His gaze softened. “Good. I’ll leave you to rest.” He turned for the door, then hesitated. He crossed the room to her, brushed a soft kiss onto her forehead. She closed her eyes. Max had kissed her forehead today, too, and the memory of it overwhelmed her for a moment. When she opened her eyes, Rufus was gone.
In the morning, Volusia found papyrus and a pen, and drafted a letter. She had taken Max’s advice to heart, and planned to go over her stepfather’s head to reach out to the consuls directly. She had only a passing acquaintance with one of the two consuls, Titus Annius Ligur. The other consul, Aulus Licinius Hortensius, had been a contender for her hand before she’d married Avitus. She recalled him as a kind, patient man with a shrewd mind. He’d been quite taken with her back then, and she hoped she could use that old fondness to her advantage.
Rufus would be furious if he found out what she’d done. Depending on how far word spread, it had the potential to damage his plans to campaign for reelection. Every politician was an army veteran, and a candidate’s daughter accusing a high-ranking commander of murder and corruption would not be taken kindly. But she would deal with him at the appropriate time. For now, she had to make her voice heard.
Volusia hoped the papyrus would show the seriousness of her words, rather than using an everyday wax tablet. She opened the letter with some niceties, then laid out the events that had taken place in Narbo and on the road to Rome. She closed with a request for an audience to discuss further and determine the correct actions. She sealed the letter with a glob of wax, and gave it to a trusted messenger with instructions to deliver it into Hortensius’s hands only. Writing everything out so plainly was a risk, but it was better to give him all the information she had and let him think about it, rather than chance him cutting her off or her forgetting something crucial when they spoke. Now, she had only to wait for a response.
Chapter 23
Maxsquintedintotherising sun as he took the eastern road out of Rome. He’d told Aelius and Crispina he was going to visit an army friend outside the city, and had gotten an early start, as the ride to Tibur would take several hours.
He had decided to take Volusia’s advice and visit his sister and her family. He had no desire to see his mother, but knew he might not have a choice. He couldn’t ignore the prospect of a sister. He wanted to meet her, to see if they were anything alike or if his upbringing with Aelius and Crispina had changed him too much.
The long, flat stretch of road ahead was empty at this early hour. He urged Elephant into a gallop, and let out a whoop as her hooves ate up the distance. Wind whipped through his hair, and his chest lightened. Even if today was a disaster, getting a chance to ride Elephant would still be worth it.
As he approached Tibur, he paused to ask anyone he passed if they knew where Furia and her husband lived. Someone pointed him north of the town, so he headed in that direction.
He slowed as an obstruction on the road ahead came into view. A farmer had gotten his turnip-filled cart stuck in a muddy rut, and was trying to push it free without much success. A donkey watched dispassionately.
Max drew Elephant to a halt and dismounted. “Can I give you a hand with that?”
The man stood back from the cart and wiped his forehead beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat he wore. “Much appreciated.”
Max set his shoulder against the cart, and together, they heaved until the cart rolled free.
“Thank you kindly.” The farmer gestured to the pile of dirt-crusted turnips in the back of the cart. “Help yourself, if you like. Finest in the Republic.” He grabbed one and held it out.
Max eyed the grubby vegetable. “Thanks, but perhaps you could give me directions instead. I’m looking for the farm where a woman named Furia lives.”
The man dropped the turnip, mouth falling open in surprise. He stepped back, squinting at Max with new suspicion. “What business do you have with my wife?”
His wife?Max raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “She’s my—” He swallowed hard, fighting the strangeness of the words. “My sister.”
The man’s eyes widened. “You’re the long-lost brother?”
“I guess so.” It still felt strange to think of himself as someone’s brother. “I’m Maximus.”
A smile spread across the other man’s face. “Well, the gods must have arranged it for us to meet like this! I’ll take you home straightaway. It’s just around the bend. Furia will be overjoyed. Maia didn’t say anything about you coming to visit—were we expecting you? I’m Appius, by the way. Fine horse you have there.”
Max grinned. The man’s gregariousness was endearing, and anyone who recognized Elephant’s superiority was sure to be a friend. “Thank you. The visit was a surprise. I hope that doesn’t cause any problems.”
Appius shook his head. “Only that her mother—your mother, I mean—is out grazing the sheep until dusk. I can send someone to fetch her.”
“No need,” Max said quickly. “I came to see Furia.”
Appius gave him a sidelong look but said nothing. He hitched the cart back to the donkey and pointed up the road. “Our farmhouse is just up ahead. No more than a quarter of an hour. You can ride ahead, if you want.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Max said. He took Elephant’s reins in hand and walked with Appius, next to the slowly moving cart. Elephant huffed in impatience, but Max patted her neck soothingly. “I hear you have children?”
Appius nodded, his face lighting up with pride. “A boy, Tullus Appius, four years old. A true terror, mark my words, but Furia keeps him in line. And a little girl, born last winter. Are you married? Children?”
The image of Volusia flashed into his mind. “No.”
“Ah, well, plenty of time for all that.”
Max changed the subject. “What crops do you grow?”
The rest of the short journey passed with an enthusiastic description of the best growing conditions for turnips, and which sacrifices to which gods tended to yield the best harvests.
