To Love Again - Bertrice Small [10]
“But I know nothing about farming!” Quintus Drusus burst out.
Gaius smiled. “I am aware of that, my boy. How could a fine fellow like yourself, brought up in Rome, know anything about the land? But we will teach you, and help you to learn.”
Quintus Drusus told himself he must not lose his temper. Perhaps he could sell this farm and its villa and escape back to Rome. But Gaius’s next words dashed all his hopes in that direction.
“I bought the river farm from the estate of old Septimus Agricola several years back. It has lain fallow since then. I was fortunate to get it cheap from the heirs who live in Glevum. Property values are down even further now for those wishing to sell, but they are an excellent value for those wishing to buy.”
There was no quick escape, then, Quintus Drusus thought gloomily, but once his marriage to Cailin was settled, they would at least be monied. “When,” he asked his cousin, “do you propose to celebrate the marriage between your daughter and myself?”
“Marriage? Between you and Cailin?” Gaius Drusus wore a puzzled face.
“My father said there would be a marriage between your daughter and myself, cousin. I thought I came to Britain to be a bridegroom, to unite our two branches of the family once again.” Quintus Drusus’s handsome face showed his barely restrained anger.
“I am so sorry, Quintus. Your father must have misunderstood me, my boy,” Gaius said. “I but offered you an opportunity here in Britain where there was none for you in Rome. I felt it my duty because of our blood ties. Now if you and Cailin should fall in love one day, I should certainly not object to your marrying my daughter, but there was no contract for a marriage enacted between our two families. I regret your confusion.” He smiled warmly, and patted the younger man’s arm. “Cailin is still just half grown. If I were you, my boy, I should seek a strong, healthy woman from amongst our neighbors’ daughters. We are celebrating the festival of manhood, the Liberalia, for our twin sons in a few days. Many of our neighbors and their families will be attending. It will be a good time for you to look over the local maidens. You are a good catch, Quintus. Remember, you are a man of property now!”
No marriage. No marriage. The words burned in his brain. Quintus Drusus had not been privy to the correspondence between his father and his cousin Gaius, but he had been quite certain his father believed a marriage was to take place between himself and Cailin Drusus. Had his father misunderstood? He was not a young man by any means, being some twenty years older than Gaius Drusus.
Or had his father known all along that there would be no marriage? Had Manius Drusus tricked him into leaving Rome because Gaius was willing to offer him lands of his own? Did Manius Drusus dangle a rich marriage before his youngest child because he knew that he would not go otherwise? It was the only explanation Quintus Drusus could come up with. His cousin Gaius seemed an honest man in all respects. Not at all like that sly old Roman fox, his father.
Quintus Drusus almost groaned aloud with frustration, running a hand through his black hair. He was marooned at the end of the earth in Britain. He was to be a farmer: He shuddered with distaste, seeing a long, dull life filled with goats and chickens stretching ahead of him. There would be no more glorious gladiatorial battles at the Colosseum to watch, or chariot racing along the Appian Way. No summers on Capri, with its warm blue waters and endless sunshine, or visits to some of the most incredible brothels in the world, with their magnificent women who catered to all