They picked handfuls of berries and sat on the grassy bank to eat them, along with the bread and cheese that Volusia had thoughtfully brought. Volusia saved some of the berries and tucked them into a handkerchief.
“For your husband?” Max asked.
She nodded. “He’ll be pleased.”
“You told him where you were going today?” He assumed she would have had to come up with some subterfuge to be allowed to go on an excursion like this.
“We keep no secrets from each other. For better or for worse,” she added in a lower tone.
Max laid back on the ground, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He stared up at the treetops cutting through the blue sky, expecting her to demur and avoid his prying question.
Volusia let out a small sigh. “Avitus is a great man. I always wanted to marry a great man.”
“There are plenty of great men I wouldn’t want to be married to,” Max said, giving his words a joking lilt. But that was yet another reason they were ill-suited; he was as far from a great man as Elephant was from a hydra. He couldn’t even secure one minor promotion, after all.
She rewarded him with a small chuckle. As an adolescent, making her laugh used to be his greatest aim, and he felt the same warm flare of satisfaction at the sound now.
She lapsed into silence a moment later, and Max thought the conversation was finished. Until she spoke once more. “Avitus and I…our marriage is…different from what I expected,” she finally said. “I appreciate his honesty, but sometimes it’s difficult to know you’re married to someone who will never truly desire you.”
Max sat up straight. It was inconceivable that a man could be married to Volusia and not be consumed with desire for her.
“He prefers to spend his nights with his secretary,” Volusia said, in response to the question that must have shown on Max’s face.
“Ah.” He recalled the handsome secretary he often saw dogging Avitus’s heels. “So you don’t…you never…but you have a child together!”
She nodded. “He was very clear that he would endure what he had to until we produced a son. Luckily that did not take long at all.”
Endure. Several emotions warred in his chest: anger at Avitus for not appreciating her, regret that Volusia had suffered so much loneliness, and admiration for the dignified way she spoke of it, absent of any resentment toward her husband.
“Vesta’s tits,” he muttered.
“Max!” A trill of laughter entered her voice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you all that.”
“I won’t repeat it, if that’s what concerns you.” Impulsively, he reached out and closed his fingers around her hand. “You can trust me, Volusia. Always.”
She gazed into his eyes. “I know.”
Max wanted to ask if she would ever take a lover herself, and if so, could he please be considered for the role. But even he knew that would be inappropriate, and not what Volusia needed right now, so he merely squeezed her hand and let it be.
As the sun began to stretch toward the horizon, they prepared to return to Narbo. Volusia fought regret as she gathered up her harvest of redcurrants and tucked them into Max’s saddle bag.
Max untied the horses. “Are you up for an adventure?”
“Hasn’t this already been one?” Volusia smiled. “What did you have in mind?”
Max checked to make sure Elephant’s saddle was still securely fastened. “We could circle around to the beach and have a gallop. You’d have to ride with me on Elephant.”
“I’ve never galloped on a horse before.” The prospect of being wedged tight on horseback against Max, flying down a stretch of beach, made her stomach quiver. “Will that be quite safe?”
“Do you really think I’d take any risks with you? I’d be ejected from the army in disgrace if I let any harm come to you.”
“With that assurance, I suppose it could be fun.”
He grinned at her. “It will be more than fun, I promise.”
He helped her onto the gelding, mounted Elephant, and they set off on a circuitous route toward the coastline. Soon, the trees cleared, and the dirt beneath their horses’ hooves turned to sand. The sea appeared, endless and gently rolling. Volusia was accustomed to spending summers at Baiae, the coastal retreat of Rome’s wealthy, so the sight of a vast expanse of shifting turquoise water was familiar, but it still took her breath away. The afternoon sunlight sparkled on the water. In the distance, a little fishing boat skimmed the waves.
Her gelding snuffled with distaste as his hooves sank into the sand. She and Max dismounted, and Max secured her horse’s lead under a boulder near the edge of the beach, so he wouldn’t wander off while they galloped.
