“Titus, there are no words to thank you for what you're trying to do, but your father will never agree to this.”
“Why?” I asked indignantly, “I'll give him more than enough money to buy two slaves to replace each of you.” When you are young, the world is so simple and problems so easy to solve. Still, Phocas shook his head sadly. “You could give him money to buy ten slaves for each of us Titus, and it wouldn't matter.”
Looking to Gaia for support in arguing with Phocas, I saw in her eyes the same sad emptiness. “He’s right, my darling boy. It has nothing to do with the money.”
“Then what does it have to do with then?” I demanded, although a voice inside me told me that I already knew the answer.
“It has to do with the idea that it’s something that you desperately want. You know your father has no love for you, Titus. What you don’t know is that his hatred has grown in leaps and bounds since you left. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't curse your name.”
I was stunned, although I do not know why, unless it was because I still entertained some childish fantasy of winning my father’s affections by great deeds. The knowledge that his hate for me had only grown in my absence smothered the last spark of hope I nurtured that somehow things could be made right between us, and I felt the coldness return to my heart, seeing in the reflection of Phocas and Gaia’s gaze that it was clear to see in my expression.
“Then,” I spoke slowly and deliberately, “I'll give you your freedom another way.”
At first they did not understand, then a look of horror and………..something else flashed across Phocas’ face. “Don't speak of such things Titus.”
He said this with an urgency that surprised me. I knew that they would not jump at the idea, at least at first, so I decided to drop it, sure that they would warm to it in time. The fact that I could very coldly contemplate the murder of my own father was not lost on me but I shrugged it off, thinking that what I was just told severed the last thread of obligation I held towards him. If he hated me so, I would return the favor, and I was a much more deadly enemy to have than vice versa, so I dropped the subject for the time being and moved to safer topics.
Lucius finally came staggering out into the main room, his eyes in their usual bloodshot state; as his bleary vision focused on me, he gave a grunt of surprise, and I was gratified to see a look of some fear on his face. Sitting there, I looked at him steadily and when he did not speak, I forced myself to adopt a tone that I hoped sounded pleasant.
“Salve father. It's good to see you so……..well.”
Continuing to stare at me, he said nothing for what seemed like half a watch, before blurting out, “What by Dis are you doing here? I thought we’d seen the last of you.” Before I could respond, his face screwed up in suspicion and he continued, “You didn’t get thrown out of the Legion, did you? Well, if you did it wouldn’t surprise me, but you can’t come back here.”
Before I could stop myself, I leapt up and stepped toward him, my hand going to my sword. The movement was not lost on him and he gave a yelp of terror as he stumbled back, then immediately lost his balance, crashing into a heap on the floor. He stared up at me, the fear and hatred clear as he made no attempt to disguise his true feelings, and I know that my face reflected the same thing.
“No, old man. See these?” I tapped the phalarae, “I won these. You know how I won these?”
Leaning down, I made sure that our eyes were level before I spoke, more softly this time, my tone only serving to increase the menace, “I won them by killing a lot of men, father. I've shed the blood of more than a dozen men, all of them better than you. You'd do well to remember that.”
“You impudent whelp,” his lips curled back and I could see that his teeth were rotting out of his mouth, accounting for the stench that emanated from them, “I am the pater…….”
Before he could finish and before I had any conscious thought, the sword was in my hand, the sight of it causing him to become a cringing dog in the instant it took me to draw it.
“You're a drunken, mean little man,” I cut him off, “and you'd do well to remember that. I'm the head of this family now, by the right given to me by this,” I brandished the sword, relishing the abject terror that it evoked, “and I'll take that right if you say one……..more……..word.”
I gestured with the sword back to his room. “Well, I think we’ve caught up. You can go back to your room now.”
Staggering to his feet, he looked like he was thinking of arguing, a thought that evaporated from his head in the time it took me to point back to him with my blade. He made to leave, but as he stumbled away, I called to him. Turning to look at me, I smiled sweetly at him and finished, “And if you even think for one moment to take your anger out on them,” I jerked my head in the direction of Phocas and Gaia, standing as still as statues, “I'll find out from my sisters, and I'll come back and show you one of the tricks I learned about how to flay a man alive. Then I'll tan your hide to use as a cloak and your shriveled ball sac will be my coin purse. Do we understand each other?”
As I said this, I realized with equal parts satisfaction and unease that I meant every word I said. From the expression on Lucius’ face, he knew it too. Gulping, he nodded then exited the room.
The confrontation with my father had ruined the mood of homecoming, so I declined the chance to stay the night. Although I was fairly sure that my father would not have the courage to try anything while I slept, I did not feel like sleeping with one eye open. Hugging the both of them and promising that I would write this time, since I had not done so while on campaign, I left them standing at the edge of our property, tears streaming down their face. After waving to them once, I refused to look back, not wanting to risk becoming a blubbering fool in front of them. Deciding then to head for Livia and Cyclop’s farm, despite it meaning that Vibius would not come with me, I calculated I would get there after dark, not that I was worried about being alone at night. In fact, I somewhat looked forward to the thought of some bandit or bandits being unlucky or stupid enough to pick me for easy prey in the night. After all, I told myself, it had been more than a month since I last saw any real action, my confrontation with Aulus hardly qualifying in my mind, and I did not want my skills to get rusty. Even as I thought that, though, I knew that I was lying to myself. It had nothing to do with my skills; the feelings one gets during battle can be as crippling a habit as the hold wine had over my father, and like one in the grip of Bacchus, where the lack of the grape causes a violent reaction of the body, so too does the lack of action to a warrior. Such is the feeling one gets when there has been no violent action that your whole being craves that kind of stimulation, like you are starving of some nutrient. I was now infected with the disease, and it would haunt me for the rest of my life. Yet I was only dimly aware of the deeper meaning of all this as I walked down the road, whistling one of our marching tunes. Passing around Astigi, I did so after deciding to give it something of a wide berth because of what had happened earlier. As far as I knew we had escaped any kind of trouble, but I held no desire to find out differently by stumbling into the arms of the city guard. Walking along, I contemplated what I would do if indeed there were some problem with what I did that day, and decided that I would have to take whatever action necessary to ensure that Vibius and I could escape back to camp, then put my faith in the army protecting its own. There had already been several incidents where Legionaries had either severely beaten or killed civilians and to my knowledge, none of them received any punishment. The army’s view is that if a civilian is stupid enough to tangle with a Legionary, perhaps they are not meant for this world to begin with, and looking at it rationally, from Rome’s point of view, there is more value in a Legionary than there is in the ordinary citizen. As long as one did not go about killing patricians or equestrians, a soldier could be fairly confident that they would be able to avoid the normal consequences associated with murdering someone.