Glabrio’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk back to me, legionary.”
“Of course not, sir.” This was not going well. Max wondered what he was in for. He braced himself for weeks of latrine duty or hard labor.
“Tell me what you were doing that was so much more interesting than greeting our new governor.” The centurion’s voice was as clipped and cold as cracking ice. “I suppose you were hungover, or warming some harlot’s bed.”
“I was exercising my horse, sir.” Max enjoyed a good drink and a bit of flirtation as much as the next man, but if given the choice, he’d always rather spend time with Elephant.
Glabrio leaned back in his chair. “I see.” He considered for a long moment.
Max stood stock still, gaze fixed straight ahead, as he waited for his sentence to be delivered.
“It’s clear you need freedom from distractions,” Glabrio finally said. “Governor Avitus’s residence requires a security detail. You will serve there for two weeks.”
Max bit his lip, his stomach sinking. Guard duty at the governor’s house would not only be mind-numbingly boring, it would almost certainly ruin his plan to keep his distance from Volusia.
“In addition,” Glabrio continued, steepling his fingers atop his desk, “you are hereby banned from the stables for the duration of those two weeks.”
Disbelief made Max splutter. “But, sir—Elephant needs to be exercised and brushed and—”
Glabrio held up a hand. “Your horse will be well looked after. Just not by you.” He opened a wax tablet on his desk and began to read. “Dismissed.”
Max managed another salute, and trudged from the office. Shock still numbed him. Two weeks without being able to see or ride Elephant? Glabrio’s punishment bordered on cruelty. He would gladly have volunteered for latrine duty at this point, but Glabrio knew him too well. The bastard knew that two weeks of boring security detail, combined with the inability to see Elephant, would be near torture.
And then there was Volusia to consider. He would have to see her. Would she recognize him after ten years? Would she deign to speak to him, or would she ignore him? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Once, they could pretend to be equals, both the children of elected consuls. But now, he was a mere legionary, and she was the governor’s wife. There would always be a gulf between them, and Max could never forget it.
Chapter 3
Maxwasinafoul mood for the rest of that day. He carried out his afternoon duties, which included helping to repair a sagging roof along with polishing and sharpening a dozen swords. In the evening, he returned to his section of the barracks, a narrow room that housed four sets of bunk beds, sleeping eight men. He muttered a greeting to Drusus, who was sitting on one of the top bunks, legs hanging down, as he attempted to patch a hole in his tunic.
Drusus set down the needle and thread. “So? What’s the sentence? Ulpius was betting you were in for at least a month of latrine duty.”
Max grimaced, dropping onto a bench that rested against the wall. “Two weeks of guard duty at the governor’s residence.AndI’m banned from the stables.”
Drusus shrugged. “Guard duty isn’t so bad. You’ll be inside, just standing around.”
“Just standing around”sounded like a nightmare. “Would you check on Elephant a few times for me? She’ll miss me. And she’s gotten accustomed to a certain routine.”
“By routine, you mean stuffing her with as many apples and carrots as you can pilfer from the provisioner.” Drusus grinned good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her. You spoil her more than a husband spoils his wife.”
“Well, a wife couldn’t carry me on her back all the way from Rome, could she?” Max allowed himself a brief laugh, but the mention of wives brought Volusia to mind. The last time he’d seen her, she was on the verge of a betrothal. Now, she was ten years into a marriage. He chewed his lip, wondering if marriage had changed her.
Drusus eyed him. “You’re thinking about her again. The governor’s wife. What was her name? Valeria?”
“Volusia,” Max murmured.
“You said you knew her. Is there a story there?” His eyes lit up. Drusus loved gossip, though he would never betray a confidence.
“I told you the bulk of it. We became friends as adolescents. Of course I was besotted with her. What boy wouldn’t have been?” He hesitated, remembering those heady days of infatuation. “I had reason to believe she returned the interest. But…” He shook his head. “It was just a childish fancy.”
“Do you think she’ll remember you?”
Max considered. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. His last memories of her consisted of shouted threats reverberating around her family’s atrium, her distraught face pale in the twilight. “I’m beginning to hope she doesn’t.”
The next day, Max reported for duty at the governor’s residence. It was a newly constructed house near the center of Narbo, built like all Roman houses with rooms arranged around a central atrium. The house bustled with activity as slaves carried boxes and bundles to and fro. Unpacking efforts must still be underway.
Max stood in the antechamber near the front door, making sure no one got in who wasn’t supposed to. It was, as he feared, extremely boring. Without the sun overhead, he had no way to estimate the time. He busied himself trying to count the tiny floor tiles, seeing how many he could get to before losing track. How would he survive two weeks of this?
The governor, Avitus, left early in the day, likely to conduct business in the offices nearby. A slender young man with an armful of scrolls and wax tablets followed him, probably a secretary of some sort. Max kept his ears pricked for sign of Volusia throughout the rest of the day. Occasionally, he heard a trill of female laughter emanating from elsewhere in the house, but he couldn’t tell if it was her or not.
