An icy hand squeezed around her heart at the thought. She wished she hadn’t told him she loved him—even though it was the truth. It was a pointless, irrelevant love, and it would only hold both of them back.
Elephant cantered down the road to Tibur as Max traveled to visit Furia and her family again. His mind had been awhirl in the days since the audience with Hortensius and the ensuing conversation with Volusia. He needed to decide if he was going to accept Hortensius’s offer of a position in another legion. Ordinarily, the thought of joining a legion somewhere as distant as Syria or Egypt would have thrilled him, promising new adventures and maybe another shot at that pesky promotion, if he found himself under a less unpleasant centurion. But now, uncertainty turned his thoughts into a jumble.
He'd spent ten years in the army, hoping for glory and adventure. There had been a few moments of adventure—some exhilarating battles, the excitement of seeing new lands—but mostly, it had been drudgery like collecting taxes and repairing buildings.
As for glory, his experience with Petronax and Glabrio had disabused him of that notion. The army didn’t reward bravery. It rewarded corruption, in Petronax’s case, and the ability to blindly follow orders, in Glabrio’s.
That wasn’t want he wanted, but what else was there?
He needed open space and fresh air to properly think. He couldn’t concentrate in the city, even at home. The walls might block some of the street noise, but he still felt confined.
He also couldn’t tell Aelius and Crispina he was thinking of rejoining the army—not yet, at least. They would support whatever he chose, but lately Crispina had been dropping lots of hints about introducing him to some eligible young women so he could start a family and settle down. They would not be excited to send him off to the furthest corner of the Republic, even if they didn’t stop him.
Furia, though, might be able to hear his musings with a more impartial ear. He had enjoyed speaking with her at his last visit, and he had promised to visit again so Tullus could have another ride on Elephant.
He found the farmhouse easily this time, and hopped down from Elephant. He saw a figure out in the turnip fields that looked like Appius, and waved. Appius waved back.
Max removed Elephant’s tack and led her to the small pasture at the front of the farmhouse, where she could frolic, graze, and drink from the trough of water. Then, he headed toward the cottage. The door was ajar, and a woman’s voice emanated from within, cooing to a child. It must be Furia and Appia. Max grinned and pushed open the door. “Surprise, I thought I’d—”
He stopped short as the woman on the other side of the one-room cottage turned to face him, the baby in her arms. It wasn’t Furia, but his mother.
“Quintus!” Maia gasped, her shocked expression quickly giving way to delight. “Come in, sit down. Let me get you something to eat.”
The sight of his mother standing by a hearth fire dredged up a long-buried memory. It rose in his chest, choking at his throat like a grasping hand.
He backed out of the house and slammed the door behind him. He made it to the pasture on stiff, unsteady legs, and braced his hands on the slats of the wooden fence.
His head spun as the memory washed over him. He remembered his mother, belly swollen, standing by the fire while his father berated her. Max didn’t remember the words, but he remembered the bellowing. It had made him put his hands over his ears.
His mother had shot back a remark, her voice just as angry. Father had grabbed a ceramic jug and flung it at her. It smashed into the wall behind her.
That was when Max had started to cry. A poor choice, as it drew the attention of both his parents.
“Can’t you shut up?” his mother had said, her voice sharp with irritation.
His father started toward him, thick fingers balling into fists. By now, Max knew what awaited him if his father got his hands on him. Instinct took over. Before his father could reach him, Max dove for the door to their ramshackle second-floor apartment. He threw himself down the stairs that led to the ground floor, falling down most of them, and raced through the courtyard into the street.
No one followed him.
That was the last time he’d seen any of his family, until now. He’d braved the streets, stealing food and shelter where he could, until his luck turned and he’d met Crispina. His life had never been the same since.
Now, twenty years later, his heart hammered in his chest as fast as it had when he’d run out the door. The memory of that day had been hazy until now. It all came back to him in a dizzying wave—the terror, the helplessness, the overwhelming urge to escape.
Something warm pressed against him, and he opened his eyes to see that Elephant had crossed the pasture without being called. She nudged her head into his shoulder on the other side of the fence. Max stroked her neck, inhaling deeply. As always, her presence and earthy scent grounded him. She whuffled into his ear.
Footsteps rustled behind him, and he whipped around, his hand going to the empty spot on his hip where his sword should be.
It was only Furia. She eyed him with concern. “I was out back with Tullus. Mother said you’d shown up.”
How was he supposed to explain what had come over him the instant he saw his mother? “I…I didn’t expect to see her.”
“You knew she lived here.” Furia’s brows drew together. “If you’re going to be rude to her, there’s no point in you visiting.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude. I just…” Max shook his head. “Seeing her makes me remember things.”
Furia’s gaze softened. She stepped closer to him and leaned against the fence. Elephant snuffled at her curly hair, which Furia permitted. “Lucky you were able to forget things in the first place.”
A pang of guilt hit him. What might she have endured, that he’d avoided with his escape? “Sorry,” he said, his voice little better than a grunt.
