“What is it?” Gaius broke the awkward silence as he touched Julia’s hand, feeling her soft skin against his rough fingers as he pulled her reach away from his face.
“Nothing,” she mussed with a wide grin. “I am merely looking for that boy I knew — the one that vowed to protect me with his body and heart.” She beamed — her touch, presence and voice leaching into Gaius that he was without thought or words — awestruck by this woman as if the goddess Athena had come from the heavens and stood before him now.
Gaius swallowed. “Am I so different now?” he asked nervously as he rested his hand over hers.
“No,” she smiled. “And yes. Nevertheless, you are he. I knew it the moment I saw you — those same eyes that shine the goodness of your heart that I’ve longed to see once again.”
“I’m pleased that I haven’t disappointed you,” Gaius replied, barely able to form a cohesive thought.
“I, on the other hand, must be quite different. I imagine you pictured me astray — fat, with hideous skin and matted hair,” she giggled.
“At times, perhaps I might have imagined that fiction. However, you are nothing that I could have dreamt.” She stared at him with curious eyes as Gaius took a deep breath. “You are beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen — a goddess statue made real,” Gaius caressed her cheek, memorizing her every feature.
Julia blushed, noticeable even in the cold. She then eagerly took his hand and pulled him over towards the stables, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
“What is it?” he asked as he followed without hesitation.
“Hush, you shall see in due time.”
Julia signaled for one of her slaves to bring two horses over to her and Gaius.
He noticed, a boy no more than twelve years old escorted two horses to them that the animals were already prepared for riding. It seemed to him that she had planned this encounter, when she could escape her father’s party and be alone with him without fear of interruption.
Gaius ran his hand over the horse he was given, feeling the soft hairs of the animal’s mane between his fingers. It was an expensive horse, and elegant, not the bulky steeds that were drafted in the legions.
Taking the reins, Gaius pulled himself up onto the horse’s back, quickly easing into a comfortable sitting position. He was surprised the animal did not voice any discomfort. It felt odd for him to not be on Apollo.
Julia mounted her horse with the assistance of a slave. As she positioned her thighs over the mare’s back, she glanced over towards Gaius, who rode next to her, both waiting as the gates were swung open.
“It can be dangerous for a lady to ride this late at night,” Gaius commented as he kept a few paces behind her, knowing that she would be leading him through the city, and to whatever destination she had in mind for the two.
“Then it is a good thing I have my protector with me. Do try to keep up, soldier,” she smiled before kicking her horse, which reared back slightly before bursting into a full gallop and rounding the corner once outside the gate.
Gaius spurred his horse forward, and as he took raced down the paved streets, their two animals hoof echoing through the night as Julia led Gaius towards the western gate. Where she was taking him, he did not care. He was lost in the moment.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The empty abyss of the hollow doorway loomed before Gaius, who feared to move forward as he rested several feet from the entranceway to his boyhood house. The home, if it could be called that was barely standing. Most of the roof had caved in, and part of the west wall had fallen, scattering bricks over the weeds and waist-high grass that’d grown between the foundations; the only life came from a cluster of roosting birds that had nested between the broken beams.
Gaius almost forgot about his home. He hardly thought about it and had never planned on returning, yet, here he was now, standing before the threshold, afraid to go inside.
Julia was stagnant behind him, just out of arms reach. She hadn’t told Gaius about her plans to bring him to his home when they left the city behind them several hours ago. They rode through the darkness, guided by the full moon. Her heart, like his had raced with excitement, and she hated believing she had deceived him. However, she felt that she needed to bring him, her, to lift some of the burden she knew he carried on his back, for leaving his father and her behind ten years ago.
“It is okay, Gaius. I’m right here,” Julia spoke softly to him as she rested her hand down on his shoulder.
He wanted to feel angry with her. He wasn’t ready for this, but as he turned and glanced back, he could see the concern in her eyes as she urged him forward.
Gaius took the first careful step towards the propped door.
Brushing aside cobwebs, he entered, with Julia close by.
There was enough moonlight to see by, which cast through the broken roof and gaping holes above. The illumination revealed nothing of interest as no furnishings besides a single bed and a table were present, both wooden frames having rotted and covered with moss from prolonged exposure.
There were no personal effects whatsoever. Gaius didn’t much care. There was nothing of value regardless — everything that had been his father had given him when he left to join the Sixth Legion.
Gaius clenched his fists as memories of his childhood filled his mind: that last night eating with his father at the table, begging to be allowed to go to Rome with Antony. The bed which held the footlocker, and the fireplace that cooked the tasteless military stew, and the occasional fits of anger and laughter shared between his father and mother, when she was still alive.
Gaius was silent for a long time as his eyes drifted lazily from corner to corner, seemly expecting to find something. And then he spoke, low and without turning towards Julia, who remained fixed behind him, still standing between the broken doorframes.
“When did he die, my father?” Gaius whispered as he focused his attention to the bed.
“Some years after you left. However, he hung in there for a long while, still,” she answered carefully.
“No, he did not die alone,” Julia replied. Grabbing Gaius’ hand, she pulled him out of the house. “Come with me, I wish to show you something,” she urged him.
Gaius was reluctant at first. Earlier, this night he followed her without question, and this was where she brought him. Why, he wasn’t so sure, or keen on asking. He was still trying to take in this realization.
Julia led Gaius around the house, beyond the barn, which was little more than a pile of rotted wood that had long ago collapsed, and out into the horribly overgrown field that had once blossomed wheat. In the distance, cast by the bright moon and starry night sky loomed a lone tree that stood at the summit of a slopping hill, which over-looked the whole property from a high vantage point.
Julia felt a slight hesitation as she was forced to stop, once she realized that Gaius had slowed his pace.
“It is okay, trust me, please,” she said in a low tone, easing Gaius along, now with more care.
Gaius knew what lie at the top of hill, and at the base of the century-old cypress tree. He had seldom gone there, not since his father placed his mother cold body into the earth.
Gaius’ eyes widen for a moment as he saw two marked gravestones at the foot of the tree. One he knew belonged to his mother. It was her people’s custom to be buried, and not burned like Romans. His father honored that, but upon closer expecting of the second slab of stone, Gaius read his father’s name.