‘I forbid you to see him again, Eigon, do you hear? Ever!’
‘But why?’
‘Because we must do nothing to bring ourselves to the attention of the Emperor. Don’t you understand how precarious our position is, you stupid child! We are a threat to him.’
‘But Papa is ill –’
‘Especially with your papa ill. Don’t you see, if you should have a child, Eigon, the grandchild of Caratacus, the people at home might hope he would come back to save them. Nero would never allow that. You know what happens to people he even suspects of being a threat to him.’ Cerys shuddered.
‘But Mam, the people of Britannia have forgotten us.’
‘Never! No, they are still waiting for your father to return.’
Eigon held her mother’s implacable gaze for a moment then she looked away. What was the point of arguing. ‘Anyway, you don’t have to worry,’ she said miserably. ‘I’m not “seeing him” as you call it. He is far more interested in Julia.’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ Cerys stood up and pulled her wrap around her shoulders. ‘We want no Romans in our family. They are the enemy and never forget it!’
20
Titus Marcus Olivinus was sitting on the steps of the steam bath next to his uncle, Senator Caius Marcus Pomponius. The two men were deep in conversation.
‘It was part of my duties to follow these men; there is suspicion of treason in the making,’ Titus confided quietly. He raised a hand to acknowledge a colleague as he walked across the wet floor towards the benches on the other side of the room. ‘As you know the Emperor has begun to have grave reservations about Christians. They spread like a mould through the underbelly of the city.’
His uncle smiled at the simile. ‘Not just the underbelly, Titus. There are men in the Senate, the army – all over the place – who subscribe to these beliefs. We used to think it was limited to slaves and women, but now!’ He shrugged.
‘Peter the Fisherman was at the house of Pomponia Graecina with a huge gathering of them,’ Titus whispered, ‘and he baptised her.’ He stared down at his toes seemingly uninterested in his uncle’s reaction. ‘There were several people there from the household of Caratacus the Briton, whom Pomponia Graecina has befriended. It is my information that he is recovered from his illness. Peter healed him with prayers to this Jesus. And now the first thing he does is to plot against the Empire.’
Caius formed his lips into a soundless whistle.
‘Caratacus’s daughter is a dark horse,’ Titus went on. ‘A quiet mousey little thing, so my informants tell me.’ He paused with a small private smile. Quiet and mousey were not the words that had been used to describe her to him. Far from it. She was clever, feisty and beautiful, and, he scowled, it seemed, she was carefully guarded. So far in spite of several attempts to snatch her she had remained tantalisingly safe from his attentions. His combined frustration and fear kept him constantly on edge about her. The idea to implicate her friends and family in treasonous activity had occurred to him only recently after a particularly long drinking session with his friend, Marius. ‘She has wormed her way into several households, spreading sedition and unrest with her large beautiful eyes and her sweet innocent smiles.’ He paused abruptly, aware that his uncle had looked sharply at him, his eyes narrowed keenly, a touch of amusement playing around his mouth.
‘I thought you said she was quiet and mousey,’ Caius said innocently.
Titus laughed. ‘Always the most dangerous type!’ The words of one worldly man to another.
Caius nodded. ‘So, you think we should investigate this treasonous little lady and her father?’
Titus shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe not investigate as such. I would start with Pomponia’s household. Her husband should be warned of her activities.’
‘He knows.’ Caius dabbed at his face with the corner of his towel.
‘Then perhaps he should do something about it and take an interest in his wife’s friends. It would do his own reputation no good for it to be known that she is not only a Christian but also cosying up to traitors. Surveillance on the people around her would do no harm at all.’
Eigon sat unmoving, staring at Melinus in horror. ‘What do you mean, Pomponia Graecina has been arrested? Who has arrested her?’
‘The Senate has accused her of practising a foreign superstition to the detriment of the safety of the state and the Emperor!’
Eigon’s mouth dropped open. ‘A foreign superstition,’ she echoed. ‘She is a Christian! We saw her baptised!’
Melinus nodded grimly. ‘Exactly.’
‘But why? Why suddenly? I know many people are suspicious of Christians, but they are not persecuted for their beliefs as long as they do not question the Emperor’s divinity. And most just keep quiet about that like the rest of us!’
‘I do not recall the lady Pomponia being discreet about this emperor any more than she was about Claudius. She’s accused him of being implicated in the death of her son, you know.’
Eigon was silent. ‘That was stupid. Even if she had proof it was foolish to let it be known what she suspected. No one dares say things like that about the Emperor.’ She sighed. ‘But whatever the truth of the situation who would betray her?’
Melinus shrugged. ‘And who else has been betrayed …’ he said thoughtfully.
She guessed at once that Melinus was thinking about his friend Felicius and about Julius. She felt herself grow pale.
‘What will happen to her?’
‘She will be made to appear before her husband and his family to answer the charge.’
‘And what will they do?’
Melinus shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ Why suddenly? Why now? And why were the members of Caradoc’s household suddenly being watched openly? Everyone, even the slaves. He studied Eigon’s face, concerned. ‘Be careful, when you go out. I know you seldom do. And I know you are always escorted. But there is something amiss here.’
For a moment Eigon held his gaze. She shivered. ‘You know something?’
He shook his head. ‘My senses grow dull with age!’ His voice was suddenly full of frustration. ‘I gaze into the sacred pool and I see nothing but ripples in the water; I listen to the wind in the trees and it speaks a foreign language I no longer understand. I feel surrounded by messages I cannot read and dangers I cannot foresee. There is no future there.’
Eigon shivered. ‘What should I do?’
‘I don’t know!’ His anguish frightened her. ‘Consult the gods, Eigon. Listen. See if they speak more clearly to you. Speak to your father. He is stronger now. He is a wise man.’ Gathering his cloak around him with a shiver he walked away from her, disappearing into the house, heading, shoulders slumped in despair, towards his own room.
Eigon watched him go, overwhelmed with loneliness. Melinus was her mentor, her teacher and her friend. More and more recently he had withdrawn from her. She watched his uncertainties and his unhappiness with increasing helplessness. He was the one she turned to. Now he was drawing away from her and she didn’t feel ready to take up the burden he was passing on.
She made her way thoughtfully to her private office, the room where she saw the sick and injured who came to consult her skills. She felt the room wrap its peacefulness around her as it always did. She loved this place. Her own sanctum, which smelled of dried herbs. Before the small shrine to the goddess Bride a lamp burned, the sweet oil adding to the scent of the room. She stared at the shrine thoughtfully. The gods they worshipped in this house were many. The gods of the household, the gods of healing, the goddess of fever, gods of Britannia and gods of Rome and now, since Peter had come to speak to her father, and pray for him, his hand on Caratacus’s forehead, the Christian god, Jesus. She stared at the small carving of a fish she had set on the shrine. The secret sign the Christians used amongst themselves. She smiled. Like so many educated people in Rome she spoke Greek, pain stakingly taught to her by Melinus over the years and it was Greek which was the key to this symbol. I
cthus, a fish. The letters stood for Iesous Christos Theou Huios Soter, Jesus Christ, son of God, Saviour.
The Christian god was full of love and kindness. Peter promised that He would take care of people and indeed as soon as Peter had spoken to her father he had begun to recover, though he had not consented to be baptised. Not then. She pondered. What was the prayer they used? ‘Our Father,’ they said. And their father was a kind and caring father. A shepherd who looked after his sheep. A host who fed his guests. And ensured their wine did not run out. She smiled to herself. She remembered her father’s face when he heard that story. The twitch of his lips, the appreciative glint in his eyes. That as much as the touch of Peter’s hand had started him on the road to recovery. She bit her lip. She did not yet dare hope that he was cured. This had happened again and again over the years. A few weeks or months’ respite, then as the summer heat grew and the air festered, he would be struck down again, in days as weak as he had ever been. But he was stronger than she remembered him. His old wounds were troubling him far less. Maybe Jesus had healed him.
She stared round the small room, eyeing the lines of jars with their waxed seals, the bunches of dried herbs hanging from a ceiling beam, from a line of forged hooks worked into the shape of birds’ claws, a gift from Julia, made by some friend of Flavius’s. She went to stand in front of her work table. It was neatly swept of the crumbs of dried herbs which so often littered it; on one side a stack of small empty pots, on the other wax notepads and a stylus. A couple of scrolls lay there with carefully copied recipes for herbal mixtures for various ailments, the most common suffered by the members of the household who routinely came to her now for help when they were ill.
The door opened behind her and she swung round. Aelius stood there. His face was white. ‘Lady Eigon. There are soldiers in the courtyard. They are demanding to see you.’
‘Soldiers?’ Fear knifed through her.
‘Praetorians.’
‘Did they say what they wanted?’ Her fists were clenched into the folds of her gown.
He shook his head. ‘I assumed they would want to speak to the king, but they insist on seeing you.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I will speak to their commanding officer in the atrium, Aelius. His men are to remain outside. And I want you to stay with me when I speak to him.’ She drew herself up and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice.
It wasn’t him. For a moment she had been terrified that he had grown tired of waiting for her guard to drop and had come looking for her. This man she didn’t recognise as he saluted before her.
‘Lucius Flavius Corbidum, madam.’
Eigon greeted him calmly and waited in silence to hear what he had to say.
For a moment he hesitated. Then he proceeded. ‘I have a warrant for the arrest of your slave, the man known as Melinus. It was suggested that I speak to you directly rather than the king as he is ill. You would not want him to be drawn into any accusations of treason.’
Eigon stared at him. ‘You are accusing Melinus of treason?’
The young man nodded. ‘It would be better for you to call him than for me to send my men into the villa to search for him by force, princess.’
‘Melinus could not be guilty of treason,’ Eigon stammered. She glanced at Aelius who was standing by the door, his face a careful blank. ‘It is not in his nature. He is a kind, gentle man, not interested in politics –’
‘That is for the judges to say, princess.’ Lucius eyed her brazenly. Titus was right. She had turned into a looker, this child he had himself found all those years ago in a soggy wood in a far corner of the Empire. And her reaction proved Titus right. Melinus was one of her friends. And one by one her friends were about to disappear. If she believed that a slave was going to get a trial she was more naïve than she looked. But all he wanted was to get the man out of the house as quickly as possible with the minimum of fuss.
A figure had appeared in the doorway behind them. Melinus was standing there watching them. With a thoughtful glance at Aelius he stepped forward. ‘You have come for me?’ His face was grave.
‘If you are Melinus.’
Melinus bowed assent. Lucius shivered. This man, he had been told, was a Druid. A feared and proscribed priest of the vicious Celtic religion of this young woman and her father, and he looked every inch the part with his long silver hair and his carved staff. He found he had to nerve himself to look the man in the eye.
‘I have a warrant for your arrest. You are to accompany me to the Mamertine prison where you will be held pending your trial.’ He suspected that Melinus would know there would be no trial. The man could probably already hear the roar of the hungry lions waiting to tear him apart. He stood to attention, ready to shout for his men but Melinus merely shrugged. It was as if he had been expecting this to happen. Lucius shivered. Druids were fearsome in so many ways, not least because they could foretell the future.
Melinus turned to Eigon and smiled. ‘Do not fear, princess. I will be all right.’
‘But Melinus –’
‘Do not come after me.’ He frowned sternly. ‘Do nothing. What happens to me is written in the stars. Stay with your father.’ Ignoring Aelius, he turned to Lucius, his voice even, almost friendly. ‘We should go, my friend, before the storm breaks.’
‘What storm?’ Lucius gazed towards the open roof of the atrium, above the central pool. The sky was an unbroken blue.
Melinus gave an enigmatic smile. ‘The storm which will be sent by my gods to show their displeasure at my arrest.’ He strode towards the doorway.
Lucius hurried after him. He paused almost as an afterthought to bow towards Eigon, then he had gone. Eigon stared after them, her mouth dry, her stomach tight with fear as, almost too faint to hear, a first low threatening rumble echoed around the distant hills.
* * *
‘Did you hear the thunder?’ Jess whispered. ‘The gods of the hills are angry. It will be the worst storm Rome has ever seen.’
She refocused her attention slowly from the glitter of sunbeams filtered through the narrow leaves of the plants shading their table to find herself sitting opposite Rhodri in the corner of the terrace. He was watching her intently. ‘Welcome back.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve been two thousand years away, somewhere.’ He gave a quizzical smile. ‘Tell me what happened?’
She hesitated, still dazed, then a wave of embarrassment swept over her as she glanced at her watch. ‘How long have I been dreaming?’
He shrugged. ‘Not long. But you weren’t asleep. You were in some sort of trance, gazing into the distance. You called out someone’s name. Melinus.’
‘Melinus was arrested. He was a Druid.’ Her embarrassment had disappeared as quickly as it had come. She was, she realised, comfortable talking to him about it.
Rhodri raised an eyebrow. ‘A Welshman?’
She nodded. ‘I suppose so. He was Eigon’s friend.’ Her eyes flooded with tears suddenly. ‘He was going to be killed. They were going to throw him to the lions.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was a Druid. They were banned. The Romans were terrified of them. And he was gentle. Kind. A scholar.’ She brushed her hand across her face. ‘I’m sorry. Now you know I’m mad!’
‘“You are but mad north north west!”’ he quoted. ‘Remember your Hamlet?’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘And Eigon. What happened to her?’ He had a generous smile, she realised. Not mocking after all.
‘I don’t know. They took him away –’ She broke off suddenly. ‘Rhodri! Dan’s still here!’
Rhodri straightened. ‘Where?’
‘Don’t move. Don’t look round,’ she murmured. ‘He’s down there, leaning on a wall in the piazza, waiting.’
Rhodri sat back in his chair. He crossed his legs casually as though getting more comfortable. It gave him a view of the whole area. ‘I think we need that master plan,’ he said quietly. ‘He can presumably sit there
all day if he chooses to. I must confess, I don’t like the thought of him following us wherever we go.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But then we don’t have to go out that way, do we!’ He raised his hand and summoned the waiter. ‘This gentleman will show you out by the back door, so to speak. I will sit here until you have time to be well clear, then I will stroll out past Dan and have a few words on my way by.’ He put on his dark glasses and folded his arms, a picture of bored inattention, aware of Dan watching him through narrowed eyes, alert to their every move. ‘I’ve had second thoughts about all this, Jess. I think you should go straight to the airport. Get out of the country.’
‘But what about Eigon?’ She was amazed at the wave of anguish that hit her. ‘I can’t go without knowing what happens to her and to Melinus.’
‘You can find that out when you get back to Wales.’
‘No, you don’t understand! I can’t, that’s the whole point. She is a child in Wales. She must be, otherwise why didn’t she come to me as an adult? I will go back to Ty Bran and she will be a small child again, playing hide and seek in the wood. I have to be here!’
‘Jess!’ Rhodri sat forward, his fists on the table. ‘Be sensible! Now I’ve had the chance to look into the man’s eyes, I don’t like what I see! He is a psychopath! Wherever you go he seems to be able to find you. He wants you dead! You can’t stay here in Rome.’
There was a moment’s intense silence. ‘I know he said that, but he didn’t mean it, he just wants to make sure –’ She paused.
‘He wants to make sure you can’t hurt him, Jess.’ Rhodri leaned forward, his face inches from hers. ‘He is terrified of what you could do to him.’
‘But he’s cancelled anything I could say by telling everyone I’m mad. So I’m not a threat!’
Rhodri sighed. ‘Let’s hope so.’ He paused. ‘You remember what we were talking about before he so rudely interrupted us? Religion. I think now might be the time to try the odd prayer. You never know. It might help. Now, just go, Jess, before he twigs what we are doing. I’ll be in touch, OK?’
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