Another visitor that day — a welcome surprise — had been Martialis. The old man had aged greatly. New lines etched his face; his hair was now altogether white. Tears had filled his eyes the instant he saw Aurelia; the same had happened to her. They had embraced like father and daughter. Martialis had had no news, but, like Aurelia, he assumed that Gaius had fallen at Cannae. Thus far, all news of the Roman and allied cavalry had been catastrophic. United in their grief, they had reminisced for a short time about those they had lost, but it hadn’t taken long before their sorrow had killed the conversation. Unsurprisingly, it was the baby who had lifted the mood, gurgling with happiness as Martialis dandled him on his knee. When it was time for the old man to leave, he had done so with evident regret. Aware of how alone Martialis must have been feeling, Aurelia had insisted that he promise to call in again soon.
Later that day, Aurelia was dozing in a comfortable chair in the courtyard. Publius was asleep; her mother was in the kitchen, making arrangements for that evening’s dinner. Lucius had retired to his office to write letters to his family’s business partners in other cities. Aurelia was woken by a loud rap on the front door. Alarmed, she listened hard but heard no further sounds outside until the knock was repeated again, this time harder. Aurelia’s heart beat a little faster. Was it Phanes? There had been no recent news of him, but that did not mean he would never cause trouble again. Calm yourself, she thought. A dozen men could not break down that door. Besides, there were always two armed slaves on duty there. Lucius appeared not to have heard the summons, so she indicated to Statilius that he should see who it was.
There was a strange look on his face when he returned a moment later. Aurelia rose as he approached. ‘Statilius?’
‘There is a soldier outside. He wants to speak to you.’
‘What about?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’
She felt the faintest ray of hope. ‘Is he a cavalryman? Or an allied infantryman?’
‘No, a regular legionary. A hastatus, I think.’
Aurelia’s hope died. She knew no citizen foot soldiers. What possible reason could one have to seek her out — other than to tell her something dreadful about the deaths of her father or brother? Dread took hold of her, but she batted it away. She felt a great compulsion to hear what the hastatus had to say. ‘Let him in.’
‘Do no such thing!’ cried Lucius, emerging into the courtyard. ‘We have no idea who he is.’
‘Yet it is possible that he has news for me,’ said Aurelia, heading towards the tablinum. ‘At the very least, I want to see his face. I can do that without admitting him.’
To her relief, Lucius did not try to stop her. Grumbling, he followed. Statilius took up the rear, his expression the picture of worry.
The slaves detailed to guard the house’s entrance were waiting by the door, clubs in hand. ‘Open the viewing port,’ she ordered. They eyed her warily, but when Lucius jerked his head, they rushed to obey. Swallowing her irritation that they had not done so at her command, Aurelia stepped up to the narrow rectangular opening. It was an unusual feature, but it meant the occupants could see whether it was safe to admit potential visitors. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight outside. A sturdy figure in a filthy, bloody tunic stood with his back to her. A battered helmet, missing its feathers, covered his head; a square plate protected the upper part of his torso front and back; she could see that he was armed with a sword. By the set of his slumped shoulders, he was exhausted.
‘Well?’ hissed Lucius.
‘He’s facing in the other direction.’ Aurelia coughed to attract the soldier’s attention.
He turned, and her mouth fell open. The unexpected uniform, the line of scabs on his jaw, the rings beneath his grey eyes, the layer of grime on every part of his exposed skin could not conceal who it was. ‘Quintus!’
‘Aurelia?’ He covered the ground to the door in a heartbeat. ‘Is that you?’
‘Yes, yes, it is I!’ Weeping with joy, she ripped at the bolts.
‘It’s your brother?’ Lucius was by her side, helping.
‘Yes. Thank all the gods, he’s alive!’
Brother and sister fell into each other’s arms the instant the door opened. They clung to one another with a fierceness and a joy that neither had ever felt before. Uncaring of who might see or hear, that Quintus stank of sweat and blood, that Lucius might disapprove, Aurelia sobbed her heart out. He shook with emotion, but shed no tears, instead transferring his feelings into their embrace.
‘I thought you had joined the socii infantry,’ said Aurelia eventually, remembering his letter.
‘I only said that in case Father tried to find me.’
She laughed. ‘What does it matter where you were? I cannot believe you are here. The news was so bad. It seemed impossible that you could have survived.’
He pulled back a little and gave her a sad smile. ‘I damn near didn’t.’ She let out another laugh, but nervous this time, and his face grew even more serious. ‘It was Corax, my centurion, who saved us. He kept the maniple together even when the units around us were collapsing and trying to flee. Rounded up a few more men. Spotted the weak point in the enemy line and smashed a hole in it wide enough for us to escape. If he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Thank all the gods! Have you seen Father, or heard any news of him? Or of Gaius?’ Or Hanno? she wanted to add, even though he could have no way of knowing that.
‘Gaius I have seen, but Father. .’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘He wasn’t among the few cavalrymen who joined up with us at Canusium after our retreat, nor with those who straggled in over the following couple of days. Word came that about fifty riders had escaped with the consul Varro to Venusia, so I went there as well. I had no joy.’ A heavy sigh. ‘I would have searched the battlefield, massive as it is, but the enemy camp is still close by. To venture anywhere near the place is to commit suicide.’
Aurelia’s heart sank. ‘You did what you could. We will pray that he reappears out of nowhere, like you and Gaius,’ she said, determined to remain positive. ‘If one miracle can happen, why not two?’
He nodded. ‘Let us hope so.’
It was even possible that Hanno had not been killed, thought Aurelia. She did not feel traitorous for adding him to her prayers. ‘Come in. Mother will be overjoyed to see you.’
His face lit up. ‘Martialis said I would find her here too.’ Entering, he offered his hand to Lucius. ‘My pardon for not introducing myself immediately. I am Aurelia’s brother, Quintus Fabricius. You must be Aurelia’s husband.’
‘Lucius Vibius Melito,’ said Lucius, clasping Quintus’ hand with his own. ‘It’s an honour to meet you.’
‘Likewise. My congratulations on your union.’ He saw Lucius staring at his garb. ‘You’re wondering why I am dressed as an ordinary hastatus?’
‘It is. . unusual,’ Lucius replied, a little awkwardly.
‘I never would have imagined you as an infantryman,’ said Aurelia, smiling.
‘It’s a long story. I can tell you later.’
‘This way.’ Aurelia led the way, eager to find their mother. ‘Have you been granted leave?’
A derisive snort. ‘No one has been allowed that. Varro is gradually regrouping the army, but it will take weeks before order is restored. So many of the officers are dead; the majority of men have been separated from their units — if those units even exist any more. Basically, it’s complete chaos. Corax told us that he wouldn’t “notice” if any of his men wanted to go and visit their families, as long as we swore to return within a couple of weeks. He said that the consuls had’ — here he threw an embarrassed look at Lucius — ‘fucked up so much that we were entitled to it. Gaius has had no such luck. His commander is a complete martinet. I had to carry the good news of his survival to Martialis on his behalf.’
‘Your centurion sounds like quite a man,’ said Lucius thoughtfully.