Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [149]
He did. And the next day the same pattern was repeated. If Porteus was out, he would sit with Maeve, or go out riding with her; if Porteus were there, he would remain and engage him in desultory conversation by the hour. His presence in their small house became so much of a habit that, although at first it annoyed Porteus, he soon found that he hardly noticed the chief any more.
Tosutigus was bored and lonely at the farm without his daughter. For the first time in many years he missed the company of a woman; he was also eager to take part in his daughter’s new Roman life.
“Now the young Roman is in the family,” he told Balba and his brother, “we shall see some changes at Sarum.” And he waited anxiously to see what they would be.
At first Porteus himself was uncertain what to do. As far as Rome was concerned, he was forgotten. His work on the imperial estate was excellent; from Classicianus he received praise, together with a handsome increase in his salary so that he was able to send money to his father in Gaul; and this act of family duty did much to relieve the pain he had felt at the failure of his career so far. But that was all. When, a year after his marriage he reminded the procurator of his hopes for a move, Classicianus said only:
“I can’t spare you from Sorviodunum. Not at present.” And again he warned him: “Rome is becoming more dangerous every month. Nero’s court is a snake pit. Stay where you are and build up your wife’s estate.”
But still Porteus was impatient to leave; and to his surprise he found that Tosutigus was his ally. For when he mentioned his wish to visit the imperial city, the chief rubbed his hands enthusiastically.
“I want to see Rome before I die,” he told Porteus. “Perhaps I shall meet the emperor.” And almost every day after this, the Celt would cry: “Let us go to Rome together!”
It was Maeve who showed no interest.
“Rome!” she would say with a toss of her head. “What can be better than this at Rome?” And with a sweep of her hand she would indicate the rolling landscape of Sarum.
They spent their nights in passion; but although Porteus was still obsessed with his young wife’s body and her tempestuous character, this lack of interest in Rome became a source of irritation between them. Each evening, when they were alone together, he would sit with her and try to improve her halting Latin. Sometimes she made a brief effort, to please him; but soon she would grow bored. “I want a husband, not a schoolmaster,” she used to laugh, and pull him to her. Or, if he persisted, her voice would become toneless and indifferent, she would start to fidget and her eyes would wander, until sadly he gave up.
Hoping to interest her, he described the wonders of the great city: the seven hills with their palaces, the forum, the theatres, the brilliant debates in the lawcourts or in the senate, the magnificent libraries of the great nobles. But to all these wonders, which fired his imagination, she was indifferent.
“It’s nothing to do with us, though,” she once told him impatiently. And as the months went by, it was with the chief, rather than his daughter that Porteus shared these enthusiasms.
He told himself it did not matter. After all, he thought, a man doesn’t have to share his thoughts with his wife. And he tried to take his passionate bride on her own terms.
Yet still it hurt him that Maeve should show no interest in matters that were so dear to him; and though he knew it was unreasonable, he was secretly angry that she made no attempt to become a Roman wife. How could she truly love him, he sometimes wondered, and despise things that were so much a part of his own character?
“If you despise Rome, it’s a pity that you married a Roman,” he once said bitterly.
“Are you sorry you married me?” she demanded in reply, and began to take off her robe. And as he saw her marvellous young body, and felt, as he always did, a rush of excitement, he stretched out his arms to her eagerly.
“I’m not sorry,” he laughed. But he knew it was not