Orion bowed his head and hauled open the front door. “Yes, sir.”
Max left the house, and untied the horses' reins from the post outside. He felt strangely bereft as he led the animals through the streets. Volusia had been by his side day and night for so many days, through so much hardship and uncertainty. He hardly knew what to do with himself without her.
But the sight of her son brought one fact into clear focus: Volusia had more important things to worry about now than whatever fragile thing was between her and Max. Lucius would always be first in her mind, as the boy should be, and every decision she made would be for him.
Max crossed the city to the neighborhood on the Esquiline Hill where his adoptive family lived. It was a less ostentatious area than where Volusia’s family lived, filled with respectable but smaller homes.
His pace slowed as the door to the house came into view. It, too, was adorned with a cypress branch to signify mourning. His chest constricted, but he took a deep breath and walked up to knock on the door.
Paris, one of the household slaves, speechlessly let him in. Max strode into the atrium. He stopped short at the sight of Gaia, his grandmother, sitting in a sunny spot in the atrium weaving. Memories rushed over him. As a child, he used to sit on the floor and watch her weave—one of the few times he sat still. He remembered the soothing motion of the shuttle through the warp threads, the rhythmic sweep of the loom.
Her head turned toward him. Her graying hair now bore streaks of silver, which hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her.
The wooden shuttle dropped from her hand and clattered to the stone floor. She shot to her feet, her golden skin blanching. “Max,” she whispered. “Is it…is it really…” She wavered.
In several long strides, he closed the distance between them and grasped her shoulders to steady her. “It’s me,” he said, his voice suddenly raspy.
She gave a little cry and collapsed into his arms, clutching him with desperate fingers. He embraced her gently. Gaia had always been slight, but she felt thinner, more fragile since the last time he’d hugged her upon leaving for Gaul.
Paris must have fetched Aelius and Crispina, for they stumbled into the atrium a few moments later.
“Max,” Crispina gasped. She gripped Aelius’s hand, knuckles white. Aelius was struck dumb. He was thirteen years older than Crispina, and right now Max could see every one of his fifty-two years. Lines were etched around his eyes and mouth, and a sprinkling of gray lightened his hair.
“They told us you were dead!” Crispina hissed.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t send word,” Max said. “It’s a long story. But I’m not dead, as you can see.”
Gaia disentangled herself from Max to make room for Aelius and Crispina, and a moment later he was sagging under the weight of his adoptive parents’ embrace.
“How could this happen?” Crispina demanded. “They said you and Rufus’s daughter had drowned in an accident on your way back to Rome.”
Max tried to explain as concisely as he could. “Volusia was planning to accuse the legion’s commander of murdering her husband. So he gave orders for her to be killed on the journey. I…” He hesitated. “I defended her, and we made it look like we’d been swept away by a river.”
“Gods below,” Crispina swore.
A smile wavered on Aelius’s lips, and he spoke for the first time. “You did say you wanted adventure when you joined the army.”
Max grinned. “I did, didn’t I?” Then he sobered. “I’m afraid that sort of adventure is done for me. I disobeyed and attacked a commanding officer. I’ll be lucky to escape a trial for mutiny.”
“We won’t let anything of the sort happen to you,” Crispina said, her voice ringing with determination. “Besides, Rufus will no doubt pull every string he can to seek justice for his daughter. That must clear your name, as well.”
Max nodded. “That’s the plan.” His stomach gave a loud growl.
“You poor thing, you must be starving.” Gaia stepped forward to take his arm. “Let’s see about some food.”
“Thank you, Grandmother.” He couldn’t resist a smirk. Gaia had always hated when he called her Grandmother.
She shot him a good-natured glare. “I shall forgive that one, seeing as you’ve only recently returned from the dead.”
“I wonder what else I can get away with.” He chuckled, and followed her in the direction of the kitchen.
An hour later, Max had been fed, dressed in fresh clothes, and thoroughly questioned. His family wanted to know every detail about what had transpired on the journey to Rome. He told them everything except what had happened between him and Volusia, claiming that his defense of her had been motivated purely by honor. He sensed a touch of suspicion in Crispina’s gaze, but she didn’t challenge him.
After a hearty meal, he left the house to head to the closest baths. Finally, he’d get truly clean after weeks of hard travel.
Max entered the grand, columned building which housed the baths, paid the entrance fee, and stripped in the changing room, stowing his clothes in a cubby. He took a towel with him into the next room, which contained a round, steaming pool. Lamps were mounted on the walls, but the room was almost completely dark otherwise. There was only one other person soaking at the other side of the pool. Max was grateful the baths weren’t crowded; he didn’t feel like socializing.
He laid his towel on a bench and stepped into the hot water. The heat washed over him in a rush. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the marble edge of the pool, submerging himself up to his neck. Sweat broke out on his face in the dark, stifling room. The muscles of his neck and shoulders finally relaxed, letting go of the stress that had gripped him for so long.
