Breath From the Sea (Thistle and Rose #3) (2 page)

Tiberius understood it all too well, but he also understand that he, as Theodosia’s father, knew what was best for her.  He and his wife had been given over to many long discussions about their daughter’s future and Theodosia’s mother was also in agreement. They had to do what was best for their child, whether or not she realized it. Lucius was dead and he was never coming back. Theodosia, with or without Lucia, had to move on. But the difficulty would be in the doing.

“Theo,” Tiberius said quietly as he rose from his chair.  Theodosia was facing the small fish pond in the
peristylium,
refusing to look at him.  When he realized she wasn’t going to turn around to face him, he cleared his throat softly. “I understand that you are still grieving for Lucius. I understand that you loved the man. But you must understand that life goes on without him. Lucius is dead, Theo; he has been dead for years as far as we know. You have therefore been a widow for at least that long. Will you waste your life lingering in the past, over a love that grew cold years ago? You are more intelligent than that. You were always given free choice in all matters but I find that at this time, I must make your decisions for you since you choose to linger in the darkness. I told Marcus that you would marry him. The contract has been sealed. Tomorrow, Marcus will come for you and you will go with him. You must trust me in this matter, Theodosia. I know what is best for you.”

Theodosia had been staring at the fish pond through his speech until he mentioned Marcus and the marriage. Realizing what her father had done, she looked at the man in outrage.

“You had no right!” she hissed. “No right at all!”

Tiberius would not be sucked into her argument. He turned away. “As your father and the man who provides your food and clothing, I have every right,” he told her sternly. “I am sorry if this angers you, Theo, but you will thank me one day. This is what is best for you. Lucia will remain here with your mother and I until such time as Marcus will allow her into his household. She will be happy here, I swear it.”

Tiberius was walking away, as he often did with face with enraged or emotional females. Theodosia knew it would do no good to scream at him for it would only make him angry. It would only drive him away to the point where he would lock himself in his room and refuse to come out.  Nay, arguing with the man would not bring about his change of mind. Once his mind was set, it was purely stone.

Tears filling her eyes, Theodosia watched her father disappear into the villa, no doubt to inform Theodosia’s mother what he had done.
She probably already knows
, Theodosia thought bitterly.  She was quite certain they had both had a hand in this because she was also quite certain that her father had tried to deliver this news to her more than once over the past few days but she was in no frame of mind to listen to him. But today, he could no longer delay, especially if Marcus was expecting her on the morrow.  Was it really possible?

Oh, God… Marcus…!

Theodosia could not go to him; she
would
not go to him. She would not leave her daughter behind. That being the case, she would either have to fight the man off or run away from him. She chose to run; there was nothing left for her here, anyway, not with Lucius gone. In fact, this entire place reminded her of him, reminded her of the man she had loved and lost.  She had to go somewhere else and start anew, a place where there were no memories of Lucius and where overbearing buffoons like Marcus weren’t breathing down her neck.

She had to get away.

Lucia was still picking yellow flowers off the vine as her mother came to her and gently led her away. Into the dark, well-furnished villa they went, heading to the
cubiculum
they shared, the one that Theodosia had shared with Lucius before he’d left for Britannica.  The chamber was small but well-appointed with a comfortable larger bed and then a smaller one in the corner for Lucia.

Once inside the chamber, Theodosia shut the door and bolted it. The only light and air came from a narrow window up near the ceiling, a window that faced inward to the atrium of the home. On the second floor of the villa as they were, the walls of the chamber were painted beautiful reds and yellows, with a woodland scene against the outer wall.

Lucius had once taken a reed brush and, with black paint he’d taken from the household slaves that worked the maintenance on the villa, painted a giant penis on every animal in the woodland scene. The enormous phalluses were still there and gave Theodosia cause to smile every time she saw them. They reminded her of Lucius and his sense of humor, of the man who could be so loving and yet so naughty at times. She loved that about him. They risqué paintings brought a smile to her lips even now.

So she stood there a moment, grinning at her husband’s sense of humor, drinking in the sight to tuck back into her memory for days when she was feeling particularly lonely.  She could lose herself in thoughts of Lucius so easily here but she eventually shook them off. She had a job to do. Opening the large chest where clothes and other possessions were kept, she removed a large satchel made from leather and fabric.  Quickly, she went to work.

As Theodosia hurriedly packed, Lucia found her poppets and sat upon her little bed, paying with her dolls and the flowers she had picked.  At one point, Theodosia’s mother knocked on her door, wanting to speak with her, but Theodosia chased her away. She didn’t want to speak with her mother. She knew the woman supported her husband’s decision to marry off their daughter so she had no desire to speak with her. She had no desire to speak with the woman who would so greedily accept Lucia to raise as her own.

So Theodosia’s mother eventually wandered away, distraught, but Theodosia didn’t pay the woman any mind. She continued packing her bag, stuffing it with clothing they would need and valuables to sell, including every piece of jewelry her father had ever given her. They were expensive pieces and would bring a goodly sum. Theodosia knew she would need the money.

As she bustled about in her chamber, collecting things of value, she passed by her writing desk and accidentally bumped into it. Pieces of vellum fell to the floor and as she picked them up, her attention was focused on one particular sheet on the top.

My fingers brush the sky; I see your face in the clouds.

In white mist, your smile fills my soul,

My heart has wings!

Upon the breath from the sea, I hear you call to me,

Ever, Theodosia, ever my love!

For separation cannot deny the bonds of our passionate hearts.

With a sigh, Theodosia slowed in her packing as she read the poem, twice. Lucius had been known to write copious amounts of poetry to her and she, in turn, had learned to write it to him. But that had stopped the moment the missive had come from Londinium. She never wanted to write poetry ever again, for it was something only meant for Lucius. Looking at her words upon the vellum, words she’d hoped to give to Lucius someday, she missed the man all the more. It made her realize that running away was the right thing to do.  She would not be separated from the child of the man who instilled such love within her breast.  For him, still, her heart had wings and it always would.

She renewed her packing with a sense of urgency now, stronger than before. Her next order of business was to dress her daughter appropriately for travel and she bundled the child up in loosely fitting clothing. Putting a little cap on her head to conceal her dark curls, she dressed appropriately herself in durable traveling clothing. Her dark red hair, so shiny and lovely, was wrapped up in a scarf to conceal it. Dressed and packed, she fed her child the remnants of the fruit and bread and cheese that had been left over from a mid-morning meal and waited for the sun to set.

There was a reason she wanted to wait until sundown; she knew her parents would be taking their naps before the evening meal and the villa would be quiet and still for the most part. Opening her chamber door as the sunlight on the walls turned shades of pink and gold, she slipped from her chamber and down the stairs that led to the
vestibulum
, or entry, as her chamber was very close to it. 

There were a few servants about but they didn’t notice her as she slipped out into the olive grove that was immediately outside, using the darkened trees with their dark green leaves so shield her flight. As the night birds began to forage overhead and the sea breeze blew cool and damp, Theodosia and Lucia slipped away from
Villa Junii,
making their way to the inland road that would lead to the north.

It was a long flight into the night that did not stop even when the sun rose again. It was well into the next day when Theodosia, carrying the sleeping Lucia on her shoulder as she trudged down the tree-lined road, heard the sounds of a wagon behind her. Fearful it might be her father, for she had already evaded his patrols twice, she slipped off the road and allowed the cart to pass, noting it was a lone man with an empty cart.  The wagon bed was covered in chaff.

Hopeful that she might have found a ride to the mountainous interior region where she hoped to find shelter, she came out of her hiding place and began to walk quickly after the cart. She could only pray the man at the reins was a kind and moral soul. At this point she didn’t much care because her exhaustion and hunger had the better of her.  She needed rest and food badly, overriding her common sense.

“Sir?” she called after him. “
Sir
?”

The man in the cart, hearing the voice behind him, turned around to the source but kept going. However, when he saw the woman with the small child following him, he came to a halt. Relieved, Theodosia ran up to the wagon bench.

“Good sir,” she said, weary and hopeful. “Would you be kind enough to take my child and I with you?”

The man, younger, with handsome and somewhat rugged blond looks, nodded. “Where are you going?”

Theodosia lifted the half-asleep Lucia onto the wagon bench and the man grasped the child so she wouldn’t slither away. Theodosia climbed up onto the bench and took Lucia back into her arms, holding the child tightly.

“I… I am going up this road a way,” she said, uncertain what to tell the man who seemed to be gazing at her with some interest.  “Thank you for your graciousness.”

The man clucked softly at the big brown horse, who began to walk again.  He eyed Theodosia somewhat, curious about the beautiful woman with the sleeping child. He also noticed the traveling clothes, the bag.  “Have you been traveling far?” he asked politely.

Theodosia nodded. “Very far.”

“Where are you going?”

Theodosia had no idea what to tell him so she avoided answering. She glanced at the wagon bed, covered in chaff. “Are you a farmer?” she asked.

The man nodded. “My father and I have a large farm near Cesaro,” he said. “I go into Rome once a week to sell our produce at the markets. I am just returning.”

Theodosia glanced at the man; he had pale blue eyes and very big, muscular hands.  “What do you sell?”

“Grain, mostly,” he said. “We also have a small vineyard and my father makes wine.”

Theodosia was interested in such a life; men and women who worked the land had always fascinated her. 
To be so useful,
she thought. She had no idea what it truly meant to be useful, just as she had no idea what it truly meant to run away from her father’s home. Already, they had faced some hunger and hardship. She was frightened. But she also felt strangely free.

“Do you do well at the market?” she asked, genuinely curious. “That is to say, are you able to do well enough to feed yourself and your family?”

When he caught her looking at him, he smiled and his eyes crinkled. “I do well enough,” he told her. “But it is just my father and me. There are only two mouths to feed.”

“No wife?”

“I was married, once, but she died giving birth to my son, who also died.”

Theodosia sobered. “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to pry.”

The man shook his head. “You did not,” he said, eyeing her now with more interest than curiosity. “My name is Gaius, by the way.”

“I am Theodosia. This is my daughter, Lucia.”

“Where are you going, Theodosia? To see your family?”

Theodosia shook her head and looked away. “Nay.”

“Your husband, perhaps?”

Again, she shook her head. “My husband is dead.”

“And you are running from his cruel family who beats you daily and forces you into slavery?”

Theodosia grinned in spite of her herself. “Nay,” she said. “I have been living with my family. My husband’s family is all dead.”

Gaius was an extraordinarily intelligent man for being a farmer; in fact he had been schooled in his youth and spent several years in the Roman army, but an ill father and a failing farm had caused him to return home.

Bright as he was, he knew there was much more to Theodosia than she was telling him. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with soft white hands and smooth skin and if he could guess about her, he would say she was a noblewoman.  She just had that look about her, regal and elegant.  But she was running from something, or someone, and the protective male in him seemed to be taking great interest in her.  It probably wasn’t healthy for him, for he’d never had good fortune with women, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about Theodosia drew him to her.