Page 20 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

V olusia woke in a soft bed. For the first time in weeks, there was no smell of a campfire or snuffling of animals or hard ground beneath her…or Max’s arms around her. The bed linens smelled of lavender, and the house was blissfully quiet.

For a moment, she was disoriented, thinking herself back in her house in Narbo. Then, as she sat up and squinted around the half-lit room, she remembered. Max had brought her home yesterday.

It was strange to wake alone after so long by his side. She felt a tug of longing for the steady comfort of his presence, but shook it off. She could dwell on her feelings for him later, but for now, she had a mission.

She swung her legs out of bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Her trunk rested against the wall of her bedroom. Glabrio’s men had delivered it when bringing the news of Volusia’s apparent death, and her parents had stowed it in her old bedroom without touching it.

She unfastened the metal clasp and heaved the lid open. She sifted through layers of clothes, shoes, hair ornaments, cosmetics, and other personal effects, which all now seemed like relics of another life.

In the middle, wrapped in a square of fabric, she found the tablet with her only evidence against Petronax. She remembered giving this to Iris when they were packing to leave Narbo. Another pang of bittersweet sadness passed through her. She missed Iris, but hoped she’d found a new life for herself with her family in Gaul.

She opened the tablet to ensure it hadn’t been damaged in the journey, then laid it on her bed while she dressed and brushed her hair, braiding it as best she could. She would need to find another maid soon, but she feared no one could replace Iris.

Volusia took the tablet and went to her stepfather’s study. He often woke early to handle correspondence before breakfast.

As she expected, Rufus was seated behind his desk, stylus poised over a tablet. He glanced up when she crossed the threshold, his face brightening into a smile. “My dear, you look rested. Are you hungry? I can send for some breakfast.”

“Soon, Father, but there’s something I wanted to discuss with you first.” She sat in the chair opposite his desk and slid the tablet toward him. “This tablet contains evidence of Avitus’s suspicions against Petronax. That he was overtaxing the population and pocketing the province’s income for his own gain.”

Rufus frowned and picked up the tablet, squinting at the barely-there words. “I see.”

“Yesterday you said you wanted to see the men who did this brought to justice. Will you help me bring this evidence against Petronax?”

His frown deepened. “Certainly I’ll see the centurion and those who followed his orders dismissed from the army in disgrace. But bringing charges of murdering a governor against a legionary commander is quite a different matter. There is still a civil war going on. Petronax has a whole legion of men loyal to him. If he decided to take up arms against the Republic and join Sextus Pompeius, it could go very badly.”

Volusia leaned forward. “But I have evidence of his treachery.”

Rufus set the tablet down. “You have some partially-erased speculation. I’m afraid this will not be seen as solid proof.”

Volusia clasped her hands together, fingers twisting. “Isn’t the fact that Petronax ordered me killed proof that he was up to something?”

Her stepfather’s lips tightened. “Petronax will deny giving such an order. The centurion will take the blame.”

In a surge of frustration, she rose to her feet and paced the small length of the study. “So you’re saying I have nothing. My husband was murdered, and you think I should let the killer get away with it?”

Rufus raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m saying you should be grateful to be alive, and turn your focus to the future, rather than the past.”

She clenched her fists. “Lucius is my future, and he deserves justice for his father’s death. Please, Father, you have influence. You can bring these charges before the consuls, and they’ll listen to you. Won’t you help me?”

His gaze shifted away from her, guilt flashing briefly. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, my dear. You see, I plan to mount another campaign for consul in the next election.”

“Another consulship? Are you sure that’s wise, in times like these?”

He waved a hand. “The civil war could take years to resolve. Octavius's army still has to take Sicily from Sextus Pompeius. While they are slaughtering each other, someone needs to do the real work of governing. And if I want another consulship, I can’t go around accusing legionary commanders of murder, based on nothing but scribbles.”

Volusia took a sharp breath. “So you’re choosing your political ambitions over your daughter. I don’t know why I expected anything less.” Rufus had always been ambitious to a fault, but she’d thought that in this, of all things, he would side with her.

She meant her words to rile him, but he remained calm, the only disturbance a flush of red rising to his pale cheeks. “I am choosing to extend the influence and reputation of our family. Not tear it down by bringing what will be seen as baseless accusations against a powerful man.” He rose to his feet and clasped her shoulders. “My dear, you’ve been through a great deal in the past few weeks, more than any young woman should suffer. Just take a while to let it settle. Soon, you’ll be able to put it all behind you.” He kissed her forehead.

She allowed the gesture, but her body hummed with frustration. If her own stepfather wouldn’t support her, how was she to bring Petronax to justice? Maybe she should take his advice. Pretend Avitus really had died of an illness and move on. Focus on Lucius, his future.

No, she decided. Avitus deserved justice, and Petronax couldn’t be allowed to continually bleed the province dry. She would find a way, whether she could convince Rufus to help her or not.

The day after his return, Max visited the markets just outside the city walls where horse dealers did their business. He kept an eagle eye out for flashes of dappled gray among the clusters of chestnut, black, and white horses, but he knew there was little chance Elephant was still here.

He approached every dealer he came across and asked if they’d seen an elegant gray mare pass through the markets in the last few days. Some hadn’t seen any horse matching that description. Others had seen a gray mare, but didn’t recall where or to whom she’d been sold.

Finally, as the sun rose to its midday height, he found someone who not only had seen Elephant, but remembered the name of the dealer who’d sold her, a man called Burrus.

Excitement quickened his pace as he followed the directions given. He found a balding man leaning against a fence post, supervising a paddock containing three horses. Max gave them a cursory scan, but Elephant was not among them.

Max raised a hand in greeting. “Are you Burrus?”

The man glanced over him, gaze lingering on the purse of coin hanging from Max’s belt. “I am. You’re in search of a horse? I have three beauties here.” He waved an expansive hand at the horses in the paddock.

“I am in search of a horse, but not one of those.” Max stepped closer. “Someone told me you sold a gray mare a few days back. I want to know who bought her.”

Burrus frowned. “Yes, I remember the mare.”

“So, where is she?” Max pressed.

The man raised his chin. “I’m not in the habit of giving out my clients’ personal information. Besides, why do you want to know?”

“That horse is stolen property,” Max said. “She was stolen from me and sold unlawfully. You bought her from a centurion, didn’t you?”

Burrus’s eyes narrowed. “Not my problem. I paid honest money for her.”

“It will be your problem if you get a reputation for selling stolen horses,” Max growled. “Isn’t any good dealer responsible for ensuring the legality of his sales?”

“What are you, a lawyer?” Burrus snapped.

Max was the furthest thing from a lawyer, but before setting out this morning, Aelius had given him some pointers on laws surrounding stolen property. But in any case, threatening Burrus with legal trouble likely wasn’t going to get him the result he wanted at this moment. He took a deep breath and tried another angle. “All I need is a name and a location, and I’ll trouble you no further.” He dipped a hand into his purse and withdrew a bronze coin.

Burrus took the coin, considered for a moment, and pocketed it. “She went to an estate east of the city. Near Tibur. I did business with an agent of the landowner, not the man himself. Don’t remember the landowner’s name. His agent paid six hundred sestertii for her.”

Tibur was only a few hours’ ride away. He could be there and back by dusk.

Max handed Burrus another coin for good measure, thanked him, and left. He fetched one of the horses he and Volusia had ridden to Rome on, obtained more money from the coffers at home, and set off on the eastern road. He pushed the horse as fast as he dared, but the gelding didn’t have Elephant’s graceful, exhilarating speed.

He passed through miles of rolling vineyards and farmland. Soon, sprawling villas dotted the landscape, each grander than the last and surrounded by fields, vineyards, and orchards. He paused several times to ask slaves working the fields if any of their masters had purchased a gray horse recently.

At the fourth estate, someone said yes. “A pretty one, too,” the young man said, leaning on his scythe.

Hope sparked in Max’s chest. He smiled and handed the laborer a coin. “Yes, she is. Where are the stables?”

The young man pointed, and Max set off. Around a bend from the fields, a grassy pasture sat before a cluster of stable buildings. A flash of gray caught his eye on the other side of the pasture, and his stomach flip-flopped. It was her. Her slender neck was bent to the ground, tail swishing as she cropped some grass.

He drew his gelding to an abrupt stop, leaped off, and threw the reins over one of the fence posts. Then, he vaulted the fence, aware that he was trespassing but unable to bring himself to care. “Elephant!” he called as he landed on his feet inside the pasture.

She raised her head, ears twitching. Then, her powerful body was in motion, cantering toward him, her graceful legs eating up the distance between them.

She drew to a halt, prancing before him. He lifted a hand to pat her nose, and she snorted, jerking her head away from his touch. She must be irritated with him for abandoning her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She let out a soft whuffle and lowered her head, pressing her nose against his chest. His arms curved around her, stroking her cheek. For a long moment, his entire being was centered on the big, warm mass of horse in his arms.

“Hey!” A shout split the air. “You can’t be in there.”

Max turned to see a red-faced man gesticulating on the opposite side of the fence. Max released Elephant and walked toward the man. “Are you in charge here? I’d like to buy this horse.”

The man blinked. “I’m in charge of the stables. We only just bought this mare. The master won’t want to sell her. Be off with you now, and stop wasting our time.”

“This horse is stolen property,” Max said. “Legally, she belongs to me.”

The man let out a short bark of laughter. “Stolen property? Are you fucking with me? Get out of here before I call our guards to drag you out.”

This irritating man was now the only thing standing between Max and Elephant, and Max wanted nothing more than to punch him in the mouth and ride off on Elephant.

But he forced himself to go about things the right way. He adopted a relaxed posture, leaning his forearms against the fence. “I have plenty of witnesses who will swear under oath that I’ve owned her since she was a filly. You may have bought her in good faith, but she wasn’t free to be sold. And if your master doesn’t sell her back to me, I’ll take this to the courts. I doubt that will please your master. If you would be so good as to fetch him, we can sort this out between us.”

The stablemaster glared at him. A muscle in his jaw pulsed, and he let out a grunt of defeat. “I will see if he will speak with you. Come with me.” He beckoned Max to follow him.

Max gave Elephant one last glance, reluctant to leave her again even for a moment, but followed the stablemaster to the villa. Max waited in the atrium as instructed. The stablemaster lurked in the background.

Max surveyed his surroundings. A cluster of portrait busts, depicting the family’s ancestors, sat near the center of the atrium, along with several fancy-looking vases, no doubt expensive antiques. Max had once smashed an antique vase the day Crispina had first brought him home, which had almost caused Aelius to throw him out. But Crispina had stood up for him, and he’d been a part of their family from that day forward.

A paunchy, gray-haired man entered the atrium, frowning at Max. “I’m told you want to buy my horse.”

“She’s my horse, in fact,” Max said. “She was stolen from me, but I’m willing to buy her back from you. I’ll match the price you paid for her.”

The man’s brows drew together. “This is ridiculous. I purchased the mare in an honest sale.”

“She was not free to be sold.” Max crossed his arms. “I can easily prove to a court that she’s been mine since I was seventeen. Now, either you can accept my generous offer of payment, or I can ride back to Rome and find a lawyer. Eleph—the mare will be repossessed once my ownership is proven, and you’ll have no payment. At least I offer you a good price.” He held out his purse, stuffed with coin.

The man glowered hotly at him for a long moment. Finally, good sense won out, and he snatched the purse. “Now get off my property. You—” He snapped his fingers at the stablemaster, who stood at attention. “Make sure he leaves.”

The stablemaster nodded. “Yes, sir.” He beckoned to Max with a sour look on his face. “This way.”

Max returned to the pasture where Elephant waited. While the stablemaster fetched a rope halter and lead, Max inspected Elephant for any sign of injury or mistreatment. To his relief, she seemed in perfect health. Her mane and tail had been kept free of tangles, her hooves had been properly cleaned, and her coat brushed to its usual soft sheen.

She snuffled at his hair once he finished his inspection. “Yes, we’re going home,” he said. “Quite the adventure we’ve both had, isn’t it?”

She snorted and tossed her head.

A few moments later, Max was leading Elephant out of the pasture, with a triumphant bounce to his step. She was his once more. The grief and anxiety that had been simmering in him since their parting finally eased.

He brought Elephant to where the gelding waited. Elephant looked the other horse over with a critically tilted ear. Max switched the saddle and bridle from the gelding to Elephant, and put the rope halter on the gelding, keeping the lead in his hand.

He mounted Elephant. She gave a little prance as his weight settled into the saddle. A broad grin stretched across his face. He tensed his legs for a moment, and she eased into a walk. The motion of her gentle, familiar gait soothed something deep within him. Finally, he was back where he belonged.

Max’s stomach growled as he rode away from the estate, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which had only consisted of a couple hard-boiled eggs and some of yesterday’s porridge. He turned Elephant toward the road to Tibur, planning to grab a bite to eat before making the trek back to Rome. The gelding followed, marching stolidly by Elephant’s side.

Once he entered the town of Tibur, he dismounted from Elephant and led both horses through the streets, making his way toward the center of the town. The narrow streets soon opened up into a small market square, lined with stalls selling various wares and most importantly, food.

He found a small boy lurking in the shadows between buildings, and gave him a bronze coin to mind the horses on the edge of the square. He cast a glance at the boy’s skinny frame. Max remembered the days when luck, theft, or doing odd jobs for strangers had been his only shot at going to bed with a full stomach.

At the market, he surveyed the food stalls, and chose one selling chickpea fritters. Chickpea fritters would forever remind him of that afternoon he and Volusia had spent in Narbo together, sharing a snack in an alleyway. He purchased two fritters, crispy and dripping in oil—one for himself, and one for the boy—and then became tempted by the adjacent stall, selling wheels of sheep’s milk cheese. His family would enjoy some fresh cheese, so he pulled out a coin. “One, please.”

The older woman behind the stall glanced up at him as she wrapped the cheese, then froze as her eyes landed on his face. “Quintus,” she breathed.

That name—one he hadn’t heard since he was a child—sent a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t let himself pause to examine it. “You have me mistaken for someone else.” He laid the coin down on the wooden surface. “The cheese, please.”

Her hand flashed out to grasp his. She wore a loose dress of linen, dyed a pale blue, and no jewelry or other adornments. Her skin was tanned, and a few streaks of gray lightened her hair. Her eyes searched his face with an intensity he found disquieting. There was something familiar about her face…

“It is you,” she breathed. “You don’t know me?” she asked, her voice taking on a plaintive edge. “You really don’t?”

He stared at her once more, his mind trying to resolve the thread of familiarity he found in her face. But there was nothing. He didn’t know anyone in Tibur, after all. Likely she was confused, though she didn’t look old enough to fall prey to the befuddlement that often afflicted elders. “I need to go.” Gently, but firmly, he tried to tug his arm from her grasp.

“Quintus.” She didn’t release him, her grip growing tighter. “I’m your mother.”