With a sudden pang he wondered, And what of Eilan’s child? Would he be as fair as his mother, or show his father’s breeding in his face? He made himself return Julia’s droll smile. “Oh, I’m sure all our sons will be Roman and brave.”
They were laughing together when Licinius returned. He peered, as if for confirmation, at Julia’s rosy face, then said, “That’s settled, then.”
Gaius blinked as his prospective father-in-law clasped his hand, feeling as if some great siege engine had run him down. But there was only Julia, small and smiling, at his side. She looked so harmless, like a child.
But she isn’t, he thought. One meeting was enough to convince him. Far from it. Harmless is the last word I’d use for her.
“Of course,” the Procurator said, “a wedding like this cannot be put together quickly.” He was trying to be jocular. “People would certainly think that Julia had somehow misbehaved, being married off at a moment’s notice to a stranger from nowhere. Local society and my family must have a chance to know and value you.”
That was exactly the point of this wedding, Gaius thought wryly, except that he was the one who had misbehaved. But he could see that Julia would not want to be hurried into marriage with—as the Procurator had put it—a stranger from nowhere. She must be given a chance to be married as a respected member of her own community. And the delay would give him a chance to catch his breath and figure out what to do. Perhaps on closer acquaintance the girl would decide she did not like him after all, and even his father could not blame him for not marrying her then.
Licinius tapped the scroll from Macellius. “Officially, this transfers you to detached duty under my command. You may not think a young officer needs to know anything about finances, but when you come to command a Legion, you’ll find your job easier if you know something about the system that keeps your men shod and fed! No doubt you’ll find it easy duty after the frontier. It’s not Rome, but Londinium is growing, and the women will make much of you with all the young officers on the Governor’s staff gone off to the North.”
He paused, and fixed Gaius with a hard stare. “It goes without saying,” he added, “that there will be no improper behavior while you are here—” The Procurator went on, “You will live with Julia under this roof as if she were your sister, even though I will gradually let it be known that she has been your promised wife from infancy. But until after the ceremony—”
“Father,” Julia protested, “do you really believe I would so disgrace both you and myself?”
Licinius’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “I should hope not, girl,” he growled. “I just wanted to make it clear to this young man.”
“I should hope not indeed,” Gaius muttered. But there was little danger; he found it hard to believe that Julia would ever be overcome by emotion. She was certainly different from Eilan, who had thought of his best interests before her own, and now was suffering the consequences.
Would they now hasten her into a marriage of convenience with someone more “suitable” as they were trying to do with him? He suddenly pictured her, beaten or bullied into compliance, tearful, wretched, perhaps weeping. She was, after all, of noble birth as the Britons counted such things, and an alliance with her family could be considered advantageous—as this marriage with Julia would be politically advantageous for his father—and, he supposed, for him.
But I am sure that if they try she will refuse it, he thought then. She has more integrity than I. Ecstatic as his union with Eilan had been, there had been moments when she had almost frightened him. Or perhaps it was his own response that had made him afraid.
Julia smiled with an appearance of timidity. It was, Gaius thought, assumed for her father’s benefit; the last hour had taught him that anything less timid than Julia—except maybe one of Hannibal’s war elephants—would be hard to imagine. But maybe her father still thought of her as a shy child; fathers were the last to know what their children were really like.