Time ~ Autumn into Winter, 170
AD
Place ~ Baetica, Hispania, Roman
Spain
Even after him seeing me, I
still found myself drawn to the
Meridius estate every afternoon,
hoping to catch a glimpse of
Decimus. I told myself it was to
keep track of how he was faring,
that I was simply worried over
the health of a neighbor. Even I
wasn't fooled by my tale. I knew
it was because I was hopelessly
in love with him. It was both
exhilarating and frightening at
the same time. I'd never been
touched by the sharp arrow from
Cupid's bow before - I'd laughed
at the other girls as, one by
one, they were each felled by
that blow to the heart given
only by first love. "Not I," I'd
say with a merry laugh, "I will
never be so foolish."
This particular day, I tied
Arrow in a small dishlike
depression in the trees that had
a nice carpet of thick grass for
her to munch, and I made my way
stealthily forward until I was
in a perfect position to view
the terraces of the Meridius
house. To my disappointment,
there was no cot containing the
reclining figure of the young
officer. I scanned all around
the pink stone house - nothing.
Perhaps he wasn't so well today.
I worried over that, chewing my
lower lip absently as I pondered
what his absence meant - after
so many days in a row of his
being right there on that
particular terrace for days and
days in a row.
"You look worried," came a deep,
amused voice from right over my
head.
I jumped, glanced around wildly,
and saw no one. A tiny pebble
tapped me on the head and I
looked up, brushing it out of my
hair. Looked up into the amused
aqua eyes of one Decimus
Meridius, who was sitting
comfortably in the crook of a
large tree. "Ouch," I commented
a bit belatedly. "That stung."
He made his way down - carefully
- and stood grinning at me, not
two feet away. "It was meant to
- it's rude to rubberneck,
almost as rude as it is to watch
a fellow while he sleeps, all
unknowing, thinking he's safe."
I backed up a step, hands raised
in apology, "Oh - no - I - I
would never harm you! I just
came to see - to be sure - oh,
dear." My voice trailed off as I
saw he was laughing at my
stammerings. My brows drew down
and I scowled at him. "You
shouldn't laugh - it's not
polite."
He folded sunburnt arms across
his chest, "And peeping at me is
polite?" He shook his head
sadly, "Oh, I think you're in
serious trouble Joanna."
Startled, I almost fell over in
shock. "You know my name? How
could you - I mean, who told you
- how, how do you know me?"
His grin flashed and my heart
thumped irregularly in my chest.
I wasn't sure if it was fright
that he apparently knew who I
was or joy of that same thing.
"I asked. It seems my stable
master is well acquainted with
the daughter of the Uwintus
household who loves horses more
than she loves pretty gowns or
perfumes or fine jewelry. It
wasn't that difficult to figure
out who you are, Joanna."
Each time his voice pronounced
my name in that distinctive,
deep-throated voice, my belly
twitched inside. It was not at
all unpleasant, just very
surprising. I'd never felt that
particular kind of twinge
before. "Well," I admitted with
false bravado, "what if I am?
What I did wasn't wrong. I was
just concerned for a neighbor's
health."
He laughed, leaning back against
the trunk of the tree he'd been
perched in, holding onto his
middle, laughing happily -
apparently finding me a source
of great amusement.
I felt much less joy then. He
found me ridiculous - laughable.
I felt tears start from my eyes,
and, rather than be so silly as
to cry in front of him, I
whirled, intending to flee.
Instead, I twisted an ankle on a
rounded pebble and went down
hard, knocking the breath out of
myself. Now I would just sink
into the earth, I thought
woozily.
Large, careful hands turned me
onto my back as easily as I
would move a doll or help a
small child. "Breathe, Joanna -
let me help you," and he lifted
me by the sash that belted my
dun-colored boy's tunic, letting
my shoulders and hips droop
until my lungs worked again and
I could breathe. "That's it -
all right now?" His eyes were
full of concern, and his voice
gentle, apologetic. "I didn't
mean to tease you - well, I did,
actually, I just didn't mean for
you to get hurt," he said, brows
drawn down in concern.
With those eyes - and I now saw
that they were fringed with the
most beautiful thick long
lashes, like the prettiest
girl's - with those eyes on me,
I could only nod and wait for my
breathing to return to normal.
He waited with me, finally
drawing me into a sitting
position, joining me on the
ground, legs drawn up for
balance. "I am sorry, Joanna,"
he repeated himself.
"It's all right," I mumbled,
trying not to stare at the
muscular thighs and calves -
decently covered in the
red-brown wool trousers of a
cavalryman, mind you - because
they were a sight to behold. I
found everything about Decimus a
sight to behold. Which was how,
I reminded myself, I got into
the predicament in the first
place. "I should go now," I
said, and got to my feet. Well,
tried to, anyway. My left ankle
didn't cooperate and I soon
found myself hopping on the
other foot, with Decimus helping
me balance, until I led him to
where Arrow stood happily
grazing on the green grass
carpet. "Here she is," I said
unnecessarily. He couldn't fail
to miss her - she's a beautiful
horse, black as midnight with
one white star perfectly aligned
in the center of her forehead.
"She's a handsome mare," Decimus
said now, stopping to study her
lines. "What's her name?"
"Arrow - for that white arrow on
her forehead. Don't you think
that looks like the point of an
arrowhead?" I was babbling and
told myself to get a grip.
He walked up to her, let her
sniff his knuckles and then she
put her head down so her
forehead was almost resting
against his chest. Her black
mane fell forward in a silky
swath, some of it spilling over
his shoulder as she gently
nudged him, wanting to be
petted. His soft laugh sounded
and he whispered something into
one of her delicately-made ears
that brought another whuff of
friendliness out of her. "She's
wonderful," he finally told me,
rubbing her dished face and
stroking the curve of her
high-arched neck. "A lot of Barb
in her, right? She has the look
- that and Arab, I think."
Here was a subject I could be at
home in! "Yes, she is a cross,
exactly that! My father breeds
larger horses - crossing the
Barbs and Arabs with his
cold-blooded stock from the
north - the army buys them for
their cavalry. Oh - I suppose
you already knew that, being a
cavalry officer." I had such a
talent for finding the most
inane thing to say!
Instead of finding that funny,
however, he was nodding, looking
serious. "Yes, they are fine
horses - I want to breed some of
a similar line some day when I'm
not gone all the time."
Which brought back another fear
I had - the fear that he would
recover from the wounds that had
brought him back to Hispania,
return to the army and I'd never
see him except when he came home
on leave. Worse, he could be
killed, and I'd never see him at
all. "You must take care - I
mean - when you go back to the
army - take care not to get
hurt."
He glanced at me, startled by
the concern in my voice. He
touched my cheek with the same
gentleness he'd just shown
Arrow. I suppose I responded in
the same way, although I didn't
snort or paw the ground, I just
blinked and rubbed my cheek
against his warm palm. Smiling,
standing a full head and more
taller than I am, he promised he
would take care. "I'd hate to be
the cause of a sad expression on
that face," he murmured.
Later, when I'd turned his words
over and over in my mind, I
realized he was, in a roundabout
way, calling me beautiful. I
would cherish those brief
moments on that sunny afternoon
for years to come, only I didn't
know it then, caught up as I was
in the twinkling light of his
eyes and the brilliance of his
smile. Yes, I was a goner, sunk
deeply into first love, only I
think I already recognized it
for more - first love, only
love. For me, there would be no
other.
For him, there would be many
others, I suppose, over the
years. But for that brief span
of time while he was at home and
getting well, we were friends -
almost as close as siblings,
meeting every day to talk of
horses, and me to question him
about the wars and fighting and
the battle that had given the
wounds that brought him back to
Spain. He would tell me stories
about Germania and Gaul, Dacia
and even far off Britannia, and
he would ask me hundreds of
questions about my life, my
horses, my silly sister and my
schooling. "I like hearing such
domestic matters," he reassured
me time and again. "My own
sisters don't share such
ordinary things with me - they
are caught up with romances and
clothes and the like. They're
off in Rome now with Mother -
gone until spring when they can
take ship back to Hispania.
Mother only knows I'm here
because Father sent her a letter
telling her the news."
"And she stayed in Rome? She
didn't come back?" I was
astonished that a mother could
be too caught up in her social
life to return to help care for
a son - the only son - wounded
in honorable battle. "I don't
understand that."
He chuckled, "Well, Mother is a
beautiful butterfly - much as
your sister and your other
friends - all she loves is in
Rome, and very little does she
find here to keep her more than
a few months at a time."
"And your father?" I asked him,
comfortable by then with talk of
our respective families. "What
does he think of that?"
Decimus laughed, raking a hand
through the black curls that had
grown out of his neat officer's
hair trim, "He finds it -
soothing!"
We both laughed then as I
realized he was saying in a very
roundabout way that his mother
was not missed as acutely as
mine would have been. His father
apparently preferred being in
the company of his much more
august spouse on a very
infrequent basis. That, I
thought, explained the fact that
Decimus had only the two
sisters. His mother wasn't home
often enough for them to have -
well - produced more.
"I would want to be with my
husband, if I should be so
foolish as to bind myself to
one, that is."
"You'll have to, be resigned to
it," he told me. He was always
pointing out inevitabilities to
me. This one came up repeatedly.
I think he was concerned that I
was so unworldly as to think I
could escape the marriage bonds
to live as I wanted. "You'll
come home one day and find your
parents have procured the
perfect candidate for you to
marry. They'll dress you in silk
and put up your hair with
jewelled pins, and parade him in
front of you like a stallion on
display. You'll be expected to
simper and giggle and smile
unceasingly - even if he is
cross-eyed and has a lisp -
because you'll know you must do
your duty by your family and
accept his marriage suit."
He seemed bothered by that,
which I found both exhilarating
and a bit frightening at the
same time. "I will not," I said
stubbornly, "I will never be
that silly of a creature."
He shrugged, idly folding and
refolding a sprig of grass in
his fingers. We were both grass
stained, had dried leaves
scattered on our clothing and
hair, and were oblivious to it
as we talked and teased and
laughed the afternoon away.
It was one of the last perfect
afternoons we would have. Soon
the winter would be there, and
sooner still, he would be gone,
just ridden off one morning
before dawn without telling me,
giving me no warning. I was
deeply hurt until a slave
brought me a small scroll tied
with his seal, and when I read
it, I found he had done it that
way to spare us both a painful
goodbye. "I will think of you
every day, Joanna, and pray to
the gods that you find a way to
have the life you want and not
be a silly butterfly. The gods
keep you safe, I will return in
a year or two and see what time
has brought to you. In the
meantime, keep the memories of
this time we had safe. Treasure
them as I will, and think kindly
of me. Decimus Meridius."
I slept with that scroll under
my pillow for years. I still
have it close, for it recalls a
time of my youth and innocence
that will never come again.
Click on the laurel leaves below
to go to Chapter Three
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