Once inside Quintus's home, Julia quickly found herself face-to-face with her hostess: a middle-aged, though still very attractive woman, clearly held firmly under the thumb of her husband. The woman, whom Quintus failed to introduce, disappeared the very second he ordered her to tend to some duties elsewhere. Julia's pleasant smile of greeting was completely ignored, which disheartened and then frightened her; was this man in the habit of inviting young women into his home?
If anyone had seen her enter this house, she knew that her reputation would be left in tatters. Ladies were barely even allowed to travel without male escorts as she usually, and very bravely, did. Antoninus loved her dearly, as he regularly proved, but was simply not forceful enough in his discipline. Diana would certainly have ordered them straight back home, were there any way for her to know of all the things he allowed her daughter to do unsupervised.
Julia sat in a veritable daze, perched upon a couch covered in some fine fabric she could not name. All around her was splendour and luxury the likes of which she had never expected to see. When a young female servant offered her refreshment, she was barely able to touch the little sweetmeats held out to her, let alone to bite into one of them. The oddest thing about the experience was that she did not feel scared or nervous in the slightest; only the strangest sense of belonging to a place such as this.
Quintus did not stop smiling and offering compliments, causing her to almost laugh with gratitude. The stern demeanour he had possessed upon first meeting her had completely disappeared, leaving a character totally unlike any wealthy gentleman she had ever met. He was plainly striving to make her as comfortable as possible – or could be possibly be delaying the inevitable revelation of her identity?
"You are really too kind, sir! I cannot stay and impose upon you any longer…"
"Of course you can! Or do you have any other more pressing engagements?"
His eyes, genuine and welcoming, would not allow her to be dishonest. "No, I do not. I have completed my errands for the day."
"Would your husband disapprove of your being here?"
Julia felt her face burning. Her determination not to marry had attached to her an inevitable stigma, though once again, she could not force herself to lie. "No, sir. I have no husband."
Quintus's eyes flashed with interest she was too immature to recognise. He smiled. "Your father?"
"My father is dead, though my stepfather will be at market all today, trading. I was to return home at once, though we do employ a maid who will care for the house in my absence."
"So there is no problem. Didius! Leave us, if you will."
Watching the manservant's back as he made his exit from the large room, Julia felt the beginnings of trepidation in the pit of her stomach. Turning her eyes demurely down to her hands, she waited for an explanation from her host.
"I do not like to be waited upon constantly, Madam. You need not worry; you are quite safe in my company. In the army I was considered very trustworthy, I assure you."
She raised her eyes with curiosity. "You were a soldier, sir?"
"I was. A rose to the rank of Second to a general, no less."
"Oh, I see!" Julia swallowed. She had never seen a soldier before. That is, if the dark-skinned, kind-eyed man in armour who haunted her dreams as well as some of her waking visions did not count. A sudden nervousness gripped her. She wanted to know more of Quintus's past career, as if understanding this real, fleshy soldier man would also be to fathom her ghostly 'father'.
Yet she knew it to be grossly impolite, however, for a lady to speak unless first spoken to in the presence of a kind stranger.
The servant who had earlier served sweetmeats re-entered the room, after a short silence, making Julia jump.
She had to hold her breath then to keep from gasping, as the young girl served a goblet of wine to her master, before offering a smaller amount to Julia. She raised her shocked gaze to Quintus, who sat frowning at his servant, making the girl promptly disappear. The goblet was left in front of Julia.
"Oh, my," Quintus said earnestly. "You must excuse my servant; she is of lowly origin. I suppose you think it abominable of me to allow her to offer wine to a lady?" Still, he did not move to extricate the goblet from her reach.
Julia was dumbstruck. Unable to prevent herself from doing so, she extended a hand to touch the tiny engraved figures on the side of the container, smiling at the feel of the cold metal. It might be her only chance to touch such a rich object, she thought, even as she realised how foolish the gesture must look.
She did not look up in time to see Quintus smiling at her wondering expression. "Feel free, my dear. I will tell no one."
Chuckling, she lifted the goblet to her lips, tentatively tasting the cool, sweet liquid. It stung her throat as she swallowed, and she took another larger mouthful, surprised to enjoy the sensation. Then, quickly, she set the goblet down, knowing she had compromised herself quite enough for the moment.
"I beg your pardon," her companion said abruptly, his eyes turning apologetic. "Here I am, keeping you from your home and serving you wine, having failed insofar to ask your name!"
The wine made her feel warm inside and infinitely more comfortable in this gentleman's company, yet not so comfortable that she had stopped dreading this very question. Her finest clothes and the pains she took to hide her humble origins were useless now as an acute sense of loyalty to her little family overrode any shame she had previously felt. She straightened her back and her shoulders, forcing a proud smile to brighten her countenance.
"My mother's name is Diana, and my stepfather's is Antoninus. He is a craftsman and trades in the city. My name is Julia."
For a long, peculiar moment, Quintus was speechless. Heartened, she guessed that he must know Antoninus, and felt a surge of pride that such highborn people could be friends of her kin. Only when her companion's jaw fell with what appeared to be sheer horror did she realise that something was very wrong.
"Oh, dear Gods!" he cried, his face screwed up in disgust. "You can't be, the very same…it can't be the truth!"
She blanched as he stood suddenly, towering over her as she shrank from his unfathomable accusations.
"Sir, what have I said? What is wrong?" Tears spilled down her face as he raised his hand above her. For one petrifying second, she thought that he would strike her. A moan of fear escaped her lips.
He seemed a little calmer then, though he continued shaking with barely-contained rage. "You must leave now, child. Get out, now!"
Get out, now! What had she done?
Her sewing basket slipped out of her hand, though she barely noticed, her senses numbed thoroughly with shock and mortification. Only when it hit the ground with a thump, a multitude of scraps of fabric and needles spilling over the sandy ground, did she turn her eyes to where they lay. She had long since lost track of how much time had passed since Quintus had turned her, without so much as a goodbye, out of his home, for no reason she could possibly understand.
Hardly caring that nightfall fast approached, bring with it a chilly breeze, she collected up her things with one hand, wiping away a steady stream of tears with the other. She resumed her dawdling walk with a painful weight building inside her chest. No one had ever treated her this way before. Moreover, Quintus had shown her such hospitality, even beyond normal Roman society protocol.
Confusion and deep hurt drove her to cry harder, until great, agonising sobs pushed themselves up into her throat. Darkness descended so that soon, her eyes already blurred and hot with crying, she could barely see the road ahead of her – let alone which path she should take to return home.
Her heart began to race. She had strayed from her usual, failsafe route earlier in the day in order to reach the wealthier homes the city comprised. Now she was paying dearly for it. If she were to be seen, walking alone at night, the least disastrous fate that could befall her was the permanent loss of her reputation. Only bad women walked alone at night. All decent people, not only ladies, knew that.
Julia let out a great, aching sigh, straining her vision to locate the nearest place she could rest for a moment. She had no way of knowing the time. A dull, throbbing sensation began in her forehead, building to a sharper pain until the feeling consumed her. She felt hungry as well as exhausted. Antoninus would surely have come searching for her by now, undoubtedly involving all of their neighbours in seeking her out also.
This certainty made her situation doubly devastating, as it signalled that she must be a much greater distance from home than she had initially thought, seeing as she had not yet been discovered. No one could have imagined that she might drift this far. She winced at the feeling of cold stone against her tired, tender flesh as she slumped onto the ground, comfortably concealed by the shade of an olive tree.
Her next fit of sobs was interrupted, after what seemed like an eternity, by the sound of footsteps not far away. Julia was gripped with fear, for a long moment, that she had either been discovered by a passer-by, or that she was shortly to be abducted and murdered by some criminal vagrant. Her eyes remained wide and fixed on the ground as she pulled her knees up against her chest. She remained paralysed even as the footsteps – heavy, masculine and purposeful – drew closer.
"Good evening, Madam. Madam?"
Though the stranger's tone was surprisingly tentative, the sound was still abrupt enough to elicit a little cry from Julia's unbearably taut insides.
She lifted her gaze to meet his only briefly, barely registering what he looked like before pulling herself back onto her aching feet and taking flight, running with a strength she did not truly possess. The sense of etiquette she usually abided by without fail had entirely left her, so overwrought had she become. Several times she almost stumbled as she charged blindly through the darkness.
Her only thoughts were of escape, and a miracle. The miracle being that she would suddenly find herself back inside her safe haven, the little villa, containing everything she could possibly require to live her narrow though contented life. For once, she forgot about all the things in the outside world she longed to see and experience, all those things she tasted nightly in her dreams though never seemed to be able to find once she woke.
Marius stood stock still throughout the whole spectacle. Once Diana's beautiful girl had completely disappeared, he began to laugh.
Julia soon found herself in dense copse of trees; once more, she was alone.
At that moment, the most bewildering thing happened: amidst settling down upon the soft, springy, grass-covered earth, she realised that her terror of the darkness and solitude, and of being so far away from home and familiar things, had wholly disappeared. Her breathing became much less laboured as she calmed and warmed internally, and the pain all but left her head and her limbs. Running had been exhilarating. The feeling of resting amid nature was suddenly very pleasurable, and for a few mad moments, she thought she never wanted it to end.
A smile sprung to her weary features when the sound of horses reached her ears. She loved horses; everything about the creatures delighted her. They were possibly the only thing she did not resent about rural life. Far from the dreadful fear that had possessed her when the stranger had spoken to her, this sound heartened her beyond belief. She waited, anticipation filling her with unlikely optimism, as the sound drew nearer.
Wooden wheels screeched against more wood – someone was driving a cart. Julia, having travelled, knew the sound very well. For no reason she could comprehend at that bizarre moment, particularly given her hazy frame of mind, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the driver of this vehicle would be no threat.
The scent of woodland, fruit and moisture from the ground filled her nostrils, pervading her grateful spirits. She knew this driver, though not in a worldly sense.
Peering in the direction of the noise, she saw the cart clearly, along with the outline of its controller. Her father, the soldier – a deep sense of satisfaction, and of immense happiness suffused her at catching sight of him finally, certainly, within the waking world. A little sigh escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes tightly, not daring to look into his face. The amount she had glimpsed of him was quite enough for now.
He did not drive towards her, as she had somehow expected he would not. The sound of his passage – strident, and unmistakeably real – began to dim as he passed by the copse, and onward, roughly along the path she had hastily taken in her recent 'escape'. A soldier, plainly. Still in armour and furs, straight-backed, and heroic. Shivering, as much with ecstatic reverence as with the chill in the air, she rose to her feet in order to follow the sound of the man's retreat.
She had never known a father's love, yet she knew enough about this elusive honour to know that this, what she now experienced, must be it. The cart seemed to pick up speed as she followed it, so she quickened her own pace to catch up. The image of it before her weary eyes became clouded, less tangible.
Of course, she told herself. All apparitions are transient. This may be the only chance I ever receive to know his love.
An astoundingly short space of time seemed to pass before the familiar buildings, trees and other landmarks of her home square showed themselves against the moonlit azure of the sky. By then, near-delirious with joy and fatigue, Julia walked by herself, her father having returned to whichever plane of existence he had ascended to upon his death.
For all she had forgotten the disagreeable events and dreadful emotions of earlier in the evening, all of it may as well have come to pass a hundred years before. Even the sight of Antoninus, his white face almost fluorescent in the darkness and clenched fists trembling by his sides, was not enough to jolt her out of her dreamy reverie. She smiled brightly at him as she approached, as if to try and share some of her bliss with him through the gesture.
"Julia!" he snapped, raising one large hand and taking a long, tremulous stride forward. She took a stride backwards in response, suddenly stunned. Now that the pair stood closer together, she could see clearly even in this bad light that his eyes were swollen and red. Her dismay turned swiftly to horror. Even when her mother had almost died in their old apartment, thirteen years before, she could not recall ever having seen Antoninus cry.
"Julia, I have never been more terrified in all my life than I was today. I see now that I was an imbecile ever to have allowed you to leave this house unescorted. Even Annia and that horse boy were weeping with fear!" His voice rose to a crescendo of rage and reproach with those words, before he paused, closing his eyes and biting hard on his lower lip, reliving that whole afternoon. Julia swallowed, and would have protested, had her throat not grown so tight with guilt.
"Where did you go?" Her stepfather seemed about to collapse into tears right before her eyes. "And with whom? Oh, what a disgrace you are! Your mother was right. You should have wed the first good boy who offered for you! What am I to do with you now? Oh, dear Gods, what if you were seen? No one will ever want you. These are unstable times, child! If you do not have your home and your family, you have nothing! No security, nothing!"
Julia stayed silent, her only movement being to wipe a stray tear from one dust-coated cheek. How could she answer his lectures about family and security after the miracle she had witnessed today?
"Well? Have you nothing to say? Good." He turned his back on her, making no move to allow her to enter their home first, as would a gentleman in a firmer state of mind. "From now on you will never leave this house. Under no circumstances. Annia will see to your duties at market, and you will never again enter the home of a stranger, however well-to-do, to sell your sewing! I see now how perverse the idea was, and how dangerous.
"You are a
woman, Julia, and a very precious one. If I did not love you as I do, I would
allow these appalling demonstrations to continue. But I do love you, may the
Gods help me. You are too good for this world, but if it is the last thing I
do, I will find a place for you within it. There must be a place for you somewhere."
