Julius welcomed her; the young man’s face bleached. “You need to come with me. The general wants to see you... I must warn you though, good woman, commander Marius is.... restless and with a quick temper... beware... just mind your words and your actions.”
Her eyes shone, but she didn’t comment, and they all walked to his room, following Julius.
He knocked and opened the door. “Commander, the peasant woman and her...”
“Just let them in and fuck off.”
Julius gestured them in and closed the door, his chest heaving.
Tertullia had a hard time adjusting in the semi-dark room, spotting Marius’ still form in the chair, a cup in his hand. Tabia and Simeon stood against the door, terrified.
Marius spoke then, his voice soft, sending chills down their spines. “So... good woman... what brings you here? I must warn you I have no patience for bullshit...” He could not recognize her in the dim light, his vision blurred by the wine, her shawl on her head.
Tertullia then stepped forward, fearless, pushing her shawl down to her shoulders, her bouncy curls freed, tumbling down her back. Her motherly voice pierced the dark, stabbing Marius into the heart. “You don’t recognize me, Marius, dear?”
The cup fell to the floor, Marius’ eyes wide, his shock knocking the breath out of him.
She hurried to him, looking down into his blue eyes, filled with ghosts, mad, and she hugged his head against her soft tummy. “I’m here now...” She felt his arms go around her waist, letting go, his demons shattered by her scent, her warmth. He sobbed into her gown, his body rocking in her arms, long howls of grief piercing her heart. “Sh... sh... I’m here, love, I’m here...”
She made Simeon light the brass lamps, the room slowly coming out of the gloom, Marius slouched in his chair, his hair a mess, his cheeks streaked with tears. He hadn’t shaved for days, a dark beard sprouting on his face. His eyes followed Tertullia around the room, the plump woman clearing the mess with Tabia.
She walked to him, cupping his chin, lifting his hazy eyes to her. “Bathe, please? Simeon will wash you and shave off this scruff. He is an able little pup. I need somebody to show me where Tabia can cook. She will prepare our meal.”
He nodded, dazed, but got up and walked to the door to talk to the guard. “Go and show this slave where she can cook, and then escort her back.”
The guard watched him wide-eyed, not used to this soft tone, but obeyed, and led Tabia away with her pots, pans, and bags.
Marius walked back to his room, slowly peeling out of his clothes, numb. He could not look at Tertullia, and walked to the bath, lowering himself in the hot water, sighing when it enveloped his body. Simeon was next to him in an instant, utterly shameless, soaping him up methodically, and he let him, not even paying attention to what he was doing. He remembered Kyle’s hands on his body and his tears flowed, thankfully invisible, on his wet face. Simeon soaped his face up then and carefully shaved him, making sure that his skin was smooth and perfect, his hands sliding all over it, rubbing some oil in after he’d finished. Tertullia watched them and busied herself with clearing the table and the broken jugs and cups all over the floor, alarmed at their number.
She waited for him to get out, still swaying, slipping a tunic on. Marius collapsed into his chair and she handed a cup of water to him. “I think this would be better for you now...”
He didn’t comment, still not fully believing she was here, his voice a whisper. “I couldn’t save him... I just...”
She stopped him, watching his crazed eyes carefully in his drawn features. “It’s not your fault. Clavius was a soldier. He knew the risks. We all knew... but you... your letter?”
He shrugged. “We are raiding them tomorrow... those bastards...”
“You might be rushing to your death.”
Marius smiled, bitter. “Yes, all the better... to end this...”
Her face steeled. “You should be ashamed.” His face fell, paling, and she continued. “You think nobody needs you? That you’re the most miserable now?”
He blushed, vaguely ashamed, and she reached into her gown, pulling a small square of wood out. “You want to die, Marius? Have a good, hard look at what you’re leaving behind...”
She handed him the piece of wood and he looked at the painting on it, the portrait of a six months old baby, her large dark eyes framed with jet-black curls, smiling.
Marius’ heart burst in his chest because he knew what she had brought him. His daughter. His daughter he had forgotten in his insane grief and mad hate.
She watched his face decompose, his eyes filled with tears, gently caressing the painting, and she spoke. “She needs you, Marius. Your wife doesn’t care about her. Fortunately, she has Thais and Melissa and the children... and Paulus, to take care of her when her mother is always out, socializing. But she needs a father, somebody who cares for her, who will protect her. You... that is, if you are willing to stay alive?”
He looked at her, ashamed, his emotions washing his hate and lust for death out like a tide. He kissed her painting, putting it against his chest, sighing deep. “Let me do something...” He walked to the door and told the guard to get Julius.
The young centurion arrived shortly, seeing, surprised, the room lit up, the peasant woman sitting at the commander’s table.
Marius gestured him in, his face pale, but a new light in his eyes. “Call off the raid tomorrow. I need to reach out to that chief and talk to him. Make sure he knows.” Julius tried very hard not to show his relief and joy, not fully understanding what was going on. “Oh... and have Clavius’ room prepared for his widow.”
Tertullia waved to Julius, smiling, and the young man thought he’d gone insane. He left, his head reeling.
