Chapter Seven: Marcus' New Acquisition

 Petro’s eyes flew open when Marcus and his little group pushed their way into the tent. The surprise was momentary, however, and soon a broad grin extended across Petro’s features. This woman, was, in Petro’s opinion, pretty. He stumbled to his feet, then bowed politely.

 “I am Petro, son of Callidus. At your service, madam,” he announced, sniggering only a little.

 “Be nice, Petro!” Marcus complained, scowling at his friend. “This is Mulberry.”

 Mulberry dipped her head, and held the baby even tighter. She did not think she liked this. Marcus had said he only wanted a nursemaid, but what did this slimy friend of his want? And it wasn’t as if she really believed Marcus. He was a man, after all, and an imperial. Just because he had done one good deed in his life by taking in the baby didn’t make him any different from the others. Mulberry supposed she’d end up being passed around between the two of them, and the thought made her shudder. Mulberry wanted to hit him, or run, but she knew that wasn’t a real option. They’d hunt her down, and besides, she didn’t have anywhere to go. Her people were dead or scattered, and the town where she had grown up was weeks of travel away, too far to go alone, with not even a proper dress. Mulberry knew that she was better off staying here, no matter how badly this turned out. And she was sure it would turn out badly. The only thing making life bearable was the little bundle she held in her arms. ‘Aurelia’ really was a beautiful baby, and she needed someone to love her, someone who wasn’t an idiot boy that had found her who-knows-where. Aurelia fussed a little, whimpering in the woman’s arms. The poor darling is hungry, Mulberry thought.

 Petro’s grin grew wider.

 “Marcus,” he said, “I take it all back. This worthwhile.”

 Marcus slugged him in the arm, warning, “Watch what you say, Petro.”

 Petro pursed his lips into a pout.

 “Honestly, Marcus, you’re no fun. I’m just playing. No harm meant. Come on, I even made oat gruel for the baby,” Petro begged, gesturing to a bowl filled with colourless mush. Marcus looked surprised, and mollified.

 “Mulberry? Can you feed Aurelia that?” Marcus asked.

 Mulberry dipped her head again.

 “Yes, sir,” she said. She then sat on the floor, her legs tucked up under her, and scooped up the warm, bland foodstuff with the little metal spoon Petro had left in the bowl. As she guided the spoon towards Aurelia’s eager mouth, Marcus tugged on Petro’s sleeve.

 “Outside, Petro,” He ordered.

 Petro was still staring at Mulberry.

 “Huh? What?”

 “I said outside,” Marcus repeated, and dragged Petro out through the door of the tent.

 In the cool evening air, Petro turned and glared at Marcus, pushing him off. “Come on, Marcus, you’re going to tear my clothes.”

 “Like I care. We need to set a few things straight here, Petro”

 “I get it, I get it. She’s your girl. I won’t touch her. I won’t do anything. Alright?”

 Marcus dragged Petro a little further, into the busy pathway that was one of the main-streets of the camp. They nearly slammed into a burly legionary, who swore, muttered something about how clerks were really civilians in disguise, and pushed his way past them.

 “I don’t think you get it, Petro." “I do, I do,” Petro assured him, patting the front of his friends’ tunic companionably, “She’s yours. I don’t touch her, I don’t try to talk her into anything, and um, I leave if you need me to,” he elbowed Marcus, “If you get my drift.”

“Petro!”

“Now, now, young Marcus, I will not stand in the way of your happiness. I have never known you to spend any time at all with a woman, let alone . . . .anyhow, this is a fine development, and - “

Marcus shoved Petro, hard.

“It isn’t like that.”

Petro’s smile widened, “Sure it isn’t. Don’t be embarrassed, Marcus. I’m happy for you”

Marcus grabbed Petro, knotting his hands in his friend’s tunic and drawing him close.

“I said it isn’t like that. If you touch her, I will kill you. And if you suggest one more time that I’m going to do anything to her, I’ll kill you right now,” Marcus snarled, gritting his teeth.

“Woah, woah, back off, Marcus,” Petro said, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He tried to remember when he had last seen Marcus look so serious about anything, and came up blank. “I won’t say a thing. Promise.”

“Her job is to take care of the baby, maybe cook breakfast. Nothing else. Definitely not what you’re suggesting.”

“Okay, okay, fine, if that’s how you want it . . .”

“That’s how I want it,” Marcus nodded, and, with a little sigh, he unhanded his friend.

Petro smoothed out his tunic carefully, watching Marcus closely. Sometimes, he just couldn’t understand his old friend at all. First the baby, and now this woman. Marcus had always been an okay guy, but he’d also always been shy and a bit of a loner. Petro wasn’t sure if he cared for these new developments. He wandered off, thinking it’d be smart to go have a few drinks and not show up at the tent until it was time to turn in.

                                                                                  ~*~

Mulberry fed the baby while the men were gone. She thought again of trying to run, but her rough haircut and deplorable clothes marked her out for what she was, and she knew well enough that things could well be worse if she was captured again. Mulberry sat on a rug on the beaten earth floor. She sat, and she thought. She wondered about the young man and his friend. It was falling dark already, and they were not yet back. She thought about this strange tent. It was not like the sturdy felt structure she had lived in for the eight years of her marriage. That had been warm, the thick felt blocking even the harshest winds. This canvas was drafty, hardly protection from the rain, let alone the wind. It smelled different, too. Home smelled like boiled wool and the faintly floral ghost of tea. This place smelled of earth and damp and oil. She didn’t like it.

Mulberry also thought about the baby. Ear-of-Mouse was an auspicious name, and someone associated with the child had surely been wealthy. Well, that was assuming the blanket and the soft little clothes had been this child’s all along. The baby’s blue eyes didn’t fit in with the image of a high-ranking Estavacan family. Blue eyes were incredibly rare amongst the Estavaci, except perhaps along the border with the empire. In the Estavacan noble classes, blue eyes were unheard of. They would have been considered a sign that the child’s lineage had been sullied by intermarriage with the people of the empire, or of some other land. The child would have been labelled a half-breed, and not likely been given such honours.

Mulberry wondered how long ago Marcus had taken in the baby. That boy hadn’t left Mulberry with anything for the child. There was no bed, no blanket, no clothing. She did not know what to use if – when – the baby needed changing, and that worried her, but she was more worried still that the two young men would return. She was not sure that she wanted to face them, and she knew she did not face whatever it is they would want to do with her. At least, she thought, looking down at round-faced little beauty in her arms, the baby was already asleep. Whatever was to happen, the infant would be ignorant of it, and Mulberry was glad of that.

With a slight rustle the tent flap opened, and Mulberry looked up in surprise, her heartbeat increasing to something like the beating of a small bird’s wings, her face growing pale. She watched as the two young men let themselves in. Petro sat down with a sigh against the far wall of the tent, but Marcus knelt before her, reaching out a hand. Mulberry flinched, but Marcus didn’t notice – he hadn’t been reaching for her at all, but to run his finger gently along Aurelia’s soft cheek.

“She’s asleep already,” he stated, his voice so full of wonder that Mulberry smiled in spite of herself. Marcus then cleared his throat, and suggested, “Look, um, Mulberry? I’m really sorry about this, but like I said, you and Aurelia will both have to bunk in here with Petro and me. I have a few blankets. We can make up a bed for you . . .”

Mulberry stared at him wordlessly, her expression horrified as she processed the words 'make up a bed'. Well, this was it, then. She had hoped he would at least try to kiss her first, or something. She quietly asked, “Where may I put the baby, then?”

Marcus tilted his head to one side, saying, “Hmm, I guess we do have to set up something for Aurelia. Petro? You still have that egg basket with the hole in the bottom? We could line it with blankets.”

Petro tossed a very large woven basket that looked like someone had stepped in it, forcing a hole through the bottom. Marcus caught it lightly, and set it down. In mere moments it was lined with first a rough blanket of Marcus’, and then the soft clothes that the baby had been found in. Marcus then gently took Aurelia from Mulberry’s arms. Mulberry’s eyes grew wide as Marcus pressed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead. Petro snickered, and Marcus shot him a dirty look. He laid the baby gently in the makeshift bed.

“Now, as for you,” Marcus began, his voice low.

Mulberry looked down at the rug beneath her – she didn’t even have the baby to protect her, now. A tear rolled down her cheeks, and Marcus stood up. The next thing Mulberry knew, another of those rough woollen blankets had landed on the floor in front of her. She looked up at Marcus in surprise. Marcus was about as far from her as he could be and still be in the tent, pulling a blanket up around his own shoulders.

“Just find a spot to sleep. I’ll see about getting you a nicer blanket next time we’re in a town. I promise,” He said, lying down over at his end of the tent. Mulberry looked over towards Petro, who had also holed up in a blanket, at least two arm’s lengths away. Apparently the two of them were going to do . . . absolutely nothing. Mulberry was surprised, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she scrunched the rug up into a sort of pillow, and laid down herself, still clothed in her filthy shift. It was better than what could have happened, she reasoned.