The prison door closed with a resounding thud. Marius nodded to the guard outside, hoping he’d done the right thing in bringing the patrol back so soon, though both he and Ario had agreed it would have been foolish to go on. The audacity of the attack suggested that there were more warriors ahead, possibly too many, and he wasn’t going to risk losing good men simply to prove a point. He’d seen enough to convince himself.
As he’d expected, the young Caledonian warrior hadn’t told them anything, though he hoped a few days on his own would be sufficient to change his mind. He had a few cuts and bruises, including a nasty gash on his arm—nothing dangerous, but one that could become infected if left untended for too long. He’d have to send the camp medic to him later after Ario’s men had been seen to. Injuries in battle were one thing, but he didn’t want the boy dying on him.
His conscience pricked him at the thought. He would have preferred a full-grown warrior to a boy, even if a youth was more likely to talk, but there was too much at stake for him to be squeamish about it. If the boy was old enough to wield a weapon, then he was old enough to suffer the consequences, no matter how unpleasant the thought.
He turned his weary feet in the direction of the villa. Would Livia be there? The sight of her standing, breathless and anxious-looking, beside the gate when he’d ridden back through had made his heart leap, even more than he would have expected, though her reaction when she’d actually seen him had bothered him for the rest of the afternoon. For a few hopeful moments, he’d thought she’d actually run across the courtyard to find him, but her expression when she’d finally met his eyes had been anything but pleased. She’d looked positively horrified. Had she been hoping to be widowed again so soon?
No, he dismissed the thought as too harsh. He didn’t know exactly how she felt about him, but he was reasonably certain she didn’t want him dead. Strangely enough, he’d had the distinct impression that her reaction had had little to do with him and far more to do with his prisoner. Something about the evasive way she’d been staring suggested that she’d been trying very hard not to look at either of them.
Was it the man’s nakedness that had shocked her? No, she didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who’d be so easily offended. Or was it simply that he’d taken a prisoner at all? If it was, her reaction appeared somewhat excessive, but then he supposed she wasn’t used to life in the army, especially on a frontier. The reality of it could be brutal, but he had a job to do and orders to follow—above all, he had Roman lives to protect. He’d have to explain that to her.
He marched through the villa, resisting the urge to call out her name, not entirely convinced she wouldn’t hide from him if he did. As it turned out, he didn’t need to. She was in the courtyard again, perched on the low wall where they’d sat side by side the night before, hunched over with her face in her hands.
‘Livia?’ He came to stand in front of her, half-alarmed, half-irritated. How could she be so affected by the sight of one prisoner? ‘What is it?’
She didn’t answer, her shoulders going rigid, as if she were still reluctant to lift her head and look at him.
‘It’s nothing.’ With her hands over her face, her voice sounded muffled.
‘It doesn’t look like nothing.’ He frowned at her denial. If she were one of his soldiers, then he’d simply demand to know what was going on. If only women were so easy...
She dropped her hands at last, dragging them across her cheeks as if she were trying to rub some colour back into them. To his relief, her eyes, though wide and slightly wild-looking, were dry. At least she hadn’t been crying.
‘It’s just the thought of it. The thought of you in battle.’
A wave of relief washed through him. ‘You mean you were worried about me?’
‘Of course!’ She sounded angry and offended at the same time. ‘You could have been injured!’
‘I’m a soldier. That’s always a risk.’
Her gaze raked him up and down. ‘You have blood on your armour.’
‘It’s not mine. At worst I might have a few bruises.’
‘Good!’
He lifted an eyebrow, even more confused than before. As much as he wanted to believe that such an extreme reaction had been caused entirely by worry for him, he wasn’t completely convinced.
‘So you’ve been right all along?’ Her voice had a quaver in it this time. ‘There really is a rebellion coming?’
‘It looks likely. We were attacked by a war party who were trying to stop us from seeing something, preparations for an assault on the wall most likely, but one skirmish doesn’t prove anything. Not yet anyway.’
‘Yet?’
‘We have a prisoner.’ He watched her reaction as he spoke. ‘With any luck, he’ll talk.’
‘I saw.’ She dropped her eyes tellingly. ‘He was injured.’
‘Not badly.’
‘He might still need attention.’
‘So do Ario’s men.’
‘Oh...yes.’ A guilty expression crossed her face. ‘Were any of them badly hurt?’
‘A few injuries, but no losses, fortunately.’
‘What about the war party?’
‘You seem very worried about them.’ He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms at the same time. ‘They’re our enemies, Livia.’
This time she didn’t flinch. ‘They’re still people, too, aren’t they?’
‘So they are.’ He felt a shadow of suspicion at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. ‘We inflicted some damage, but it was just a skirmish. There were no bodies left on the ground if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Oh.’
‘Livia?’ Briefly he thought about sitting down beside her and then decided against it. The intimacy they’d shared the previous night seemed a distant memory, as if there were another wall between them suddenly, one that he couldn’t cross to reach her. ‘What else is it?’
She hesitated for a moment, drawing in a deep breath before she spoke again.
‘What if your prisoner doesn’t talk?’
‘We’re giving him a few days on his own to think about it.’
‘Is that all?’
There was an accusatory gleam in her eye and he frowned, not sure what she was getting at.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, is that all you’re doing to him, leaving him on his own? Or will you do more? Will you hurt him?’
He stiffened at the accusation. ‘Hopefully that won’t be necessary.’
‘But if it is...will you?’
‘No.’ He spoke in a clipped voice. Torturing prisoners wasn’t a practice he approved of, though he knew of several Roman officers who had no such scruples. ‘I won’t, but it might not be up to me.’
‘You mean if you take him to Coria?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about afterwards? What will you—they—do to him after he’s told them what they want to know? Will they let him go?’
‘No.’ He wasn’t going to lie.
Her head jerked as if an invisible hand had just slapped her across the cheek. ‘You mean they’ll sell him as a slave?’
‘Possibly. I doubt the decision will be up to me.’
‘It’s your responsibility! You took him prisoner!’
‘Because he attacked us. He’s a barbarian!’
‘He’s a boy!’
She leapt to her feet, her tone anguished, and the shadow of suspicion grew longer. He’d never kept slaves himself, but the practice was widespread throughout the Empire. Most Romans accepted it. But then her mixed feelings about Rome had been obvious almost from the start. Perhaps there was more behind it than he’d thought...
‘You don’t approve of slavery?’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t your family have slaves?’
Blue-green eyes sparked with some fierce emotion before she twisted her face to one side.
‘Yes. That is, my brother and Julius both did, but my father freed all of his slaves before I was born. He thought it was wrong to enslave another person, Roman or not.’
‘Then I applaud him.’
‘You do?’ She whipped her head back round again.
‘Yes. Denying any man his freedom without just cause is wrong.’
‘How can you say so when you’ve just taken a prisoner?’
‘I said without just cause, but he was part of a war party that attacked us. Now he has to face the consequences. Under the circumstances, he’s lucky to be alive.’
‘You were in his territory.’
‘What?’ The words were so faint he wasn’t sure he’d heard them correctly.
She lifted her chin, a look of defiance crossing her features. ‘You were north of the wall, outside Roman territory. He might have thought you were the one asking for consequences.’
‘Is that so?’ He advanced a step towards her, speaking slowly and meticulously. ‘And is that what you think?’
‘No.’ He noticed it took her a few moments to answer. ‘I just don’t think he deserves to be condemned to a life of slavery for defending his own territory.’
‘He hasn’t been condemned to anything yet.’
‘But he will be!’
‘Probably, yes.’ He took a deep breath, trying to quell his own temper. ‘Why the hell do you care so much about the fate of one warrior? Because your mother was Carvetti? It might have escaped your notice in Lindum, but the Caledonians are no friend to the tribes south of the wall.’
‘This has nothing to do with the Carvetti! It’s about what’s right and slavery is wrong!’
‘Not according to Rome.’
He turned and walked a few paces away, feeling bone-weary all of a sudden. It had been a difficult morning and the last thing he wanted to do was argue, especially when she seemed so determined to cast him as the villain. It was a long way from the reunion he’d been hoping for...
‘Did your family keep slaves?’
He glanced back over his shoulder. She was still staring at the spot where he’d been standing, her face flushed with emotion now.
‘I didn’t have a family, remember?’
‘The people you lived with, then.’
‘I lived with one of my father’s old soldiers and his wife and children. They hardly had the money to keep me, let alone anyone else.’
‘So you’ve never had slaves?’
He frowned. Something about the way she asked the question told him there was more to it than just curiosity, as if his answer really mattered to her...
‘No.’
She closed her eyes briefly and he almost turned back before thinking better of it.
‘I ought to go and check on the men. As for the rest, I’m only following orders, Livia. My conscience is clear.’
He stalked out of the villa, struck by the uncomfortable realisation that he was lying.