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‘How are you holding up? It can be quite a climb in places.’
‘I’m doing fine. It’s challenging, because I’m a little bit out of shape at the moment, but I honestly love it,’ Maya replied, emerald eyes shining.
‘I would never have called you out of shape, Maya.’ His tone huskily wry, Blaise let his glance deliberately track up and down her body for a moment. Heat invaded her.
‘I mean I’m probably quite unfit. Living in London, I just don’t get the exercise that I’d probably be motivated to get out here, where I can breathe in all this wonderful fresh air instead of traffic fumes. You’re so lucky living in such an amazing place.’
She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and frantically hunted for a way to keep the conversation neutral.
‘You said that the main character in your play is a young Roman soldier responsible for helping guard and patrol some of the sentry posts along the wall?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where did he come from? Rome?’
‘No. The soldiers came mainly from a place in Belgium—known in ancient times as Tungria.’
‘Oh? Can you tell me a bit more about what happens to him?’
He had told her a little of the story, and what he needed her to research, and right from the start Maya had been intrigued by it. It was the heartbreaking tale of a young boy in Roman times—a boy with a head full of dreams of glory, running away from home and his family’s farm to join the Roman army—who, when he got to Britannia, met a local girl from one of the settlements and fell in love. The soldiers then had been forbidden to marry, and their liaison had to be conducted in secret.
‘Well…’ Blaise gazed out into the middle distance for a couple of moments, considering Maya’s question. ‘Eventually the soldier is killed, during a night attack on the wall, but before he dies he finds out that his sweetheart is pregnant with his child, and he vows to find a way for them to return to his village so that they can marry. Frankly, he is tired of being a soldier—killing men in skirmishes and attacks to preserve land for a conquering army—and has become increasingly disenchanted with his role. He soberly reflects on the benefits of a simple rural life, raising a family and earning a living from what he can grow on his land.’
He continued thoughtfully, ‘Yes, we can travel all round the world in pursuit of our dreams, only to realise the treasure we were so avidly in search of is already right here in front of us.’ He jerked his head towards the stunning vista surrounding them. ‘The taking of a life is a dreadful thing, and violence can never be the answer,’ he added, sighing, ‘however much we seek to justify it. First we need to examine the violence in ourselves, I think. Ultimately, that’s what the play is about.’
As he’d been speaking, a gust of strong wind had torn through the tousled dark gold lock of hair that flopped onto his brow, and Maya stared transfixed at the chiselled beauty of features that were suddenly thrown into stark and breathtaking relief. She was utterly fascinated that to highlight the theme he’d chosen—and he was writing a play about youthful dreams turning into a nightmare—he had used a story about love…
Before she realised it, she heard herself ask, ‘What were your own dreams as a boy?’
On the brow of that windblown hill, Blaise studied Maya for what felt like an eternity before replying. When he did eventually answer her question, his voice sounded calm and steady. ‘To express myself creatively in the way that I chose and be good at it…and funnily enough to be happy.’
‘And are you happy?’
‘Are you?’
‘That’s not fair!’ Maya protested, taken aback at how easily he’d turned the tables on her.
‘Then answer me this instead…What were your dreams as a young girl?’
Knowing that he was definitely issuing her with a challenge, Maya dug her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket and wondered what to tell him. In the end, because the penetrating beam of his gaze left her with no hiding place, she elected to be honest.
‘To grow up, find someone I wanted to be with for ever—someone who really loved me—and have a family. I was never ambitious for a big career or wealth or anything like that. But…’ she dipped her head and stared at the ground ‘…it was a childish dream. Now that I’m grown up I’m fully aware just how difficult such a deceptively simple dream is to achieve, and I just take one day at a time and try to enjoy what I have got.’
‘What about artistic talent? You didn’t inherit any desire to maybe do what your father did?’
