“Could you pour me some as well?”
“Yes.” Her voice, she noticed sourly, sounded like a squeaking mouse, and she felt heat crawl up her body. Why did this man make her feel so self-conscious? She was a woman of Rome, a widow even, not some simpering girl in the first flush of youth! With shaking fingers she poured out some water before thrusting out her hand, waiting for him to take the wooden cup. She quivered when his fingers touched hers, and she pulled away, her movements abrupt before she stepped away from him, breaking the tension which seemed to be there every time he came within touching distance. She walked back to where she had slept, picked up her red cloak and folded it with jerky movements before doing the same with Metellus’s.
She really had to control her emotions more when she was around him. She was fast becoming a liability to herself. Hadn’t Metellus made his feelings plain enough yesterday? She would do well to heed his warning…
Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without mishap. She was able to keep pace with Metellus this time, partly due to the shade provided by the branches of the tree he’d cut down for her, and which he’d tied to the makeshift sleigh so it draped over her as she walked; and partly due to the fact he’d slowed the pace down considerably.
Livia didn’t know how much ground they covered that day, but it must have been many miles. She noticed that the terrain up ahead had changed, the sandy beach coming to an end in about another half a mile or so to be replaced by a rocky coast line.
“Does the change in terrain mean anything?” She asked, when they had stopped for the day, and made camp.
Metellus frowned, staring at the rocky outcrop ahead of them. “I don’t know. But I pray to the gods it will mean we can soon find some food and water.”
“Do you know where we are? The island, I mean…”
Metellus shook his head. “Not really. The storm was so fierce, the ship could have been blown anywhere. But, if I were to hazard a guess, I think we may be on one of the Greek islands. But like I said, I’m not sure.”
“Have you been to any of the Greek islands before?”
Metellus grunted, and shook his head, “No. I’m just a humble merchant that’s all. This would have been my first trip. I recently took over the family business from my uncle. We sell wine to Africa and then import papyrus paper back to Rome. This was my inaugural voyage. Not a good start was it?”
Livia lifted her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn’t thought him to be a merchant. Rather, when she had seen him on the deck that first time, she had convinced herself he was just one of the sailors.
“Looks can be deceiving, Livia.”
She blushed, when she realised he had read her thoughts – again. She shrugged, a small smile playing on her mouth. “Yes, I realise that. But like you say, looks can be deceiving.”
That evening a companionable silence fell between them, as they ate their small ration of dried beef. As Livia chewed on a small piece of meat, she couldn’t help but remember the food back home at her father’s villa, and for the first time in days she felt real hunger, and her stomach growled out in protest. Loudly.
So loudly, that Metellus looked across from her and smiled, “Me too. I’m so hungry I could eat anything.”
Livia laughed and smiled across at him. “I must remember to recommend this to my father’s cook when I get back home,” she said, lifting up the piece of dried meat.
Her words had the effect of a splash of cold water, when she saw the smile leave Metellus’s face.
“Ah, yes. Your father. The great Senator Drusus. How could I forget?”
Livia’s face drained of all colour at the harshness of his words, and she watched him get up and walk away from her, breaking the easy companionship which had been there moments ago.
What on earth had her father done to cause his displeasure? It was obvious there was bad feeling between the two of them, but for the life of her she couldn’t think what. She was desperate to find out, but she knew with a certainty Metellus wouldn’t tell her what it was. It was best to keep her thoughts to herself. For a while at least. Now was not the time to challenge him about the past. She was wise enough to know that.
“What is it? A fort?”
Metellus didn’t look away from the awesome sight before them, but shook his head at Livia’s questions. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly, “If it is a fort, it’s one I’ve never seen the likes of before. For a start it’s only got one wall,” he said nodding to the wooden structure – complete with parapet walls and a watchtower - which acted as some sort of barrier. It was about ten feet high and had a massive door in it. But as a defence it was worthless, because it was only one sided. The rest of the settlement was open, and he could see a myriad of huts and buildings behind it. He also saw people rushing about, shouting at each other. And if he was correct, they were shouting about them!
He knew they had been seen, as heads had popped up on the parapet wall with regular frequency only to disappear back down quickly. He could hear them shouting in Greek, which made his earlier comment about them being on one of the many small Greek islands probably correct.
Although his stomach had clenched when he had first seen the fort, he had also been relieved. Relieved, that at last there was the firm possibility of their survival now. A fort, or whatever it was, must have food and water. All he needed to do was convince whoever lived in there that they posed no danger to them, and the only way to do that was to go and speak with them.
Turning to Livia, he said, “I want you to stay here. Don’t leave this spot until I come back.” Then he took off the red cloak and handed it to Livia before unstrapping the sword and passing it over to her.
“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t you take the sword?” she whispered, “For protection…they might be hostile.”
Metellus shook his head. “I don’t want to inflame their anger by turning up dressed like a Roman soldier. It might send out the wrong message.”
Seeing her mouth open, in what he knew was going to be a protest, he lifted a finger and placed it on her lips, his eyes pleading, “No arguing, Livia. Please.”
Livia’s mouth snapped shut, and he saw the flare of surprise widen her expressive eyes. She said nothing as she stared up at him, and he nodded his head before turning away from her and walking towards the fort.
“Metellus!”
He turned his head to look back at her, his eyes questioning, as he watched in surprised fascination, colour stain her cheeks as if she had somehow regretted shouting after him. Then, before he could ask her what was wrong, she whispered, “Be careful.”
Livia felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment, as Metellus stared at her from unblinking eyes. In an instant she regretted her words, and she stiffened expecting him to say something derogatory.
Instead he said nothing, but he did give a slight nod before he turned and carried on walking towards the fort. Livia dragged in a ragged breath, her stomach quivering as her gaze fixed on the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Hades, the man made her say, and do things, she never thought capable of.
And all because he had kissed