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.