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

by Anne Garboczi

  Recovering, Cedric grabbed for Aquilus’ throat. “You haven’t been here. You don’t know what Ness has endured.”

  Aquilus ripped the man’s hand away, heedless of the scratches on his neck. How dare this barbarian even say Ness’ name. Tarquin kings had killed men for lesser things.

  Cedric brought his fists up, elbows in, protecting his torso. “She’s worked night and day, tended your sons, didn’t complain. You haven’t seen how she looks at the end of a day.”

  “I’ll make you regret you’ve seen.” Aquilus drove his fist into Cedric’s stomach.

  He battled Cedric through the house, smashing or flinging aside all that stood in the way.

  Cedric threw the kettle tripod forward, overturning hot liquid. Aquilus jumped back. “What kind of man lets his sons grow up without him? What kind of man lets a woman he loves do it alone? You don’t love her. I do.” Cedric raised his fists.

  Rage blurred the rising steam Aquilus glared across. “What do you know of love? I married her.”

  “That makes you an expert on love?” Cedric made a scoffing noise.

  “On honorable love, yes. I have no desire to know of the other kind—your kind.” Aquilus circled the fallen kettle toward Cedric.

  “If that were true, you would have been here, with her.”

  “Who made you her protector?” Aquilus jammed forward with his fist. Cedric cast aside his blow with his forearm.

  Bone against bone, Cedric battered Aquilus as he shouted in his face, “She doesn’t need a protector. She does it on her own. You made her.”

  Yes, Ness needed a protector. She was out in an isolated plot doing fieldwork with a babe at sunset with blisters on her hands, by Pollux. What kind of father did she have? Aquilus slid to the side and caught Cedric with a blow to the kidneys. The Celt staggered and Aquilus pushed down, forcing him to the ground, and hammering him with blows. “Don’t you ever—” Aquilus threw downward jabs.

  Muscles strained and sinews bulged as Cedric lashed back.

  Aquilus remained on top, ramming more blows from tiring arms, “—go near my wife again.”

  Cedric twisted over, wrenched away from Aquilus, and sprang to his feet.

  Aquilus came at him again, fists first.

  With a tremendous blow, Cedric caught Aquilus and hurled him into the rough-hewn shelf bed. The bed splintered as Aquilus, oak boards, and furs crashed to the floor.

  Feet spread, the Celt loomed from across the room. He took a deep breath. “Look, this isn’t my fight, Tribune.”

  “In truth?” Aquilus sprang to his feet and charged the man. “Seems to me, you made it your fight when you started trying to seduce my wife.”

  Hands raised, Aquilus threw a punch under Cedric’s ribs.

  Cedric brought his hand down, blocking most of the blow’s force. “You were the one who drove her back here.”

  Not his fault. Ness had left, not him. Aquilus struck again.

  The big Celt only partially blocked that one. His face screwed with pain as he stepped back, hands up to protect himself. “It’s Ness’ choice, not yours or mine.”

  Aquilus plowed forward. “Stay away from my wife.”

  Cedric took the weight of the blow on his forearms and threw Aquilus back. “Death stole my wife and child last midsummer,” he said between heaving breaths. “If you can win yours back, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

  The Celt raised his hand to parry another blow as he rested on the balls of his feet, but he looked Aquilus straight in the eye as he spoke.

  Aquilus halted, still in a fighting stance, sweat dripping off his forehead.

  The Celt read the look in his eyes and dropped his fists, stretching arrogantly as he did. “I could have beaten you, Roman, but it would have taken too much effort after a day in the fields.”

  Aquilus lowered his fists.

  “Do you need me to show you the door or can you find it yourself?”

  Aquilus scowled and scooped up his armor. “Don’t stretch your luck, Celt. This isn’t finished yet.” Not nearly.

  As Aquilus passed out the door, his foot collided with the wooden frame. The poorly maintained house trembled and dust fell from the roof. “Building skill as low as your intellect, Celt?”

  “But Tribune,” Cedric called after him.

  Aquilus turned his head.

  “My woman wanted to live under my roof before she died.”

  Aquilus took Cedric’s door in two hands and slammed it.

  It is considered bad luck in all the provinces to turn away a Roman soldier. This is not a superstition arisen from dark nights or fireside tales, but from burnt villages and smashed skulls.

  The superstition invaded Ness’ mind as, after scrubbing dirt off the babes and sweat-caked grime off herself, she crossed from the lean-to over to the main house.

  Aquilus stood at the far end of the room across from Father, and the tension rose thick enough to cloud the air.

  Snatches of their conversation rose above the hearth smoke.

  Hand on his knife, Father stood tall, his head brushing the drying spices and smoked meat that hung from the rafters. “My daughter will do as she wishes.”

  “I don’t care what she wishes. My wife is not marrying some other man.” Aquilus kicked the iron kettle by the hearth. Lye splashed up in a sizzling pillar of smoke.

  Father raised his voice. “This is my village, not your garrison.”

  “Speaking of the Camulodunum garrison, truly think your village could withstand their might?” Aquilus glared at her father.

  She walked forward, Eric tucked under one arm, Wryn in the other. Her wet hair dripped on the coarse brown fabric of her dress.

  “We have no quarrel with Camulodunum,” Father said, shoulders out.

  Aquilus’ face was iron. “I could change that.”

  Father clenched his jaw. The silence protruded sharper than a raised dagger. Then Aquilus spun around and marched out the door.

  Should she follow him? Ness scraped her toe against the floor’s dirt. Plopping her babes down, she ran after him. She caught Aquilus at the edge of the yard where stars now peeked out of a dusky sky. “Are you leaving for good then?”

  His eyes were moody. “I’ve had about enough of you and your unfaithful ways for one day.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “I got a divorce. They’re not the same thing.”

  Aquilus turned on his heel.

  She looked back at the house. Her parents watched from inside the doorway. Clearly, they’d heard Aquilus’ words and how he disapproved of her. She cringed and dragged her feet on the leaves underfoot as she crossed back to the smoky room.

  “Is he gone?” Father asked from the doorway, a worried weariness in his voice.

  “If I understood the workings of that man’s mind, do you think I would have agreed to marry another man three days before he dances back into his sons’ lives?” With a groan, Ness scooped up the squalling Eric and walked into the house.

  Chapter 12

  Ness fingered the almost ripe wheat berries as Eric and Wryn crawled toward the far edge of the row where a strip of trees divided Father’s fields from Cedric’s.

  She dug her hoe savagely into the dirt. Less than a week until harvest and crops waited for no man, not even a Roman ex-husband who showed up three days before one’s wedding. Would Cedric have heard of yesterday’s drama yet? More to the point, would Aquilus have learned she’d spoken the truth about Cedric? She shifted her gaze from the shoulder-high row of wheat to her babes and back again.

  Aquilus had gall staying away an entire year then expecting to start again where they’d left off. The lines of his face had looked so hard last night in the setting sun. She tore a wheat stalk and ground the berries between thumb and forefinger. A year away hadn’t made him any more pleasantly disposed toward her.

  But he’d been prepared to forgive her for leaving. She hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t fool enough to think he’d changed, but things could have b
een as before. He’d smiled when he reached for her, his hands so welcoming.

  Swinging the hoe, Ness pulled the dirt up over her wheat stalks.

  The morning sun beat on her hair as she swung the hoe again and again. Sweat dripped across her eyes and her shoulders began to ache with the motion. Thankfully, besides Eric gnawing on Wryn’s shoulder, both boys stayed out of trouble.

  Almost halfway through the rows, she felt someone walking toward her.

  She spun. Through the channel between rows, she met Aquilus’ gaze.

  Armorless, the sweat pooled on his brow, matting down dark hair. Like always, his gait was confident, his shoulders thrown back.

  She brought her eyebrows down.

  Not even attempting to keep his body from breaking precious wheat stalks, he walked to within a pace of her. “I have three months work left on the Rhine. I sail within the week.”

  As she’d expected, he intended to divorce her and leave. “That sounds like you.”

  He looped his thumbs in his belt. His posture showcased the muscles of his upper arms.

  Without even closing her eyes, she could feel the way it used to be. Jumping into his arms, his face laughing into hers. She used to clasp her arms around his neck. He’d sweep her off her feet.

  Her teeth cut into her lip. There were enough handsome, sweating men with overly strong arms in the world—well, not enough—but sufficient at least that she shouldn’t let this one impress her much.

  “You and our sons are coming with me.”

  She stared at him. He thought he could restore a marriage like that? Just tear her away from everything because he deigned to show up once before his sons’ first birthday. “I got a divorce, that thing that makes you not married anymore.”

  A dark frown furrowed Aquilus’ face. “We are not divorced.”

  “We are in my country. If you want us to be in your country, you’ll have to take care of that.”

  Aquilus opened his mouth.

  Did he think saying it louder would make it more true? “You don’t really care about me. You’re just acting like this now because you’re facing the fact of my leaving.” She stabbed her hoe into the ground. If he did care, she would consider giving their marriage a second chance.

  “Facing?” Aquilus shifted one eyebrow up. “I’m not facing anything except a vexatious woman.”

  Her hoe fell from her hand as heat rose, not just in her cheeks, but through her entire body. “Some men presented with this situation would try tact, loving words to seduce a woman’s heart.” Would she devastate Cedric if she chose to return to Aquilus? Why did she even consider this? Aquilus hadn’t shown up for a year. They’d fought incessantly in Rome.

  Perhaps he’d offer to take a post in Camulodunum if she’d come back. How would she ever explain that to Cedric? Didn’t she owe it to her sons to give their father one more chance? Camulodunum was only a day’s journey from home so if things went poorly she could always leave again.

  Aquilus groaned. “You make it difficult as Hades to think civil thoughts, let alone loving ones.”

  She lifted her chin, flinging golden hair over her back. “I’ll return to you if you take a post in Camulodunum.”

  “Camulodunum?” He stared at her.

  “Yes. Return for a time anyway. Give you a chance to win me back.” She held her breath. His next words could determine her future. Did he still care about her enough to move to her land?

  “I don’t need to win you back. You’re my wife. If the circumstance changes, I’ll inform you.”

  The breath she’d held whooshed from her lungs. She stared at him. “You think saying things like that is going to make me love you?”

  “Love? What possible bearing does that have on this situation?”

  In truth! Was that the Stoic interpretation of marriage? “Yes, love, the thing that could possibly tempt me to be married to you again despite your inexcusable year-long absence.”

  He flung his hands up, palms open. “What is this again? We were never not married.”

  “That’s what you thought when you came back to Rome and I wasn’t there? Ecce, I feel so married.”

  “I wasn’t in Rome. The housekeeper wrote me in Germania, which was more than you did.” His dark eyes glowered. “And no, I thought you were a witch and that it wasn’t my responsibility to chase you all over the known world.”

  “I did write. I told you I was going to have our babe, well, babes, in Britannia and to meet me here.” She breathed faster. Was it possible he hadn’t wished to leave her?

  He crossed his arms, bracer over bracer. “I received no letter.”

  Wait, even if her letter had gotten lost or the porter had destroyed it in a fit of vindictiveness, Aquilus could have guessed where she’d gone and come to her. “I sent it by the porter after you walked out. That’s right, you walked out and expected me to just assume Germania was your destination. Yet you’re angry with me?”

  “I went to the Forum before I broke any advice Horace ever gave, talking to you will do that to a man, and then I received an urgent missive from Germania so I left immediately. I wrote you the next evening.”

  “I was gone by then.”

  “You couldn’t even wait two days for the man you called husband?”

  “I waited three months, and six weeks before that, and then another month, and….” That’s what her whole marriage had been—waiting. “And I didn’t even divorce you until weeks after my babes were born.”

  “I had work to do in Germania.” Haughtiness hardened Aquilus’ features. “I assumed you’d return when you tired of raising a child and supporting yourself on your own.”

  She flipped over a calloused hand, crisscrossed by blisters. “I can take care of myself.”

  He looked down at her hand. He winced, but then he hardened his jaw. “Least ways, I didn’t expect you to sully yourself with some other man.”

  “If you cared so much, you’d have come at first.”

  “As if I have six months to gallivant across the Roman Empire? You didn’t tell me where you were going.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I wrote you, and even if you never did receive the letter, did you honestly think I’d go to Jerusalem or North Africa?”

  “You’ve done more irrational things,” Aquilus said. “If it weren’t for the letter—”

  “Now you did receive my letter?”

  “I doubt that one ever existed. I came when I received a letter from someone in your village, an Enni?”

  She tangled her fingers around each other. How much had her friend spent in her misguided efforts to make things right? “You’re paying Enni back the coin she spent on that letter.”

  “I was going out of my way to be kind, though you deserved no such token.” Anger rose across Aquilus’ face.

  Once again, he disapproved of her. Ness’ guts churned. A crow cawed from above. She swung her gaze to the birds cresting the treetops as they migrated. Would that she could fly away like them.

  “I wanted to see my sons. And what do I find when I come? You with another man!”

  That was scarcely a fair characterization of the last year, no, more than a year. “Mayhap the porter burned the letter. It doesn’t matter now. I divorced you, and you need to respect my decision.” She crossed her own arms as she tried to put the force of conviction behind her words. Failure. Why did she still want Aquilus? She shouldn’t still want him.

  “Respect? You expect me to respect the kind of woman who could leave my home, shame her promise, and throw herself at some other man.” Aquilus wasn’t just furious now; his taut body exuded an air of self-righteous wrath.

  Wrath directed at her. His shoulders, chest, and stomach formed a ‘V’, which she had to admit was attractive but did nothing to sweeten his angry words or his repugnant attitude. “If I wish to marry Cedric, I will.”

  “I won’t let you shame the Paterculi name,” he said loudly.

  “Shame? The one who should feel shame is y
ou for how you abandoned me.”

  “Abandoned!” Aquilus yelled the word at her. “As I remember it, you left me. When I didn’t respond to your letter, did you think, ‘oh, I should write him again or did you just rejoice at the excuse to run to your childhood love?’”

  “Where do you think a woman with child and no fields to harvest would get the coin to write to you? I wanted to travel to Germania when I first passed through Camulodunum, but I didn’t have any coin left for food, let alone sea fare.” She dug her hands into her hips. “You, on the other hand, could have come to me at any time.”

  “You could have gone to the garrison. They know my name and would have given you passage to Germania.” Aquilus made a dismissive gesture.

  “I did.” She held her chin high. “They didn’t believe I was your wife.”

  “Oh.” Aquilus dropped his hand.

  Digging her foot into the earth, she kicked up dirt. “The only thing I have to be ashamed of in this whole affair is stealing your money for sea fare.” A sick feeling churned her stomach. She still regretted writing that letter.

  Aquilus cast his gaze to the heavens. “A competent domestic thief takes enough for the return journey.”

  “I didn’t want to waste your money.”

  “You engage yourself to another man and you think what I care about is a few hundred denarii?” He groaned. Turning away from her, he looked out to the birds flying overhead.

  Eric cried out from where he and Wryn had scrambled. She picked her way through the rows toward them, and that’s when she glimpsed Cedric emerging from the tree line behind Aquilus. The man had wretched timing. Wait, his face bore bruises and his one eye swelled half shut.

  Eyes widening, she turned to Aquilus. Under closer scrutiny, his lip did appear swollen, and a mark cut the dark skin of his neck. Clamping her mouth shut, she looked back.

  Cedric looked at her and Aquilus. He stopped walking—too late. The twins, already almost to the tree line, reached out for Cedric. Wryn tugged himself up on a fallen branch and took one tottering step.

  Bending over, Cedric scooped the boy into his arms. Wryn grabbed a fistful of plaid jerkin and gleefully babbled, “Dada, dada.”