Household Gods

Gaius Calidius Severus was sitting in the tavern, holding the fort as he’d promised. He’d acquired reinforcements since she left: a vaguely familiar man of about his father’s age. They’d been drinking wine: there were cups in front of them. Maybe they’d put brass in the cash box, maybe not. Nicole wasn’t going to worry about it. Calidius Severus was doing her a favor by being here at all. Two cups of wine, or however many it turned out to be, was small enough price to pay.

He greeted Nicole with a smile that seemed just a little bit too glad. He was just a boy, after all, and she’d left him with a heavy responsibility. “Julia and Lucius are asleep, Mistress Umma,” he said. “They woke up for a while, and I gave them some gruel and a little bit of bread sopped in wine, and they even ate a bite each. But they’re still pretty weak. The least little thing flattens them.”

Nicole drew a faint sigh. She hadn’t known till she heard him, that she’d been expecting him to tell her they were worse; they were sinking, they’d soon be dead. But they were better. Notably so, if they were eating and drinking, however little they might be keeping down. “The least little thing flattens me,” she said, “and I was getting better days before they did.”

Gaius Calidius Severus nodded. His relief was still palpable. It made him seem to take refuge in a change of subject. “Mistress Umma, you know Gaius Attius Exoratus, don’t you? He came to call on me, and I asked him over here.”

Nicole remembered the face: he’d eaten and drunk in the tavern a few times, though he wasn’t a regular. She hadn’t remembered his name, if she’d ever heard it. But she could say “Of course I do,” and even sound as if she meant it.

Attius Exoratus nodded. “Aye, we know each other, lad.” His voice was a bass rumble, like falling rocks. “I’d have come anyhow, whether you chanced to be here or not.” He pinned Nicole with a hard stare under a bristle of brows. “It’s a cursed shame he’s gone, Umma. That’s all I’ve got to say. He was one of the good ones.”

Titus Calidius Severus, he meant; he had to mean. “That he was.” Nicole got herself some wine – dipping up a cup seemed so natural now, she didn’t even notice herself doing it half the time – and stood next to the two men. “That he was,” she repeated quietly.

“And young Calidius tells me you just put your daughter in the ground.” Gaius Attius Exoratus let out a long sigh. “Life’s hard. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said. There seemed to be more that she should say, but she couldn’t imagine what.

He didn’t seem to find her response inadequate, at least. “We’ve all done too much mourning lately,” he said. Nicole nodded, unable to find words to respond to that. He went on, “I only came by to tell you, it did my heart good to see how happy you made my old mate. We fought side by side, you know, and mustered out within a couple of weeks of each other, then moved here from the legionary camp down the river.” He pointed east. “He was as happy a man as I ever saw, when this lad’s mother was alive. I was afraid he’d never be happy again after he lost her. But you took care of that. He’s not here anymore to thank you for it, so I reckoned somebody ought to.”

“He did let me know,” Nicole said. That was true for her, and had surely been true for Umma. Still, there was more that needed saying, and this time she managed to say it. “It’s very good of you to make sure it’s taken care of.”

“I know how these things should go,” Attius said.

Nicole nodded again. They sat, she stood leaning lightly against a table. She thought about sitting, but she wasn’t in the mood just yet.

Attius was looking at her. Staring, really. Giving her the eye, she thought. So: was he going to try hitting on her, now his old war buddy wasn’t in the way? She took a deep breath, to laugh in his face. She had no interest in anyone right now, new or old, and less than no interest in sex. The only thing even vaguely related to it that she cared for at the moment was lying down. Alone.

Gaius Attius Exoratus lowered his eyes, grunted, and got to his feet. “I’d better get on home,” he said. “My wife will be waiting for me.”

Nicole almost choked on the breath she’d been holding. Was he sending her a message? Or had he just been trying to remember her face, to keep his memory clearer? Maybe he did have the hots for her.

If he did, he wasn’t going to act on it. Wife, was it? “I hope she stays well,” Nicole said. “And you, too, Attius.”

“Thank you kindly,” he answered. He drained the cup of wine that Gaius Calidius Severus must have dipped for him, and set it down, and belched. Then, wrapping his cloak around him and pulling a fold of it over his graying hair, he went out into the rain.

“He’s a good fellow, Attius is,” Gaius Calidius Severus said after a judicious few moments. “My father liked him a lot.”