A/N: Oh dear the last chapter wasn't very well received. Major thankies to Anja however, my lone reviewer, without you im not convinced this chapter would be up, so i hope you enjoy.
anyway Onwards as ever...
Chapter 4 - Weakness
Pullo narrowed his eyes as he watched Vorenus empty his second cup of wine. So far they had drunk in silence, and he knew he had to do something. "Good stuff this, ah?" Pullo ventured and gestured to the bottles cluttering the table.
Barely moving his eyes, Vorenus just grunted in response.
"Do you remember Lefidius," Pullo tried again, unable to stand such a stilted conversation. "The scout from the 9th?"
Vorenus looked up this time as he scanned his memory. "The one with only one hand?"
"That's him." Pullo smiled, more at getting a response than anything. "I heard…" His words trailed off as he reached for the wine bottle, only to notice a bloody smear across its clay surface. As quick as a snake his hand shot across the table and gripped around Vorenus wrist.
Vorenus looked down, his reactions slow. "What are you doing?"
"Let me see," Pullo demanded, concern edging his voice.
Vorenus shook his head and tried to pull his injured hand away; he did not exactly want the man seeing the mark of his shame. It was hard enough sitting in the same room as him - sitting in the same room as anyone, in fact. But despite his refusal, if anything he felt Pullo's hand tighten.
"Don't be an idiot," Pullo spoke, his voice calm as he lifted Vorenus' hand off the table and turned it over. "You're bleeding."
Vorenus was surprised as he looked down and saw the red beads of blood that had soaked through the thick white material grow in size before his eyes. Wearily he sighed, and said nothing more as Pullo's quick fingers began untying the knots he had so hastily tied just a few hours ago.
Pullo did not react as his eyes roamed across the bloodied flesh that was once Vorenus' palm. And he did not ask what the four deep slashes crossing each other painfully deep represented, in regards to request to the gods. For perhaps the first time in his life, he knew when to keep silent; he simply reached for a bottle of wine.
Vorenus saw the movement and tensed. He knew what was coming and he knew it would hurt. The pair of them had not survived so long in the army without picking up a few rudimentarily medical skills, the first of which being how to keep injuries clean.
Holding the wine bottle in one hand and Vorenus' wrist tight with the other, Pullo did not even look up to see if his friend was ready before he poured the strong alcohol across the wounds. He felt Vorenus just slightly flinch as he fought with himself not to pull away.
Wincing further as Pullo wiped at his cuts and sent more pain shooting through his left palm, Vorenus searched for something to distract him. "You know she's dead?" he asked, finally facing the subject that hung over them like a dark rain cloud.
Pullo shrugged and kept his eyes on his work, pulling the bandages together once more. "I'm sure you had reason."
Vorenus took a deep swig from a bottle. "I didn't kill her," he admitted; he did not want to claim honour that was not his.
Now Pullo did looked up. "Come again?"
"I should have done, I know it... I was going to," Vorenus tried to convince himself, his eyes almost shut in concentration and his free hand almost closed in a fist. "At least I think I was." The alcohol was beginning to loosen his tongue. "She jumped," he added finally and gestured with his chin towards the open doorway.
Having finished with the dressing, Pullo forgot his cup and took a bottle himself. "Why?" he asked, his throat dry with anticipation.
"Lucius was her child," Vorenus answered, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Born from another man, while we were in Gaul."
Pullo feigned shocked, but it did not matter Vorenus was not looking, his mind was replaying the events of yesterday, the fright in his wife's eyes as he held her viciously, the rip of his own heart as he picked up a knife.
Pullo looked around the room and back to Vorenus himself after a moment of silence. "She does not deserve all this," he spoke of the man's grief, and the destruction, the result of it.
Vorenus looked up and met his eyes, and when he did Pullo finally saw the extent of the pain in them, and he realised it was not just the grief of a dead wife that had led Vorenus to this sorry state, but the loss of an idea he had built his life on. The thing that had kept him going for eight long years in the army, and had affected nearly every choice he had made since. The belief that his wife loved him as much as he loved her.
"I'm sorry," Pullo spoke softly, meaning for so many reasons.
Vorenus looked down to the table as water welled in his eyes; he had shown more than enough weakness for one night. As he did he felt Pullo's hand creep across the table and rest on his, offering him strength and peace in the way his arms had earlier. He looked up with a weak smile. "So what happened to Lefidius?"
III
Mark Antony stood at the door of the Julii villa with two of his guards, the rest having already been sent ahead with their own orders.
Atia's long dressing gown flared out behind her as she ran through her house to catch Antony. "I have wine!" she shouted, "Wine, food, servants…"
Antony turned as he fastened a golden cuff around his wrist.
"Stay," Atia finished. "Let me host your party."
Antony pursed his lips a second, and spared a look across the body he had just spent the afternoon enjoying. For a moment he considered it, although he wondered whether the offer would be so forthcoming if he had shared the details of the guest list with her. Hell, he was almost sorry he would not be here when Octavian no doubt filled her in. Almost.
"I will not," he sighed. "My household is perfectly well stocked."
Atia tried not to show the panic running through her veins. If Mark Antony left now, would he ever return? Would they be alone and vulnerable? "As you wish," she conceded, smiling away her concern. "When would you like us to arrive?"
Antony stepped out of the door into the dark street, and flashed her a smile.
"I am afraid my dear, you are not invited," he whispered, and let the door slam shut quickly so it muffled the scream of his name.
With a grin on his face, Antony walked away quickly before the door could be re-opened.
III
With his head resting on the table next to that of his friend's, and their hands still touching, Pullo rested and listened to Vorenus' deep alcohol-filled breathing. For a second he paused on how much a life could change in one day; this time yesterday he had curled under the stars with Eirene, the timid freed woman allowing him just close enough to share their warmth as the night had turned cold. Tonight he held the hand of his drunken best friend, whom he had at least twice today suspected to be dead, and rested his head on a solid wooden table. Instantaneously he decided which he preferred, and with a look of contentment on his face drifted into a drunken doze.
Consciousness flooded back sometime later as Pullo felt something sharp pushing into his side. Groaning, he shifted in his seat and relaxed as the sharp pressure disappeared for a second, before returning.
"Oh mump off, pig fucker," Pullo swore sleepily as he fought to stay asleep.
"Titus Pullo," a loud voice spoke, "Wake up."
Snapping his head up, Pullo blinked to focus, and was shocked to find the small room crowded with four soldiers. "What the...?" he began, but was silenced by a groan escaping Vorenus' lips as a soldier tried to wake him too.
Pullo stood up unsteadily. "Leave him alone," he hissed, looking to his friend's head still on the table. "He's had too much to drink. Let him sleep."
"Senator Mark Antony wants to see him," one of the soldiers spoke and poked at Vorenus again. "And he doesn't want to wait."
"Touch him again," Pullo growled at the soldier as he leant forward, only to feel the tip of a sword pressed against his chest. "And I'll cut your hands off, feed them to your children, then make them watch while I fuck your wife."
"Fine." The soldier in charge smiled, finally stepping forward and waved his man away from Vorenus all the same. "We won't touch him."
Pullo looked to him, and a flash of recognition flooded him. "You!" he growled, a snarl on his face. "What are you doing here?"
The soldier shook his head, refusing to be drawn into the past. "Get over here and-"
"Got yourself a new job Servirus?" Pullo questioned, "Best I guess. What's it been, two years? Last I saw you in Egypt, You disappeared right around the time he." Pullo nodded towards Vorenus. Too drunk to notice how the soldiers face grew dark with his words. "Got that reward for..."
"Shut up!" the soldier shouted, annoyed that his past mistakes were being laid out in front of his new men, with his eyes blazing he unsheathed his sword, and stepped forward.
Looking past the man Pullo saw movement, as the man previously at Vorenus' side returned to it. "Ok." he hiccupped, holding his hands up, for once in no mood for a fight. Swearing he would find annother time to deal with the man, he fell heavily back into his seat and forced a smile up him.
"So, how've you been?"
III
Mark Antony sat silent in the atrium of his house, as slaves rushed around preparing the room for guests. It was the first time he had been alone since yesterday's events and he could not help thinking of them. Despite what people might say, Caesar was his friend, and he would miss him as so.
"Dominus," a voice called suddenly and pulled him from his thoughts. "Servius has returned with your guests."
Rising, Antony turned immediately to the door. Tonight was going to be interesting. "What is this?" he demanded as he entered the courtyard and found Titus Pullo standing to attention, with Vorenus apparently lying asleep at his feet.
Pullo smiled. "Lucius Vorenus," he answered, stating the obvious.
Antony looked from the grin on Pullo's face to Vorenus. "You got him drunk!" he accused.
Pullo puffed out his chest. "I did."
Antony did not even bother to disguise his contempt. "You are a complete fool," he uttered.
Pullo's smile wavered a little. "What else was I supposed to do?" he asked honestly. "His wife just died!"
"SO?" Mark Antony raged. "Find him a new one, buy him a whore to fuck, anything!"
"I got him drunk," Pullo grinned.
"Anything but that!" Antony snapped, annoyed that his plans had been ruined. Moving closer to Vorenus his eyes widened further as the flickering torch showed him the familiar sight of a crested shirt. "Did you dress him too?" he shouted, spinning back to Pullo. "He's not some army friend of yours now, don't you understand?"
Pullo smirked. It amused him to see how much something that he enjoyed, annoyed the senator so.
"At least he doesn't look like laundry."
"Oh, get him out of here," Antony spat at the guards as he turned back to Vorenus. He did not have time to wait for him to sober up; Cassius would be arriving soon and he still had things to do. Resisting the urge to kick him, he sighed and motioned for the soldiers closing the gate to come closer.
"Pick him up, and bring him here," he ordered, and walked to the water barrel in the corner.
Dragging him with an arm each, the guards pulled Vorenus to Mark Anthony and leant his chest on the edge of the butt. With his hand on the back of Vorenus' neck, Mark Antony pushed his head under the water without a second thought.
Gasping as for the second time that day he was awoken with freezing water, Vorenus received a lungful of the liquid as his head bobbed under the water level. Choking, he fought to move, but found a pair of hands holding him still.
As he held Vorenus' head Antony turned to the three slave girls, each carrying a different toga cloth, that had appeared at the side of him. Inspecting each one carefully he pointed to the second.
"The blue, I think," he chose and watched as they scuttled off to act on his decision.
"Enough," Antony ordered the soldiers as he pulled his hand from the water and let go.
Gasping for air, Vorenus straightened his back and flicked his head out of the water, sending a shower of it across the yard, as the pressure holding him down ceased.
"Salve, Lucius Vorenus," Antony called as he moved away from the barrel, drying his hand on a slave-offered towel. "How nice it is of you to join us. At last."
Vorenus coughed and looked around him, disorientated as he ran his hand across his face, pushing his hair back. Slowly he realised he was indeed in Antony's courtyard.
"Mmmark Antony, Sssir." he greeted, somewhat confused and not able to completely wipe away the drunken slur from his speech.
"I'm holding a dinner tonight," Antony spoke calmly, looking down to where Vorenus knelt. "And I expect you to attend."
Vorenus rolled his eyes and dragged himself to his feet. He barely wished to be around himself let alone anyone else. "Thank you, but I cannot."
Antony narrowed his eyes and took a breath to calm himself. He would face worse enemies before the night was out, and to lose his temper now would not be helpful. "Of course, you have something more important perhaps?"
Vorenus' dazed brain missed the danger in the question. "I am in mourning," he explained.
Antony's face twisted, unable to hold his anger. "SO IS ROME!"
Vorenus blanched and tried to focus; the volume of Antony's shout made his head spin.
"But do you see me mewing like a woman?" Antony's rage was unfading. "Or so drunk I cannot stand? NO! Why? Because we are senators. WE are better than that." His eyes caught the wet eagle now plastered by the cold water to Vorenus hard chest once again. "Despite how we may," he threw his hand out to gesture, "look."
Vorenus followed Antony's eyes and groaned inwardly. "I have no excuse but the one I have given you."
Antony waved it away, calming himself, and his eyes gazed across Vorenus' body again. "Come," he ordered as he turned to his house. "I'm sure I may have something that will fit you."
Vorenus shook his head again.
"I have paid for you loyalty once!" Mark Antony reminded him. "Are you so special you expect me to do it again?"
"You paid for my services as a soldier," Vorenus argued and slapped his wet chest. "Yet as you claim, I am not."
Mark Antony stepped closer to him. "I paid for you till your death," he corrected. "If you wish that to be tonight, I paid too much."
Vorenus lowered his eyes. Mark Antony had a point, he had made his vow and that was not something he took lightly. He quickly searched his mind for another way to reason with the man.
"But surely I am disgraced? My wife-"
"I don't give a fuck about your wife." Mark Antony snapped, closing the distance between them as he saw Vorenus' weak point. "But if a man is in need of honour he will not find it crawling around his own home. You want Respect? Then demand it, by force if needed. Be a presence that cannot be ignored..." Capturing Vorenus' face in his hand, Antony gently turned the redhead's eyes up to him. "Be by my side."
Vorenus nodded slowly, Antony's touch surprising him, and his words swaying him. "I will," he finally agreed.
Antony smiled, his plan working. Pulling him closer he pressed a kiss onto Vorenus' cheek. "Don't let me down," he whispered, his lips stroking across Vorenus' wet skin.
Vorenus suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine, just as he did last time Mark Antony kissed him.
"Come, let's find you something more appropriate to wear," Antony began as he pulled away and stepped towards the house. "Oh, and your wife, Vorenus," he continued, turning to speak over his shoulder. "By the gods, stop being a woman about it. A mother to another man's child deserves to be dead. She would disgrace you more were she alive."
Vorenus froze before he took his first step. Did everyone in Rome already know? He felt bile rising in his stomach. "How do you know of that?" he demanded
"Your dog, of course," Antony answered without hesitation, thinking nothing of the words. "He may be loyal but he cannot keep a secret."
Confusion ran across Vorenus' face as his mind searched to make sense. "Pullo?"
"Of course Pullo." Antony turned to face him once more. "He whimpers like a lost puppy when he knows not where you are."
Vorenus inhaled deeply and held it tight in his chest for a second as his world crumbled that little bit more."When?" he growled.
"I spoke with him this morning before you had been found."
Vorenus face twitched into anger and his eyes turned cold, the answer confirming his worst fears. Drawing himself up to his full height he tensed every single muscle.
Mark Antony paused as he saw the change in Vorenus, and he realised what he'd done. "Caesar was good to you," he warned quickly, hoping to temper some of the unexpected anger he had caused. "Do not put your own revenge above the need for his."
Vorenus did not even hear him as he turned away. A single sentence hammered in his heart, and the sound of his blood rushing filled his head. He'd known! He'd known!
Antony rolled his eyes. "Vorenus," he called in his best voice of command, as the man continued to walk away from him. "VORENUS!"
III
Pullo stood silently leaning back, with his head rested back against the wall of Mark Antony's house; all though the guards had thrown him out, they could not make him leave the street.
Silently he starred at the stars. Had it really been years since he had last done the same as he lay next to Vorenus for the first time? He knew so little of the man back then, but even by that early time in their relationship he'd learnt of the great love Vorenus carried, one so strong that still after years away he kept count, in days, of how long it had been since he'd last seen his wife.
Pullo had not understood that then; he had never felt anything like it. Over the years he had grown to understand, understand how one person could mean more than the world to you.
But now as he stood under the moon he found himself lost again, unable to relate to Vorenus, not knowing how to help him. He could see that he was hurt, but what had he done earlier? Told old army stories and filled both their cups until they both all but passed out. What kind of help was that?
Suddenly Pullo jumped from the wall, his thoughts torn from the past to the present as the gates to Antony's house slammed open noisily.
"So, what did he want?" he called as Vorenus appeared, and began towards him. "Sir?"
A/N:
Reviews welcome as always.
till next time T.C.U pp xx