Emperor: the field of swords E#3 (4 page)

    He had not been in female company for a long time and then only when Brutus managed to get enough drink in him that he didn’t care anymore. Looking at Servilia reminded him of the world outside his soldiers’ rough gatherings. He felt unbalanced with her, out of practice. The thought crossed his mind that he should be careful to keep a distance. A woman of her experience could very well eat him alive.

    He shook his head to clear it, irritated with his weakness. The first woman to sit at their table for months and he was reacting with little more sophistication than Octavian, though he hoped his thoughts weren’t so obvious. He’d never hear the end of Brutus’s mockery if they were. He imagined the amused taunts with a shudder and pushed his wine cup away firmly. No matter what, she was hardly likely to show interest in a friend of her son. It was ridiculous even to entertain the idea.

    Octavian interrupted Julius’s musings as he reached across the table to offer Servilia the last morsel of an herb dish. The young Roman had grown in strength and skill under the tutelage of Brutus and Domitius. Julius wondered if Octavian would have so much to fear from the apprentices in the city as he’d used to. He doubted it. The boy seemed to thrive in the company of the rough soldiers of the Tenth and even copied the way Brutus walked, to his friend’s amusement. He seemed so young, it was strange to think Julius had been married when only a year older.

    “I learned a new feint this morning, sir,” Octavian said proudly.

    Julius smiled at him. “You’ll have to show it to me,” he said, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair.

    Octavian beamed in response to the small show of affection. “Will you train with us tomorrow, then?” he asked, readying himself for disappointment.

    Julius shook his head. “I’m going out to the gold mines with Renius for a few days,” he said, “but perhaps I will when I come back.”

    Octavian tried to look pleased, but they could all see he took it as a straight refusal. Julius almost changed his mind, but the dark humors that plagued him eased back into his thoughts. None of them understood his work. They had the light spirits of boys, and that carelessness was no longer a luxury he could afford. Forgetting his earlier resolution, Julius reached for his cup and emptied it.

    Brutus saw the depression settle on his friend and struggled to find something to divert him.

    “The Spanish swordsmith will begin working with our legion men tomorrow. Can’t you delay the trip until you’ve seen what you paid for?”

    Julius stared at him, making them all uncomfortable.

    “No, the preparations are made,” he said, refilling his cup and cursing softly as he spilled a little of the wine onto the table in the process. Julius frowned at his hands. Was there a tremble there? He couldn’t tell. As rather stilted conversation resumed, he watched them all, looking for some sign that they had seen his weakness. Only Cabera met his eyes and the old man’s face was full of kindness. Julius drained the cup, suddenly angry with all of them.

    Servilia dipped her fingers in the water bowl and wiped her mouth delicately with them, a gesture that held Julius’s attention, though she seemed not to notice it.

    “I have enjoyed this, very much, but the journey here was tiring,” she said, smiling at them all. “I will rise early to watch your training, Octavian, if you don’t mind?”

    “Of course, come and watch,” Brutus said pleasantly. “I’ll get a carriage ready for you in the stables, as well. This is a luxurious post, compared to some. You’ll love it here.”

    “Find a good horse and I won’t need the carriage,” Servilia replied, noting the flicker in Julius’s eyes as he digested this piece of information. Men were such strange creatures, but she had yet to find one who didn’t enjoy the thought of a beautiful woman on a horse.

    “I hope my girls won’t be a disruption to you all. I will look for a place in the city tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen. General.”

    They rose with her and again she experienced that strange frisson of excitement as Julius’s eyes met her own.

    Julius stood soon after she had left, swaying slightly.

    “I have left my orders in your quarters, Brutus, for the time I am away. Make sure there is a guard on those girls while they are in our care. Good night.” He left without another word, walking with the exaggerated stiffness of a man trying to hide the effects of too much wine in his blood. For a moment there was a pained silence.

    “It’s good to have a new face here,” Brutus said, carefully avoiding more difficult subjects. “She’ll liven this place up a little. It’s been too quiet recently.”

    Cabera whistled quietly to himself. “A woman like that… all men are fools around her,” he said softly, his tone making Brutus stare at him in puzzlement. The old man’s expression was unreadable as he shook his head slightly and reached for more wine.

    “She is very… graceful,” Domitius agreed, searching for the final word.

    Brutus snorted. “What did you expect after seeing me with a sword? I’d hardly come from a cart horse, would I?”

    “I did think there was a female quality to your stance, yes,” Domitius replied, rubbing his forehead in thought. “Yes, I see it now. It looks better on her, though.”

    “It is a manly grace in me, Domitius,
manly
. I’m quite happy to demonstrate it again to you tomorrow.” The old smile had returned to Brutus’s face as he narrowed his eyes in mock offense.

    “Do I have a manly grace, Domitius?” Octavian asked.

    Domitius nodded slowly, his manner easy. “You do, of course, lad. It is only Brutus who fights like a woman.”

    Brutus roared with laughter and threw a plate at Domitius, who ducked it easily. It crashed on the stone floor and they all froze comically before the tension dissolved into humor once again.

    “Why does your mother want a house in the city?” Octavian asked.

    Brutus looked sharply at him, suddenly sorry to have to puncture his innocence. “For business, lad. I think my mother’s girls will be entertaining the legion before too long.”

    Octavian looked around in confusion for a moment, then his face cleared. They were all watching him closely.

    “Will they charge full price for someone of my age, do you think?” Octavian said.

    Brutus threw another plate in his direction, hitting Cabera.

    Lying on the narrow pallet in his rooms above, Julius could hear their laughter and shut his eyes tightly in the darkness.

CHAPTER 3

    Servilia already loved the little city of Valentia. The streets were clean and busy with people. There was an air of affluence about the place that made her palms itch. Yet despite the signs of wealth, it had a fresh feel to it that her own ancient city had lost centuries before. This was a more innocent town. Even finding the right building had been easier than she’d expected. There were no officials needing a private payment before documents could be signed; it was simply a matter of finding the right place and paying gold to the current owner. It was refreshing after the bureaucracy of Rome, and the soldiers Brutus had sent out with her were able to show her three possible locations as soon as she asked. The first two were close to the water and likely to attract more of the dockworkers than she wanted. The third was perfect.

    In a quiet street close to the market and away from the waterfront, it was a roomy building with an impressive façade of white lime and hardwood. Servilia was long familiar with the need to present a pleasant face to the world. No doubt there were grimy little houses hidden in the towns where widows and whores earned a little extra on their backs, but the sort of place she wanted would attract dignitaries and officers from the legion, and be correspondingly more expensive.

    With so many new houses being built by the Tenth, Servilia had sensed the owner could be pressured, and the final price was a bargain, even with the furnishings to come. Some of those would have to be shipped from Rome, though a swift inspection of local seamstresses resulted in a string of smaller payments and deals.

    With the house in her possession, she paid for an outgoing merchant to take a list of her requirements back to Rome. At least four more women would be needed, and Servilia took great care in choosing their characteristics. It was important to establish a reputation for quality.

    After three days, there was little to be done but give the house a name, though that gave Servilia more trouble than she expected. Though there were no clear proscriptions in law, Servilia knew instinctively that it should be something discreet and yet suggestive. Calling it “The House of Rams” or suchlike would not do at all.

    In the end, Angelina surprised her with a suggestion. “The Golden Hand” was sufficiently erotic without being crude, and Servilia had wondered whether Angelina’s light coloring had prompted the idea. When she’d acquiesced, Angelina had leapt up and kissed her on both cheeks. The girl could be adorable when she had her own way, there was no doubt about it.

    On the third morning after entering the city, Servilia watched a delicately drawn sign lifted onto iron hooks and smiled as a few of the Tenth cheered the sight. They would spread the word that the house was open for business, and she expected the first night to be a busy one. After that, the future was assured and she fully expected to be able to pass over control to someone else in a few months. It was tempting to think of a similar establishment in every city of Spain. The finest girls and the feel of Rome. The market was there and the money would pour into her coffers.

    Servilia turned to her son’s guards and smiled at them.

    “I hope you will be able to get passes for tonight?” she said lightly.

    They looked at each other, aware that the dock watch had suddenly become a valuable counter in their purses.

    “Perhaps your son could intercede for us, madam,” the officer replied.

    Servilia frowned at that. Though they had not discussed it openly, she suspected Brutus was more than a little uncomfortable with her business. For that matter, she wondered if Julius had been told about the new house and what he thought of the idea. He might not have heard of her plans away in the south at his mines, though she couldn’t see how he could object.

    Servilia ran a hand idly along the line of her throat as she thought of him. Today was the day he was due to return. He was probably eating in the barracks at that moment, and if she set off without delay, she could be back at the fort before the day was wasted.

    “I
will
need permanent guards for the house,” she said as the thought occurred to her. “If you wish, I will ask the general to post you here,” she told the officer. “I am a Roman citizen after all.”

    The guards looked at each other in wild surmise. Wonderful as the idea seemed, the thought of Caesar hearing their names in a request to guard a whorehouse was enough to cool any man’s ardor. Reluctantly, they shook their heads.

    “I think he would prefer local men as guards here,” the officer said at last.

    Servilia took the reins of her horse from one of the Tenth and leapt into the saddle. The leggings she wore were a little loose on her, but a skirt or
stola
would hardly have been appropriate.

    “Mount up, lads. I’ll go and ask him and we’ll see,” she said, wheeling her horse around and kicking it into a canter. The hooves rattled loudly on the street and the local women raised their eyebrows at this strange Roman lady who rode like a soldier.

    Julius was greeting an elderly Spaniard as Servilia rode up to the gates of the fort. During daylight hours the gates were left open, and the guards passed them straight through into the yard with only a nod. Her escort from town led their mounts back to food and water, leaving her alone. Being Brutus’s mother was proving extremely useful, she realized.

    “I would like to have a word with you, General, if I may,” she called, walking her horse over to the pair.

    Julius frowned in barely concealed anger.

    “This is Mayor Del Subió, Servilia. I’m afraid I have no time to see you this afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow.”

    He turned away to guide the older man into the main building, and Servilia spoke quickly, acknowledging the mayor with a swift smile.

    “I was thinking of riding out to the local towns, General. Are you able to recommend a route?”

    Julius turned to the mayor. “Please excuse me for a moment,” he said.

    Del Subió bowed, glancing at Servilia from under bushy eyebrows. If he had been the Roman general, he would not have left such a beauty to pout alone. Even at his age, Del Subió could appreciate a fine woman, and he wondered at Caesar’s irritation.

    Julius walked to Servilia.

    “These hills are not completely safe. There are rogues and travelers who would think nothing of attacking you. If you’re lucky, they will just steal the horse and let you walk back.”

    With the warning delivered, he tried to turn back to the mayor again.

    “Perhaps you would like to join me, then, for protection?” Servilia said softly.

    He froze, looking into her eyes. His heart thumped in his chest at the thought before he gathered his control. She was not easy to refuse, but his afternoon was filled with work. His eyes raked the yard and caught sight of Octavian coming out of the stables. Julius whistled sharply to catch the boy’s attention.

    “Octavian. Saddle a horse for yourself. Escort duty.”

    Octavian saluted and disappeared back into the darkness of the stable block.

    Julius looked at Servilia blankly, as if the exchange were already forgotten.

    “Thank you,” she said, but he did not reply as he took Del Subió inside.

    When Octavian reappeared, he had already mounted and had to lean low on the saddle to clear the arch of the stables. His grin faded at Servilia’s expression as she took a grip on the pommel and threw a leg over her saddle. He had never seen her angry and, if anything, the fury in her eyes made her more beautiful. Without a word to him, she started forward into a gallop through the gates, forcing the guards to step aside or be knocked down. Eyes wide with surprise, Octavian followed her out.

    She rode hard for a mile before reining back to a more sedate canter. Octavian closed the gap to ride at her shoulder, unconsciously showing his expertise with the way he matched her pace so exactly. She handled the horse well, he noted, with the skilled eye of the extraordinarii. Small flicks of the reins guided the blowing animal left and right around obstacles, and once she urged her mount to jump a fallen tree, rising in the saddle and taking the landing without a tremor.

    Octavian was entranced and told himself he wouldn’t speak until he found something sufficiently mature and interesting to say. Inspiration didn’t come, but she seemed willing to let the silence continue, taking out her anger at Julius’s snub in the exertion of the ride. At last she reined in, panting slightly. She let Octavian approach and smiled at him.

    “Brutus said you were a relation to Caesar. Tell me about him.”

    Octavian smiled back, completely unable to resist her charm or question her reasons.

    Julius had dismissed his last supplicant an hour before and stood alone by the window that looked out over the hills. He had signed orders to recruit another thousand for the developing mines, and granted compensation to three men whose lands had been encroached by the new buildings on the coast. How many other meetings had there been? Ten? His hand ached from the letters he had written, and he massaged it slightly with the other as he stood waiting. His last scribe had retired a month before and he felt the loss keenly. His armor hung on the wooden tree by his desk, and the night air was a relief on the sweat-darkened tunic underneath. He yawned and rubbed his face roughly. It was getting dark, but Octavian and Servilia were still out somewhere. He wondered if she was capable of keeping the boy late to worry him, or whether something had happened. Perhaps one of the horses had become lame and had to be walked back to the fort.

    Julius snorted softly to himself. That would be a lesson well learned, if it was so. Away from the roads, the land was rugged and wild. A horse could easily break a leg, especially in the gloom of evening, when pits and animal holes would be hidden in shadow.

    It was ridiculous to worry. Twice he lost patience and strode away from the window, but as he thought through the tasks for the next day, he found himself edging back to the view over the hills, looking for them. Away from the breeze, the room could be stifling, he told himself, too weary even to believe his own self-deceptions.

    When the sun was little more than a red line against the mountains, he heard the clatter of hooves in the yard and stepped hurriedly back from the window rather than be seen. Who
was
the woman to cause him so much discomfort? He imagined how long it would take for the pair of them to brush and water their horses before coming inside. Would they be joining the officers’ table again for a meal? He was hungry, but he didn’t want to entertain a guest. He would have food sent up to him, and-

    A low knocking at his door interrupted his thoughts, making him start. Somehow, he knew it would be her even as he cleared his throat to call “Come in.”

    Servilia opened the door and walked into the room. Her hair was wild after the ride and a smear of dirt marked her cheek where she had touched it. She smelled of straw and horses and he felt his senses heighten at the sight of her. She was still angry, he saw, summoning the will to resist whatever she had come to demand. It really was too much that she walked in without even an announcement. What was the guard doing below? Was the man asleep? He would hear about it when she had gone, Julius swore to himself.

    Without speaking, Servilia walked across the wooden floor to him. Before he could react, she pressed the palm of her hand against his chest, feeling the heart thump under the cloth.

    “Still warm, then. I had begun to wonder,” she said softly. Her tone held an intimacy that unsettled him and somehow he couldn’t muster the anger he expected. He could feel where her hand had rested, as if she had left a visible sign of her touch. She faced him, standing very close, and he was suddenly aware of the darkness of the room.

    “Brutus will be wondering where you are,” he said.

    “Yes, he is very protective of me,” she replied. She turned to leave and he almost reached out for her, watching in confusion as she crossed the long room.

    “I wouldn’t… have thought you needed much protecting,” he murmured. He hadn’t really meant her to hear it, but he saw her smile before the door closed behind her and he was alone, his thoughts swirling in chaos. He breathed out slowly, shaking his head in amusement at his own reactions. He felt as if he were being stalked, but it wasn’t unpleasant. His tiredness seemed to have vanished and he thought he might join the table below for the evening meal after all.

    The door opened again and he looked up to see her, still there.

    “Will you ride out with me tomorrow?” she asked. “Octavian said you know the area as well as anyone.”

    He nodded slowly, unable to remember what meetings he had planned and not caring, particularly. How long had it been since he’d last had a day away from his work?

    “All right, Servilia. Tomorrow morning,” he said.

    She grinned then without replying, shutting the door noiselessly behind her. He waited for a moment until he heard her light step going downstairs and relaxed. He was surprised to find he was looking forward to it.