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Marius gave a small shrug. At that moment, it was just about the only answer he could think of. ‘I believe we’d both drunk a fair amount, sir. The game got out of hand.’
‘I’d have to agree. You bet everything you owned on a game of chance! Do I need to tell you how reckless that was?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Or how impulsive?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Or how much like your father?’
Marius jutted his chin out. ‘I’m not my father...sir.’
‘No? You know, there are times when I look at you and it’s like I’m looking at him again. You’re so similar. He was my dear friend and a good man, but he had a temper and he flouted authority. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes.’
‘I’ve no intention of doing so, sir.’
‘Pulex says you gambled your sword. His sword.’
‘As you said, sir, I was being reckless. My stake wasn’t high enough and it’s the most valuable item I own.’
‘The most precious, too, I’ll wager.’ Nerva’s eyes narrowed. ‘You told me once that you carry it as a reminder so that you never forget your purpose in life—to redeem your family honour. That was what you wanted most, or so you told me.’
‘It still is.’
‘Yet you risked your sword, the very symbol of your family honour, in a game of chance? Why? Are you in love with her?’
Marius clamped his brows together, his mind instinctively shying away from the idea. Love wasn’t an emotion he recognised, not any more. He had personal attachments—to Nerva, to Hermenia, even to Pulex. He cared about them all, but love? No, he hadn’t loved anyone since his father, and as for his father...
He felt a familiar tightness in his throat. What did it matter what he’d felt for his father? If his father had loved him, then he wouldn’t have behaved in the way that he had. He wouldn’t have put himself and his opinions ahead of family honour. He wouldn’t have come home in disgrace and then simply wasted away, leaving his son all alone in the world.
No, he could honestly say that love hadn’t entered into his thoughts at all, although he could see why Nerva might think so. In some ways it was the only answer that made sense. Why had he been prepared to gamble so much if he wasn’t in love with Livia? Could he be in love with her? Was he capable of it? The very idea made him uncomfortable. His love for his father had brought him only pain and betrayal. What if the same thing happened with Livia?
‘Tell me the truth, Marius.’ Nerva steepled his fingers beneath his chin. ‘You haven’t been yourself since she arrived and now this.’
‘I only want to help her, sir.’ The answer rang true to his own ears, even if it didn’t seem quite enough either. ‘She doesn’t want to marry Scaevola.’
‘That doesn’t mean you have to marry her yourself instead! If that’s all you’re worried about, then send her back to her brother. Don’t shackle yourself.’
‘It’s not shackling.’ He resented the word. ‘But she can’t go back to Lindum. She already told me as much. There’s no other choice.’
‘So you’re really prepared to marry a woman whose dowry’s already been spent by another man?’
‘Yes, sir, I am.’
Nerva sighed heavily. ‘What makes you responsible for her, Marius?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered honestly. ‘It’s just a matter of honour.’
‘Honour...’ Nerva ran a hand through his hair with a grunt. ‘Perhaps I should have expected something like this eventually, but you’ve always been a model soldier... But are you sure this isn’t just about revenge?’
‘Sir?’
‘About getting back at the class of men who condemned your father? Scaevola’s one of them, after all.’
Marius took a moment to answer, offended by the suggestion, as if that were all his behaviour was, a rebellion against Rome, against Scaevola and all the other Tribunes who’d condemned his father. No. Even if he didn’t know what his feelings for Livia were, they were more than that.
‘It has nothing to do with revenge, sir.’
