Fic: The Dead Can Live (part 9 of 14)
This must be what a condemned man feels like travelling to his execution, Marcus thought to himself with every mile that passed. The journey back to the farm reminded him too much of the time he had travelled this road after first hearing the rumours in Calleva, each hour bringing with it the prospect of new hardships that must be faced; a marriage he did not want but would endure because it was his duty to do so. Esca, within reach but no longer his to touch. And Trenus looming large, his influence as yet unknown.
Marcus had not spoken much to Trenus except for the day of his manumission and the man remained wary of him. They were uncomfortable in each other’s presence and Marcus found himself haunted day and night by the heritage that Trenus shared with Esca. They two were the same while Marcus and Esca would always be from different worlds, perhaps too different.
Had legal matters been left to run at their own pace they could have found themselves idling as guests of Uncle Aquila for some time however the local magistrate had bowed to a little pressure - one more thing for Marcus to be indebted to his uncle for, although the twinkle in the old man’s eye gave rise to some suspicion of coercion - and had agreed for the ceremony to be performed without much delay.
“Now you are a freedman, it is expected for you to retain some obligation to me as my client,” Marcus had told Trenus afterwards when the man had stood looking up to the sky, smiling to himself as if he saw the world through new eyes. Or perhaps old eyes, newly restored.
“Esca has explained this to me,” had come the reply. “I understand.”
“Shelter and sustenance will be yours at the farm and you are free to speak your mind on all matters.”
“You have my thanks.”
“If you do not wish to stay however,” Marcus had continued, “I will not stand in your way. You are free to leave and make your own way in the world.”
He had thought long and hard over this but Marcus had never intended to be one of those Romans who collected a household full of slaves and freedmen and indeed, once he had met Esca all he had ever wanted was for the two of them to live together in peace. Trenus would be a welcome addition to the farm in terms of labour, for he was sturdy and well-muscled - built like Marcus himself but without the lameness - but Marcus was not sure he could look upon Trenus every day, aware that the man had known Esca in the same way Marcus had. No, it would be Trenus’s choice whether to stay or go and Marcus would live with the consequences.
“You would allow me to leave?” Trenus had asked then, his eyes narrowing, his mistrust not assuaged by this unexpected offer. “What of Esca? Is he free to leave also?”
Marcus had been sure his heart had stopped beating at that very moment but he had managed to retain his composure. “I would not hold him against his will,” he had said, and it had been the truth for he could never bring himself to make Esca stay against his will. It would be too much like imposing a new form of slavery upon him.
“I am keen to see this farm of yours for Esca seems quite proud of it,” Trenus had said after yet another long, uncomfortable silence, “so I will come with you for now. More than that I cannot say.” He had offered Marcus a forced smile although his eyes were still guarded. “Esca says that you are a good man.”
“He told you that?” Marcus had been genuinely surprised. “I was not aware that he held me in high regard any longer.”
“Some things can never be completely lost, no matter what action is taken to stamp them out.”
“And what is your own opinion, Trenus? Do you think me a good man?”
“I am grateful to you for my freedom but one good deed does not make a good man. I have never met a Roman like you but Esca has always been wise,” Trenus had said. “If he says that you are a good man, I have no reason to doubt him and that is enough for now. Once I have formed an opinion of my own, I will let you know.”
Marcus had not talked with him again after that, his time taken up with arranging the journey back to the farm and hours spent alone in his room, praying to the gods for guidance and for their grace while Trenus avoided him as much as possible.
Now they were on their way. They had left Calleva as soon as the cock crowed that morning and had made good time, Esca riding the horse he had borrowed from Manlius, Trenus perched behind him. Marcus rode in the hired cart, the man who would return the cart to Calleva snoring in the back with the extra furs and pallet needed for Trenus. Marcus was happy to let the man sleep for his conversational skills were severely limited and frequently punctuated with loud belches, while his stink suggested that he normally slept in a pig sty and was unacquainted with the cleansing properties of water.
Esca and Trenus rode a little way ahead, talking in their own language so Marcus would not have been able to understand even if he could hear them properly above the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of the cartwheels. He watched them, tormented by the image of the two of them so close together and his own notions of what they were saying. At one point Trenus had laughed out loud, Esca joining in and the blood in Marcus’s veins turned to ice. Were they laughing at him? Was Esca sharing stories of his shortcomings? Were they ridiculing the Roman who freed slaves and then told them to speak their mind and asked their opinion of him?
Marcus wondered whether Trenus was in the process of forming that opinion now as Esca talked and laughed with him and they drew nearer the farm with every thunderous heartbeat.
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Their earlier laughter as they talked of shared memories and childhood scrapes had given way to more serious matters and finally Esca had recounted in full the story of his journey north of the wall, his reluctant respect for Marcus which grew into love and their final stand together against the Epidii. For this last part Esca was glad that Trenus rode behind him and he did not have to look at his friend, for it would have been too difficult for one proud Brigantes to face another and admit such things.
“All that to recover a golden eagle and restore the good name of a Roman,” Trenus said when Esca had finished his tale. “I never thought to hear you speak of a Roman in such a way,” he added, “nor to fight alongside him with a Roman sword in your hand.”
“Nor did I,” Esca admitted. “I do not expect you to understand.”
“All I have known at the hands of Romans is cruelty and punishment. Food not fit for dogs, hard labour that saw others die of exhaustion around me, beatings for no other reason than it pleased them to show their contempt for those whose lands they took. Yet you found one who treated you like a friend, not a slave and you saw beyond the Roman to the man.”
“Do you think less of me for it?”
Trenus shifted behind Esca and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“No,” he said softly. “You would not have given your heart to him had you not thought him deserving of it but I cannot hope to ever be his friend. I have no wish to be. I am grateful to him but one man cannot soothe in only a few days the pain caused by many men over years. I would also happily lay a curse upon him for proving unworthy of your loyalty, whatever his reasoning.”
Esca had to laugh a little at that. “You have always defended me, even when we were children.”
“And I shall always do so. We have endured much though, you and I and we are very different men from the ones who knew each other before. The life we knew is gone and we must make the most of what is laid before us now.” The hand on Esca’s shoulder squeezed lightly. “What we were to each other in the past can never be taken away from us and what we will be to each other in the future, we cannot know.” His voice trailed off but Esca waited for him to speak again, for he knew there was more to come. “Marcus told me that I am free to leave if I so wish. You also.”
“He has said nothing to me.”
“I will see this farm of yours, Esca but I can make no promise that I will stay or for how long. I do not think it is in my heart to remain in the household of a Roman.”
Esca nodded his head slowly.
“I feel pity for Marcus,” he said firmly, unwilling to dwell upon talk of leaving. “He deserved to find happiness on his own terms but the expectations of others have always weighed heavily on him. Rome says he should marry, so he does as Rome demands.”
“It would have been expected of us also,” Trenus reminded him. “We would have found wives and if the gods saw fit to bless us, we would have begotten sons to be proud of. You would have been chieftain one day, after all.”
“It was different for us,” Esca declared, aware of the hard edge that had crept into his voice. “I always knew that you and I would have to part but Marcus made promises to me and he did not keep them. These Romans live by such rigid rules. Their name is everything to them, Marcus especially. That was why we risked our lives north of the wall.” He took a deep breath to stop his voice from shaking. “There were rumours, about Marcus and I, rumours that ridiculed him and he felt great shame. He felt that shame more keenly than he felt love for me and so he retreated from me, withheld his affection and did not tell me why. I would have respected his wish to marry if it meant so much to him but he should not have betrayed my trust.”
“You defend him in one breath and then condemn him in the very next.”
Esca sighed. “It seems that I do.” He turned to look back, past Trenus to where Marcus followed them in the cart. “He has always been able to inspire conflicting emotions in me. I feel such anger towards him but also such sorrow and I am not sure which I feel more. The gods were merciful to me though and they restored you to life to cast some light upon my darkness. I owe them thanks.”
“The gods and Marcus,” Trenus pointed out. “Whether we like it or not, we both owe him much.”
Esca did not reply but he knew it was the truth. Marcus had done everything he had asked and had sought no thanks in return. Without Marcus, he would be dead and Trenus would still be a slave. Esca took another look back at the cart then resumed looking straight ahead as they continued on, he and Trenus riding together on one horse as they had so often done in their youth, before they became men and the Romans came.
“There!” he called out at last, familiar fields rolling out to the horizon, the stream winding between them and the little farmhouse visible in the distance. “The farm. We are home.”
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Manlius’s freedmen had taken good care of the farm in their absence and Marcus thanked them for their efforts, offering them each some coins for their trouble. He was about to hand them the reins of their patron’s horse, the one Esca had borrowed to come to Calleva, when it occurred to him that the return of the horse would make a good excuse to see Lucilia so he sent them on their way with word that he would come later himself.
While Esca showed Trenus the farm and introduced him to old Agilis and the others in the stable, Marcus brushed off the dirt of the road and made himself presentable then mounted Manlius’s tired and heavily sweating horse and let him slowly wander towards home.
“Not long now, my friend,” Marcus told him, patting the beast’s neck as they ambled along. “I shall tell them you bore two riders all the way from Calleva and that you deserve twice the amount of food for at least the next five days.”
As if he understood, the horse nodded his head and whinnied in delight.
When they reached Manlius’s villa it was Lucilia who greeted them, her hair a little wild, her cheeks ruddier than usual and her plain clothing slightly muddied around the hem from where she had obviously been working outside.
“Father is unwell, sadly,” she said as a groom took the horse and Marcus followed her indoors. “If it were up to him he would be receiving you in his sick-bed but he is under strict instructions to rest.”
“From the medicus?” Marcus asked, concerned.
“From me!” Lucilia stopped, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face but she soon broke into a warm smile. “You will stay awhile, won’t you?”
“Not for long as I must return to the farm but I had your horse to return and I was eager to see you. I would have called upon you sooner had I not been called to Calleva on urgent business.” He made sure to emphasize that it was Lucilia who was the real purpose of his visit.
“I am flattered,” she said. Her smile faltered a little and she averted her eyes momentarily as Marcus supposed was the custom for any modest young woman when a man showed interest. “I trust all is now well.”
“I achieved the purpose of my business, yes,” he told her. “In addition, I find I am now patron to a freedman by name of Trenus.”
“It is to be hoped that he is a happy addition to your household,” Lucilia said kindly.
A plump and happily smiling female slave brought wine and water, poured two cups and retreated to stand in the corner, playing chaperone in the absence of Manlius. Lucilia sat and Marcus sat next to her then he reached across and took hold of her hand, contact which she allowed briefly before gently removing her hand from his grasp.
“I am most grateful to your father for the loan of your freedmen to tend the farm in my absence,” he said, unsure of what to do next. ”Please pass on my gratitude to him and also my wishes for his recovery.”
“Thank you. It is always a pleasure to assist you Marcus, you are our friend and neighbour. Some wine?”
“Thank you.” His mouth was dry and he drank deeply. “One day, I hope to plant some vines and try my hand at making wine.”
“A noble use of any land if you ask my father,” Lucilia laughed. “Although I find that crops and grazing land for livestock is much more practical.”
“It is but a thought,” Marcus assured her before ploughing on. “We have spoken much over the past months but I have failed to show you the courtesy of asking after your hopes for the future,” he said. “Would you do me the honour of confiding in me?”
If Lucilia was surprised, she did not let it show. “I wish for the same as any sensible woman should. Contentment, security, to be allowed to work rather than be idle and gaze at myself in a mirror all day.” She considered for a moment. “The prosperity of the farm and the happiness of those who are dear to me. A husband who is worthy of me and perhaps some children to inherit the fruits of our labours.”
Marcus nodded his head and could think of nothing more to say. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he realised that he had not eaten since early that morning, having declined any offers of food during the journey while he had watched Esca and Trenus and dwelt upon the speed with which his once happy life had unravelled.
“Marcus?” Lucilia asked, jolting him out of his reverie. “Are you ailing?”
“Not at all.”
This time it was Lucilia who took Marcus’s hand, watching him with sympathy in her dark eyes.
“You look tired and pale,” she said, “and quite, quite desolate.”
“Do not concern yourself. It is nothing that an undisturbed night’s sleep will not cure.” He did not mention his empty stomach for that would oblige Lucilia to offer him food and Marcus suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to the farm.
“I have never seen you so distracted and unhappy,” she continued, “despite your efforts to appear otherwise. When you came here first you were such a serious man but over time you became almost carefree. What has happened to change that?”
Marcus tried to think of an adequate excuse but he did not wish to lie to Lucilia. She was caring and good and she did not deserve lies, although he could never tell her the truth.
“Pay me no attention,” he said instead. “I assure you that I am as happy as I have any right to be.”
Lucilia did not appear convinced but she smiled and told of her father’s latest plans for the farm and did not press Marcus any further.
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Esca and Trenus had taken it upon themselves to do any chores that remained and they had waited for Marcus to return before eating, the table laid out with three bowls and cups. Marcus washed his hands and face and filled his bowl from the pot over the fire, watching the other two closely and feeling an unwanted tug of jealousy.
“What do you think of the farm?” he asked Trenus as they ate, trying hard to appear friendly but sounding cold and formal nevertheless. “Does it meet with your approval?”
“It is fine land,” Trenus said through a mouthful of slightly stale bread.
It is, Marcus thought. I wish I had never left it, that I had purchased this farm and never ventured beyond its boundaries. I wish it was only Esca and I who lived here, content in each other’s company as we once were. I wish I could undo all that I have done wrong.
“How is Manlius?” Esca cocked his head to one side and regarded Marcus with those clear, grey eyes. “Was your visit productive?”
“He is unwell but nothing to raise concern.” Marcus turned to Trenus. “Manlius is our nearest neighbour,” he added in explanation.
“Esca has mentioned him,” Trenus said. “And his daughter.”
Marcus hesitated in drinking from his cup then he drained it, staring hard at Esca from beneath his knitted brows. Esca held his gaze and did not falter, the look on his face as blank as a wax tablet that had been smoothed down for re-use.
“And what did Esca say about his daughter?”
“That you hope to marry her.” Three pairs of eyes darted around the table, each man looking from one to the other and Marcus could see that Trenus was trying to decide whether to say more, his natural suspicion vying with uncertainty as he tested how far he could push. “And that you have forsaken him to make way for her in your bed.”
Marcus slammed his cup down on the table. “Perhaps if we are all to live together in something approaching harmony, you should not take me too literally when I say you may speak your mind.” He kept his voice steady despite the dull ache that now lurked behind his eyes, too tired to be truly angry but feeling the sting of Trenus’s words nevertheless. “I will not accept disrespect.”
Trenus stared back at him for a moment then bowed his head slightly in apology. “I am sorry.”
An awkward silence hung in the air as they finished their meal and cleared the table then Trenus excused himself, claiming fatigue and a wish to rise early and be of assistance with whatever work was required. Esca lingered by the fire but Marcus wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and hopefully find solace in a deep and dreamless sleep. He pulled back the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the main room of the little house and noticed that there was only one pallet on the floor, where before there had always been two. He turned to look at Esca.
“I have taken my bedding to the barn and I shall sleep in there with Trenus.” Esca wouldn’t look at him, staring at his feet. “We cannot all three of us sleep in here, there is not enough space and anyhow, I see no reason for me to remain.”
“Do you….are you….” Marcus’s tongue felt too big for his mouth and he struggled to get the words out. “You and Trenus were intimate once. Do you intend to ….?”
Esca frowned, his mouth pulling tight. “We have made no specific agreement, if that is what you mean. Other than that, I cannot say.”
Marcus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the dull ache in his head becoming sharper.
“If you think it best to sleep in the barn,” he said, “then I cannot argue.”
He did not say the things he wanted to. He did not go down onto his knees and beg Esca’s forgiveness. He did not plead for Esca to come back to the farmhouse and lie beside him, although he was already plagued by thoughts of what comfort Esca and Trenus would take from each other in the barn every night. He heard Esca’s softly spoken ‘good night’ but he did not reply. Marcus knew already that they could not live here, just the three of them together. He could not bear it.
He must marry, devote himself heart and soul to a wife and their offspring and leave the past firmly behind him. He must propose to Lucilia without delay.
Marcus had not spoken much to Trenus except for the day of his manumission and the man remained wary of him. They were uncomfortable in each other’s presence and Marcus found himself haunted day and night by the heritage that Trenus shared with Esca. They two were the same while Marcus and Esca would always be from different worlds, perhaps too different.
Had legal matters been left to run at their own pace they could have found themselves idling as guests of Uncle Aquila for some time however the local magistrate had bowed to a little pressure - one more thing for Marcus to be indebted to his uncle for, although the twinkle in the old man’s eye gave rise to some suspicion of coercion - and had agreed for the ceremony to be performed without much delay.
“Now you are a freedman, it is expected for you to retain some obligation to me as my client,” Marcus had told Trenus afterwards when the man had stood looking up to the sky, smiling to himself as if he saw the world through new eyes. Or perhaps old eyes, newly restored.
“Esca has explained this to me,” had come the reply. “I understand.”
“Shelter and sustenance will be yours at the farm and you are free to speak your mind on all matters.”
“You have my thanks.”
“If you do not wish to stay however,” Marcus had continued, “I will not stand in your way. You are free to leave and make your own way in the world.”
He had thought long and hard over this but Marcus had never intended to be one of those Romans who collected a household full of slaves and freedmen and indeed, once he had met Esca all he had ever wanted was for the two of them to live together in peace. Trenus would be a welcome addition to the farm in terms of labour, for he was sturdy and well-muscled - built like Marcus himself but without the lameness - but Marcus was not sure he could look upon Trenus every day, aware that the man had known Esca in the same way Marcus had. No, it would be Trenus’s choice whether to stay or go and Marcus would live with the consequences.
“You would allow me to leave?” Trenus had asked then, his eyes narrowing, his mistrust not assuaged by this unexpected offer. “What of Esca? Is he free to leave also?”
Marcus had been sure his heart had stopped beating at that very moment but he had managed to retain his composure. “I would not hold him against his will,” he had said, and it had been the truth for he could never bring himself to make Esca stay against his will. It would be too much like imposing a new form of slavery upon him.
“I am keen to see this farm of yours for Esca seems quite proud of it,” Trenus had said after yet another long, uncomfortable silence, “so I will come with you for now. More than that I cannot say.” He had offered Marcus a forced smile although his eyes were still guarded. “Esca says that you are a good man.”
“He told you that?” Marcus had been genuinely surprised. “I was not aware that he held me in high regard any longer.”
“Some things can never be completely lost, no matter what action is taken to stamp them out.”
“And what is your own opinion, Trenus? Do you think me a good man?”
“I am grateful to you for my freedom but one good deed does not make a good man. I have never met a Roman like you but Esca has always been wise,” Trenus had said. “If he says that you are a good man, I have no reason to doubt him and that is enough for now. Once I have formed an opinion of my own, I will let you know.”
Marcus had not talked with him again after that, his time taken up with arranging the journey back to the farm and hours spent alone in his room, praying to the gods for guidance and for their grace while Trenus avoided him as much as possible.
Now they were on their way. They had left Calleva as soon as the cock crowed that morning and had made good time, Esca riding the horse he had borrowed from Manlius, Trenus perched behind him. Marcus rode in the hired cart, the man who would return the cart to Calleva snoring in the back with the extra furs and pallet needed for Trenus. Marcus was happy to let the man sleep for his conversational skills were severely limited and frequently punctuated with loud belches, while his stink suggested that he normally slept in a pig sty and was unacquainted with the cleansing properties of water.
Esca and Trenus rode a little way ahead, talking in their own language so Marcus would not have been able to understand even if he could hear them properly above the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of the cartwheels. He watched them, tormented by the image of the two of them so close together and his own notions of what they were saying. At one point Trenus had laughed out loud, Esca joining in and the blood in Marcus’s veins turned to ice. Were they laughing at him? Was Esca sharing stories of his shortcomings? Were they ridiculing the Roman who freed slaves and then told them to speak their mind and asked their opinion of him?
Marcus wondered whether Trenus was in the process of forming that opinion now as Esca talked and laughed with him and they drew nearer the farm with every thunderous heartbeat.
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Their earlier laughter as they talked of shared memories and childhood scrapes had given way to more serious matters and finally Esca had recounted in full the story of his journey north of the wall, his reluctant respect for Marcus which grew into love and their final stand together against the Epidii. For this last part Esca was glad that Trenus rode behind him and he did not have to look at his friend, for it would have been too difficult for one proud Brigantes to face another and admit such things.
“All that to recover a golden eagle and restore the good name of a Roman,” Trenus said when Esca had finished his tale. “I never thought to hear you speak of a Roman in such a way,” he added, “nor to fight alongside him with a Roman sword in your hand.”
“Nor did I,” Esca admitted. “I do not expect you to understand.”
“All I have known at the hands of Romans is cruelty and punishment. Food not fit for dogs, hard labour that saw others die of exhaustion around me, beatings for no other reason than it pleased them to show their contempt for those whose lands they took. Yet you found one who treated you like a friend, not a slave and you saw beyond the Roman to the man.”
“Do you think less of me for it?”
Trenus shifted behind Esca and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“No,” he said softly. “You would not have given your heart to him had you not thought him deserving of it but I cannot hope to ever be his friend. I have no wish to be. I am grateful to him but one man cannot soothe in only a few days the pain caused by many men over years. I would also happily lay a curse upon him for proving unworthy of your loyalty, whatever his reasoning.”
Esca had to laugh a little at that. “You have always defended me, even when we were children.”
“And I shall always do so. We have endured much though, you and I and we are very different men from the ones who knew each other before. The life we knew is gone and we must make the most of what is laid before us now.” The hand on Esca’s shoulder squeezed lightly. “What we were to each other in the past can never be taken away from us and what we will be to each other in the future, we cannot know.” His voice trailed off but Esca waited for him to speak again, for he knew there was more to come. “Marcus told me that I am free to leave if I so wish. You also.”
“He has said nothing to me.”
“I will see this farm of yours, Esca but I can make no promise that I will stay or for how long. I do not think it is in my heart to remain in the household of a Roman.”
Esca nodded his head slowly.
“I feel pity for Marcus,” he said firmly, unwilling to dwell upon talk of leaving. “He deserved to find happiness on his own terms but the expectations of others have always weighed heavily on him. Rome says he should marry, so he does as Rome demands.”
“It would have been expected of us also,” Trenus reminded him. “We would have found wives and if the gods saw fit to bless us, we would have begotten sons to be proud of. You would have been chieftain one day, after all.”
“It was different for us,” Esca declared, aware of the hard edge that had crept into his voice. “I always knew that you and I would have to part but Marcus made promises to me and he did not keep them. These Romans live by such rigid rules. Their name is everything to them, Marcus especially. That was why we risked our lives north of the wall.” He took a deep breath to stop his voice from shaking. “There were rumours, about Marcus and I, rumours that ridiculed him and he felt great shame. He felt that shame more keenly than he felt love for me and so he retreated from me, withheld his affection and did not tell me why. I would have respected his wish to marry if it meant so much to him but he should not have betrayed my trust.”
“You defend him in one breath and then condemn him in the very next.”
Esca sighed. “It seems that I do.” He turned to look back, past Trenus to where Marcus followed them in the cart. “He has always been able to inspire conflicting emotions in me. I feel such anger towards him but also such sorrow and I am not sure which I feel more. The gods were merciful to me though and they restored you to life to cast some light upon my darkness. I owe them thanks.”
“The gods and Marcus,” Trenus pointed out. “Whether we like it or not, we both owe him much.”
Esca did not reply but he knew it was the truth. Marcus had done everything he had asked and had sought no thanks in return. Without Marcus, he would be dead and Trenus would still be a slave. Esca took another look back at the cart then resumed looking straight ahead as they continued on, he and Trenus riding together on one horse as they had so often done in their youth, before they became men and the Romans came.
“There!” he called out at last, familiar fields rolling out to the horizon, the stream winding between them and the little farmhouse visible in the distance. “The farm. We are home.”
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Manlius’s freedmen had taken good care of the farm in their absence and Marcus thanked them for their efforts, offering them each some coins for their trouble. He was about to hand them the reins of their patron’s horse, the one Esca had borrowed to come to Calleva, when it occurred to him that the return of the horse would make a good excuse to see Lucilia so he sent them on their way with word that he would come later himself.
While Esca showed Trenus the farm and introduced him to old Agilis and the others in the stable, Marcus brushed off the dirt of the road and made himself presentable then mounted Manlius’s tired and heavily sweating horse and let him slowly wander towards home.
“Not long now, my friend,” Marcus told him, patting the beast’s neck as they ambled along. “I shall tell them you bore two riders all the way from Calleva and that you deserve twice the amount of food for at least the next five days.”
As if he understood, the horse nodded his head and whinnied in delight.
When they reached Manlius’s villa it was Lucilia who greeted them, her hair a little wild, her cheeks ruddier than usual and her plain clothing slightly muddied around the hem from where she had obviously been working outside.
“Father is unwell, sadly,” she said as a groom took the horse and Marcus followed her indoors. “If it were up to him he would be receiving you in his sick-bed but he is under strict instructions to rest.”
“From the medicus?” Marcus asked, concerned.
“From me!” Lucilia stopped, her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face but she soon broke into a warm smile. “You will stay awhile, won’t you?”
“Not for long as I must return to the farm but I had your horse to return and I was eager to see you. I would have called upon you sooner had I not been called to Calleva on urgent business.” He made sure to emphasize that it was Lucilia who was the real purpose of his visit.
“I am flattered,” she said. Her smile faltered a little and she averted her eyes momentarily as Marcus supposed was the custom for any modest young woman when a man showed interest. “I trust all is now well.”
“I achieved the purpose of my business, yes,” he told her. “In addition, I find I am now patron to a freedman by name of Trenus.”
“It is to be hoped that he is a happy addition to your household,” Lucilia said kindly.
A plump and happily smiling female slave brought wine and water, poured two cups and retreated to stand in the corner, playing chaperone in the absence of Manlius. Lucilia sat and Marcus sat next to her then he reached across and took hold of her hand, contact which she allowed briefly before gently removing her hand from his grasp.
“I am most grateful to your father for the loan of your freedmen to tend the farm in my absence,” he said, unsure of what to do next. ”Please pass on my gratitude to him and also my wishes for his recovery.”
“Thank you. It is always a pleasure to assist you Marcus, you are our friend and neighbour. Some wine?”
“Thank you.” His mouth was dry and he drank deeply. “One day, I hope to plant some vines and try my hand at making wine.”
“A noble use of any land if you ask my father,” Lucilia laughed. “Although I find that crops and grazing land for livestock is much more practical.”
“It is but a thought,” Marcus assured her before ploughing on. “We have spoken much over the past months but I have failed to show you the courtesy of asking after your hopes for the future,” he said. “Would you do me the honour of confiding in me?”
If Lucilia was surprised, she did not let it show. “I wish for the same as any sensible woman should. Contentment, security, to be allowed to work rather than be idle and gaze at myself in a mirror all day.” She considered for a moment. “The prosperity of the farm and the happiness of those who are dear to me. A husband who is worthy of me and perhaps some children to inherit the fruits of our labours.”
Marcus nodded his head and could think of nothing more to say. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he realised that he had not eaten since early that morning, having declined any offers of food during the journey while he had watched Esca and Trenus and dwelt upon the speed with which his once happy life had unravelled.
“Marcus?” Lucilia asked, jolting him out of his reverie. “Are you ailing?”
“Not at all.”
This time it was Lucilia who took Marcus’s hand, watching him with sympathy in her dark eyes.
“You look tired and pale,” she said, “and quite, quite desolate.”
“Do not concern yourself. It is nothing that an undisturbed night’s sleep will not cure.” He did not mention his empty stomach for that would oblige Lucilia to offer him food and Marcus suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to the farm.
“I have never seen you so distracted and unhappy,” she continued, “despite your efforts to appear otherwise. When you came here first you were such a serious man but over time you became almost carefree. What has happened to change that?”
Marcus tried to think of an adequate excuse but he did not wish to lie to Lucilia. She was caring and good and she did not deserve lies, although he could never tell her the truth.
“Pay me no attention,” he said instead. “I assure you that I am as happy as I have any right to be.”
Lucilia did not appear convinced but she smiled and told of her father’s latest plans for the farm and did not press Marcus any further.
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Esca and Trenus had taken it upon themselves to do any chores that remained and they had waited for Marcus to return before eating, the table laid out with three bowls and cups. Marcus washed his hands and face and filled his bowl from the pot over the fire, watching the other two closely and feeling an unwanted tug of jealousy.
“What do you think of the farm?” he asked Trenus as they ate, trying hard to appear friendly but sounding cold and formal nevertheless. “Does it meet with your approval?”
“It is fine land,” Trenus said through a mouthful of slightly stale bread.
It is, Marcus thought. I wish I had never left it, that I had purchased this farm and never ventured beyond its boundaries. I wish it was only Esca and I who lived here, content in each other’s company as we once were. I wish I could undo all that I have done wrong.
“How is Manlius?” Esca cocked his head to one side and regarded Marcus with those clear, grey eyes. “Was your visit productive?”
“He is unwell but nothing to raise concern.” Marcus turned to Trenus. “Manlius is our nearest neighbour,” he added in explanation.
“Esca has mentioned him,” Trenus said. “And his daughter.”
Marcus hesitated in drinking from his cup then he drained it, staring hard at Esca from beneath his knitted brows. Esca held his gaze and did not falter, the look on his face as blank as a wax tablet that had been smoothed down for re-use.
“And what did Esca say about his daughter?”
“That you hope to marry her.” Three pairs of eyes darted around the table, each man looking from one to the other and Marcus could see that Trenus was trying to decide whether to say more, his natural suspicion vying with uncertainty as he tested how far he could push. “And that you have forsaken him to make way for her in your bed.”
Marcus slammed his cup down on the table. “Perhaps if we are all to live together in something approaching harmony, you should not take me too literally when I say you may speak your mind.” He kept his voice steady despite the dull ache that now lurked behind his eyes, too tired to be truly angry but feeling the sting of Trenus’s words nevertheless. “I will not accept disrespect.”
Trenus stared back at him for a moment then bowed his head slightly in apology. “I am sorry.”
An awkward silence hung in the air as they finished their meal and cleared the table then Trenus excused himself, claiming fatigue and a wish to rise early and be of assistance with whatever work was required. Esca lingered by the fire but Marcus wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and hopefully find solace in a deep and dreamless sleep. He pulled back the curtain that separated the sleeping area from the main room of the little house and noticed that there was only one pallet on the floor, where before there had always been two. He turned to look at Esca.
“I have taken my bedding to the barn and I shall sleep in there with Trenus.” Esca wouldn’t look at him, staring at his feet. “We cannot all three of us sleep in here, there is not enough space and anyhow, I see no reason for me to remain.”
“Do you….are you….” Marcus’s tongue felt too big for his mouth and he struggled to get the words out. “You and Trenus were intimate once. Do you intend to ….?”
Esca frowned, his mouth pulling tight. “We have made no specific agreement, if that is what you mean. Other than that, I cannot say.”
Marcus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the dull ache in his head becoming sharper.
“If you think it best to sleep in the barn,” he said, “then I cannot argue.”
He did not say the things he wanted to. He did not go down onto his knees and beg Esca’s forgiveness. He did not plead for Esca to come back to the farmhouse and lie beside him, although he was already plagued by thoughts of what comfort Esca and Trenus would take from each other in the barn every night. He heard Esca’s softly spoken ‘good night’ but he did not reply. Marcus knew already that they could not live here, just the three of them together. He could not bear it.
He must marry, devote himself heart and soul to a wife and their offspring and leave the past firmly behind him. He must propose to Lucilia without delay.