“That’s a lie! I said no such things. This one,” he gestured at Vibius, “just went crazy all of a sudden, right in the middle of a nice conversation. We were catching up on old times, and I was congratulating both of them on the job they did to those rebels up north, when out of nowhere he tried to stab me!”
Seeing Vibius’ jaw tighten, I threw up a hasty prayer that he would not lose his temper. Despite his obvious anger, his voice was calm as he retorted, “If I had wanted to stab you citizen, you'd be dead.”
Cornuficius nodded. “That’s true enough Galba.” It was not until that moment that I realized that I had known this boy Marcus, for I could have never have thought of him as a man, for something like seven years yet never knew his last name. “If Domitius wished it, you'd be as dead as your friend there.”
Ultimately, Marcus and Aulus’ reputation for trouble was the clinching argument that this was not the cold-blooded murder that Marcus claimed it to be. Compounding his problem was the reluctance of his followers to voice support for his side of the story. I have no doubt that there was a part of each of them secretly glad to see them both get their comeuppance in some way; bullies like that do not lead through personal inspiration, they rule through fear, so I was sure that each of the minions had run afoul of either or both of them at some point. For his part, Marcus disappeared a couple of days later, never to be seen again. And for our part, let us just say that although the townsfolk were friendly enough, they gave us a wide berth.
Leaving Vibius behind in town, I left with a promise that we would get back together in a couple of days when we were going to go see Cyclops and my sister. For perhaps the thousandth time in my life, I found myself plodding down the road towards my farm, yet despite the fact that I was now a man wearing the uniform of one of Rome’s Legions, I found my heart was still in my throat. In many ways it was still like being a ten year old boy who lost the bag of nails he had been sent to fetch having to go home to face the consequences. Angrily, I shook my head, chastising myself for such silly feelings. I was now over six feet tall, and had added more than ten pounds of muscle just in the few months I was away. The sun had turned my skin even darker brown than it was the day I left, while my hands and feet were encased in calluses so thick they were almost like iron plate. My chest glittered with decorations I had earned and in the purse from my belt dangled more gold in coin and jewelry than I had ever seen in my life. The sword on my hip had seen the death of many men, not to mention women and children, a fact that I preferred not to think of then or to this day. My helmet was polished to a high sheen, as was my armor, oiled and gleaming in perfect repair, with all the damaged or lost links replaced. The horsehair plume was freshly cleaned and re-dyed a perfect shade of black and I was wearing my best tunic. And yet, for all that, I was still a young boy with a knot in my stomach going home to an uncertain fate.
Seeing Phocas before he saw me, I realized with a start that he was old. The moment the thought crossed my mind, I chided myself. I had only been gone for a few months; there was no way that he had aged that much in such a short time. Of course, that meant that he was old when I left, except that I had not seen it until this moment. When I say he was old, he was all of 45 or 46, but when you are a teenager that is truly ancient, and I have no doubt that my perception was also due to the fact that I had been surrounded by mostly young men for the last months; even the Pilus Prior, who I was sure was of a similar age to Phocas, was only 28 years old. Nevertheless, I stopped for a moment to watch him, feeling a tightness in my chest as the unbidden thought came that, slave or not, I wished with all my heart that Phocas were my father, that desire quickly followed by the prickling of tears welling in my eyes. Horrified, I blinked them back, telling myself savagely that I would not shame myself like this. As I regained my composure, Phocas apparently sensed that someone was watching, straightening up and turning to peer at me. He frowned when he saw the Legionary standing in the road, and I could clearly see a look of worry flit across his face, no doubt wondering what troubles could have brought such a man to this farm. This brought a smile to my face, relishing the idea that I had changed so much that I was not recognized. Finally, the frown slipped from his face as recognition of who stood before him dawned, yet even then, he seemed unwilling to trust his eyes.
Taking a step forward, he asked tentatively, “Titus?”
“Who else would be coming to see you, you silly man?”
With that, he ran across the yard to greet me with a proper hug before turning to call to Gaia. She was working in the kitchen as usual, her hands red and raw from her work, and like I had with Phocas, I caught myself worrying at how tired and careworn she looked. Still, she was instantly alongside Phocas, pulling my head down to smother me with kisses, which I made a great show of protesting but secretly loved.
It was hard for her to find a spot on my cheek because of my helmet and finally she said crossly, “Take that thing off Titus so I can give you a proper kiss.”
My smile grew broader as I pulled it off, automatically placing it under my left arm as I was trained, while the two of them continued to fuss over me.
“By the gods boy, you look like Mars himself.” Phocas grasped me by the arm, looking me up and down with such pride that once again I felt the threat of burning tears.
Instead I forced a laugh as I shot back, “I’m better looking than Mars.”
His eyes turned to my phalarae and despite having no real experience of such things, he knew instantly they meant something special. Indicating them, he looked at me with a questioning gaze, and I nodded proudly. “I won those for bravery, during an engagement up north.”
If I was expecting a reaction, it certainly was not the one that I got from Gaia, whose smile immediately disappeared at my words. “Bravery? Bravery? What kind of men’s nonsense is that? You mean you did something foolish, didn’t you?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Phocas shook his head with a wry smile. “Don’t try to argue Titus. That's one battle you won't win.”
Almost as quickly, her irritation vanished as her examination of me moved her eyes to the scar down my arm, which was still pink and angry. She let out a cry as she grabbed it, running her hands along the length of the cut. “Titus! What have they done to you? How did this happen?”
Her eyes filled with tears, and now I could not help myself as my vision clouded. I was home with people who loved and cared for me, and there are few finer feelings in the world.
I postponed meeting Lucius for as long as I could, letting him sleep his afternoon drunk off while Phocas, Gaia and I caught up. From the two of them I learned that Valeria was expecting a child and experienced a strange thrill at the idea that I would be an uncle, something which, to that point at least, had never once crossed my mind. Livia had not become pregnant yet, but was by their account ecstatically happy with her husband. Lost on none of us was that both of my sisters’ sense of joy was in no small measure due to their being away from this place but we did not speak of that. Instead, I told them of the adventures I had been having, sanitizing it for both of them, deciding that telling them everything would only make them worry even more. As I talked, I ate some of Gaia’s porridge and the memories of happy times came wafting up to me with the scent of her cooking. I gave them the gifts I had chosen for them, along with a fairly large sum of money, telling them quietly to put that someplace where Lucius would never find it. And it was then that I told them my plans concerning them.
“I think that, in a couple more years, I'll have saved enough to buy you your freedom from Lucius.” Their look of stunned surprise and happiness made me feel ten feet tall, yet almost immediately it was replaced by one of such extreme sadness on the face of Phocas that I wondered if I had made a serious blunder.