by Mira Zamin
CHAPTER IX
Nightfall.
A few hours before, a slave had come to inform Calista that Avaritus ordered her attendance tonight and that she would be bathed in the family baths for the purpose. Tomorrow she would wed and cement Avaritus’ plans. And Calista would have no escape. Divorce was achievable in Rome but here, in Portus Tarrus, where she would be constantly watched, marriage would irreparably seal her fate. Calista had avoided her mother’s concerned looks and had agreed smoothly, but had requested that her mother and Pyp bathe with her. To her relief, the woman, with her cloud of curling black hair, had shrugged her small shoulders in disinterested agreement. What was it to her, after all, if two more people came to bathe?
That was her first mistake.
Hours later, the black-haired slave woman, Brina, who was one of Avaritus’ unfamiliar imports, came to take them to the baths. Calista followed her from the room, avoiding her family’s eyes for fear she would start giggling uncontrollably and expose the whole charade. The villa’s halls seemed to have been swept clean of people and Calista would have wagered that Avaritus had ordered the household to keep away while they were being transported, thinking that they may be moved to aid their former masters.
As they walked through the atrium, Calista memorized her home, aware that she would very likely never see it again. To her eyes, the fine details stood out: the deep blue pieces of the mosaic, the pink marble veins of the floor, the carved rivulets running down the columns, the calm ripple of water from the fountain in the center of the atrium. She would miss it: she had lived here while her father’s father was proconsul. They had lived in Rome for some time, only to return again when Lucretius had become Proconsul of Terronensis. The charm of this place, the connection she felt with it, threatened to cause her to curl around a column and never let go.
Once I leave, my childhood is over, she realized.
Every so often, Olympia reached out to touch Pyp to remind him to keep the buoyancy from his step. Calista herself was hard-pressed to maintain her morose expression when her liberty was so close.
Once she had returned from Avaritus’ chamber, Calista had confided everything in her mother, save what she had learned of her own birth, and much to her surprise, instead of commanding caution, Olympia had eagerly aided Calista in devising their escape. Calista had realized then that her mother would wish to whisk her children away from this place, even at great risk. She was ashamed, once again, that she had doubted her mother’s resilience. They would go to Rome now, to their old home, which was currently occupied by her aunt Laetitia and her family. Again and again, her mother surprised her and Calista reached out to squeeze her arm warmly.
Arriving at the empty bathhouse, the guard, a tall and broad lad of Calista’s age, remained outside as Brina entered alone to attend the three Volusi. The chamber enveloped Calista’s skin in a warm, humid embrace. The large pool gleamed blue and gold in the lantern light and the clean scents of olive oil and water permeated the room. That smell, at least, had remained steadfast.
Locking the door behind them, Brina made her second mistake and turned her back to Olympia. With surprising alacrity, Olympia struck Brina once-twice on the back of her head with a clenched fist and the slave sank to the ground.
Carefully, Olympia hunched over, confirming the slave’s quavering pulse. “I regret that,” she murmured. “Now Calista, you will find that—Pyp, stay away from the water!” she chastised, spotting Pyp leaning precariously close to the simmering caldarium. “You will find that the little grate opens up and if we follow it through, it will lead to the harbor. Pyp, help you sister shift it open. Quietly, quietly!”
Together, Calista and Pyp lifted the heavy metal grid and propped it softly against the walls. Pyp did not need their mother urging “In, in,” to swiftly slip into the small tunnel, and crawl on his hands and knees deeper inside. With excitement rushing through him, Pyp wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh but he kept silent as his mother and Calista tugged the grate back into place so that not even the most discerning eye could tell it had been used in their escape.
“We will have two hours at the most,” Olympia whispered, “but this route should have us at our destination in half an hour. Crawl quickly my children! Just keep straight!”
Calista and Pyp hastened on their knees down the dark, moist path with Olympia following in the rear. Calista bumbled in disgust as her hands slid around the slippery passage. In the lead, Pyp slipped smoothly ahead in the dark, as easy as a seal, but Calista wished she had brought a lantern. Her mother had said it would not be necessary since the tunnel was direct but it would be have been comforting to see her direction. She squeaked in fright as she heard the chatter of a rat. Perhaps blindness was acceptable after all.
“Mother?” she whispered.
“I am right here, child,” Olympia called back but it was clear she was short of breath.
“Shall we stop?” Calista asked concernedly.
Calista felt a slap on her bottom. “Absolutely not! We do not have time to loiter.”
On they scrabbled along their tube-like route, occasionally slipping or splashing in puddles of water. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dark so that Pyp’s shape and the general outline of the pipe were discernible. Details, of course, eluded her sight and Calista ignored the dank smell that threatened to gag her. She knew her mother had already emptied her stomach once but Olympia would not voice a complaint. Pyp could not have been more delighted, and he capered along like a frog chuckling gleefully.
“Hush,” Olympia and Calista said in unison but they grinned at his turn in spirits.
The tunnel sloped upwards and the journey became arduous as Calista had to dig her nails into the cracks of the stone to ensure that she did not tumble down. The knees of her stola were soaked through and her muscles and bones ached. Concentrating on maintaining her balance, Calista nearly yelped when a soft body collided against her head.
“Umph,” grunted Pyp as Calista set him upright again with a slight shove. “Sorry, Caly.”
“It’s nothing,” she replied while Olympia asked, “What happened?”
“Pyp slipped into me, Mother,” Calista answered, noting disconcertedly that Olympia’s voice sounded far off.
“Well, push him up. We are near!” Olympia called, an excited grin shining through her words.
Just as her mother’s words reached her, another, most welcome, sensation arrived. Chilly, fresh breezes carrying the briny smell of the ocean prickled her skin with goose bumps. Calista breathed in deeply, drew heart, and thrust Pyp ahead of her.
“I see it, Caly!” he shouted jubilantly, and with a burst of energy scampered ahead to a circular hole, covered with a grate like the one they had removed in the bathhouse. Rapidly, Calista clambered after him and her pupils dilated to accommodate the light of a million stars swimming in the obsidian sky above the grate.
As they had done before, Calista and Pyp, both still on their hands and knees, heaved the grate off. Pyp rocketed onto the sand, ready to dance his joy, before Calista’s hand grabbed his tunic and pulled him into the sandy rocks.
“Shut up, Pyp,” she snapped. They had worked so hard to orchestrate this and she refused to let her foolish seven-year old brother destroy their chances.
Startled at his sister’s annoyance, Pyp plopped onto the gravel, still luxuriating in its rough touch but did so silently.
Keeping a wary eye on Pyp, Calista reached down and grabbing her mother’s soft palms, tugged her out. Both mother and daughter fall onto the earth in a tumble. The rough sand ground into her back as she and her mother laughed in quiet relief. Hugging her mother, Calista permitted herself a few moments of joy before allowing the risk to sink in again. They had made it this far but there was still a ways to go, and much could go wrong in a minute’s time when so much was being risked.
“We must get to the harbor, Calista,” Olympia said. “Do you know where the ship is docked?”
Cali
sta flinched in embarrassment. “No,” she replied shamefacedly. “I am a fool; it did not occur to me to ask.”
Olympia’s black hair twinkled in the starlight as she shook her head. “No matter. I recall where Captain Claudius’ ship was initially docked. Let us pray that it is near there. And, you have no reason to feel ashamed, Caly. What you have done for us is more than an adult’s burden. I am proud that you are my daughter.”
Blinking back tears, Calista could not help but think, I am not your daughter though, am I? Confusion churned within her. Should her mother have told her? Should she tell her mother she knew? Why would she claim Calista as her daughter? Where had Calista come from? Shoving those thoughts aside, she followed her mother down to the harbor and grasped Pyp’s hand.
“Sorry, ‘Cus,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand in response.
They strode along in silence until the small inlet of the harbor arrived within sight, all the while ready to duck away at the slightest provocation. Pyp had been assigned sentry duty and he kept his eyes wide. Cresting one last dune, the company at last spotted the bulky shapes of ships dimly illuminated in the light, perhaps ten or fifteen triremes bobbing in the inky ocean. The rhythmic slap of the water against the wood of the ships was not loud enough to mask the jovial voices of merchants. Calista knew that the mercenaries’ ships were docked in another, wider natural harbor, far from this one.
Calista spotted mercenaries guarding the mouth of the harbor. “Now how will we get down there?” She was too close to freedom, to allow anyone, even armed mercenaries to block the certainty of her getaway. In the face of all of the adversity they had faced, these men were a laughable obstacle.
“I will take you.”
Calista nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the voice so close to her shoulder. Discerning a few familiar features, Calista recognized the boy who had warned Claudius of the search for her. He carried in his arms three long cloaks which he handed to her family.
His face dour, he said, “My name is Ignatius and I was sent by Captain Claudius to act as a sentry around these grounds in search of you. The guards know me and they will not question you with me…unless they know you have escaped. They don’t, do they?” he added anxiously.
Knowing that the boy would likely lose his life if that were the case, Calista said confidently, “No, they do not. We have time yet. Let us not waste it.” Taking a dark cloak from him, she draped it over her, firmly covering her head and was reminded of her recent escapade. Thank the gods Rusonia made it out safely.
Each step they took towards the ship filled Calista with an indomitable sense of cheerfulness even as she was fully aware that the mercenaries may have been warned to look for the three Volusi. No, absolutely not. She refused to consider the possibility.
The trio followed Ignatius to the harbor, while Olympia ordered Pyp and Calista to keep absolutely silent and their heads bowed. Absently, Olympia touched her belly, feeling the stirring child within. Nearing the guards, Ignatius adopted a swagger and Calista fell uncertainly behind him.
“And who do you bring with you tonight?” asked the mercenary in a rough voice. His torso armor glinted ominously silver in the starlight.
Closing her eyes, Calista wondered how Ignatius would explain himself and hoped he would be successful. We cannot go back to Avaritus! she thought desperately and against her better judgment, she grabbed her mother’s hand.
Ignatius answered smoothly. “Tonight’s entertainment. Ah, ah, they’re for the captain. Not for you,” he added, as one of the guards made a playful lunge for Olympia which she avoided by skipping aside neatly and chortling coquettishly.
Nicely played, Mother! Calista thought admiringly even as a tingle of anxiety muffled her thoughts.
“Leave some for us!” the other of the pair grinned, allowing them all through to the harbor.
They followed Ignatius to a ship that dipped in the corner. It was a small ship but one which, Calista hoped, was primed for speed.
“Tell Captain Claudius I’m back!” Ignatius called up and a ladder was promptly dropped to them, clattering the ground.
Pyp was the first to swing up it as adroitly as a monkey. As the ladder swayed precariously, Calista watched with her heart in her throat as he moved up.
“There’s no time to wait! Both of you must go up now!”
Keeping her eyes firmly where she was stepping and not caring if her stola swung open to reveal to the world all she kept hidden, she gingerly climbed up until finally she was hauled over the top by familiar hands belonging to a familiar face that was lit up by the flickering lanterns strung up around the ship. “Claudius!” she gasped, embracing him tightly. “Thank you, thank you so much!”
Turning around to help her mother up, Calista grinned, now truly recognizing that she and her mother had managed to devise the unlikeliest escape since time in memoriam. She let out a gasping laugh of relief.
“Welcome to the Orpheus!” Claudius said to Olympia, who beamed at him widely. Pyp’s smile split his face in two.
“Captain Claudius,” Olympia said formally, “You have performed a great service to me and mine.” She cupped his cheek. “My dear man, I shall see you happily rewarded for this.” Calista could hear the tears choking her mother’s voice.
Holding Olympia’s hands wide, Claudius called out, “Men, let us sail!”
He released Olympia and Calista ran forward to embrace him. Leaping into his arms, she tearily whispered, “Gods bless you. Thank you so much.” She felt the circle of his arms tighten around her monetarily. Embarrassed, she broke away and walked to the edge of the deck with her mother and Pyp.
Ready to set off, the sailors wasted no time in preparation for departure. The Orpheus was slowly steered out of the harbor, parting the water like the softest of silk. Even the sailors were quiet as the distance between them and the rowdier crews of the other ships widened. The very caress of the water, which sighed against the boat, could have been mistaken for nothing more than the natural tide; it was as if their ship was not there.
It was chilly on the water and Calista’s arms prickled with goose bumps, but Claudius helpfully draped a wool blanket over her shoulders. Calista thought of all those she was leaving behind, like Maro and Koisis, but she vowed to herself that she would bring them to Rome someday soon.
But a single thought took precedence over all else as silver streams of water trailed the Orpheus: Free, free, free. As she gazed back at Portus Tarrus, a few tears clouded her eyes as the city vanished quickly from sight. She traced the scar down her arm. Gone, forever.
PART II: ATLANTIS