Chapter 49
Vitus came to see later that same day. He appeared at the villa at day’s end and, with a reluctance and deference unusual for him, asked if he might speak to me in private. “Are we not already speaking in private?” I asked lightly, looking around the empty courtyard. Only Tatiana was in and out as she prepared for the evening meal. “I assure you we are quite alone, my friend.”
“Please,” he said. “I would not like what I have to say to be overheard.”
I led him inside to the room Aridius had preferred when conducting garrison business or meeting with one of the commanders so as not to disturb the rest of the household. It was a tidy room off the courtyard, its only furniture a table and two chairs set on a thick rug of woven wool; one wall featured a fresco depicting a willow by a riverside with a group of nymphs cavorting in the water. “We can speak freely in here,” I said, ushering him in and closing the door.
I took one of the chairs, but Vitus remained standing.
“Oh, Vitus, do sit down,” I told him. “You’re making me nervous hovering over me like that.”
With a distracted nod, he glanced at the closed door and then took the chair across from me. I waited for him to speak first, but a moment passed and he sat silently regarding his hands. Finally, I said, “Am I right in thinking that this is something to do with your splendid new promotion?”
He glanced up sharply. “You know about that?” Before I could reply, he rushed on. “Of course, you do. How could you not? The whole world knows by now.”
This odd assertion surprised me because, more than anything, he seemed embarrassed to admit it. “But surely this is very good news,” I told him. “Good news for you and for the garrison. You have to be very pleased.”
He shook his head. “You’ll not think it good news when you hear what I have to say.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you better say it then—and let me be the judge.”
“This is not my idea. I want you to know that . . .” He made an apologetic motion with his rough hands.
“Spit it out, man! Whatever you have to say cannot be made sweeter for waiting.”
He sighed. “I have been ordered to take possession of the villa.” He said this as if making a guilty confession.
“Of course,” I replied. “I expected nothing less. What of it?”
He looked shocked. “They told you?”
I laughed. “No one told me! This is the way of things—as I should know better than anyone. I was daughter to a magistrate and wife of a legate, remember. How do you think we got this house?” Seeing as this clearly caused him some anguish, I softened my tone, “I have been living in official dwellings all my life. The new magistrate comes, the old one goes. That is how it is and I have never questioned it.”
His anguish only deepened. “But I don’t want you to go!”
There it was. Though why this should cause him such torment, I could not imagine. I was still trying make sense of it when he said, “See, here, I have been thinking about this—”
“I can see that.”
“—and I have found a solution to this problem. We can share the villa.” He spread his hands as if revealing a his plan on a silver plate.
“Share the villa, did you say?”
“Aye, just so,” he said, relieved to have it out at last. “See here, I will take a room or two, and you and the lads can have all the rest. I am only one man and I don’t need so much space. I would rattle around in this big house like a bean in a box.”
I sat for a moment taking this in and trying to decide how best to respond. Unable to abide the silence any longer, Vitus said, “Well? What do you think?”
“You dear man,” I said finally, “that you even consider making such an offer is tribute to your care and compassion.” Reaching across the gap between us, I leaned forward and gripped his hand. “You are a true friend, and I bless God for you.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
“No, Vitus,” I replied, shaking my head gently. “As tempting as your offer may be, I cannot agree to it.”
His mouth tightened and he looked down again. “Is it because of what people will say—us living together, I mean?”
“I care nothing for what the gossips say! I’ve heard as much and worse. No, it is not that. Rather, it is you I am thinking of—you and the duties you have taken on. See here. You have stepped into some very big shoes, my friend. The demands of the office are very great—even greater now that the town and garrison are struggling to return to life. You will face tremendous difficulties in the days ahead. You will be needed everywhere—coming and going all day and working into the night. You need a place of quiet, a haven, a refuge of peace. You will want to meet privately with garrison commanders, and on occasion entertain them. You have a garrison to order and oversee, and you cannot have a widow woman and two noisy boys knocking around and under your feet.”
I paused to allow him to absorb this, then continued, “However well-intentioned we both were, we’d soon tire of such an arrangement and then it would begin to chafe. Sooner or later, we’d be resenting each other and that would be the end of our friendship and I, for one, could not bear that.”
Gripping his hand harder for emphasis, I added, “Hear me, Vitus, and believe me when I say I never want to lose you as a friend.”
He accepted my decision with a nod. “Then you’re set on leaving?”
“Yes, I’m leaving. But I won’t go far,” I quickly reassured him. “I’m leaving the villa, but not Constantia.” It told him about my discussion with the magistrate and how I have my pick of places to live.
“You’ll stay?” he said, brightening a little. “You’ll live in the town.”
“Within sight of the garrison walls. Aurelius and Uther have no other desire than to join the legion here. It would be folly to interrupt their training—much less take them away from the man who has already taught them so much, the man who has faithfully stood by them from the beginning—who is like a father to them now.”
This, I think cheered him more than anything else I could have said. “Uther and Aurelius are among the best recruits I have,” he told me then. “Maybe the best I have ever seen.”
I smiled at his assertion. “And you thought you were about to lose them, is that it?”
“Well, yes,” he confessed. “That was in my mind.” Then, adopting a more solemn tone, he said, “Aurelia, I will do all I can to make them not only soldiers but true leaders of men. This is my pledge to you.”
“I accept your pledge,” I told him. “And I will hold you to it.”
We talked a little more about when I would leave the villa, and when he would take up residence. Our business concluded, he rose and took his leave. I walked with him to the gate and, before he could walk away, I said, “Your offer to share the villa was generously made—most generously and graciously made—and I thank you for it. I thank you most of all for your kindness, your love for Aurelius and Uther, and your concern for my well-being.” I leaned forward, took his hand and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You are a good man, Vitus.”
Smiling with his whole being, he put his hand over mine, let it rest there for a moment and then walked away, lighter in step than when he first arrived.