family the night before. His father would have done the same.
As he passed the stables, he heard a pulsing sob from the darkness within. He paused, unsure whether he should intrude. There was so much grief in the air, as well as inside him. Those who had fallen had friends and relatives who had not expected to begin this day alone. He stood for a moment longer, still smelling the oily stink of the bodies he had fired. Then he went into the cool shadow of the stalls. Whoever it was, their grief was now his responsibility, their burdens were his to share. That was what his father had understood and why the estate had prospered for so long.
His eyes adjusted slowly after the morning glare and he peered into each stall to find the source of the sounds. Only two held horses and they snickered gently to him as he reached and stroked their soft muzzles. His foot scraped against a pebble and the sobbing ceased on the instant, as if someone was holding their breath. Gaius waited, as still as Renius had taught him to stand, until he heard the sigh of released air and knew where the person was.
In the dirty straw, Alexandria sat with her knees tight against her chin and her back to the far stone wall. She looked up as he came into sight and he saw that the dirt on her face was streaked with tears. She was close to his own age, maybe a year older, he recalled. The memory of her being flogged by Renius came into his mind with a stab of guilt.
He sighed. He had no words for her. He crossed the short distance and sat against the wall next to her, taking care to leave space between them as he leaned back so that she would not be threatened. The silence was calm and the smells and feel of the stables had always been a comforting place to Gaius. When he was very young, he too had escaped here to hide from his troubles or from punishment to come. He sat, lost in memory for a while, and it didn’t seem awkward between them, though nothing was said. The only sounds were the horses’ movements and the occasional sob that still escaped Alexandria.
‘Your father was a good man,’ she whispered at last.
He wondered how many times he would hear the phrase before the day was over and whether he could stand it. He nodded mutely.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to her, feeling rather than seeing her head come up to look at him. He knew she’d killed, had seen her covered in blood down in the yard as he’d come out the night before. He thought he understood why she was crying and had meant to try and comfort her, but the words unlocked a rush of sorrow in him and his eyes filled with tears. His face twisted in pain as he bowed his head to his chest.
Alexandria looked at him in astonishment, her eyes wide. Before she had time to think, she had reached over to him and they were holding each other in the darkness, a blot of private grief while the world went on in the sun outside. She stroked his hair with one hand and whispered comfort to him as he apologised over and over, to her, his father, to the dead, to those he had burned.
When he was spent, she began to release him, but in the last fragment of time before he was too far she pressed her lips lightly on his, feeling him start slightly. She pulled away, hugging her knees tightly and, unseen in the shadows, her face burned. She felt his eyes on her, but couldn’t meet them.
‘Why did you …?’ he muttered, his voice hoarse and swollen from crying.
‘I don’t know. I just wondered what it would be like.’
‘What was it like?’ he replied, his voice strengthening with amusement.
‘Terrible. Someone will have to teach you to kiss.’
He looked at her, bemused. Moments before, he had been drowning in a sorrow that would not diminish or wane in him. Now he was noticing that beneath the dirt and wisps of straw and smell of blood – beneath her own sadness – there was a rare girl.
‘I have the rest of the day to learn,’ he said quietly, the words stumbling out past nervous blockages in his throat.
She shook her head. ‘I have work to do. I should be back in the kitchen.’
In a smooth movement, she rose from her crouch and left the stall, as if she was going to walk right away without another word. Then she paused and looked at him.
‘Thank you for coming to find me,’ she said and walked out into the sunlight.
Gaius watched her go. He wondered if she had realised he had never kissed a girl before. He could still feel a light pressure on his lips as if she had marked him. Surely she hadn’t meant terrible? He saw again the stiff way she had carried herself as she left the stables. She was like a bird with a broken wing, but she would heal with time and space and friends. He realised he would as well.
Marcus and Tubruk were laughing at something Cabera had said, as Gaius came into the room. At the sight of him, they all fell silent.
‘I came … to thank you. For doing what you did on the walls,’ Gaius began.
Marcus cut him off, stepping closer and grabbing his hand. ‘You never need to thank me for anything. I owe more than I could ever pay to your father. I was sorry to hear he fell at the last.’
‘We came through. My mother lives, I live. He would do it again if offered the chance, I know. You took some wounds?’
‘Towards the end. Nothing serious, though. I was untouchable. Cabera says I will be a great fighter.’ Marcus broke into a grin.
‘Unless he gets himself killed, of course. That would slow him down a little,’ Cabera muttered, busying himself with applying wax to the wood of his bow.
‘How is Renius?’ Gaius asked.
Both seemed to pause for a second at the question. Marcus looked evasive. There was something odd there, Gaius thought.
‘He’ll live, but it will be a long time before he’s ever fit again,’ Marcus said. ‘At his age an infection would be the end of him, but Cabera says he’ll make it.’
‘He will,’ Cabera said firmly.
Gaius sighed and sat down. ‘What happens now? I’m too young to take my father’s place, to represent his interests in Rome. In truth, I would not be happy running only the estate, but I never had time to learn about the rest of his affairs. I don’t know who looked after his wealth, or where the deeds to the land are.’ He turned to Tubruk. ‘I know you are familiar with some of it and I would trust you to control the capital until I am older, but what do I do now? Continue to hire tutors for Marcus and myself? Life seems suddenly vague; without direction, for the first time.’
Cabera stopped polishing at this outburst.
‘Everyone feels this at some time. Did you think I planned to be here when I was a young boy? Life has a way of taking twists and turns you did not expect. I would not have it any other way, for all the pain it brings. Too much of the future is already set, it is good that we cannot know every detail or life would become a grey, dull sort of death.’
‘You will have to learn fast, that is all,’ Marcus continued, his face alight with enthusiasm.
‘With Rome as it is? Who will teach me? This is not a time of peace and plenty, where my lack of political skill can be overlooked. My father was always very clear about that. He said Rome was full of wolves.’
Tubruk nodded grimly. ‘I will do what I can, but already some will be looking at which estates have been weakened and might be bought cheaply. This is not the
