Jason chose a couch in the room his father had deemed the triclinium and reclined to await the meal. He had made a detour to the kitchen to greet Dinah, had noticed the slaves leaving his chamber. He knew well his belongings would be put away, though he would probably have to reorganize later.
He settled in across from his parents and picked the conversation back up. He had already planned out the stories to regale them with, and they gave him their undivided attention as he spoke of Rome and the journey over. Thankfully, they were not long left without refreshment. Simon appeared with wine and cheese within moments.
Not long after, he smelled the arrival of real food. Andrew entered first and headed for Jason’s father, then Simon followed with a tray for him. He nearly missed the arrival of his mother’s maid, but the sway of hip caught his attention.
Many lessons had he learned in Rome, and one of them was how to observe a beautiful woman without being noticed–a lesson he had not expected to need in his own home. But employ it he did as he selected food from the platter Simon held.
Abigail, he recalled. His father had mentioned her frequently in his letters. She was young, but not a girl–certainly not the waif he barely remembered from the day he left for Rome. Her hair was dark and shining, bound with a strip of cloth that looked to barely contain the thick mass of it. She wore a tunic of fine white linen, a belt to match Mother’s emphasizing full curves and narrow waist. And her face–her face would inspire any artist in Rome. She would make an alluring Venus. Perhaps a nymph.
Jason lounged on his chaise and tasted his first bite of the food of his childhood, smiled. “I had forgotten how excellent Dinah’s cooking is. My friends will all be very jealous that I get to feast like a king every day.”
His mother smiled. “She will be pleased at the compliment. And speaking of feasting, the general and his wife wish us to bring you for dinner at your earliest convenience.”
“Well, my first night watch is not for another four days, so any evening before then will do.” He drained his cup, partially so that the maid, who now held the pitcher, would have to come refill it. “Perhaps the day after tomorrow? That will give me time to settle in.”
“I will send word.”
He nodded his approval and did not glance over at Abigail when she paused by his side. Her voice came quiet and melodious, careful not to interrupt. “More wine, Lord?”
“Yes.” She smelled of spices from the kitchen and a lingering perfume he identified as his mother’s. When she moved away after topping his cup, he smiled again at his parents. “You have been moving in high circles, Mother. The general’s wife is from an upstanding family in Rome. I dined with them a few times at the Asinius house.”
“Julia is a dear friend. We hope to meet all of yours soon too.”
“Of course.” They would be impressed, he knew. A powerful father, a beautiful mother . . . even a tempting maid that he could contemplate at his leisure. Finally, he had come home. They were in his world now, and he would enjoy that luxury.
Gaze sweeping across Abigail as he looked to his father, he very nearly grinned. He would enjoy it very much indeed.
*
“What do you think?”
Abigail looked up at Andrew, who was apparently paying no attention to her lesson. The masters still talked and lounged, but when they had been dismissed, Abigail and Andrew had returned to their normal routine.
Or she had, anyway. Andrew’s attention was not so easily put on the lesson.“That you are truly a horrible student, but I will forgive you today since we have been so busy and disrupted.” Abigail took a sip of her water and did not bother to sort through her own documents. “He really gave Mark over to be tortured?”
Andrew nodded. “He said so himself.”
She shook her head. “Then I think my fears may be justified. The young master obviously has a very diverse view from his parents. He could make things uncomfortable.”
“He is not the one who has control.”
“Tell me, though, Andrew. Was there tension in the air when he shared the news with our master?”
“Yes.”
“And would you want to feel that all the time in this house?”
He sighed. “Of course not. But he did say the incident with Mark happened years ago. Perhaps his views have changed, or will. Other than that then, what did you think?”
Abigail’s eyebrows raised in question. “What answer are you looking for, my friend? I think he looks much like his mother, he seemed a bit tired, he was very attentive to both of his parents, and I did not see much of the insolent boy I remember from my first day here.” She smiled. “Or did you wish something else?”
Andrew met her smile. “Nothing in particular. I suppose it is just that I knew him many years before these six, and I wonder how much he has really grown out of his vices and how much he has simply better hewn them.”
Her smile turned to a grin, playful. “Now who is borrowing troubles that are not ours?”
He laughed lightly. “I am merely testing you, trying to lure you into speaking idealistically.”