-ж-
He has his back to her as he washes his hands. A pretty bowl with a frieze of flowers on the side; she watches as the blood runs off his fingers into the scented water. He turns for a fleeting moment to take a rag to dry his hands from a waiting slave and she catches her breath. He's barely changed, a little taller, his muscles a little deeper; but his face is still the same, strong-jawed, clean lines, handsome, a short beard now taking the place of fresh, boyish skin. She feels her sister move to her side.
"How does it feel seeing him after all these years?" asks Vibia, tentatively. She watches her sister curiously and frowns. Geminia's hand is steady on the curtain, her face a smooth mask in the gold throw of candlelight, her eyes cloaked in kohl and quiet.
"Maximus," is all she whispers, so quietly Vibia wonders if she's spoken at all.
"What do you – "
"I feel nothing," murmurs Geminia, her voice soft, low. "Nothing." She continues to stare at his broad back beneath the plates of armour, his strong arms, his crown of dark hair, listens to his reluctant crack of laughter. "No hope, nor joy, nor hate."
"But you have missed him?" questions Vibia.
Geminia sighs. "What we do in youth, we carry through life."
What we do in life echoes in eternity.
His whisper runs through her mind, chasing past her waking memories. She closes her eyes and lets the curtain fall back into place. Without word she turns away from her sister's caring, open face and walks swiftly out of their tent and into the cold air of Germania. A few sentries gawp at the lady in her fine silks and hennaed hands but she turns from them too, walks a while until she finds a spot empty save for moonlight. A tear starts down her cheek.
Foolish girl, she thinks furiously, foolish, foolish girl, it's been years . . . years, yet still he makes you cry. She dabs her cheeks, her fingers coming away dotted with kohl and she curses beneath her breath. The night is cold and clear, a handful of stars scattered across the black sky, and she shivers. A thousand images run through her mind. Silly, stupid things she suddenly remembers. The stretch of skin across Maximus' bare back, the dip and sway of his shoulders as he walks, the feel of his arms choking her waist, the warmth of his mouth on her neck . . .
"Geminia?"
The voice makes her start. She spins round in a swirl of silk to find her father stood there, heaped in a thousand cloaks and furs. His beard has long grown wild, but his eyes are as bright as ever.
"Father," she murmurs, kissing his cheeks.
He looks at her for a long moment, considering. His fingers find hers.
"If only you had been born a man," he whispers. "What a Caesar you would have made." His face is sad, wistful. "You would have been strong . . . I wonder, would you have been just?"
"I would have been what you'd taught me to be," she replies with a small smile.
"Ah," he says, his mouth lifting for a moment. "Then you would have been simply magnificent."
She gives a little laugh.
"How was your journey?" he asks.
"Long, tedious," she answers. "I managed to ride for most of it before they forced me back inside that monstrous wagon." Her eyes are alight with laughter. "Tell me, why have you summoned your daughters here?"
"I need your help," begins her father, taking her arm and beginning to walk. "With your brother."
"As always," she smiles, walking step by slow step beside him.
"He loves you all, especially Faustina," he says carefully. "And he'll need you all now more than ever." He smiles at the concern on her face. "But that's enough of politics . . . let's pretend that you are a loving daughter and I am a good father."
They walk along in silence.
She turns to him and smiles. "This is a pleasant fiction, isn't it?"
-ж-
Geminia steps quietly into the tent but finds Vibia awake anyway. She smiles a moment at her younger sister. Taller than Geminia, but slighter, with a great braid of honey-coloured hair over one shoulder. She looks up as Geminia comes in and smiles, marking her place in a scroll with her finger.
"You were gone a while," she remarks.
Geminia pulls the cloak from her shoulders and begins to undress. "Where's Faustina?" she asks, stepping out of her shoes.
Vibia raises her eyebrows. "Where do you think Fausie is?"
"Commodus?"
Vibia nods. Geminia groans.
"Stupid slut," she says quietly. She folds her silk gown into a trunk and pulls a linen tunic on. "At home it is bad enough – but on campaign?"
"She says they only read together," whispers Vibia as Geminia gets into bed beside her. They huddle close together, shouldering the blankets and shivering. "Read and talk. She says she soothes him."
"She's his sister, Vibia, just as he is our brother," murmurs Geminia, closing her eyes. "Sisters should go nowhere near their brothers' beds."
Vibia nods slowly. "Maximus was asking after you at the banquet."
Geminia's eyes open and Vibia watches the brief leap of excitement explode before it is mastered. "What did he say?"
"Whether you'd come from Rome," whispers Vibia. "Asked about Lucius."
"Not like Maximus to mouth platitudes at people," she remarks.
"No sympathies, I assure you," says Vibia firmly. "He seemed afraid when I told him you were here."
"Let him fear me," whispers Geminia, struggling to hide the hurt in her voice. She turns away from her sister and murmurs lower than a breath now. "As long as he doesn't love me."
-ж-