Fields of Blood

Chapter III

Near Capua, Campania

‘Aurelia!’

She ignored her mother’s voice, which had carried all the way from the house to where she was standing, at the edge of their property. She’d been thinking about Quintus and Hanno, and her feet had carried her here of their own volition. This was the way the three of them used to come when they sneaked up into the woods. There Quintus had trained her to use a wooden, and then a real, sword. Atia called again, and Aurelia’s lips twitched with brief amusement. What would she, or her father, make of the fact that she could use a weapon? Ride a horse? Both activities were forbidden to women, but that hadn’t stopped Aurelia badgering Quintus to teach her. Eventually, he’d given in. How glad she was that he had; how she treasured the memories of those carefree times. But the world was different now, a harsher, darker place.

Rome was at war with Carthage, and her father and brother were possibly among its casualties.

Stop thinking like that! They’re still alive.

Fabricius had been the first to leave, riding away to fight a people whom he’d fought before, a generation ago. Quintus had gone a few months later, and he had taken Hanno too. Sadness filled Aurelia as she recalled saying goodbye to her brother, and to the slave who had become a friend. If she admitted it, Hanno had perhaps meant something more. Yet he was one of the enemy now, and she would never see him again. That hurt more than she cared to concede. Sometimes she dreamed about running away, to Carthage, to be reunited with him. Aurelia knew it for a crazy fantasy. Yet there was more hope of achieving that than seeing Hanno’s friend Suniaton — Suni — again, she thought sadly.

‘Aurelia? Can you hear me?’

Remembering the horror, she walked a few steps further. Against all wise judgement, but with little other choice, Aurelia had brought an injured Suni from the shepherd’s hut where he’d been hiding back to the family house. Runaway slaves weren’t uncommon, and he had pretended to be mute. The ruse had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes for a time, but then she had made the worst mistake of her life, calling him by his real name instead of his assumed one. It wouldn’t have mattered if Agesandros, the farm’s overseer, hadn’t overheard her and put two and two together. Embittered by the murder of his entire family by the Carthaginians during the previous war, he had slain Suni before her very eyes. Aurelia could still see the knife slipping between Suni’s ribs, the blood soaking through his tunic and the odd tenderness with which Agesandros had lowered him to the floor. She could still hear Suni’s last shuddering gasp.

‘Where are you, child?’ Atia was beginning to sound annoyed.

Aurelia didn’t care. In fact, she was glad. Relations with her mother had been cool — to say the least — since Suni’s death. This was because despite some initial misgivings, Atia had accepted Agesandros’ explanation that Suni had been a Carthaginian and, worse still, a fugitive gladiator who had joined the household by subterfuge. He had been a danger to everyone in the household; all the overseer had done was to rid them of a lethal threat. ‘I know you thought of the boy as harmless, dear,’ Atia had sighed. ‘With his maimed leg, so did I. But Agesandros saw through him, thank the gods. Remember, the injured viper can still deliver a fatal bite.’ Aurelia had protested vociferously, but her mother had put her foot down. Mindful of her need to protect Quintus’ involvement in Hanno’s escape, Aurelia hadn’t been able to reveal more.

‘Gaius is here! He has come all the way from Capua. Don’t you want to see him?’

Aurelia’s head snapped around. Gaius Martialis was Quintus’ oldest and closest friend; she had known him since she was tiny. He was steady, brave and funny, and she had a lot of time for him. Yet at their last meeting, a few weeks previously, he’d brought news that had rocked her world. Hundreds of Romans had been lost in the cavalry clash against Hannibal at the Ticinus; there had been no word of her father and Quintus, or of Flaccus, the high-ranking noble to whom she had been betrothed. She and her mother had lived in painful uncertainty since. Since hearing of the subsequent and unexpected defeat at the Trebia — the Senate had called it a ‘setback’, but everyone knew that for a lie — their anguish had known no bounds. In all likelihood, at least one of the three men had died, probably more. How could they have survived when more than twenty thousand others had not? Aurelia felt sick at the thought of it, but something in her mother’s voice gave her hope.

It didn’t sound strained or unhappy. Maybe Gaius’ visit was not ominous. A flicker of hope lit in her heart. It would be good to have some normal social interaction. Lately, she had had nothing but fractious exchanges with her mother, or frosty silences when she came across Agesandros. There was time for a swift, silent prayer, asking that those she loved be granted protection, especially her father, Quintus and Hanno. At the last moment, Aurelia added Flaccus, and then she turned and ran back down the path.

She found Atia and Gaius in the courtyard that lay adjacent to the main house, a cobbled affair that was bordered by storerooms, a hay barn, grain and wine stores, and slave quarters. In the warmer months, it was the busiest place on the farm. During the winter, it became a route between the buildings, which housed livestock, tools and a wide variety of preserved foodstuffs from fish to hams and herbs. Tracks crisscrossed the once-white snow in dizzying patterns. They had been made by men and women’s sandals, children’s bare feet, dogs, cats, poultry, horses and mules. Aurelia walked with care, avoiding the regular piles of manure. It was time to have the yard swept again, she thought absently.

‘At last you grace us with your presence. Where have you been?’ demanded Atia.

Elation filled Aurelia. Gaius couldn’t be the harbinger of bad news today — not when her mother greeted her in that way.

Gaius gave her a broad grin.

Aurelia bobbed her head in reply. Was she imagining it, or had he looked her up and down for the first time? Suddenly self-conscious, she tossed back her thick black hair and wished that she wasn’t wearing her everyday wool dress and old cloak. ‘I was walking. I came as soon as I heard you call.’

Her mother’s eyebrows rose in evident disbelief, but she did not push further.

‘It is good to see you again, Aurelia.’ Gaius inclined his head.

‘And you, Gaius.’ She gave him a demure smile.

‘You’re becoming quite the young woman.’ Again the fleeting appraisal. ‘You’ll be fifteen before long, won’t you?’

‘In the autumn, yes.’ She fought the instant blush that warmed her cheeks, and failed. ‘You bring no bad news, I hope?’

‘None, I am happy to say.’ He turned to Atia. ‘Have you had any word of Fabricius, or Quintus?’

‘No. Nothing regarding Flaccus either. I spend enough time on my knees in the lararium to mean that no news is good news.’ Atia’s tone was brittle, and brooked no argument.

‘Your husband and Quintus are ever in my prayers, and in those of my father,’ said Gaius quickly. ‘So too is Flaccus. The day that they all return will be one of great celebration.’

‘It will,’ declared Atia.

An awkward silence fell.

Aurelia felt guilty that she hadn’t been praying for Flaccus as much as her father and brother. I only met him once, she thought defensively.

‘You’ll stay for the night?’ asked Atia.

‘That’s very kind of you, but-’ demurred Gaius.

‘You have to,’ cried Aurelia. She clasped his hand in hers. ‘We haven’t seen you for weeks. You must tell us what you and your father have been up to, and what’s happening in Capua.’ She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘We get no news here, in the middle of nowhere.’

At least Fabricius’ creditors leave us alone in this weather, thought Atia sourly. Come the spring, it will be a different matter. ‘Stay. Otherwise you’ll have to set out on your return journey within the hour. The low clouds and the snow mean it gets dark so early these days.’

‘How can I refuse?’ declared Gaius with a gracious half-bow. ‘I would be delighted to stay. Thank you.’

Aurelia clapped her hands with happiness.

‘Entertain our guest, Aurelia. The tablinum is the warmest room.’ Atia made for the house. ‘I shall speak to Julius about the dinner for tonight.’

‘Shall we?’ Gaius indicated the path back to the front door.

‘Can’t we walk for a little while? It’s dark so much at this time of year. It’s good just to be outside, to breathe the fresh air.’

‘Whatever you wish,’ Gaius acceded. ‘Where do you want to go?’

Delighted by the idea of his company, Aurelia pointed. ‘The only path away from the house that isn’t covered in snow is the one that leads up to the woods.’

‘Let’s go that way then.’

The hours that followed were Aurelia’s happiest in many weeks. Her walk with Gaius had lasted until the light had dimmed in the western sky. With chilled faces and feet, they had stamped back into the house. Ignoring the empty tablinum, they had retired to the warmth of the kitchen, where they had got under the slaves’ feet and stolen tasty morsels of the food that was being prepared. Julius, the main cook, would normally have driven her out of his domain. Instead, he had offered her a bowl of the best olives and muttered something about how good it was to see her mood lift. When Atia came in to check on the meal’s progress, she too had looked pleased. Aurelia had pretended not to notice.

Gaius had been full of small talk from Capua. Isolated on the farm, and locked in by grief, Aurelia took interest in stories that would have been of little appeal before. Her favourite was about one of the sewers in Capua, which had blocked a week before. Gaius went into great detail about the resulting overflow, which had swamped part of the city, filling homes and businesses with liquid ordure. A vicious frost two nights afterwards — usually a most unwelcome event — had proved to be the salvation of those trying to remove the vast quantities of sewage. ‘You have to see it to believe it,’ Gaius had said with a chuckle. ‘When shit and piss freeze solid, the result can be chopped up with spades into manageable chunks, tossed on to a cart and carried away.’

‘You’re making it up!’ Aurelia had said in delighted horror.

‘I’m not! On my honour. There was so much work that carters were coming in from every village for miles.’

She had given him a wicked nudge. ‘Mother would love that story.’ Despite Gaius’ protests, she had persuaded him to tell the tale again — but before they dined.

Despite herself, Atia had laughed her way through his account. ‘That must have been quite a sight,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘I imagine that the smell must have been far less severe than in summer.’

Gaius had grimaced. ‘It was still bad enough — the affected area was only a few streets away from our house. Father had the slaves burning lavender and incense night and day to combat the odour.’

‘None of your household got sick then?’

‘No, thank the gods. Surprisingly few people in the city did; whether it was because of the cold or the amount of offerings they left at the temples, I don’t know.’

‘How is your father?’

‘He is well, thank you. He sends you his best wishes. I am to tell you that if there is anything he can do, you have only to mention it.’

‘My thanks. He is a good man, Martialis. I will remember his kind offer.’ Atia’s smile was warm, but the gesture had made her worries resurface. Fabricius had always refused to countenance asking his oldest friend for help with his debts. Martialis wasn’t wealthy, but his loyalty knew no bounds. Anything he had, he’d lend to them if they asked. Atia hoped never to be forced into such a situation, but if Fabricius didn’t return, the possibility was there — whether she liked it or not. She resolved to make an offering to Mercury, the god of war, and also of messengers. Bring me good news of my husband, please. She gestured to the nearest slave, who made swiftly for the kitchen. Soon a procession of dishes was carried through to the dining room, where the three were reclining on couches. The conversation died away for a time. Gaius fell on the food as if he’d been starved for a week. Atia looked on in approval as she took small portions from various platters. Despite her rumbling stomach, Aurelia nibbled only at a piece of baked fish. She didn’t want to appear greedy in front of Gaius.

‘How is Martialis’ bad leg?’ asked Atia. ‘This weather can’t be good for it.’

‘A good rub-down by his body slave once a day keeps him moving. That, and the produce of Bacchus.’ Gaius’ wink set Aurelia giggling. Martialis had always been fond of his drink. Since trying it on the sly, she’d developed a taste for it herself. Atia’s firm grasp of the jug was the only thing that had stopped her from trying to fill her own cup. Throwing a resentful look at her mother, Aurelia hung on Gaius’ every word. How had she not noticed before? He was intriguing — funny and clever. As a friend of Quintus, she had never really thought of him in a romantic way, but that had just changed. She studied him sidelong, drinking in his broad shoulders, muscular physique and open, pleasant face. He caught her eye on occasion, and smiled.

His next story concerned a Capuan official who had been discovered stealing money from the city’s coffers. He had only been caught because of his taste in expensive mosaics. The alarm had been raised by a colleague who had seen the new flooring in his home and known that it would have cost more than the man’s yearly income. An investigation revealed that all of the embezzled money had been spent. The enraged Capuan leaders had ordered the floors to be taken up. The resultant debris was to be used as filler when local roads were being repaired. The zealous workmen sent to complete the job had mistakenly dug up every room in the house, causing the hysterical official to collapse at the scene.

Aurelia gasped. ‘Did he die?’

‘No, he recovered well enough to appear at his trial the next day. Ironically, half the crowd had stolen pieces of his own tesserae to pelt him with. They were showering in from all sides as the court convened. The lawyers got hit; so too did the magistrate.’ Gaius mimed ducking down, wincing as he was struck. ‘The city guards had to be sent in to restore order.’

Aurelia snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so funny, Gaius.’

Atia raised a hand to stifle a yawn. ‘Excuse me.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been carrying on all night, boring you stupid,’ said Gaius, looking a little embarrassed.

‘No, no. It’s interesting to hear what’s going on in Capua. I think it’s time for bed, though. It has been a long day.’ Atia cast a meaningful glance at Aurelia. ‘You too, young lady.’

‘But, Mother-’ she began.

‘Bed. Now.’

Aurelia flushed with anger, but before she could protest, Gaius had risen from his couch. ‘The ride from Capua has tired me more than I would have thought. A night’s sleep, and I’ll be as good as new.’

Atia smiled. ‘One of the slaves will show you to your room. There are extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed should you need them.’

‘My thanks. Until the morning, then.’ Gaius bid them both good night.

Aurelia rose. ‘I’m not a child, Mother,’ she whispered the instant he was at the door. ‘I don’t need to be told when to go to bed.’

Atia turned on her in a fury. ‘When you are mistress of Flaccus’ household, you can do as you please. While you’re under this roof, however, you’ll do exactly as I say!’

Gaius checked at Atia’s raised voice. He half turned, but then thought better of it, and left the room. Aurelia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame that he had heard her mother’s words. She sensed her mother get up, felt a hand close on her arm.

‘Do you understand me?’ Atia demanded.

‘Yes, Mother,’ she muttered from between clenched teeth.

‘I want no more casting soulful eyes at Gaius either. He’s a good man, and will make someone a fine husband, but you are betrothed to another. There must be no suggestion of impropriety. Caius Minucius Flaccus would not approve.’ And the alliance with his family cannot be jeopardised. It will be vital in the restoration of our fortunes.

‘I don’t care about him,’ spat Aurelia, forgetting that she had found Flaccus quite attractive. ‘Or you! I want to marry whom I choose, like you and Father did.’

Slap! Atia’s hand connected with her left cheek.

Complete shock filled Aurelia. Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes. It had been years since her mother had struck her.

‘You forget yourself!’ Atia hissed. ‘What your father and I did is none of your concern. None! You will marry whomever we decide upon, whenever we tell you to. Do I make myself clear?’

‘It’s not fair! You and Father are hypocrites.’

Slap! ‘Keep this insolence up, and I will have a whip brought to me.’

Aurelia’s guts knotted with fear. Her mother’s threat was real. She bit her lip and stared at the floor.

‘Look at me!’

Aurelia raised her unwilling eyes to Atia’s.

‘So you will do as I say?’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Aurelia said, hating herself for being weak.

‘Good. On that we are agreed at least.’ Atia waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Go to bed. I will see you in the morning.’

Aurelia left the room, ignoring the curious stares of the less discreet slaves. Damn Mother to Hades, she thought. It was no more than ten steps to her bedchamber, but in the only act of defiance left to her, she made them last an age. She flung a murderous glance back at the dining room. I hate her. I hate her. Her mother had read far too much into the situation, she thought angrily. She had been enjoying Gaius’ company, that was all. Deep in her heart, though, Aurelia knew that Atia’s instinct had been correct. A stab of remorse. How could she find a man attractive when she was promised to another? Instinctively she knew why. I have met Flaccus once, whereas I’ve known Gaius for many years. Gaius is young, not old. Kind, not arrogant. It’s not a crime to have feelings for someone. An unexpected image of Hanno popped into Aurelia’s mind, filling her with even more guilt. She blanked him out at once. They had never even shared a kiss. He had left, his aim to join Hannibal’s army, and she would never see him again. For all she knew, he was dead.

‘Into your room!’ Atia had come out to check on her.

Aurelia’s resentment towards her mother resurged with a vengeance, but she kept quiet as she opened her door and slipped inside. A plan was hatching in her mind. Everyone in the house would go to bed soon. If she waited, she could creep to Gaius’ chamber and let herself in. Intense satisfaction swept through her. How angry her mother would be if she ever found out! Not that she would. I’ll be quieter than a mouse, she thought with glee. And then I can be alone with Gaius.

Perhaps an hour later, all sounds outside her door had ceased. There had been soft talking among the slaves who were clearing up the remains of their dinner. Plates clattering off one another. From the kitchen, the sound of Julius chiding his minions, telling them to be quiet. Atia’s voice, thanking Julius for his efforts. Her feet pausing by Aurelia’s door; a faint creak as she opened it and peered inside. Aurelia hadn’t moved a muscle, had kept her breathing deep and regular, and her eyes closed. Her efforts had seemed to work. Atia had gently shut the door and gone on her way. The last noises Aurelia had heard were a dog barking from the outbuildings and the subsequent yelps as one of the farm slaves kicked it into silence. She had lain in the darkness since, her blankets pulled up to her chin, listening hard.

All she could hear was her own heart, which was thumping hard off her ribs. Aurelia realised that her previous behaviour had been nothing more than bravado. Sadly, it had worn off. Was going to see Gaius worth the risk? If her mother were ever to realise, a whipping would surely follow. Aurelia had seen Atia punish a slave that way once when her father and Agesandros hadn’t been to hand. The slave had screamed throughout the entire procedure. Don’t be a coward, she thought. What she was about to do could not even compare to the dangers faced daily by Quintus.

With renewed resolve, she threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Lighting her oil lamp was too risky. Besides, she knew the layout of her room like the back of her hand. Shrugging a blanket over her shoulders to guard against the chill, she tiptoed to the door and placed her ear against the timbers. Not a sound. Aurelia had long since perfected the knack of lifting the latch without making any noise. Pulling the horizontal bar towards her, she raised it while with her other hand she firmly pulled the door ajar. A glance outside. Nothing moved. No one stirred.

Aurelia slipped into the covered passageway that bordered the courtyard. Everything had been turned a beautiful shade of silver by the moon. The cold was piercing, and she clutched the blanket to her. Her exhaled breath formed instant clouds before her face, so she was careful to remain in the shadows as she scanned the square for any sign of life. The only creature in sight was the cat that hung around the kitchen, and it ignored her. Content, Aurelia slid her feet across the mosaic floor, counting each step. To reach Gaius’ chamber, she had to go past her parents’ room, which lay fifteen paces from hers. By the time she’d reached ten, she could feel sweat running down her back. Eleven. Twelve. Somnus, she prayed to the god of sleep, keep my mother firmly in your grasp, I beg you.

Aurelia was right outside Atia’s door when there was a cough from within. It took all of her self-control not to turn and bolt. She froze. Time stood still as she waited to be discovered. Blood rushed in her ears. She saw her mother before her in a towering fury, a whip in her right hand. She blinked. The horrific image disappeared. Aurelia forced herself to breathe slowly. By the count of twenty, there had been no further sounds. Knees weak from trembling, she crept on. Outside Gaius’ room, she paused. There was still time to return to her bed unnoticed. That notion vanished in a heartbeat. After the fear, she wanted some reward. She shocked herself by visualising a lingering kiss with Gaius. That picture bright in her mind, she lifted the latch with a practised hand and padded inside, closing the door behind her.

The momentousness of her actions hit home like a hammer blow. If she were caught, her mother would be incandescent. The very least she could expect was a whipping. Aurelia’s resolve weakened. Her arm reached back to the latch.

‘Who’s there?’ It was Gaius’ voice.

Her courage returned. ‘It is I, Aurelia.’ She rushed to his bedside.

‘Aurelia?’ He sounded confused. ‘Is something wrong? A fire?’

‘Don’t be alarmed. Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I see.’ He sat up. It was so dark that she could see only the outline of his face. ‘Your mother would kill us both if she found us like this.’

‘She won’t. She’s asleep.’

‘I hope so. What was it that couldn’t wait until the morning?’

Aurelia’s self-confidence vanished. She was here as much to defy her mother as she was to see Gaius. Admitting to either would involve losing face, though. ‘I’m so worried about Quintus and Father,’ she whispered in a rush. ‘I pray to the gods all the time, but I never hear anything back.’

He reached out and touched her cheek. ‘It’s bad enough for me not knowing about Quintus. It must be far worse for you.’

Unexpected tears began to flow. In the weeks since hearing about the disaster at the Trebia, Aurelia had buried her fears deep inside. Because of the arguments with her mother, she had no one to turn to. So she had battled on alone. One human touch, and her defences came tumbling down. ‘Oh, Gaius! W-what will I do if they’re both dead?’ she whispered jerkily.

He moved along the bed so that he could put his arms around her. ‘You poor thing.’

Aurelia began to sob.

‘Shhhh,’ murmured Gaius, rubbing her back. ‘Shhhh. Your mother will wake.’

She gulped and managed to rein her emotions in a little. Burying her face in his shoulder, she clutched him as if she were drowning. Gaius didn’t speak. He just held her tightly. Aurelia began to cry in earnest. She cried, silently, for a long time. For Quintus, for her father, for Suni, but most of all, for herself. Never in her whole life had she felt so alone as she had in the previous few months. It was as if Gaius understood that. His grip on her strengthened. It gave Aurelia the most incredible sense of reassurance. She relaxed into his embrace and let herself take comfort from his presence, his acceptance, his lack of questions. Here, she was safe. No one could hurt her. Her fears gradually abated, and a little while after that, her tears dried up.

Aurelia did not want to move from the circle of Gaius’ arms for a long time. His flesh was warm; his breath warmed her neck as he exhaled. She could feel his heart beating beneath her ear. He smelled very male. He was so strong. Her original purpose in entering his room returned to her mind. It was almost as if he noticed the change in her.

‘Feel better?’

She looked up at him. The curve of his lips was so tempting. ‘Yes, thank you.’

His grip eased. ‘Once it takes hold, despair is damn near impossible to shake off. It’s easy to become so mired in it that nothing makes sense.’

‘That’s how I’ve been feeling.’

‘The news from Cisalpine Gaul has all been bad, but your father’s a shrewd man. He fought Carthage for ten years before, and survived, remember. He will look out for Quintus. There’s every chance that they’re still alive. Flaccus too. Don’t give up on them just yet.’

‘You’re right,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘There’s no need to apologise. I saw how strained you were with your mother. You have no one to confide in, do you?’

She shook her head miserably.

‘Well, you’ve got me,’ he said, giving her a squeeze. ‘You’re my best friend’s little sister. You can tell me anything.’

Not anything, thought Aurelia. ‘Thank you.’

‘I will make it my business to come out here every week or two. How’s that?’

‘That would be wonderful.’

Another squeeze, conspiratorial this time, before his arms fell away. ‘Now, away with you, before Atia wakes up and hears us.’

Aurelia didn’t really hear him. His face was so close. So inviting. If she leaned in a little, she could kiss him. It might have been her imagination, but she thought that he began to move towards her lips. Her head swam.

‘Aurelia.’

She returned to reality with a start. ‘Yes?’

He had pulled back a fraction. ‘You must go.’

‘Yes, yes. Thank you, Gaius.’

‘It’s all right.’ His whisper was a little gruff. ‘In future, though, it’d be best if you didn’t come into my bedroom at this hour.’

‘I won’t. I promise.’ Her heart sank. He doesn’t find me attractive. He’s only comforting me because I’m Quintus’ sister.

‘We’ll go for walks instead, eh?’

Her spirits rallied. There would be opportunities to be alone with him again. ‘I look forward to that.’

‘As do I. Now, good night.’

Aurelia returned to her room without incident. She lay in bed, listening to her own breathing. Thoughts of Quintus and her father came and went, but her worries about them had lost their sharp intensity. Flaccus didn’t even enter her mind. All she could think about was Gaius.

Gaius.

Despite the fact that she had had little sleep, Aurelia’s mood was buoyant when she awoke the following morning. She’d had a vivid dream about Gaius. Just remembering it made her blush. From the strip of light under her door, she knew that it was full light outside: time to rise before her mother came knocking. Today, she was careful to put on her best dress, a dark green, loosely cut garment given to her by Atia as a birthday present. Aurelia brushed her hair with more care than she’d taken in weeks. She wanted to put on her garnet earrings, but her mother’s eagle eyes would spot them long before Gaius did. Contenting herself with a dab of rosewater at the base of her throat and on her wrists, she stepped out into the covered walkway that ran around the courtyard. Gaius emerged at the same moment; he gave her a sly wink, which she returned with a little grin.

At breakfast she acted subdued, even penitent, before Atia. To her relief, her mother gave no sign of being suspicious. Relief filled Aurelia. Their secret appeared to be safe.

‘When will you leave?’ asked Atia.

‘With your permission, as soon as I have finished this.’ Gaius indicated his plate, upon which lay half a small flat loaf, some olives and a thick wedge of cheese. ‘It’s delicious bread.’

‘Julius has a real talent. He could make his living as a baker,’ said Atia with a smile. ‘You must take some for your father.’

‘Thank you. He’d like that very much.’

‘Maybe you can persuade him to come along next time.’

Gaius grinned. ‘He would jump at the chance of your company.’

The pleasantries went over Aurelia’s head. Gaius was going to leave so soon. Her happiness was overtaken by disappointment. ‘Do you have to go?’

Atia gave her a sharp look. ‘Gaius isn’t free to stay here at your beck and call, you know. He serves in the socii cavalry. He has duties to fulfil.’

Aurelia glowered but said nothing.

‘I would like nothing better than to stay, but your mother is right. I’m supposed to report to my unit by midday.’ Gaius gave a rueful shrug. ‘Weapons drill first, and practice at riding in formation later.’

Aurelia pulled an understanding smile. ‘I see.’

‘I can come back in ten days or so, if your mother will allow it.’ He glanced at Atia.

‘You’d be most welcome.’

Aurelia did her best to look pleased. It was better than nothing.

The slap of sandal leather off the floor in the atrium stopped any further conversation.

Aurelia’s lips thinned when the bandy-legged figure of Agesandros appeared in the doorway. She had come to loathe him. Besides, what business had he here?

Atia frowned. ‘We are at breakfast, in case you can’t see.’

‘My apologies, mistress.’ Agesandros bowed his head, but stayed put.

‘What is it?’

‘A messenger has arrived. He’s military, from the look of him.’

Aurelia thought her heart would stop. Across from her, Gaius’ face was the picture of shock. Even her mother struggled to speak.

‘A messenger?’ barked Atia after a moment, regaining her self-control. ‘From where?’

‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. He wants to see the mistress of the house.’

‘Bring him in. At once!’ cried Atia. ‘We shall meet him in the tablinum.’

‘Yes, mistress.’ Agesandros spun on his heel and trotted off.

‘Do you think he’s carrying a message from Father?’ Aurelia’s voice faltered. ‘O-or about Father?’

‘Let us pray to the gods that it’s the former,’ replied her mother, standing up and smoothing down her dress. ‘Follow me.’

Aurelia shot to her mother’s side like a child in need of a hug.

Gaius stayed where he was.

Atia threw him a look. ‘You come too.’

‘I don’t want to intrude.’

‘You’re practically family.’

Aurelia was grateful for Gaius’ presence by her side as they hurried to the tablinum. There was no time for a prayer at the lararium — she could hear the clash of hobnails in the atrium — but she threw up the most fervent of prayers to her ancestors, that their protection of her father and Quintus had worked. Had kept them alive.

Her mother took up a position before the household shrine, back upright, a stern expression on her face. Aurelia stood to her right, with Gaius on the other side. Despite herself, Atia’s face worked as Agesandros reappeared with a weary-looking man in a thick wool cloak a step behind him. Within a heartbeat, her mien became more welcoming. Aurelia didn’t know how her mother could remain so calm. She had to clench her fists by her sides to stop herself from instantly screaming questions.

Agesandros stepped to one side. ‘The mistress of the house, Atia, wife of Gaius Fabricius.’

The man approached. Snow fell from the broad brim of his Boeotian helmet as he walked, and his calf-high boots left wet impressions on the mosaic floor. Aurelia studied the messenger’s face as he drew near. He was unshaven, gaunt-cheeked, exhausted-looking. She wanted to be sick. Was he carrying bad news?

‘My lady.’ A crisp salute.

‘You are welcome. .’

‘Marcus Lucilius, my lady. I serve with the cavalry that’s attached to Longus’ legions.’

Aurelia’s world stood still. She could see every detail of Marcus’ face. The marks that had been left on his cheeks by the pox. A spot on his chin. A scar, possibly caused by a blade, running along the left side of his stubbled chin.

‘What brings you here?’ Atia’s voice was serene, while Aurelia could taste bile in her mouth. Gaius didn’t look too happy either.

A weary smile. ‘I bear a message from your husband.’

‘He lives?’ cried Atia.

‘When I left the camp near Placentia, he was in good health.’

‘And his son?’ blurted Aurelia.

‘He was also well.’

‘Oh, thank the gods!’ cried Aurelia, her hands rising to her mouth. Her mother was more composed, but her expression had softened further. They even exchanged a tentative smile. Gaius was grinning like a fool.

The messenger rummaged inside his off-white tunic and produced a rolled parchment. ‘Pardon the state of it, my lady,’ he said, proffering it. ‘Fabricius bade me guard it with my life. It’s been against my skin for the whole journey.’

‘It’s of no matter,’ said Atia, practically snatching it from his hand. Silence fell as she slit the wax seal with a thumbnail and unrolled the letter. Her eyes drank in the words; her lips moved in silent synchrony.

The tension was too much for Aurelia. ‘What does it say, Mother?’

‘Your father is alive and unhurt.’ There was a slight shake in Atia’s voice. ‘So too is Quintus.’

Tears of joy rolled down Aurelia’s cheeks. She shot a glance at the lararium and the death masks on the walls to either side of it. Thank you, household spirits. Thank you, my ancestors. I will make offerings in your honour. ‘Does he send other news?’

‘The fighting at the Ticinus was bitter. The cavalry gave a good account of themselves, but they were substantially outnumbered. That was when Publius Scipio was injured.’

Gaius and Aurelia nodded at one another. Naturally, the news that a consul had been wounded had reached Capua soon after the clash.

‘Shortly afterwards, he was sent on a patrol with Quintus, over a river into enemy territory. Flaccus went with them. It seems to have been his idea.’

Aurelia felt a trace of unease.

‘They were ambushed not just once, but twice. Only a handful of riders made it back to the ford where they’d crossed. Your father, Quintus and Flaccus were among them.’ A little gasp. ‘Hanno was among the enemy soldiers!’

A pause.

Atia’s eyes shot to Aurelia’s. ‘I’m sorry.’

Aurelia struggled to understand for an instant. If her father and Quintus were all right, then. . ‘Flaccus?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘He’s dead. Apparently, one of Hanno’s brothers killed him.’

Her husband-to-be, slain? Aurelia felt neither sadness nor relief. She felt numb. Detached. ‘I don’t understand. How did Father and Quintus survive?’

‘Apparently, Hanno said he owed Quintus his life twice over. Two lives for two debts. Quintus and your father were allowed to go, but they killed the others.’

‘Savages!’ growled Gaius. Lucilius rumbled in agreement.

Our troops would do the same, thought Aurelia angrily. At least Hanno honoured his obligations. That’s more than many Romans would do. Still she felt nothing for Flaccus.

‘They managed to retrieve Flaccus’ body the next day so that he could be given a proper burial,’ Atia went on. ‘That will be of some consolation to his family.’

‘Does he say ought of the battle at the Trebia?’ asked Gaius.

Atia read on. ‘A little. The fighting there was even more intense than at the Ticinus. The weather was appalling. To reach the battle, our troops had to cross several streams. By the time the battle began, they were soaking wet and freezing cold. Hannibal’s troops, his cavalry in particular, fought very well. He also sprang an ambush on the rear of our army. Both flanks broke under the pressure.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Your father and Quintus were lucky to escape the slaughter. With a band of others, they made for the safety of Placentia. Longus arrived a few hours later with around ten thousand legionaries.’

Aurelia tried to imagine the scene. She shuddered. ‘It must have been carnage.’

‘It was terrible,’ agreed Lucilius. ‘Or so my comrades say.’

‘You weren’t at the Trebia?’

A grimace. ‘To my shame, I was not, my lady. As a messenger, I am often away from the army. It was my bad luck not to be present at the battle.’

‘Or your good fortune,’ said Atia.

A lopsided smile. ‘You might think so, but I would have wished to have been there with my comrades.’

‘There is no shame in doing your duty,’ said Atia. ‘You can take pride today in what you have done as well. Our lives have been a complete torment since hearing of the events in Cisalpine Gaul. Although the war is still going on, we can take great consolation from the fact that our men are alive.’

Lucilius half bowed.

‘Will you stay for a little while, to rest and eat?’

‘Thank you, my lady. Some hot food would be welcome, but then I must be on my way again. I have to return to Rome. The Senate will have messages for me to carry to Longus and Scipio.’

‘Agesandros, take Lucilius to the dining room,’ ordered Atia. ‘Tell Julius to bring him the best food in the kitchen.’

Aurelia watched the pair go. Her heart was singing. Quintus and her father were alive! She thought of Flaccus, and her feelings crystallised. It was sad that he was dead, but she wasn’t especially sorry. Their betrothal was over now: she was promised to no one. Lifting her head, she found Gaius watching her. Colour flooded her cheeks as her desire for him returned. At that, she felt a little shame. But only a little.

‘It’s sad that Flaccus is gone,’ said her mother. ‘We must travel to Capua soon, to offer a sacrifice in his memory at the temple of Mars.’

Aurelia nodded, pretending that she cared. All her attention was on Gaius, though. A daring idea entered her mind. Perhaps she could win his affections?

Atia’s next words shattered her fantasy. ‘After a suitable period, the search for a suitable match for you will need to be renewed.’

Aurelia shot her mother a poisonous glance. Fortunately, it wasn’t noticed. Atia had gone to the lararium, there to give thanks for Lucilius’ news.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Gaius. ‘She’ll find you a good man.’

‘Really? All they’re looking for is a man who’s rich and important,’ Aurelia shot back. What she didn’t dare to add was: ‘I want someone like you.’