The Centurion's Woman

Chapter 7

        Ixillius tried talking to her as she was eating but, aside from a few glances when he shifted in his seat, she didn't respond to anything. She ate faster now than the day before and nearly finished the whole plate. She'd smelled the skein he'd brought for her soon after starting to eat, then plugged it again and hadn't touched it since.

        For the last few minutes of her meal, he'd simply sat and watched her. The muscles of her arms and shoulders moved pleasantly under her skin, her neck graceful and her features strong and feminine at the same time. Her skin that he could see was lightly tanned, but pale where the rags had covered her, and her hair seemed to have all the colors of autumn depending on how the lamps lit her. She was less lovely than many women he'd seen, but more striking than most with her direct stare and minimalist way of moving.

        "Who are you?" he asked, and then softly chuckled. "As if you know what I'm saying."

        She pushed away the mostly finished plate and wiped her mouth on the cloth that had covered it. The smile she gave him was tentative and thankful, and he returned it with one of genuine friendliness.

        "You're probably thirsty," he said.

        He knocked on the table with his knuckles a few times, looking around the room for something other than the rejected wine. She watched him openly as he cast his gaze around then stood and filled a plain, clay cup from above the wash bowl.

        "Just water, then," he said, setting the cup on the table close to her and sitting back down.

        She smiled again, looking relieved as she picked up the cup in both hands and drank deeply. Her obvious enjoyment of the cool water left him feeling he'd done something well, so when she set down the empty cup he refilled it.

        "There you have it," he said, returning her smile again. "Now you can tell all your friends that you've been served by a Centurion acting as your own lodge wench."

        She sipped at the cup this time, the same small smile pulling at her mouth that she'd had while standing in the mud earlier today. Ixillius blamed the wine for the warm feeling in his chest once he realized she was simply happy.

        Over dinner with Brasus, with a belly full of food and thoughts filling with wine, Ixillius had admitted to his friend that he did want to bed the strange woman he was tending to. Brasus had nodded sagely and shrugged it off as battle lust. Fighting beside a woman was different than beside a man, and she'd saved his life as much as he'd saved hers.

        "She's not afraid of you, not like most women we meet, so bed her," Brasus had advised. "Then you'll be done with her."

        The advice had seemed good at the time, but with the wine loosening its hold the knot in his stomach was returning and the thought of taking her mixed with the almost instinctive fear that usually accompanied his time around her when she was awake. He was nearly certain that he would find his own knife buried in his chest if he attempted advancing on her, or he'd be gutted like the villager Brasus had told him of. And now that he saw the small happiness he'd brought to her with just simple bathing, a Legionnaire's rations and water, it was difficult for him to imagine a way of bedding her that didn't involve her willingness to be taken. And it was surprisingly easy to imagine her in a willing way.

        She set down the cup and stretched slowly, burping comfortably and mumbling words after. Once she settled again, she lightly tapped the center of her chest.

        "Alex," she said, then tapped her chest again and repeated the single word. Her voice was still rough, but more pleasant than any time he'd heard her speaking before now.

        Ixillius blinked a few times in surprise, realizing what had just occurred. He sat forward and tapped his own chest the same way.

        "Ixillius," he replied.

        Her small smile pulled wider and reached into her eyes. Oh gods, had a woman ever looked at him that way before?

        "Ixillius," she repeated, gently tapping his chest.

        She nodding in greeting once she'd pulled back her hand. He reached over the table and touched her arm.

        "Alex," he tested her name in his mouth, quietly. "Just 'Alex'? Not Alexia, or Alexania?" he asked, half joking, and half hoping, letting his fingers rest against her skin.

        She shook her head no and pulled her arm back from him to tap her chest again.

        "Alex," she said with finality, then yawned.

        "Alex," he repeated.

        Suddenly the wine was gone from his mind and he felt the weight of the day pressing down on him. His fear dimmed greatly now that he had a name to call her by. It was an odd name, but she was an odd woman. The name and the woman seemed a good combination.

        He stood and took off his cloak, hanging it over the window slit to block the cold night air. He felt Alex's eyes on him as he started removing his armor and setting the pieces on the bench beside the washstand. When he glanced over, her eyes were half closed and her body relaxing in preparation for sleep. He realized after a moment and muttered a curse to himself that he should have gotten Brasus to loosen the straps that were hard to reach. Alex chuckled, catching his attention again, and gestured him to come over to her.

        He approached cautiously and positioned as she pushed him gently this way and that. She shook her head in the common way that all women have when dealing with the silliness of men, then released the first fastening that would have troubled him. Suddenly a jolt shot through her body and she slammed awake.

        "Alex?" he asked, not sure what was happening as she stared fixedly at his armor.

        Slowly, one of her hands covered her mouth, her head rocking slightly as she mouthed a silent word. She tried to stand and tangled in the stool, pitching backwards. Ixillius caught her easily, arresting her fall before she collapsed and saving her from a painful landing. She didn't seem to notice. Instead, she wiped her hands across his chest piece, tears starting to spill down her cheeks.

        "Alex?" he asked again, brushing away the tears on one of her cheeks with his thumb as he cradled her head in his hand, his other arm still wrapped around her.

        "Oh. Oh no. No..." she finally said out loud. Her fingers curled around the edges on each side of his chest piece and she shook it against him. "No, no, no, no, no..." Her knees buckled and he lowered her to the furs she'd been sleeping on, mindful of the broken rib.

        "Please, Alex, what's wrong?" he asked as fresh tears poured down her face and she winced from sobs she couldn't control.

        The urge to break whatever, or whoever, was causing her to do this was nearly overwhelming, and the surprise at his own reaction shortened his breath. After a few moments she composed herself and wiped the worst of her tears on a corner of the sheet she wore in substitute for a tunic. A few drops still leaked from the edges of her eyes, but she smiled through them, shaking his chest piece again as if mad at the leather and bronze.

        Without a word, and not moving from the circle his arms made around her, Alex confidently unbuckled the other straps that would have troubled him to reach, then rested her head in the center of his chest piece. She spoke quietly, but he heard her. As when she'd been mumbling the first day after he'd freed her from the pit, the only word Ixillius understood was 'Father'.