Ben Kane - Fields of Blood

It didn’t sound strained or unhappy. Maybe Gaius’ visit was not ominous. A flicker of hope lit in her heart. It would be good to have some normal social interaction. Lately, she had had nothing but fractious exchanges with her mother, or frosty silences when she came across Agesandros. There was time for a swift, silent prayer, asking that those she loved be granted protection, especially her father, Quintus and Hanno. At the last moment, Aurelia added Flaccus, and then she turned and ran back down the path.

She found Atia and Gaius in the courtyard that lay adjacent to the main house, a cobbled affair that was bordered by storerooms, a hay barn, grain and wine stores, and slave quarters. In the warmer months, it was the busiest place on the farm. During the winter, it became a route between the buildings, which housed livestock, tools and a wide variety of preserved foodstuffs from fish to hams and herbs. Tracks crisscrossed the once-white snow in dizzying patterns. They had been made by men and women’s sandals, children’s bare feet, dogs, cats, poultry, horses and mules. Aurelia walked with care, avoiding the regular piles of manure. It was time to have the yard swept again, she thought absently.

‘At last you grace us with your presence. Where have you been?’ demanded Atia.

Elation filled Aurelia. Gaius couldn’t be the harbinger of bad news today — not when her mother greeted her in that way.

Gaius gave her a broad grin.

Aurelia bobbed her head in reply. Was she imagining it, or had he looked her up and down for the first time? Suddenly self-conscious, she tossed back her thick black hair and wished that she wasn’t wearing her everyday wool dress and old cloak. ‘I was walking. I came as soon as I heard you call.’

Her mother’s eyebrows rose in evident disbelief, but she did not push further.

‘It is good to see you again, Aurelia.’ Gaius inclined his head.

‘And you, Gaius.’ She gave him a demure smile.

‘You’re becoming quite the young woman.’ Again the fleeting appraisal. ‘You’ll be fifteen before long, won’t you?’

‘In the autumn, yes.’ She fought the instant blush that warmed her cheeks, and failed. ‘You bring no bad news, I hope?’

‘None, I am happy to say.’ He turned to Atia. ‘Have you had any word of Fabricius, or Quintus?’

‘No. Nothing regarding Flaccus either. I spend enough time on my knees in the lararium to mean that no news is good news.’ Atia’s tone was brittle, and brooked no argument.

‘Your husband and Quintus are ever in my prayers, and in those of my father,’ said Gaius quickly. ‘So too is Flaccus. The day that they all return will be one of great celebration.’

‘It will,’ declared Atia.

An awkward silence fell.

Aurelia felt guilty that she hadn’t been praying for Flaccus as much as her father and brother. I only met him once, she thought defensively.

‘You’ll stay for the night?’ asked Atia.

‘That’s very kind of you, but-’ demurred Gaius.

‘You have to,’ cried Aurelia. She clasped his hand in hers. ‘We haven’t seen you for weeks. You must tell us what you and your father have been up to, and what’s happening in Capua.’ She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘We get no news here, in the middle of nowhere.’

At least Fabricius’ creditors leave us alone in this weather, thought Atia sourly. Come the spring, it will be a different matter. ‘Stay. Otherwise you’ll have to set out on your return journey within the hour. The low clouds and the snow mean it gets dark so early these days.’

‘How can I refuse?’ declared Gaius with a gracious half-bow. ‘I would be delighted to stay. Thank you.’

Aurelia clapped her hands with happiness.

‘Entertain our guest, Aurelia. The tablinum is the warmest room.’ Atia made for the house. ‘I shall speak to Julius about the dinner for tonight.’

‘Shall we?’ Gaius indicated the path back to the front door.

‘Can’t we walk for a little while? It’s dark so much at this time of year. It’s good just to be outside, to breathe the fresh air.’

‘Whatever you wish,’ Gaius acceded. ‘Where do you want to go?’

Delighted by the idea of his company, Aurelia pointed. ‘The only path away from the house that isn’t covered in snow is the one that leads up to the woods.’

‘Let’s go that way then.’

The hours that followed were Aurelia’s happiest in many weeks. Her walk with Gaius had lasted until the light had dimmed in the western sky. With chilled faces and feet, they had stamped back into the house. Ignoring the empty tablinum, they had retired to the warmth of the kitchen, where they had got under the slaves’ feet and stolen tasty morsels of the food that was being prepared. Julius, the main cook, would normally have driven her out of his domain. Instead, he had offered her a bowl of the best olives and muttered something about how good it was to see her mood lift. When Atia came in to check on the meal’s progress, she too had looked pleased. Aurelia had pretended not to notice.

Gaius had been full of small talk from Capua. Isolated on the farm, and locked in by grief, Aurelia took interest in stories that would have been of little appeal before. Her favourite was about one of the sewers in Capua, which had blocked a week before. Gaius went into great detail about the resulting overflow, which had swamped part of the city, filling homes and businesses with liquid ordure. A vicious frost two nights afterwards — usually a most unwelcome event — had proved to be the salvation of those trying to remove the vast quantities of sewage. ‘You have to see it to believe it,’ Gaius had said with a chuckle. ‘When shit and piss freeze solid, the result can be chopped up with spades into manageable chunks, tossed on to a cart and carried away.’

‘You’re making it up!’ Aurelia had said in delighted horror.

‘I’m not! On my honour. There was so much work that carters were coming in from every village for miles.’

She had given him a wicked nudge. ‘Mother would love that story.’ Despite Gaius’ protests, she had persuaded him to tell the tale again — but before they dined.

Despite herself, Atia had laughed her way through his account. ‘That must have been quite a sight,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘I imagine that the smell must have been far less severe than in summer.’

Gaius had grimaced. ‘It was still bad enough — the affected area was only a few streets away from our house. Father had the slaves burning lavender and incense night and day to combat the odour.’

‘None of your household got sick then?’

‘No, thank the gods. Surprisingly few people in the city did; whether it was because of the cold or the amount of offerings they left at the temples, I don’t know.’

‘How is your father?’

‘He is well, thank you. He sends you his best wishes. I am to tell you that if there is anything he can do, you have only to mention it.’

‘My thanks. He is a good man, Martialis. I will remember his kind offer.’ Atia’s smile was warm, but the gesture had made her worries resurface. Fabricius had always refused to countenance asking his oldest friend for help with his debts. Martialis wasn’t wealthy, but his loyalty knew no bounds. Anything he had, he’d lend to them if they asked. Atia hoped never to be forced into such a situation, but if Fabricius didn’t return, the possibility was there — whether she liked it or not. She resolved to make an offering to Mercury, the god of war, and also of messengers. Bring me good news of my husband, please. She gestured to the nearest slave, who made swiftly for the kitchen. Soon a procession of dishes was carried through to the dining room, where the three were reclining on couches. The conversation died away for a time. Gaius fell on the food as if he’d been starved for a week. Atia looked on in approval as she took small portions from various platters. Despite her rumbling stomach, Aurelia nibbled only at a piece of baked fish. She didn’t want to appear greedy in front of Gaius.