but they’d discovered exactly where its weaknesses lay—and there were still sections of the wall that needed repair and reinforcements.
‘All we can do is stay alert.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Pulex gestured towards the carriage. ‘What was all that about?’
The band around Marius’s head tightened again. ‘She wanted to talk about Scaevola. She’s worried about meeting him.’
‘She ought to be. You have to pity the woman.’
Marius made a non-committal sound, fixing his gaze on the horizon with a scowl. Pity wasn’t exactly the emotion he’d been feeling, though he supposed it was one among many. On the whole, however, his mind, not to mention his body, had been governed by a far different emotion, one that was still making him feel too hot beneath his mail shirt and armour.
To say that he’d been caught by surprise was an understatement. He hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place, regarding the whole mission as a waste of both time and resources, but he’d expected a girl, not a woman, and especially not one who was quite so stunningly beautiful, albeit not in a conventional or fashionable way. Her face was too round, her forehead too wide, her nose and cheeks dotted with clusters of tiny brown freckles, but there was something mesmerising about her none the less, an inner radiance accompanied by an air of sadness that gave her face a deeper beauty than that of any other woman he’d ever come across. She’d seemed strong and yet vulnerable at the same time, the proud tilt of her head putting him in mind of an empress, a woman he might feel honoured to serve. His first thought upon seeing her was that Scaevola was the luckiest dog this side of the Tiber.
As for her hair... He’d seen red hair before, of course, though nothing quite so resplendent. If he didn’t know better he would have thought she was Caledonian. Trailing over a bosom that had raised his temperature by a few more painful degrees, it had looked like some kind of lustrous dawn-kissed waterfall, rippling with amber lights. He’d been acutely aware of her womanly figure, too, all the curves and contours barely disguised by a tight-fitting, silken stola, though he’d tried his hardest not to look, losing himself in the depths of her luminous blue-green eyes instead while he’d tried to pull himself back together. Surely no more than a minute could have passed while he’d simply stood and stared, though it had been long enough for her to come to a mistaken assumption about his identity.
What on earth had caused her to jump to such a ludicrous conclusion? Annoyance warred with self-recrimination. She might have asked who he was before simply assuming! But then it had been an easy mistake, especially for someone who didn’t know anything about her betrothed, as she clearly didn’t. And of course she’d assumed that the man who’d come to greet her, not to mention one who’d stared at her quite so openly, was the man she was going to marry! It had been a natural misunderstanding, though one that might have been avoided if only he’d introduced himself sooner. If only he hadn’t been rendered temporarily speechless at the sight of her. Now he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with, himself or Scaevola, but it was no wonder she’d looked so flushed and self-conscious. He could hardly have behaved any more inappropriately!
Perhaps that explained why he’d felt unable to refuse when she’d asked to march alongside him. Granting such a request was against protocol, not to mention his own better judgement, but he’d agreed anyway, distracted by the mention of her legs and the realisation that he wanted, very much, to see them. When she’d tugged her stola up around her calves he’d felt an almost overpowering urge to glance downwards. Besides, he’d been impressed by the fact that she hadn’t simply run away after her mistake. Embarrassed though she’d been, she’d stayed anyway, asking her questions about Scaevola with an air of quiet determination. Clearly she was no shy and retiring Roman maiden, even if he’d been unable to give her the answers she’d wanted. Even his attempt at consolation had failed. Damn it all, he knew how to address a whole cohort of soldiers, to send men into battle when necessary, but he’d been unable to offer comfort to one woman!
He quickened the marching pace, muttering a series of increasingly vehement denunciations against Lucius Scaevola under his breath. He was the one who ought to have come to greet her—she was his bride, after all! Albeit an unwanted one, if the look on that good-for-nothing’s face as they’d passed on the steps of the Legate’s villa that morning had been anything to go by. Nerva himself had looked none too pleased either when Marius entered his office a few moments later, his usually phlegmatic expression tense and agitated, as if he’d just been arguing.
‘You summoned me, sir?’ Briefly, he’d wondered if he ought to have waited outside, but Nerva had beckoned him forward with a wave.
‘Ah, Marius, a man of sense at last! Come in, I need your help. That boy is taking years off my life.’
‘Whatever you need, sir.’
‘What I need is a drink.’ Nerva had poured two cupfuls of wine and then given him a shrewd look. ‘You’ll have gathered by now that Scaevola wasn’t posted here by accident. His father is an acquaintance in the Senate and he asked for a favour.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Marius had nodded discreetly. He’d already guessed as much. It wasn’t uncommon for rich sons to be made Tribunes in the army, doing a few years of military service before joining the Senate, though Nerva’s tone made it sound as if, in this case, it had been more of a punishment.
‘His father wanted Scaevola out of Rome and out of trouble for a while.’ Nerva had dropped into the chair behind his desk with a sigh. ‘Only trouble found him before he ever reached us, it seems. You might recall that he was late arriving? Well, it appears that he broke his journey in Lindum for a week or so, tallying up a considerable gambling debt in the local taverns. Fortunately for him, the entire debt was bought up by the tavern owner. Unfortunately for him, he still couldn’t pay.’
‘Surely Scaevola’s family can afford it, sir?’
‘I get the impression that his father thinks he’s already paid more than enough. I’ll send a message to Rome, but it won’t get there in time.’
‘In time for what, sir?’
Nerva’s expression had darkened. ‘It would appear that the tavern owner is a cleverer man than our Lucius. He’s an important man in Lindum, too, one of its wealthiest citizens with political ambitions to boot. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s after a brother-in-law in the Senate.’
‘A brother-in-law?’
‘Quite.’ Nerva had tossed back the last of his wine with a flourish. ‘The tavern owner offered his sister as a bride in exchange for discharge of the debt and Scaevola agreed, though needless to say he’s not happy about it. In any case, the woman’s on her way here now. A messenger arrived last night. She ought to be arriving today.’
‘But Scaevola arrived a month ago. Why didn’t he mention it before?’
‘Doubtless he thought that out of sight was out of mind, but if you’re asking me to explain what goes on in his head then I can’t. He’s a disgrace to the army and to Rome. It’s absurd that a man like that can be a tribune while you—’ Nerva had stopped mid-sentence. ‘Forgive me, Marius, that was tactless of me.’
‘It’s only the truth, sir.’ He’d pulled his shoulders back purposively. ‘My father’s dishonour is mine, too. It’s only right that I pay for it.’
‘You’ve already done more than enough. If it were up to me, you’d be a senior centurion by now. There’s not a finer soldier in the whole
