Soon, a small farmhouse came into view, surrounded by fruit trees and a pasture in which another donkey and a pair of oxen grazed. In front of the house, a young woman held a chicken in both hands, apparently in the middle of scolding it. A baby was strapped to her chest. On the other side of the yard, a young boy chased the rest of the chickens, laughing uproariously.
The young woman’s face brightened at the sight of her husband. “Appius! You’re back early. Who’s your friend?” She was tall for a woman, with curly, sun-bronzed hair—a similar shade to Max’s own—spilling over her shoulders.
Appius clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “This, my love, is none other than your long-lost brother, Maximus.”
Furia dropped the chicken in a flurry of feathers and squawking. She stared at Max. “Fucking Dis.”
Yes, they were definitely related.
Max smiled uncertainly. “I’m sorry for the surprise.”
She stepped closer to him, her sharp brown eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Your name is supposed to be Quintus.”
“I go by Maximus now,” he explained. “Or Max, if you prefer.”
“Mother didn’t say you were coming. In fact, she said you were quite rude to her when you met.”
Her gaze appraised him like a centurion sizing up a new recruit. Max couldn’t help jumping to defend himself. “It was a shock. I wasn’t going to come at all, but…I was curious to meet you.”
“Mother talked of you all the time,” she said. “Still does. All these years later, she still prays to see you again every time we go to the temple. I guess the gods finally decided to listen.”
Her words should have made him feel sympathy toward his mother, but he couldn’t summon any warm feelings just yet. “I don’t want to see her,” he said in a low voice. “I only came to see you.”
“She’s changed, you know,” Furia said. “Everything changed after Father died.”
Max was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the young boy, who must be Tullus. He ran between Furia and Max, and stared up at Max curiously. “Who’s that?”
Appius swung the boy into his arms. “This is your uncle, Maximus.”
The boy squirmed in his father’s grasp. “What’s an uncle?”
“He’s my brother,” Furia explained. “Just like you’re Appia’s brother.”
Tullus paid no attention to her explanation, as he’d noticed Elephant. “Horsey! I want to see the horsey!”
“You can pet her, if you like,” Max said. “As long as you show the proper respect.”
Appius set Tullus down, and the boy ran toward Elephant, stopping a few paces in front of her. He held out a hand solemnly, waiting for her to sniff.
Elephant bypassed the outstretched hand and snuffled at the boy’s hair. Tullus squealed in delight. “It tickles!”
“She does enjoy a good head of hair,” Max said.
Furia stepped forward to stroke Elephant’s neck. “You rode all the way from Rome?”
Max nodded. “We made good time.”
“You both must be hungry. Appius, see to some water and hay for the horse, and I’ll take Maximus inside for some lunch. Tullus, go with your father.”
Max couldn’t help grinning at the way Furia ordered around her husband and son. He gave Elephant’s reins to Appius with thanks, then followed Furia inside. The farmhouse consisted of one room with a loft upstairs, accessible by a ladder. It was clean and cozy, if not luxurious.
Max sat at the central table. Furia placed a half loaf of bread in front of him, along with some cheese and a few hard-boiled eggs. She poured him a cup of well-watered wine. Her manner was polite, but she kept shooting him sidelong glances heavy with doubtfulness. He couldn’t blame her—it must be a shock to have a long-lost sibling show up on her doorstep, and she deserved some time to warm up to the idea of him.
“Thank you,” he said as she slid the cup of wine toward him.
Furia untied the baby from her chest, set the child in a cradle, and sat opposite him. “I know this probably isn’t the sort of food you’re used to, living in Rome and all. It seems you’ve done well for yourself.”
“I got lucky,” he said. “And I have simple tastes. Some of the best meals I’ve ever had have been eaten around a campfire on campaign.”
