The next day, Max made his way to Volusia’s house once more, this time leading Elephant with him. The sun had never shone so brightly, and every step felt buoyant with joy. He’d never imagined that he would actually be engaged to Volusia. And in eight months, she would be his wife.
If her son agreed. His mission for today, and for however long it took, was to endear himself to Lucius. He had little experience with children, much less trying to get one to consent to him marrying its mother, but he remembered how delighted his nephew Tullus had been by Elephant. He figured all boys liked horses, so his plan was to introduce Lucius to Elephant and hopefully impress him that way.
“I don’t like horses,” Lucius informed Max when Volusia brought him outside.
Max blinked. “You don’t like horses?” He had not accounted for this possibility.
“They’re big and they smell and they could trample me.” Lucius shrank back, clutching a handful of Volusia’s dress.
Volusia patted his shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. Max’s horse is very gentle. I’ve ridden her myself.” She gave him a little push. “Why don’t you go pat her nose?”
He resisted, planting his feet stubbornly. “I don’t want to.”
Max suppressed a sigh of frustration. This was not going well. Lucius’s eyes were wide, and his slim shoulders were tense. He was clearly terrified.
“I can’t do much about the smell, but I can show you that she’ll never trample you.” He walked several paces away and laid down flat on the ground, then clicked his tongue in the signal for Elephant to come to him.
She trotted toward him, then stopped as she reached him, her hooves a handspan from his ear. She lowered her head and nudged his shoulder, as if asking what in the world he was doing down there.
Max grinned and got to his feet, brushing dirt from his tunic. “See? No trampling.”
Lucius still looked unconvinced, but this time, he allowed Volusia to gently propel him toward Elephant. He reached out a trembling hand and allowed Elephant to sniff his fingers, though he took a hurried step back when Elephant snorted and tossed her head.
“It’s all right,” Max said. “She won’t hurt you.”
Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. At least he wasn’t running back into the house, so Max decided to make the most of the moment. “Her name is Elephant.”
Lucius's nose wrinkled. “Elephant? That’s a stupid name for a horse. Though I suppose she was already named that when you got her, and you had to keep the name?”
“No, I named her that myself,” Max said, trying not to be defensive. “After Hannibal and his war elephants.”
“Hannibal was an enemy of Rome,” Lucius said staunchly.
“Yes, but he was a great general.”
“Alexander the Great had a horse named Bucephalus. That’s a good name for a horse. Why couldn’t you have named her something like that?”
Max rolled his eyes. This child was somehow equally irksome and endearing. “I liked the name Elephant.”
“Hmph.” Lucius gave Elephant’s nose another tentative pat. “Did you know Hannibal had thirty-seven war elephants when he crossed the Alps? But not many of them survived the crossing. Do you know how many elephants he had at the battle of Zama?”
“No, but I assume you’re going to tell me,” Max said dryly.
“Eighty.”
“That’s a lot of elephants.”
Lucius nodded in solemn agreement. They were silent for a moment. Max noticed that Volusia had slipped inside the house, leaving him alone with Lucius.
As the silence stretched, Max wasn’t sure what else to say. He was on the verge of asking Lucius if he knew any more facts about elephants when the boy spoke.
“Is it true you’re in the army?”
“Yes,” Max said, then corrected himself. “I was. For almost ten years.”
Lucius glanced at Max, something hiding in his gaze, then looked back at Elephant. “Mother says I will have to join the army when I’m grown, if I want to be a consul one day, or a governor like my father.”
Max nodded. Ten years of military service were required before running for any political office. “That’s true.”
