Chapter 41
Aridius left the house before I had risen and I did not see him through the morning, nor did I expect I would see him again until twilight cast our courtyard into shadow. He often dashed away early on some chore or other and worked through the day—taking meals, or not—with the soldiers and commanders. More and more often, I noticed the boys behaving the same way. While they still lingered long enough of a morning to snatch a bit of something to break their fasts, they would run to what they called their “centurion school” as soon as they could find the shoes they had unlaced the night before.
This morning was no different. I caught sight of them fleeing through the courtyard and called after. Uther waved farewell with a rusk in his hand, and Aurelius shouted a greeting before both of them were out the gate and gone. Well, I went about my duties like any other day, reflecting from time to time about Dux Riothamus’ visit and what it might portend—refusing to worry about any of the most obvious calamities that could arise from a confrontation such as the dux had planned. What I did not anticipate was only too soon revealed.
Around midday, Uther burst into the kitchen ravenous and thirsty. I was taking a bowl of apples to the board in case someone appeared wanting something to eat, and collided with him, spilling apples to the floor.
“How many times must I tell you this house is not a stable!” I scolded. “You’re too old, and too big to be charging around like a bull in a barrel! You’ll break something next time—maybe your neck.”
He mumbled an insincere “sorry” and kept going.
“What is so urgent?” I called after him.
Aurelius appeared just then, following at a slightly more prudent pace. “We need to eat something now,” he announced, pausing long enough to give me a fleeting hug.
Something about the way he said it made me question the need. “Or what?” I asked.
“Or they’ll leave without us,” he replied, disappearing once more.
“Who?” I shouted. No reply.
Handing the bowl to Beatrix, one of my young servants, and leaving her to pick up the apples, I hurried to the cookhouse where Aurelius and Uther were standing over cook’s work table spooning tonight’s lamb stew into bowls while cook clucked around them, scolding like a mother hen whose nest has been invaded by foxes. Clearly, both boys were overly excited about something; their faces were glowing with it and they were talking so fast I could not make out what they said.
“Now, then,” I declared, stepping to the table to confront them. “What is all this rush and fuss? Who is leaving?”
“Riothamus is marching out and half the garrison legion is going with him.” Uther informed me, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic.
“Yes, your father told me last night,” I said, dread waking and slowly raising its fearful head. “And don’t do that! You’ll stain your sleeves.”
“That’s not all,” said Aurelius. “Father is riding with him, too!”
“And we’re going with them!” crowed Uther, unable to contain himself.
“Da said we could go if we were ready by the time the trumpet sounded the midday call,” Aurelius told me.
Speechless, I stared from one to the other of them. Their exuberance filled the room. They were aflame with it. Only the most forceful blow could extinguish that level of exhilaration. They would be disappointed, yes, utterly so. Yet, they would be alive to feel disappointed.
Well, I could allow this to happen. There was only one way to stop it. Turning on my heel, I left the room, saying, “Slow down—you’ll choke yourselves. And don’t go anywhere before I get back.”
Leaving the villa on the run, I flew directly to the stable yard where I knew I would find my husband preparing his mount for the journey. “A question, my love,” I said in my sweetest tone.
He glanced around from straightening the saddle cloth, saw me and smiled. “Yes?” he said. “What question is that?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
His hands paused in mid-motion. “I don’t understand.”
“You told the boys they could go on this . . . this campaign with you?” I said. “Is that so?”
Suddenly contrite, he nodded. “I said that, yes.”
“What under God’s bluest heaven are you thinking?”
“It is the dux’s idea,” he hedged, “and I agreed.”
“Two fools in agreement does not make the judgement any wiser. It is impossible!” I shouted. “Impossible! You must know that.”
One of the grooms approached, carrying a warrior’s heavy saddle; one look at my expression and he turned around and scurried back into the tack room. The legate adopted his best negotiating demeanor. “I can see you’re worried,” he said, the very voice of calm and reason. “But, I can assure you there is nothing to worry about.”
“I am worried, dearest heart of my heart, because there is a very great multitude of things to worry about. They are children! They have no place on the battlefield or anywhere near it! They can only bring harm to themselves and anyone who must watch over them.”
“I’ll watch over them,” Aridius said. “They will stay with me the whole time and we will be observers only. Remember? The aim is to negotiate peace, and if all goes well there will not be any fighting.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I declared, unconvinced. “I’ll not allow it.”
“Listen, my love.” Aridius stepped close and gripped my upper arms. “You’re upset, I know. And I admit I should have consulted you before I promised the boys. But what is done is done, and Riothamus has given me his word that no harm will come to any of us.”
“Fine and good for Riothamus,” I snapped. “It is not his safety I’m worried about!”
“You call them boys, but they are young men now,” declared Aridius, losing patience at last.
“They are nine and twelve summers only!”
“Be that as it may, it is time they began seeing the land they will one day inherit—and learn the cost of keeping it. I have given my word. They are going with me, and that is the end of it.”
I stared at him with cold fury. “No. They are not going.”
“I note your opposition,” intoned Aridius, as if calming an indignant citizen. He summoned the groom who was waiting in the doorway of the stable and resumed saddling his mount. I watched for a moment, then retreated leaving a doomful silence behind me. On my way back to the villa, I met Centurion Vitus entering with three mounts in tow. He took notice of my grimly furious expression and guessed its source. “I will look after them,” he told me. “On my life, I swear it.”
“You had better look after them,” I muttered, “because if they come back with so much as a scratch, my friend, what is left of your life won’t be worth living. I’ll make sure of it.”
Aurelius and Uther were still in the cookhouse, sopping up the last of the stew in their bowls with chunks of bread. “Well, I’ve spoken to your father,” I said. Both of them looked up with expectation, their mouths too full to speak. “He is determined that you should ride with the legion—”
“Yes!” cried Uther.
“—as observers only,” I continued, trying to keep my tone level. “Do you understand? You will not take part in any operations whatsoever, and you will remain within sight of your father and Vitus at all times.”
Uther threw down his bread sop, shouted his thanks, and rushed from the room; Aurelius likewise, pausing only long enough to give me a quick hug.
You never saw two happier boys as they rode from the garrison beside their father at the head of the troops. To see them, anyone would think they were emperors out to conquer the world. I stood with some of the other soldiers’ women beside the road just outside the gates and watched as row upon row marched along beneath the legion banner and standard with trumpets sounding and drums beating out the cadence. Some soldiers waved farewell to their wives and children as they passed; others gazed resolutely ahead. They are going and that is the end of it, Aridius had said.
Well, they went, but that was not the end of it. In truth, it was only beginning.