Aurelia pulled an understanding smile. ‘I see.’
‘I can come back in ten days or so, if your mother will allow it.’ He glanced at Atia.
‘You’d be most welcome.’
Aurelia did her best to look pleased. It was better than nothing.
The slap of sandal leather off the floor in the atrium stopped any further conversation.
Aurelia’s lips thinned when the bandy-legged figure of Agesandros appeared in the doorway. She had come to loathe him. Besides, what business had he here?
Atia frowned. ‘We are at breakfast, in case you can’t see.’
‘My apologies, mistress.’ Agesandros bowed his head, but stayed put.
‘What is it?’
‘A messenger has arrived. He’s military, from the look of him.’
Aurelia thought her heart would stop. Across from her, Gaius’ face was the picture of shock. Even her mother struggled to speak.
‘A messenger?’ barked Atia after a moment, regaining her self-control. ‘From where?’
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. He wants to see the mistress of the house.’
‘Bring him in. At once!’ cried Atia. ‘We shall meet him in the tablinum.’
‘Yes, mistress.’ Agesandros spun on his heel and trotted off.
‘Do you think he’s carrying a message from Father?’ Aurelia’s voice faltered. ‘O-or about Father?’
‘Let us pray to the gods that it’s the former,’ replied her mother, standing up and smoothing down her dress. ‘Follow me.’
Aurelia shot to her mother’s side like a child in need of a hug.
Gaius stayed where he was.
Atia threw him a look. ‘You come too.’
‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘You’re practically family.’
Aurelia was grateful for Gaius’ presence by her side as they hurried to the tablinum. There was no time for a prayer at the lararium — she could hear the clash of hobnails in the atrium — but she threw up the most fervent of prayers to her ancestors, that their protection of her father and Quintus had worked. Had kept them alive.
Her mother took up a position before the household shrine, back upright, a stern expression on her face. Aurelia stood to her right, with Gaius on the other side. Despite herself, Atia’s face worked as Agesandros reappeared with a weary-looking man in a thick wool cloak a step behind him. Within a heartbeat, her mien became more welcoming. Aurelia didn’t know how her mother could remain so calm. She had to clench her fists by her sides to stop herself from instantly screaming questions.
Agesandros stepped to one side. ‘The mistress of the house, Atia, wife of Gaius Fabricius.’
The man approached. Snow fell from the broad brim of his Boeotian helmet as he walked, and his calf-high boots left wet impressions on the mosaic floor. Aurelia studied the messenger’s face as he drew near. He was unshaven, gaunt-cheeked, exhausted-looking. She wanted to be sick. Was he carrying bad news?
‘My lady.’ A crisp salute.
‘You are welcome. .’
‘Marcus Lucilius, my lady. I serve with the cavalry that’s attached to Longus’ legions.’
Aurelia’s world stood still. She could see every detail of Marcus’ face. The marks that had been left on his cheeks by the pox. A spot on his chin. A scar, possibly caused by a blade, running along the left side of his stubbled chin.
‘What brings you here?’ Atia’s voice was serene, while Aurelia could taste bile in her mouth. Gaius didn’t look too happy either.
A weary smile. ‘I bear a message from your husband.’
‘He lives?’ cried Atia.
‘When I left the camp near Placentia, he was in good health.’
‘And his son?’ blurted Aurelia.
‘He was also well.’
‘Oh, thank the gods!’ cried Aurelia, her hands rising to her mouth. Her mother was more composed, but her expression had softened further. They even exchanged a tentative smile. Gaius was grinning like a fool.
The messenger rummaged inside his off-white tunic and produced a rolled parchment. ‘Pardon the state of it, my lady,’ he said, proffering it. ‘Fabricius bade me guard it with my life. It’s been against my skin for the whole journey.’
‘It’s of no matter,’ said Atia, practically snatching it from his hand. Silence fell as she slit the wax seal with a thumbnail and unrolled the letter. Her eyes drank in the words; her lips moved in silent synchrony.
The tension was too much for Aurelia. ‘What does it say, Mother?’
‘Your father is alive and unhurt.’ There was a slight shake in Atia’s voice. ‘So too is Quintus.’
Tears of joy rolled down Aurelia’s cheeks. She shot a glance at the lararium and the death masks on the walls to either side of it. Thank you, household spirits. Thank you, my ancestors. I will make offerings in your honour. ‘Does he send other news?’
‘The fighting at the Ticinus was bitter. The cavalry gave a good account of themselves, but they were substantially outnumbered. That was when Publius Scipio was injured.’
Gaius and Aurelia nodded at one another. Naturally, the news that a consul had been wounded had reached Capua soon after the clash.
‘Shortly afterwards, he was sent on a patrol with Quintus, over a river into enemy territory. Flaccus went with them. It seems to have been his idea.’
Aurelia felt a trace of unease.
‘They were ambushed not just once, but twice. Only a handful of riders made it back to the ford where they’d crossed. Your father, Quintus and Flaccus were among them.’ A little gasp. ‘Hanno was among the enemy soldiers!’
A pause.
Atia’s eyes shot to Aurelia’s. ‘I’m sorry.’
Aurelia struggled to understand for an instant. If her father and Quintus were all right, then. . ‘Flaccus?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘He’s dead. Apparently, one of Hanno’s brothers killed him.’
Her husband-to-be, slain? Aurelia felt neither sadness nor relief. She felt numb. Detached. ‘I don’t understand. How did Father and Quintus survive?’
‘Apparently, Hanno said he owed Quintus his life twice over. Two lives for two debts. Quintus and your father were allowed to go, but they killed the others.’
‘Savages!’ growled Gaius. Lucilius rumbled in agreement.
Our troops would do the same, thought Aurelia angrily. At least Hanno honoured his obligations. That’s more than many Romans would do. Still she felt nothing for Flaccus.
‘They managed to retrieve Flaccus’ body the next day so that he could be given a proper burial,’ Atia went on. ‘That will be of some consolation to his family.’
‘Does he say ought of the battle at the Trebia?’ asked Gaius.
Atia read on. ‘A little. The fighting there was even more intense than at the Ticinus. The weather was appalling. To reach the battle, our troops had to cross several streams. By the time the battle began, they were soaking wet and freezing cold. Hannibal’s troops, his cavalry in particular, fought very well. He also sprang an ambush on the rear of our army. Both flanks broke under the pressure.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Your father and Quintus were lucky to escape the slaughter. With a band of others, they made for the safety of Placentia. Longus arrived a few hours later with around ten thousand legionaries.’
Aurelia tried to imagine the scene. She shuddered. ‘It must have been carnage.’
‘It was terrible,’ agreed Lucilius. ‘Or so my comrades say.’
‘You weren’t at the Trebia?’
A grimace. ‘To my shame, I was not, my lady. As a messenger, I am often away from the army. It was my bad luck not to be present at the battle.’
‘Or your good fortune,’ said Atia.
A lopsided smile. ‘You might think so, but I would have wished to have been there with my comrades.’
‘There is no shame in doing your duty,’ said Atia. ‘You can take pride today in what you have done as well. Our lives have been a complete torment since hearing of the events in Cisalpine Gaul. Although the war is still going on, we can take great consolation from the fact that our men are alive.’