Chapter Five: Will You Help Me?
Lucius Vorenus thought about getting out of bed. But then the veteran centurion asked himself, what's the point? After all, it wasn't like he had a family to support. His wife was dead, and his children were who knows where. Everything he cared about was gone, or ruined. Thanks to him!
Maybe if some great soldier like Marc Antony came around and ordered him out of bed, he would obey. But Marc Antony was dead, brutally murdered by the weaklings in the Senate. Julius Caesar had died the same way. All thanks to Vorenus, of course. And so, no reason to get out of bed.
"Come on, brother," pleaded Titus Pullo. Pullo was a big, stupid brute, formerly of the Thirteenth Legion. He was the only person on earth who still cared about Vorenus, which only showed how stupid he really was. "You've got to find a reason to keep going. Suppose I told you a whole tribe of Gauls was marching on Rome this very minute?"
"Good," Vorenus replied from bed. "Let Rome burn."
"Hey, the gods don't like that kind of talk," Pullo chided. As a scoundrel who fought and killed for the fun of it, Pullo didn't really care about the gods. He was just trying to get Vorenus to snap out of it. "Suppose I told you it was Greeks then, eh? Greek pirates, violating virtuous Roman women?"
"There are no virtuous Roman women," Vorenus told his comrade, in a desolate voice. "Not anymore, anyway."
"Don't know about that," Pullo cheerfully countered. "Looks like two of them are on their way up here right now!"
"Is this the home of First Spear Centurion Lucius Vorenus?" asked a soft voice.
"It is, ma'am." Vorenus turned his head on the rough sack pillow and saw a pale, pretty young woman with auburn hair standing in the doorway. Something about her big gray eyes and gentle, frightened features rang a bell. Octavia of the Julii, that was the lady's name. Blood kin to the fallen hero, Julius Caesar. "How can I help you, my lady? I apologize for my appearance – I'm in mourning for my wife, Niobe."
"We grieve with you, centurion," said another female voice. This one was deeper, more self-assured, husky but with a note of authority and power. Vorenus didn't recognize the elegant, refined yet sensual older woman until she spoke. Instantly a killing rage took hold of the centurion.
"Lying Servilia! How dare you come to my house? I'll kill you, you whore!" If he had been in better condition, Vorenus would have been across the room in seconds. He would have had his hands around the woman's throat before she could even squeal. He would have choked the life right out of her. But Vorenus hadn't eaten in days, and he was weak. Disgracefully weak. He sprang from the bed. But it was far too easy for Pullo to pull him back.
"Easy, brother," Titus Pullo whispered into his ear, while his enormous forearms encircled Vorenus' heaving chest. "Easy, now. No use shedding the blood of the nobility. What's done is done, eh?"
"Take your hands off me, Pullo," the centurion snarled, freeing himself from his friend's powerful grip. He glared at the poisonous intruder. "Why did you come here, lady? To gloat over how your lies destroyed my family and my honor?"
"I told you no lies, centurion." Majestic Servilia walked right up to Vorenus, not stopping until their faces were mere inches apart. Her dark brown eyes met his without fear, her low, husky voice tranquil and calm. "My woman told you the truth about your wife on my orders. She told you of Niobe and the secret she kept from you. Whatever you did after that lies on your head, not on mine."
"You wanted me out of the way so your lying, two-faced son Brutus could stab Caesar in the back," Vorenus accused. "Antony was murdered too, wasn't he? Is this where Rome is headed, lady? Are we becoming a nation of cutthroats?"
"The Republic has been restored," Servilia replied, with quiet dignity. "Does that mean nothing to you, Vorenus? I was told you were a serious man, one who respected the old ways."
"You dare to talk to me of respect," Vorenus snarled. Just then Octavia laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"Lucius Vorenus, you have great reason for anger, as do all who mourn brave Caesar's death. But for the good of Rome, we must put aside our anger. We must ensure that order is restored. Will you help us?" The girl paused, glancing at the older woman. Vorenus saw fear in that look, as if Octavia was being forced to act against her will. "Will you help me?"
"I am yours to command, lady." The centurion made a low bow, carefully watching the two women. Servilia showed no emotion at all. But a blush spread across Octavia's cheeks.