Page 25 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

V olusia returned home, her mind reeling from Max’s confession, Hortensius’s proposal, and the question of Silvanus.

She focused on the last one, as it was most pertinent to her current situation. Once she brought about justice for Avitus, she could focus on her future—whether that included Max, Hortensius, or someone else entirely.

If Max was right, why had Silvanus seemingly come back to Rome when he’d told her he planned to stay in Narbo? Maybe he’d taken their conversation to heart and started asking questions about Petronax. Maybe the commander had gotten wind of it, and Silvanus had decided it was safer to retreat to Rome.

Whatever the reason, Silvanus seemed her only lead to possibly uncover the proof that Hortensius required.

The problem now was that she had no idea where to find Silvanus. If he even was in Rome.

When she reached home, she asked Orion to do some investigating. He could ask the slaves at the baths where Max had spotted Silvanus. Perhaps someone would remember him and knew where to find him. If that didn’t work, there were plenty of taverns and gathering spots in that neighborhood he might frequent. If enough people were asked—and enough coin offered as motivation—someone would know him.

Orion accepted the mission with a nod. Volusia handed him a purse of coin with which to make his questions welcome, and he set off.

It could take days to locate Silvanus, if Orion was even successful. Volusia didn’t know how to occupy herself. If she tried to pass the time at weaving, as she was often accustomed, she knew her mind would wander to Max. For now, it was safer not to think of him.

She went in search of Lucius and found him in the peristyle sitting with one of his tutors. The private garden at the back of the house was often a favorite spot for lessons on sunny days. She’d taken Lucius out of school shortly before leaving for Narbo; his intelligence irritated the other students, and after finding out that he'd become the target of bullies, she’d swiftly arranged private tutelage.

The tutor rose to his feet when Volusia appeared and greeted her with a respectful nod. "Good afternoon, lady."

Lucius jumped up, barely catching a scroll as it rolled off his lap. “Mama! I’m learning about the Punic Wars. Did you know they fought with elephants?”

Her mind immediately jumped to Max and his beloved horse. “I did know that. Quite strange to think of, isn’t it?”

“How many elephants did Hannibal try to cross the Alps with?” the tutor asked Lucius.

“Thirty-seven,” Lucius answered promptly, and the tutor nodded. Lucius had the ability to retain all sorts of information, but numbers especially seemed to stick in his mind like honey to a spoon.

Volusia smiled. “Is he doing well?” she asked the tutor.

“He’s the smartest boy I’ve ever taught of his age, lady,” the tutor said. “His memory is prodigious, as is his skill with arithmetic.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the mothers.”

“I assure you, I do not, lady,” he said. “You are welcome to stay and see for yourself, if you like.”

Watching Lucius learn about long-ago wars seemed a safe way to occupy her mind, so she nodded. “Thank you.” She took a seat on a bench opposite them.

The tutor quizzed Lucius on dates of various battles and names of commanders, all of which he answered correctly. The tutor then explained a certain point about the military strategy used by one of those commanders, which Volusia barely followed, and asked Lucius how that strategy differed from previous battles. Lucius gave a clear, concise answer, which pleased the tutor.

Listening to this lesson reaffirmed Volusia’s belief that Lucius had great things ahead of him, if she could only provide him the right opportunities. Aligning with a man like Hortensius, a patrician and a consul at that, could open many doors.

But as soon as she thought of Hortensius, Max’s words echoed in her mind. “I loved you when I was seventeen. I loved you when I stepped in front of Glabrio’s sword. And I love you still, Volusia.” She had spent ten years in a loveless, if cordial, marriage. Could she enter another marriage for reasons that had nothing to do with love, even if it was best for her son?

Regardless of what she wanted, Max had his own life to live. He didn’t enjoy living in Rome, preferring the expanse of the countryside and the comparative wilderness of the provinces. He was not the sort of man who would be happy hosting dinner parties every night to foster social connections. Besides, now that he’d been offered a position in a distant legion, he might leave and she’d never see him again.

An icy hand squeezed around her heart at the thought. She wished she hadn’t told him she loved him—even though it was the truth. It was a pointless, irrelevant love, and it would only hold both of them back.

Elephant cantered down the road to Tibur as Max traveled to visit Furia and her family again. His mind had been awhirl in the days since the audience with Hortensius and the ensuing conversation with Volusia. He needed to decide if he was going to accept Hortensius’s offer of a position in another legion. Ordinarily, the thought of joining a legion somewhere as distant as Syria or Egypt would have thrilled him, promising new adventures and maybe another shot at that pesky promotion, if he found himself under a less unpleasant centurion. But now, uncertainty turned his thoughts into a jumble.

He'd spent ten years in the army, hoping for glory and adventure. There had been a few moments of adventure—some exhilarating battles, the excitement of seeing new lands—but mostly, it had been drudgery like collecting taxes and repairing buildings.

As for glory, his experience with Petronax and Glabrio had disabused him of that notion. The army didn’t reward bravery. It rewarded corruption, in Petronax’s case, and the ability to blindly follow orders, in Glabrio’s.

That wasn’t want he wanted, but what else was there?

He needed open space and fresh air to properly think. He couldn’t concentrate in the city, even at home. The walls might block some of the street noise, but he still felt confined.

He also couldn’t tell Aelius and Crispina he was thinking of rejoining the army—not yet, at least. They would support whatever he chose, but lately Crispina had been dropping lots of hints about introducing him to some eligible young women so he could start a family and settle down. They would not be excited to send him off to the furthest corner of the Republic, even if they didn’t stop him.

Furia, though, might be able to hear his musings with a more impartial ear. He had enjoyed speaking with her at his last visit, and he had promised to visit again so Tullus could have another ride on Elephant.

He found the farmhouse easily this time, and hopped down from Elephant. He saw a figure out in the turnip fields that looked like Appius, and waved. Appius waved back.

Max removed Elephant’s tack and led her to the small pasture at the front of the farmhouse, where she could frolic, graze, and drink from the trough of water. Then, he headed toward the cottage. The door was ajar, and a woman’s voice emanated from within, cooing to a child. It must be Furia and Appia. Max grinned and pushed open the door. “Surprise, I thought I’d—”

He stopped short as the woman on the other side of the one-room cottage turned to face him, the baby in her arms. It wasn’t Furia, but his mother.

“Quintus!” Maia gasped, her shocked expression quickly giving way to delight. “Come in, sit down. Let me get you something to eat.”

The sight of his mother standing by a hearth fire dredged up a long-buried memory. It rose in his chest, choking at his throat like a grasping hand.

He backed out of the house and slammed the door behind him. He made it to the pasture on stiff, unsteady legs, and braced his hands on the slats of the wooden fence.

His head spun as the memory washed over him. He remembered his mother, belly swollen, standing by the fire while his father berated her. Max didn’t remember the words, but he remembered the bellowing. It had made him put his hands over his ears.

His mother had shot back a remark, her voice just as angry. Father had grabbed a ceramic jug and flung it at her. It smashed into the wall behind her.

That was when Max had started to cry. A poor choice, as it drew the attention of both his parents.

“Can’t you shut up?” his mother had said, her voice sharp with irritation.

His father started toward him, thick fingers balling into fists. By now, Max knew what awaited him if his father got his hands on him. Instinct took over. Before his father could reach him, Max dove for the door to their ramshackle second-floor apartment. He threw himself down the stairs that led to the ground floor, falling down most of them, and raced through the courtyard into the street.

No one followed him.

That was the last time he’d seen any of his family, until now. He’d braved the streets, stealing food and shelter where he could, until his luck turned and he’d met Crispina. His life had never been the same since.

Now, twenty years later, his heart hammered in his chest as fast as it had when he’d run out the door. The memory of that day had been hazy until now. It all came back to him in a dizzying wave—the terror, the helplessness, the overwhelming urge to escape.

Something warm pressed against him, and he opened his eyes to see that Elephant had crossed the pasture without being called. She nudged her head into his shoulder on the other side of the fence. Max stroked her neck, inhaling deeply. As always, her presence and earthy scent grounded him. She whuffled into his ear.

Footsteps rustled behind him, and he whipped around, his hand going to the empty spot on his hip where his sword should be.

It was only Furia. She eyed him with concern. “I was out back with Tullus. Mother said you’d shown up.”

How was he supposed to explain what had come over him the instant he saw his mother? “I…I didn’t expect to see her.”

“You knew she lived here.” Furia’s brows drew together. “If you’re going to be rude to her, there’s no point in you visiting.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I just…” Max shook his head. “Seeing her makes me remember things.”

Furia’s gaze softened. She stepped closer to him and leaned against the fence. Elephant snuffled at her curly hair, which Furia permitted. “Lucky you were able to forget things in the first place.”

A pang of guilt hit him. What might she have endured, that he’d avoided with his escape? “Sorry,” he said, his voice little better than a grunt.

“Oh, Max.” She put her hand on his arm. “I wish you wouldn’t blame our mother for what our father did. She was as scared of him as we were.”

Max didn’t remember his mother being scared. He remembered her being curt, dismissive, and scornful. Now, he realized that might have been her only way to hide her fear.

“Everything improved after he got himself killed,” Furia continued. “We left the city, moved out here, and I was lucky enough to meet Appius. Now that I’ve become a mother twice over, I understand why she acted the way she did. If Appius woke up one day with a mind to yell and beat me, gods forbid, I would do whatever it took to protect my children. Even if it meant staying with a horrible man who put a roof over my head and food on the table rather than being cast into the streets with nothing, or standing up to him and getting myself killed, leaving my children without a mother.”

Max nodded, mulling over her words. “I wish I’d known about you. I could have gone back for you. You could have had a better life.”

She grinned. “I have no patience for the sort of hoity toity life you found.”

“I didn’t either, most of the time.” He managed a chuckle. He had put Aelius and Crispina through many trials as they tried to civilize and educate him. “I think I made at least four tutors quit.”

Furia chuckled. “Don’t feel guilty about me. This”—she gestured at the peaceful farm—“is all I’ve ever wanted. And try to forgive our mother, if you can.”

Max heaved a deep sigh. He thought of Volusia, capable of forgiving her husband for dishonoring their marriage, even capable of befriending her husband’s lover. If he could be just a little bit like her, maybe he could find enough compassion to start to forgive his mother. “I will try.”

“Good. Will you come back inside now?”

He nodded, and allowed Furia to lead him back inside. In the cottage, Appius was sitting and talking with Max’s mother near the fire. Maia looked up when she saw them enter, but Appius kept talking, his back to them, describing the day’s harvest. Furia went to check on baby Appia, asleep in her cradle on the other side of the room. Max took a seat next to Appius, who fell silent.

Max had no idea what to say to his mother—not yet—so he turned to Appius. “The harvest was good today?”

Appius nodded and resumed talking with a careful glance between Max and his mother. From across the room, Furia caught Max’s eye and gave him a nod.

Max said nothing directly to his mother, nor did she try to speak to him again, but the family passed a pleasant enough afternoon and evening. He spent the night, as it was too far to ride back to Rome. He’d told Aelius and Crispina that he might be gone overnight, so they wouldn’t worry.

In the morning, Max woke early and tiptoed out of the cottage to check on Elephant. She’d passed the night in the pasture, with oxen, sheep, and a donkey for company and a full supply of grain.

A blanket of fog settled over the landscape, and dew sparkled on the grass. A chill wind, heralding autumn, made him shiver. Max took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. It smelled of manure and hearth-smoke, but the air was still fresher than any breath he could take in Rome.

Elephant trotted over to the fence and extended her nose in greeting. He stroked her, wondering what the air in Egypt smelled like. There was probably sand in it.

The door to the cottage opened and closed, and Furia emerged, Appia squirming in her arms. Furia smiled in greeting as she approached. “Usually Appia is the first to wake. I half-expected you to sleep ’til noon. Isn’t that what the posh Romans do?”

Max grinned. “Not anyone who’s ever been in the army.”

“Will you be rejoining your legion soon? The last time we spoke, you said you weren’t sure if you’d be able to, given all that happened.”

His smile faded as he remembered the reason he’d come to visit his sister in the first place. “I’ve been offered the opportunity to join a legion in the east. Syria, or Egypt. Somewhere like that.”

She shifted Appia in her arms. “So you’ve come to tell me that you’re leaving. Well, I’m sad to hear it, especially after we’ve just gotten to know each other, but you must do what’s best for you.”

Max let out a long breath. “That’s just it. I’m not sure if the army is the best choice, after what happened. I used to think it was. It seemed to be the only thing I was good at. And I have no idea what else to do with myself.”

“You’re not going to follow in your adopted father’s footsteps and become a politician?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, which made her laugh.

Furia sat Appia on the fence, an arm securely around her middle. The little girl reached out a chubby hand toward Elephant, who allowed her nose to be clumsily patted. “I don’t know if this would interest you, but I heard the other day about a parcel of land near here that’s going up for sale soon. It’s undeveloped, but a good size. You could clear it and build a nice house and have plenty of room for a few fields. Appius could help advise on the planting.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a farmer,” Max said. But the idea of owning land out here in the country intrigued him. He imagined a little piece of countryside that was all his own, far away from the noise and crowds of the city. A cottage just like Furia’s. He closed his eyes for a moment to imagine it. The image of Volusia, tending the hearth and sweeping the floor, rose in his mind.

No, that was nonsense. Volusia was not meant to be a rustic country wife.

“What about horses, then?” Furia asked. “You could breed them. Maybe even set up a riding school. There are plenty of wealthy families with country estates out here whose sons are headed for the army and need to learn how to handle a horse.”

Horses . The idea struck him with a visceral sense of rightness that took his breath away for a moment. He could spend his days out in the country surrounded by horses, putting his skills and passion to good use. He would be his own master, and wouldn’t have to follow anyone else’s orders.

Furia must have seen his reaction on his face, for she smiled. “It would be nice to have you close.”

“Do you know the price of this land?” Max asked. That could easily be an insurmountable obstacle. He had some money saved from his army salary, but he doubted it would be enough to buy land, clear it, and build. Perhaps he could ask Aelius for a loan, an advance on his inheritance.

She shook her head. “I don’t. But I’ll give your name to the seller and have him write to you. I should warn you though”—her eyebrows wiggled jokingly—“the land borders that of a farmer with no less than three unmarried daughters. I guarantee you’d have some very friendly neighbors.”

“I’d have to build a wall,” he muttered.

“Well, if you’re going to settle down, you’ll need a wife at some point to look after you. Appius was lost before he found me.”

“I don’t want a wife.” The words came out sharper than intended, but they were true. He only wanted Volusia, and she was lost to him.

Furia’s smile faded. “Has some girl broken your heart?”

“No—yes—I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit in her eyes. “Is that why you were considering going all the way to Egypt? You want to run away from someone.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Sort of.” He hadn’t spoken of his feelings for Volusia to anyone, and the hopelessness of it all weighed on him. In a few words, he told Furia all about Volusia. Their childhood infatuation, her stepfather’s hatred, the circumstances that had brought them together once again, and the differing paths that would tear them apart.

Furia listened closely. When he finished, she gathered Appia into her arms. “So you were willing to save her from an assassin and lose your position in the army for her, but now you’re about to give her up because she wants to live in Rome and you don’t?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Max muttered. “And saving her life was the work of a moment. This is the rest of our lives.”

“If you love her, and she loves you back, don’t let her go so easily,” Furia said. “Such a love is hard to come by. Don’t throw it away.”

The prospect of a life without Volusia was bleak and joyless, and his sister’s words kindled a tiny spark of hope. Now that he had the idea, even if implausible, of buying land in the country instead of returning to the army, maybe there was a way to craft a life that would please both him and Volusia. A life that would satisfy him while still fostering Volusia’s ambitions for her son.

He had no idea how, of course, but fresh determination to try filled him. After all they had been through, he had to try something to keep Volusia at his side.