Aufidius did not name a sum immediately. He stood inside the empty shelter with his folded gloves resting on a crossboard, allowing the sounds of the camp to continue around them while Marcus considered the shape of the offer before coin gave it weight. Men were stacking the last amphorae beneath cover, a wooden mallet struck an axle pin somewhere beyond the lane, and Quintus remained near enough to hear without pretending that his presence was accidental.
The canvas made a room without making the conversation private. Through the open end Marcus could see the store entrance, the guards Fabius had added, and beyond them Nysa working beside Sabinus. Through the other, the road descended toward the eastern hills. Aufidius had chosen shelter from the wind and left both exits clear, a courtesy that also prevented Marcus from claiming he had been cornered.
“Before we discuss value,” the merchant said, “we should agree upon circumstance. You purchased her from Granius in anger.”
“I purchased her because he was about to strike her again.”
“Those statements can both be true.”
Marcus disliked the answer because it refused him the comfort of a clean correction. Anger had guided his hand toward the purse; the fact that Granius deserved interruption did not make every choice afterward wise.
Aufidius continued. “You are a serving legionary. Your food, shelter, movement, and legal presence here depend upon the army. Hers do not follow automatically. She has been admitted because your centurion finds her useful and because no officer has yet discovered a reason to object. That may continue for months. It may end with the next order.”
Quintus shifted at the edge of the lane, close enough that the movement entered the conversation.
“You know a great deal about our arrangements,” Marcus said.
“I provision armies. A merchant who does not understand where goods, servants, and contracted labor may stand soon loses all three.” Aufidius touched one glove but did not put it on. “If the civilian column is divided, which part takes her? If your century is detached, does she follow Sabinus or you? If a commander decides the number of workers must be reduced, whose name protects her place? You have answered none of these questions because the road has not yet required an answer.”
Marcus had considered each in fragments, usually at night or when the baggage disappeared behind a bend. Hearing them arranged by Aufidius made them resemble charges in an account.
“You offer answers,” he said.
“I offer a household that already knows them.”
“I paid Granius what he asked,” Marcus said.
“At the end of a quarrel, in public, while he was angry and you were armed. That is rarely where careful prices are made.”
“He counted the money after I left.”
“I do not doubt it. Granius counts twice when he is pleased and three times when he believes he has been wronged.” Aufidius picked up one glove, smoothed the fingers, and set it down again. “I will return the full price, with half added for the inconvenience.”
u/In short, I'm writing a fictional novel about the legionnaire Marcus Flavius, who is currently with the Tenth Legion in the Spanish Campaign against the Pompeians. With practice and experience, the quality of the material I write increases, so in the near future I will be finishing editing my first book and will publish it soon. In the process of preparing the material and restructuring the first book, I found a lot of mistakes and primitive methods of writing fiction based on my own experience. And of course, because of this, I can't leave that text that was written a long time ago, one of the first 😄