Page 23 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

M ax squinted into the rising sun as he took the eastern road out of Rome. He’d told Aelius and Crispina he was going to visit an army friend outside the city, and had gotten an early start, as the ride to Tibur would take several hours.

He had decided to take Volusia’s advice and visit his sister and her family. He had no desire to see his mother, but knew he might not have a choice. He couldn’t ignore the prospect of a sister. He wanted to meet her, to see if they were anything alike or if his upbringing with Aelius and Crispina had changed him too much.

The long, flat stretch of road ahead was empty at this early hour. He urged Elephant into a gallop, and let out a whoop as her hooves ate up the distance. Wind whipped through his hair, and his chest lightened. Even if today was a disaster, getting a chance to ride Elephant would still be worth it.

As he approached Tibur, he paused to ask anyone he passed if they knew where Furia and her husband lived. Someone pointed him north of the town, so he headed in that direction.

He slowed as an obstruction on the road ahead came into view. A farmer had gotten his turnip-filled cart stuck in a muddy rut, and was trying to push it free without much success. A donkey watched dispassionately.

Max drew Elephant to a halt and dismounted. “Can I give you a hand with that?”

The man stood back from the cart and wiped his forehead beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat he wore. “Much appreciated.”

Max set his shoulder against the cart, and together, they heaved until the cart rolled free.

“Thank you kindly.” The farmer gestured to the pile of dirt-crusted turnips in the back of the cart. “Help yourself, if you like. Finest in the Republic.” He grabbed one and held it out.

Max eyed the grubby vegetable. “Thanks, but perhaps you could give me directions instead. I’m looking for the farm where a woman named Furia lives.”

The man dropped the turnip, mouth falling open in surprise. He stepped back, squinting at Max with new suspicion. “What business do you have with my wife?”

His wife? Max raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “She’s my—” He swallowed hard, fighting the strangeness of the words. “My sister.”

The man’s eyes widened. “You’re the long-lost brother?”

“I guess so.” It still felt strange to think of himself as someone’s brother. “I’m Maximus.”

A smile spread across the other man’s face. “Well, the gods must have arranged it for us to meet like this! I’ll take you home straightaway. It’s just around the bend. Furia will be overjoyed. Maia didn’t say anything about you coming to visit—were we expecting you? I’m Appius, by the way. Fine horse you have there.”

Max grinned. The man’s gregariousness was endearing, and anyone who recognized Elephant’s superiority was sure to be a friend. “Thank you. The visit was a surprise. I hope that doesn’t cause any problems.”

Appius shook his head. “Only that her mother—your mother, I mean—is out grazing the sheep until dusk. I can send someone to fetch her.”

“No need,” Max said quickly. “I came to see Furia.”

Appius gave him a sidelong look but said nothing. He hitched the cart back to the donkey and pointed up the road. “Our farmhouse is just up ahead. No more than a quarter of an hour. You can ride ahead, if you want.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Max said. He took Elephant’s reins in hand and walked with Appius, next to the slowly moving cart. Elephant huffed in impatience, but Max patted her neck soothingly. “I hear you have children?”

Appius nodded, his face lighting up with pride. “A boy, Tullus Appius, four years old. A true terror, mark my words, but Furia keeps him in line. And a little girl, born last winter. Are you married? Children?”

The image of Volusia flashed into his mind. “No.”

“Ah, well, plenty of time for all that.”

Max changed the subject. “What crops do you grow?”

The rest of the short journey passed with an enthusiastic description of the best growing conditions for turnips, and which sacrifices to which gods tended to yield the best harvests.

Soon, a small farmhouse came into view, surrounded by fruit trees and a pasture in which another donkey and a pair of oxen grazed. In front of the house, a young woman held a chicken in both hands, apparently in the middle of scolding it. A baby was strapped to her chest. On the other side of the yard, a young boy chased the rest of the chickens, laughing uproariously.

The young woman’s face brightened at the sight of her husband. “Appius! You’re back early. Who’s your friend?” She was tall for a woman, with curly, sun-bronzed hair—a similar shade to Max’s own—spilling over her shoulders.

Appius clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “This, my love, is none other than your long-lost brother, Maximus.”

Furia dropped the chicken in a flurry of feathers and squawking. She stared at Max. “Fucking Dis.”

Yes, they were definitely related.

Max smiled uncertainly. “I’m sorry for the surprise.”

She stepped closer to him, her sharp brown eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Your name is supposed to be Quintus.”

“I go by Maximus now,” he explained. “Or Max, if you prefer.”

“Mother didn’t say you were coming. In fact, she said you were quite rude to her when you met.”

Her gaze appraised him like a centurion sizing up a new recruit. Max couldn’t help jumping to defend himself. “It was a shock. I wasn’t going to come at all, but…I was curious to meet you.”

“Mother talked of you all the time,” she said. “Still does. All these years later, she still prays to see you again every time we go to the temple. I guess the gods finally decided to listen.”

Her words should have made him feel sympathy toward his mother, but he couldn’t summon any warm feelings just yet. “I don’t want to see her,” he said in a low voice. “I only came to see you.”

“She’s changed, you know,” Furia said. “Everything changed after Father died.”

Max was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the young boy, who must be Tullus. He ran between Furia and Max, and stared up at Max curiously. “Who’s that?”

Appius swung the boy into his arms. “This is your uncle, Maximus.”

The boy squirmed in his father’s grasp. “What’s an uncle?”

“He’s my brother,” Furia explained. “Just like you’re Appia’s brother.”

Tullus paid no attention to her explanation, as he’d noticed Elephant. “Horsey! I want to see the horsey!”

“You can pet her, if you like,” Max said. “As long as you show the proper respect.”

Appius set Tullus down, and the boy ran toward Elephant, stopping a few paces in front of her. He held out a hand solemnly, waiting for her to sniff.

Elephant bypassed the outstretched hand and snuffled at the boy’s hair. Tullus squealed in delight. “It tickles!”

“She does enjoy a good head of hair,” Max said.

Furia stepped forward to stroke Elephant’s neck. “You rode all the way from Rome?”

Max nodded. “We made good time.”

“You both must be hungry. Appius, see to some water and hay for the horse, and I’ll take Maximus inside for some lunch. Tullus, go with your father.”

Max couldn’t help grinning at the way Furia ordered around her husband and son. He gave Elephant’s reins to Appius with thanks, then followed Furia inside. The farmhouse consisted of one room with a loft upstairs, accessible by a ladder. It was clean and cozy, if not luxurious.

Max sat at the central table. Furia placed a half loaf of bread in front of him, along with some cheese and a few hard-boiled eggs. She poured him a cup of well-watered wine. Her manner was polite, but she kept shooting him sidelong glances heavy with doubtfulness. He couldn’t blame her—it must be a shock to have a long-lost sibling show up on her doorstep, and she deserved some time to warm up to the idea of him.

“Thank you,” he said as she slid the cup of wine toward him.

Furia untied the baby from her chest, set the child in a cradle, and sat opposite him. “I know this probably isn’t the sort of food you’re used to, living in Rome and all. It seems you’ve done well for yourself.”

“I got lucky,” he said. “And I have simple tastes. Some of the best meals I’ve ever had have been eaten around a campfire on campaign.”

“You’re in the army, are you? You do have the look of a soldier.”

He nodded, and told her an abbreviated version of the major events in his life: his adoption by Aelius and Crispina, his upbringing, and his time serving in Gaul.

“So what brings you back to Italy?” she asked. “Are you on leave?”

“Not exactly.” He hesitated. “My centurion thinks I’m dead. If he didn’t, I’d be on trial for mutiny and insubordination.”

Furia’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward. “Now that sounds interesting.”

“Believe me, I wish it weren’t.” He told her what had happened with Glabrio and Volusia—but left out his feelings for Volusia. It was rather nice to speak to someone unbiased, someone who was interested in the drama of the tale but not consumed with shock or outrage as his family had been. Furia had a quiet, contemplative way of listening that made her easy to talk to. “So I’m stuck for the moment,” he finished. “If Volusia can prove that Petronax had her husband murdered, then I have a chance of being reinstated in the army.”

“Is that what you want?”

The question cut deep. Since his adoption, he’d been trying to fit into the life that Aelius and Crispina wanted for him, to repay their kindness by living up to their expectations. They would have been thrilled if he’d followed in Aelius’s footsteps and made a name for himself in politics, but he’d been atrocious at his lessons and barely knew the difference between an aedile and a praetor.

Joining the army had been a compromise. His parents hoped one day he’d command a legion and gain reputation for himself that way. To Max, the army had represented freedom, adventure, a chance to see new lands and spend his days on horseback, away from the confines of Rome. But now, he’d seen what the army really was: bureaucracy, blind loyalty, and corruption. He was less certain by the day that he wanted any part of it.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

His sister watched him, sympathy in her dark eyes. “I know nothing about such things, so I have no advice, but I will pray that everything turns out as it should.”

“Thank you.” He changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his own issues anymore. “It seems as if you’ve done well for yourself, too.”

She nodded. “A humble sort of well, I think, but it suits me. Our fortunes are dependent on the harvest, and we’ve had a few hard years, but I’ve been blessed with a loving husband and two healthy children.” She glanced at the cradle where Appia had fallen asleep, and smiled. “I could not ask for more.” Her smile grew sly. “If you’ll let me be nosy, is there a lady in your life? The girls must be all over a handsome soldier.”

Despite himself, a blush heated his cheeks. “Nothing serious.” To his surprise, he found that he actually wanted to confide in Furia, to tell her all about Volusia and his decade-old, doomed infatuation. But he’d only known Furia for an hour—too soon to get into matters of the heart.

She chuckled.

At that moment, Tullus burst into the cottage. The boy marched straight up to Max. “Can I ride your horse, please?” he asked plaintively. “Papa said if I asked nicely, you might let me.”

“Do you know how to ride?” Max asked.

“Yes,” Tullus said, chest puffed out.

“He does not,” Furia said. “And I won’t have my only son break his neck falling off a horse.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we go for a ride together?” Max said. “You can sit in front of me and hold the reins. Only if your mother agrees.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and he turned to his mother. “Mama, please? Can I?”

“It will be perfectly safe,” Max assured Furia.

She gave a nod. “All right.”

Max took Tullus outside. He mounted Elephant with Tullus wedged safely in front of him, and showed him how to use the reins. Max could direct Elephant well enough with just his legs, so the reins were mostly superfluous in any case.

The boy crowed in delight as Elephant trotted around the pasture. Max kept an arm wrapped securely around Tullus’s middle. They finished a few laps around the pasture, and then Max showed Tullus how to make Elephant stop by gently tugging the reins. He handed the boy down to Furia, and dismounted.

Tullus jumped up and down. “I want to go again!”

“Maybe next time,” Furia said. She glanced at Max. “That is, if there is a next time.”

He recognized the invitation in her words. She was saying that she accepted him—at least enough to invite him back. “Yes, I’d like to pay another visit.” The prospect of forging a relationship with his birth family, watching Tullus and baby Appia grow up, brought a strange warmth, a feeling of satisfaction.

Furia gave a short nod. “Good.”

An hour later, he said a reluctant goodbye, needing to get on the road before it got dark. As he rode, his mind lingered on the cozy, tidy farmhouse, the happy children and his sister’s contentment with her simple life. He wanted something like that. A quiet life, a family. Two things the army could not give him.

But every time he tried to picture that life, Volusia was there, tending a fire, sweeping a dirt floor, cuddling a baby. That was not the sort of life she had been born to, nor was it what she wanted. She needed to stay in Rome, to raise her son to take advantage of the power and opportunity that his birth afforded him. She was not destined to be a country farmer’s wife. Any path he took—rejoining the army or seeking a simpler life—would lead him away from her.