“You’re in the army, are you? You do have the look of a soldier.”
He nodded, and told her an abbreviated version of the major events in his life: his adoption by Aelius and Crispina, his upbringing, and his time serving in Gaul.
“So what brings you back to Italy?” she asked. “Are you on leave?”
“Not exactly.” He hesitated. “My centurion thinks I’m dead. If he didn’t, I’d be on trial for mutiny and insubordination.”
Furia’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward. “Now that sounds interesting.”
“Believe me, I wish it weren’t.” He told her what had happened with Glabrio and Volusia—but left out his feelings for Volusia. It was rather nice to speak to someone unbiased, someone who was interested in the drama of the tale but not consumed with shock or outrage as his family had been. Furia had a quiet, contemplative way of listening that made her easy to talk to. “So I’m stuck for the moment,” he finished. “If Volusia can prove that Petronax had her husband murdered, then I have a chance of being reinstated in the army.”
“Is that what you want?”
The question cut deep. Since his adoption, he’d been trying to fit into the life that Aelius and Crispina wanted for him, to repay their kindness by living up to their expectations. They would have been thrilled if he’d followed in Aelius’s footsteps and made a name for himself in politics, but he’d been atrocious at his lessons and barely knew the difference between an aedile and a praetor.
Joining the army had been a compromise. His parents hoped one day he’d command a legion and gain reputation for himself that way. To Max, the army had represented freedom, adventure, a chance to see new lands and spend his days on horseback, away from the confines of Rome. But now, he’d seen what the army really was: bureaucracy, blind loyalty, and corruption. He was less certain by the day that he wanted any part of it.
“I don’t know,” he muttered.
His sister watched him, sympathy in her dark eyes. “I know nothing about such things, so I have no advice, but I will pray that everything turns out as it should.”
“Thank you.” He changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his own issues anymore. “It seems as if you’ve done well for yourself, too.”
She nodded. “A humble sort of well, I think, but it suits me. Our fortunes are dependent on the harvest, and we’ve had a few hard years, but I’ve been blessed with a loving husband and two healthy children.” She glanced at the cradle where Appia had fallen asleep, and smiled. “I could not ask for more.” Her smile grew sly. “If you’ll let me be nosy, is there a lady in your life? The girls must be all over a handsome soldier.”
Despite himself, a blush heated his cheeks. “Nothing serious.” To his surprise, he found that he actually wanted to confide in Furia, to tell her all about Volusia and his decade-old, doomed infatuation. But he’d only known Furia for an hour—too soon to get into matters of the heart.
She chuckled.
At that moment, Tullus burst into the cottage. The boy marched straight up to Max. “Can I ride your horse, please?” he asked plaintively. “Papa said if I asked nicely, you might let me.”
“Do you know how to ride?” Max asked.
“Yes,” Tullus said, chest puffed out.
“He does not,” Furia said. “And I won’t have my only son break his neck falling off a horse.”
“Tell you what, why don’t we go for a ride together?” Max said. “You can sit in front of me and hold the reins. Only if your mother agrees.”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and he turned to his mother. “Mama, please? Can I?”
“It will be perfectly safe,” Max assured Furia.
She gave a nod. “All right.”
Max took Tullus outside. He mounted Elephant with Tullus wedged safely in front of him, and showed him how to use the reins. Max could direct Elephant well enough with just his legs, so the reins were mostly superfluous in any case.
The boy crowed in delight as Elephant trotted around the pasture. Max kept an arm wrapped securely around Tullus’s middle. They finished a few laps around the pasture, and then Max showed Tullus how to make Elephant stop by gently tugging the reins. He handed the boy down to Furia, and dismounted.
Tullus jumped up and down. “I want to go again!”
“Maybe next time,” Furia said. She glanced at Max. “That is, if there is a next time.”
He recognized the invitation in her words. She was saying that she accepted him—at least enough to invite him back. “Yes, I’d like to pay another visit.” The prospect of forging a relationship with his birth family, watching Tullus and baby Appia grow up, brought a strange warmth, a feeling of satisfaction.
Furia gave a short nod. “Good.”
An hour later, he said a reluctant goodbye, needing to get on the road before it got dark. As he rode, his mind lingered on the cozy, tidy farmhouse, the happy children and his sister’s contentment with her simple life. He wanted something like that. A quiet life, a family. Two things the army could not give him.
