Sulla's Fist: A Novel of the Roman Legion (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 5) by Vincent B. Davis II

Author:Vincent B. Davis II [Davis II, Vincent B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thirteenth Press, LLC
Published: 2023-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

SCROLL XIII

Arrea—Two days before the Kalends of Quintilis, 664 Ab Urbe Condita

“Bring me another cup, and more spice this time,” Tullia ordered to any servus listening.

Dining with my hosts became increasingly uncomfortable as Tullia’s pregnancy advanced, but she was particularly uncomfortable on this night.

“In Gaul, women often drink milk when they’re pregnant.” I picked at a few figs left over from our first course and leaned up on my couch.

Tullia leaned back and allowed a slave to dab her forehead with a damp towel.

“And where has that gotten the Gauls?” she said. “They’re barbarians are they not? Roman women drink wine. It civilizes the baby.”

She struggled to rock herself to a seated position so she could drink more comfortably. Tullia’s gulps were becoming as uncouth as her husbands, who sat across from us with an open mouth full of food and ears not listening.

“Perhaps if the little fellow becomes drunk, he’ll hurry and get out of me,” she said, her voice more shrill by the hour.

I forced a smile. “He may not be ready yet,” I said. “Do you know exactly when you conceived?”

She snorted and shook her head. “My husband couples with me so rarely I can mark the exact day. It’s been long enough.”

I crossed my legs and shrugged. “You’ve created a warm and safe home for the child. Perhaps he just wants a while longer with you.”

A pang of jealousy ran through my chest.

Her words slurred. “Well, he certainly hasn’t asked my opinion on the matter.” Tullia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Tranquillus. “Have you nothing to say, husband? You did this to me. Look at my ankles.” She pulled up the hem of her stola, something she would have never done sober or undisturbed by the discomfort of her pregnancy, revealing swollen knots where thin, shapely ankles had been recently.

Tranquillus stood with a grunt. “Too much women talk . . .” he mumbled.

She shook her head as he waddled off. “I pray he’s a better father than he is a husband.”

I thought about Sertorius. Despite the difficulties we’d endured throughout our marriage, I could not imagine a more dutiful and loving husband. Still, he would be an even better father. My face blushed at the thought of him with a newborn, of how he would tend and care for me as I carried it in my womb. The image of him holding a tiny babe to his chest made my stomach leap.

“Men are often uncomfortable with such matters,” I assured her. “We will help bring your child into the world, and when Tranquillus sees your child for the first time, he will love you more than you ever thought possible.”

She finished her wine, laid back on her couch, and placed a hand dramatically on her forehead. “Dear Arrea, what can you know of birthing if you’ve born no child of your own?”

My skin bristled. I reminded myself the pregnancy had overwhelmed her, and she’d drank too much wine. “You are right, I haven’t given birth myself.

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