Chapter Seven: Wine and Laughter
The two travel-weary noblewomen reached the camp of Marcus Lepidus just after dark. Strong, self-confident Servilia swept into the general's large and luxurious tent and demanded to speak with the commander at once. Sparks flew from her ebony eyes as she questioned the shy and timid young captain of the guard.
"Gone on patrol? Why did he not await our coming? Was he not told of our arrival? Did he not receive the messages from the Senate and my son? When will the general be back?"
"Lady Servilia, I am certain he meant no insult – General Lepidus will be back soon!" The smooth-cheeked young officer felt thoroughly intimidated by the majestic older woman. He glanced over her shoulder at the rustling tent flaps, half afraid that the next female to enter might be snake-haired Gorgon herself.
"Will the general be back in time for dinner?" The slim young woman in the heavy wool cloak was plainly no Gorgon. The boyish young officer gave her a timid smile of welcome, which she returned with innocent good cheer.
"Bring us food at once," Servilia snapped, nipping it in the bud. Her black eyes flashed in the firelight, extinguishing the officer's fragile hopes. He nearly stumbled in his haste to obey her orders.
"You didn't have to bite his head off," Octavia said softly, once they were alone together. She was warming her frozen hands by the fire, her mild gray eyes fixed on the flickering flames.
"We're in an army camp, dearest," the older woman replied, her voice firm and her hands possessive as she slid the heavy cloak from Octavia's shoulders. "I won't have the men pawing at you."
"Will Lucius Vorenus be joining us for dinner?" Octavia asked, fixing her thoughts on the centurion and resisting the urge to respond to Servilia's knowing touch.
"I've sent the centurion on a tour of the camp's defensive perimeter." The older woman chuckled, reading Octavia's tense body language with ease. "Tomorrow morning we'll have the whole legion drawn up on parade. You can feast your eyes on him then. Meantime, let's fill our stomachs, shall we?" She gave the auburn-haired girl a gentle shove towards the dining couches, letting her wiggle off the hook for the time being.
Octavia knew perfectly well that Servilia was toying with her. The two of them had to keep hands off in order to get the legions back in line and to complete their mission for the Roman senate. Octavia still had feelings for Servilia. But she didn't trust her.
"Tell me, Flavius. Are the legions ready to swear allegiance to Brutus now that Caesar is dead?" she asked, as the young man was bending over her couch and filling her wine cup at dinner.
"We are soldiers, lady. We will obey our general." Young Flavius darted a nervous glance at Servilia, who was lazily reclining on the opposite couch. With his handsome face close to Octavia's, he lowered his voice to a scarcely audible whisper. "Yet our hearts are still with Caesar, lady. And you are of Caesar's blood."
"What did he say?" Servilia asked, her languid posture on the couch scarcely hiding the keen look in her midnight black eyes.
"He said I was the very image of Venus," Octavia teased, her eyes bright. "And he pledged to worship me as only a man can."
"Humph!" Servilia drained her wine cup, ignoring the playful jab. "Men think only of their own pleasure, girl. Remember that!"
"Oh, I will . . . if I ever take a lover. A male lover, I mean." Octavia's gentle gray eyes glowed in the firelight. It felt so good to get away from Rome, from her cruel mother and the suffocating life at the villa. Suddenly she began to laugh, and Servilia joined in at once. Their laughter grew louder and louder, till it rang out from the tent and echoed into the icy night.
When wine and laughter finally dwindled, Octavia yawned, even as Servilia suggested sleep. Both women were slumbering deeply when a badly wounded courier came galloping into camp at midnight. In his pouch was the head of General Marcus Lepidus.