***
Junius entered his room and threw his old tunic down onto the bed. He should have been tired from the training, but he wasn’t. He’d made Marius carry on for as long as possible and then when his friend had been exhausted, he’d practised running and throwing the javelin whilst Marius had watched. Standard army training, but it was too easy now. He didn’t ache at all. It had to be another side effect of what had happened. They’d both gone to the villa’s baths afterwards but though neither of them had commented on it, he’d seen the look of concern in his friend’s eyes and it was a worry which reflected his own.
Nasir had said that in most cases the physical changes disappeared again, but after three months it wasn’t showing any signs of diminishing. Though if you combined the extra speed and strength he’d gained from the Kin with his heighted senses and the night vision, which were also from the Kin, then he was almost the perfect soldier. If only he wasn’t scared, or in fact terrified, of what he could become if he let himself lose control.
He dreaded going to bed. Most nights he had nightmares which usually caused him to wake several times, but he also had this horrible feeling that he’d lost, or been denied something, and everything else now was a poor second to the pleasure of what he’d had.
He’d made his choice when Belinda had appeared out of nowhere. They wouldn’t have been able to escape anyway, Nasir and Marius were too close and would have acted decisively if they’d had to. He’d had no choice but to kill her, though he was all too aware that a small part of him had been tempted to go with her. Something inside him had changed and it wasn’t only his fascination with the moon, but something much deeper and it was this which frightened him so much.
Truth be known, he didn’t really trust himself. That was why he was still here and not back in Syria with the army where he belonged. Junius had no idea what was wrong with him, except that he was scared of losing control and allowing what was inside to come out.
That was the crux of his confusion. By all the gods, he didn’t want to be one of the Kin, but he still had a feeling of affinity with them and a strange sort of allegiance. And he knew deep down in his heart that they weren’t all dead. He’d told Marius he was all right, because he was ready and able to do his job, but deep inside himself, there was still uncertainty and genuine fear.
Junius noticed several thick official scrolls lying together in a heap on his desk. Curious, he opened one and read the paper, then dropped it angrily. It was a law suit, and by the look of them so were the others, all left there by his mother as part of her unremitting campaign to break down his resistance.
He felt his fury flare up momentarily, then he recovered himself. His father had been nagging away at him in his letters to take up law like a good little patrician, but he rather liked soldiering and was also quite good at it. But this last escapade had fuelled their cause. There was no question that they were secretly worried that he’d tell people about his adventures with monsters in the desert, and that would bring shame to the family name. It was virtually unthinkable for the distinguished Junii family to admit that their heir had become soft in the head, but they would if they had to; it was preferable than allowing him to bring scorn or derision on the family. He wasn’t indispensable either; he had two younger brothers, who’d had the same privileged education, and could easily become the sole bearers of the family name if they had to.
Angrily he picked up the discarded scroll; on the desk was a flint for lighting the oil lamps. Impetuously, he clicked the flint till he had a flame then used it to set the scroll ablaze. There, that was what he thought of their law courts.
“Marcus, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” He didn’t jump, but turned around slowly, holding the burning paper.
“I would have thought that was fairly obvious,” he replied.
His mother rushed into the room and snatched the scroll so that it fell to the floor where she stamped on it, putting out the flames.
“I’m not doing it,” he stated calmly, looking her directly in the eye.
“So you show your refusal by burning things. You’re not too old for a beating. You selfish, arrogant boy. You would ruin this family and all we stand for.” Her face was contorted by the venom of her words and for the first time that he could remember, Junius realised that his mother had lost her imperious haughty demeanour and for once seemed almost human.
“These things happened to me, Mater; I can’t ignore them and pretend they didn’t. I had to report what we saw. Marius and I had to warn our commanders so that they were aware that the threat was out there. If that makes me look mad then so be it. My loyalty first and foremost is to Rome.”
“Noble words, Marcus, but do you really think they believed you? Why were you sent home out of the way? Because they’re embarrassed, that’s why. They did it as a favour to your father so that he could minimise the humiliation you caused us.”
Junius shook his head. “I chose to come back, it was offered to me and I took it. And I saw the reports that went back to Hadrian, I checked the facts and the local tribesmen backed up my stories. We were believed because the General and the Governor had already heard similar stories, they’re well known in Parthia. My commanders believed me, it’s only you and Pater that don’t.”
She turned away and laughed.
“You naïve fool. I never thought I’d suckle a half-wit at my breast. Your brother Lucius, yes, he’s an innocent and always will be, but I thought the blood of ancient Romans ran through your veins. Your father, Marcus is a powerful man. He’s close to the Emperor, and he’s made sure that those reports never got to Hadrian.” She laughed as Junius’s face fell. “Why do you think he sent the message, hoping that you’d soon recover from your ordeal? Hadrian believes that you and your friend were captured by tribesmen hostile to Rome whilst doing Trajan’s survey and were only released when they were defeated by another petty king who wanted to make us Romans happy.”
“But that’s not what happened. The Emperor has to be warned about the Kin. Hadrian reads all the military reports, he was a soldier and takes an interest, especially in Syria. He needs…”
“That’s what he knows. And all he needs to know,” she interjected, coming closer and looking up into his eyes. “Your father worked hard to minimise the damage you could have wreaked on our family. He had to call in a lot of favours to get those reports intercepted and changed. We were lucky that we were warned about them before you came home, so we were ready. Now that you know this, Marcus, you’ll be a loyal son and enter the courts and make him feel that it was worth the effort. You will not return to the provinces, but stay here where we can keep an eye on you.”
“No, I won’t,” Junius replied returning her look. “I’m a good soldier. I’ve at least a few years before I have to do that.”
“You will, Marcus, we can’t risk another embarrassment. You’ll finish your military career now. At the moment Rome thinks you’re a brave and distinguished warrior and not a sun-addled idiot. ” She stared up, daring him to speak, then seemingly satisfied that she’d finally made him see sense, she walked away.
“Hadrian is my friend. Before he became Emperor, we spent time together, both at court and in Parthia. I can pull my own strings, Mater. The ancestors of our house know that I honour our family and my father, but I also serve Rome and the Emperor. So the gods will understand if I override your ambition for me.”
She stopped at the door. “Would you make an enemy of your own mother, Marcus?”
He gave a small tight smile and bowed his head. “No, but I would like to make you proud and I believe that I can keep the family honour and serve Rome.”
She considered him for a moment. “You’re expendable, Marcus. Lucius is adequate, though not a natural soldier, or politician, but that doesn’t matter and Gaius is still teachable. I would rather not, but we could stomach the loss of an eldest son, if you persist in your venture. And it goes without saying, that if you do persist, you
will not have my or your father’s blessing.” She turned and stalked from the room.
Junius stared after her. He’d known his mother was formidable but he hadn’t realised how ruthless she could be even to her own family. She was genuinely threatening to disinherit him; an idle thought had become a real possibility. His mother Aemilia Lepida was up there with Livia, Agrippina and Messalina, and he didn’t know whether to be proud or frightened.