Somehow the sound of a girl’s laughter wove itself into his dream…Gaius started awake, staring about him, but there was no one to be seen except a heavy-set, middle-aged man on crutches, draped in a formal toga. Gaius sprang to his feet, flushing with embarrassment.
“Gaius Macellius Severus?”
“Yes, sir—”
“I should have known it.” The old man smiled. “My name is Licinius, and your father and I have been friends most of our lives. It is a real pleasure to welcome his son. Is your father well?”
“He was when I last saw him a few days ago, sir.”
“Good. Good. Well, young man, I had of course hoped he could get away to pay me a visit, but you are most heartily welcome in his stead. Given our arrangement, you can imagine that I’ve been eager to meet you.”
Gaius had been telling himself all the way from Deva that he would not be hurried into any such ill-considered wedding, but he could not burst out into protest before the eyes of his father’s old friend. He had agreed to this because of the danger to Eilan and knew he ought to be grateful Licinius was so kindly.
“Yes, sir,” he said, temporizing. “Father did say something of this…”
“Well, I should hope so,” Licinius said gruffly. “As I say, we’ve had it in our minds since you were born. By Mithras, boy, if Macellius had said nothing of this, I’d have wondered what he was using for a head these days.” Despite its gruffness, this was the first wholly friendly voice Gaius had heard for a good many days, and, almost against his will, he was warmed by it. It was good to be welcomed. The Procurator took it for granted that he should be treated as a valued friend and a prospective son-in-law, and it had been a long time since Gaius had been made to feel a part of a family. He realized with a pang that the last time he had been made to feel so had been in the house of Bendeigid. Eilan, Cynric, what would become of them? Would he ever know? He had worried about this all the way to Londinium—he had to stop now.
“Well then, son,” said Licinius, “you must be longing to meet your bride.”
Speak up, Gaius said to himself. But he could not bring himself to put out the light that glowed in the old man’s eyes, and mumbled something noncommittal instead. They will punish Eilan if I try to see her again, he reminded himself sternly. The best thing he could do for her would be to go through this ceremony as expected of him. Or is that just an excuse to avoid a confrontation? he wondered.
But Licinius had already beckoned to a well-dressed upper servant. “Send for the Lady Julia,” he ordered.
Gaius knew that now was the time to say that he would have nothing to do with this farce of an arranged marriage—but without waiting for him to reply, the Procurator had hauled himself to his feet.
“She’ll be with you in a moment. I’ll leave you young people alone to get acquainted.” Before Gaius could find the words to stop him, he was limping away.
Julia Licinia had been keeping house for her father since her mother’s death three years earlier. An only child, from girlhood she had assumed she would be married off to whatever man her father chose. He had told her that he had arranged a marriage with the son of Macellius; at least this meant she would not be given to some unknown patrician twice her age, as had happened to more than one of her friends. Trying to look unconcerned she plucked a ripening fig from one of the trees growing in the pots in the colonnaded atrium as her father came towards her.
He grinned broadly. “He is here now, my dear, Gaius Macellius the younger, your promised husband. Go and see what you think; it’s you, after all, who is to marry him. But I think if you do not like the look of the young man, you’d be hard to please.”
Julia stared at her father. She said, “I was not expecting this so soon.”
And yet it occurred to her that there was no point in delay. She was eager to have something all her own; and certainly when she had borne this young tribune legionary a son, he would value her above all things. She was already used to running a household, but she wanted children who would love her. She was determined not to fail at giving her husband a son as her own mother had done.