“I prefer the camp, sir," Lucius replied simply.
Antony laughed out loud. "You’re always the trusty centurion, Lucius. I know I can count on you. Have you recovered from your wounds?" Antony slapped a bare hand on the ribs where Lucius had received a deep thrust of a spear. Lucius was not ready for it, but he managed to deal with the pain without flinching.
"Quite recovered, sir."
“Good. Very good.” Antony then drew a serious expression that seemed put on. “You have my sincerest apologies, Lucius, about my behavior last night. I did not mean to bark at you like that. You know well the churlish mood that overcomes me when I’ve been up late drinking.”
Lucius nodded, but did not respond, surprised that the general had even thought to broach the matter. Late on the previous evening, when Lucius had been captain of the watch, a cloaked courier had arrived bearing a secret letter for the general’s eyes alone. Assuming that the letter had come from Caesar, and that Antony would want to know its contents without delay, Lucius had conducted the agent to Antony’s quarters in the dead of the night. The drunken general had received the messenger cordially, but he had also taken a moment to give Lucius a verbal thrashing over the intrusion. Lucius had thought nothing of it, for it was certainly not his first time dealing with a drunk and verbose senior officer, and the outburst had been closer to the behavior Lucius was more accustomed to from Antony. Now, this uncharacteristic apology by the once again affable general made Lucius even more uneasy.
“The truth is, Lucius, I have been overstressed of late,” Antony continued, not a trace of the alleged anxiety in his deportment. “I’ve got four legions sitting on the beach, with fingers up their arses, waiting for a favorable wind to take them across the sea to join Caesar, and I’ve scarcely enough transports to fit them all. Meanwhile, the Optimates fleet cruises up and down the Adriatic stroking its prick for me to make an attempt. I pray to Stimula, Lucius, that the gods intervene on our behalf, but until they do, we must content ourselves with smaller objectives. And this brings me to the reason I called for you.”
Several voluptuous women wearing masks and lingering about Anthony's couch laughed between themselves and whispered as they stared at Lucius's large frame. It was at that moment that Lucius had noticed two other men sitting in the shadows. He recognized the portly eunuch Orestes – a blonde-haired, shifty-eyed fellow that spoke in whispers and who was also Antony’s chief advisor – and another man whom he did not recognize, a thin, intelligent-looking noble with iron-gray hair. Like Lucius, these other two were among the minority of fully clothed men in the room. The bulging eyes and fat lips of the pale-skinned eunuch rolled wistfully at the sights all around him, in contrast to the noble who appeared even more uncomfortable than did Lucius.
Antony made a motion and the noble rose and approached, leaving the eunuch alone to ogle at the surroundings.
"Legate Atilius Marcellus,” Antony introduced them. “Meet Centurion Lucius Domitius."
"A pleasure, Centurion," the thin-faced man replied somewhat restlessly, his eyes only briefly meeting Lucius’s.
"Centurion Domitius will act as your escort on your little errand, Marcellus," Antony said carelessly between drinks. "And you may be glad of that, my friend. There's nary a better warrior in the legions."
"Oh, I will take your word for that, my lord," Marcellus said in lightly veiled disinterest, distracted by the breasts of a woman brushing past him.
"Excuse me, sir," Lucius said with surprise at the assignment which he was now hearing about for the first time. "What is it that I am to do?"
Antony laughed heartily at the bewildered expression on his face. "Don't worry, Lucius. This is a simple matter. You will be bodyguard to Marcellus, here. Never once let him out of your sight. Not even for a piss." He laughed and gave the legate a good-natured shove. "Do as he says, but make sure he does as I have bid him."
Lucius cleared his throat once, doing his best to remain outwardly calm. "Pardon me, General, but it was my intention to rejoin the Tenth at the first opportunity. I am not the right choice for this -"
"There you go, second-guessing me," Antony interrupted chuckling. "And don't knit your Spanish brow at me, my valiant Lucius. You are the perfect fit for this task, and if you had half the patience of a flea on a turd, you will find that I have taken your desires to heart. Don't think the dozen requests you sent through my adjutant never reached me. In giving you this assignment, I am conceding to your request. Marcellus, here, is to deliver a very important message for me in Epirus. You will accompany him to Brundisium, board a vessel waiting there, and sail for the Greek coast. Once you have made land fall, and have conveyed him to his destination, you can go your way and rejoin your legion, and Marcellus can go his."
The sudden prospect of leaving this stink-laden city and returning to the army made Lucius momentarily let his guard down, and the elation must have been apparent.
"Ah, see? I do repay my debts," Antony said smugly at the look on his face, taking the opportunity to slap the bare cheeks of a young, dark-skinned woman shuffling past them as she refilled cups from a wine jug. "Be sure to make your way back here in a few moments, my lovely." Antony said ravenously, studying her breasts as one might select the ripest fruit from a tree. Lucius saw that the woman appeared somewhat frightened at the fate that soon awaited her, but she smiled obediently at the general and moved on.
"I do enjoy an Asiatic from time to time, Lucius," Antony said, watching the woman’s supple form float around the room. "Their eyes have something behind them that cannot be described. It's mysterious, like they either plan to cut your balls off or give you a romping you'll never forget. I could never get my fill of them when I was stationed in the east. One reason I regretted leaving. What say you? Ever had an eastern woman? That tart is woman enough for the both of us."
Lucius gritted his teeth. "Apologies, sir, but I must refuse such a generous offer."
"Bah! That's your problem, Lucius. You're all duty and no merriment. I think you'd hump your shield as soon as take that armor off. Well, stick with me, my austere friend, and we'll soon see about having that stick removed from your arse!"
Antony ambled over to a chamber pot and proceeded to urinate, still chuckling to himself, apparently mistaking Lucius's restraint for prudishness.
Lucius had certainly bedded his share of women in the course of his well-travelled career. His tall frame and rough features had drawn many to him in the lands conquered by Caesar's hosts. But his view toward women differed from that of Antony's. Though he had slain many a man with bare hand and sword, he would never force himself on a woman, as many conquering soldiers thought it their right. Nor was he naive enough to believe that the women who had invited him to their beds were affectionately pulled to him. He knew well that women in conquered lands often gave themselves over willingly to a soldier who would protect them from rape and worse from his comrades. More than once, he had slain a drunken legionary or auxiliary in some darkened alley after witnessing such offenses. His own mother and sister had been raped and murdered, and he bore a special hatred toward those who would perpetrate such a foul act, regardless of whether or not the guilty men were in his legion. In his own mind, those he had killed had been inadequate substitutes for the one man truly responsible for the murder of his family – for that man still lived.
That man, that two-faced butcher – one Marcus Valens, an exiled senator who had tried to do away with Lucius on more than one occasion – lived and breathed the air of this life while the spirits of Lucius’s family cried out to him for revenge. As much as Lucius despised the streets of Rome, he had ventured out shortly after his recovery, and had sought out the house of the Valenii. It had not taken long to find it, and it had been much as he had expected, an abandoned villa on the outskirts of the city that appeared not to have been inhabited for years. From the few locals brave enough to speak to a probing centurion, he had learned that the house still belonged to the Valenii family. Someday, Marcus Valens would return. Someday, so would he – and he would finally avenge his family.