purchased stola caught on the maze of couches and tables as she navigated around dozens of reclined bodies and one marble statue to get to him.

  What kind of people practically lay on the floor to eat? Aquilus gestured at her to take her place at the double-wide eating couch first.

  “I don’t think I wore the right clothes. Or jewelry or whatever it is you’re supposed to wear in this city.” Gingerly, she stretched her body out. Oh, for her wool work dress and a field to plow.

  “You look flawless.” He brushed his hand across her bare arm, a smile playing on his mouth as he lay down next to her.

  “You wouldn’t find a woman here to agree with you.” Ness waved her hand across the crowd of jewel and paint-bedecked women who all glared at her. Several other couples approached their table.

  Aquilus traced the bronze brooch that held the blue linen of her stola together. “The excesses of Rome these days. Stoicism suggests a simpler way of life.”

  She clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her beaming smile. Finally, something she agreed with Aquilus and Stoicism on.

  These women might hate her, but with Aquilus on her side, she could take on Rome.

  A bit of w
ood underneath the cushions dug into her stomach. She shifted her elbow and sloshed the finger-dipping bowl. Aquilus tensed behind her.

  In Britain, you only invited people you liked to your home. Here, based on the dirty looks and tense faces, it seemed as if hosts invited their worst enemies.

  Aquilus started making small talk with a fat man who popped shrimp in his mouth at an alarming rate. An unknown couple reclined at her left, while Bernice and her husband, a praetor or something like that, took the last places at the square table.

  “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Consul,” Aquilus leaned back, clearing her view of the older man. “Consul, this is Ness.”

  The rest of the introduction that brought in Germanian wars and something about the consul’s previous stint in the Senate flew by her, but she made a polite nod.

  The consul peered over the top of his heaping plate. “You married a Celt?” He thinly veiled his disapproval.

  Praetor Ocelli wiped at his mouth while appearing to wholeheartedly back the consul’s opinion.

  Ness poked at a slimy glob on her plate. It looked like a fish eye. Oh, for a thick leg of Britain venison. She squirmed on the couch.

  All too soon another long-winded reader would rise to read yet another verse of Greek poetry, with words she didn’t come close to understanding.

  She only hoped Cassius had no literary bent. Last week, they’d endured 142 stanzas of self-aggrandizing poetry created by some aspiring senator who Aquilus told her had only held the dinner party to ensure a captive audience.

  Twisting on the seat again, she found a new position where she could see Aquilus’ face. His mouth moved in conversation, a confident expression on his face. Though he fit in here with consuls and senators, he possessed a different manner. He still had the air of the provinces, the scar of his first legion marking his powerful arm.

  He’d neglected his food. Face set, his whole soul came to his eyes as he talked about politics and Germania, something trade related. She rested her gaze on the face of the man she’d married.

  Black hair framed a square face, short curls just slipping over a strong forehead. She might not have celebrated a year of marriage with him yet, and half that time he’d spent away, but Bernice was wrong. She did know Aquilus. She squirmed on the uncomfortable cushion and her elbow hit him in the stomach.