She had a fur hat on too, which made her look like a cavalry scout or an officer from some private militia, though the color of her tunic and the newness of her hat made it obvious that her recent experiences did not include long, dusty campaigns. Her outfit did, however, make their own washed-out rusty red tunics seem suddenly older and sadder.
“Good morning. You slept well, I hope?” Her tone was cheerful.
He looked her up and down.
She stood still, as if daring him to comment on her appearance.
“I’ve read the omens for the journey, my lord. The goddess smiles on all of us. I saw a sign concerning you.”
He’d heard that before. He stared up at her.
When she didn’t get a response from him, she continued, “Are you really ready to go to Gaul?”
It sounded as if she was hurrying wayward schoolchildren. She crossed her arms.
After a moment, she left them.
Lucius watched her go. “I expect she'll want to check the size of your purse next.” He made a gesture, as if weighing a bag of gold, or something else, in each hand.
“There's nothing a seer likes better than a big purse of gold,” he said.
Constantine took another bite of the bread on his plate. It was soft and still warm. Just how he liked it. Lucius was probably quoting some verse from Juvenal or Ovid, but he wasn’t going to take the bait.
“You like her, Lucius,” he said.
“I think she is more your type, the difficult kind.”
Constantine pointed at him. “But I bet she gets you first.” Then he laughed. They took their time finishing breakfast.
When eventually they rode away from the taverna (the bill having taken longer to settle than he'd thought, Lucius had even threatened the poor owner) Sybellina maneuvered her horse up beside Constantine’s. A long stretch of wide road ran ahead. Above them, a blanket of dirty gray clouds filled the sky.
“Have I offended you?” Her tone was all sweetness.
“No, Sybellina. But,” he looked at her and frowned. “You should know. I take little notice of omens and I never pay for readings.”
“You are a man who makes his own fate, my lord. I was not about to ask you to pay for some soothsaying services.” She came closer to him. “But what about your dreams? Surely everyone needs their dreams interpreted?” She shook the braids of her hair out from under her hat.
“So, you'll be disappointed. We have help in that area already, but I'm sure we'll find some way to keep you busy on the journey.”
She swung around, as if she'd felt someone staring at her, and stared at Juliana riding directly behind them. Her expression was unchanged when she looked back at Constantine.
“I must have had a hundred augers trying to tell me about some danger that only they can tell me about, if I ease their mind with gold,” he said.
“My readings give only hope,” she replied.
“I have no shortage of that.” And I know my purpose.
“The spirits spoke to me about your destiny, my lord. But I see these things have no interest for you. Please, forget I mentioned it.” She rewarded him with a warm smile, as if hoping he’d take an interest in his destiny, particularly with her.
“Sybellina.” He shook his head. “What do you think would alarm me?”
She frowned.
“The truth, my lord. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I do,” said Constantine with a hint of mockery.
Her expression became serious. “When I heard I must go with you, a purple cloud passed over the surface of the oils, my lord, shaped like a man. Built like you, but he had a laurel on his head and he held a club, like Hercules, but two snakes were entwined about his neck. They were strangling him.” She leaned toward him.
“Danger looms for you, my lord.”
“It always has.” His horse bumped up close to hers. “Do you travel outside Rome often?”
“No.” She shook her head. “This is my first journey in two years.” She squeezed his arm and only released her grip when their horses parted.
“I hardly slept last night because of the excitement. Everyone thinks a priestess feels nothing.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “But the opposite is true.” She sounded wary, as if she thought someone was listening to them.
“I apologize for the way I was forced on you, my lord. I hope you'll forgive me. There are only a few of us from the temple who travel, my lord. We do so to carry private messages for the emperors. Didn't your father tell you about us?”
He shook his head.
Then she told him about her childhood in Thrace. She touched his arm often and answered every question he asked with as much detail as he could want. As they rode on, she removed her hat and her hair fell around her neck. She was as beautiful as any woman he'd ever met.
They arrived at the Portus in the afternoon. Tiny and Juliana went with Lucius to collect what they’d left behind on his father's ship. Soon after, they were all on board the galley that would take them to Gaul.
Constantine and Lucius were allocated a small cabin, which they shared with the galley captain, who had given up his own quarters for Sybellina. Juliana and Tiny slept below deck.
Constantine woke the following morning to the sound of running feet and shouted orders.
Forbidding clouds stretched from horizon to horizon. Rain had swept in from the south during the night. The captain said they would leave at once. They could make good time and could shelter further along the coast if the weather worsened. The crew rowed the galley out past the mole and once they were clear of it, the captain ordered the mainsail unfurled. They picked up speed as the sail swelled, pulling them forward like a whipped horse.
As he looked back toward Rome he felt relieved.
“Why do so many people choose to live on top of each other like that?” he said to Lucius as they stood by the ship’s rail.
“We prefer to flock together, rather than risk the wolves,” said Lucius.
“Doesn’t that just make the wolves’ job easier?” said Constantine.
“Maybe, but there’s safety in numbers,” said Lucius.
The galley was one that Maxentius' father had previously used to transport high officials on tax gathering missions. To his annoyance, Constantine was welcomed with a horn blowing every time he went out on deck, and the ship’s officers bowed whenever they encountered him.
Maxentius' father had loved such rituals, but after this had happened a few times, Constantine insisted there was no need for any of it. After that, the horn blowing was restricted to his first appearance on deck each day. Below deck, the rowers, all free men paid a good daily rate, sat near their oars waiting for when they would be needed. They played dice, told stories, mended rowlocks or plaited ropes while they waited.
Food was served to the passengers under a wide flapping canvas in front of the rear cabin. This was where Constantine, Lucius and Sybellina spent much of the voyage. The spring weather had brought warmer days, so it was the perfect place to while away the hours, amid piles of cushions in almost every fabric you could imagine.
“We will be in Massilia in a few nights if this wind holds, and Neptune is willing,” said the captain. He'd joined Constantine and his other passengers under the canvas on the morning of the second day after they'd left the Portus.
“A quick journey will be welcome,” said Constantine.
The captain grinned. “Your slave, Tiny, has been telling everyone about your escapade at the Straits with the galley. Rest easy, you’ll not be overshadowed by any ship while you’re on my vessel.”
That night it rained so hard Constantine thought the ship would fill with water.
He woke in the middle of the storm, long before dawn. Outside, the rain beat down in waves, as if daemons were trying to break the ship apart. He sat up. Lucius turned in his sleep. The snores of the captain continued. They were anchored in a small bay and could do nothing else but ride out the storm.
�
��Go back to sleep, Constantine. It's only the rain.” Lucius groaned, and rolled over.
“This is not like the rain in Bithynia, or Persia. This is rain from Gaul. I remember this rain.” A pounding gust rattled the roof of their cabin.
“Rain is rain.” Lucius pulled his blanket up nearer his chin. “Maybe a private session with your favorite seer is what you need.”
Sybellina had been distant the past few days, as if she'd learnt all she wanted to know about him. She’d taken to sleeping in the captain’s cabin during the day, which seemed to please Lucius.
“We’ll have our pick of seers soon enough, Lucius.” He listened to the rain.
“And as the commander of your father’s legions, you’ll be able to tell the rains to stop,” said Lucius. He made a muffled snort of derision.
“If he places me in command of a cohort of raw recruits, I'll be happy. I’ll be free to fight our enemies, that will be enough for me, and to Hades with the rain and all the seers who’d have us jumping at their every word.”
“Well, we may end up swimming to Gaul. So, let's get some sleep while we can.”
XXVIII
Treveris, 306 A.D.
Crocus took the small leather bag and held it to his chest. He bowed. The priest of Brigit stared at him, his eyes wide, as blue as the sky and rimmed with red. His hair hung in oily ringlets to his chest. His leather tunic was worn away in places, but the runes on it were still visible.
“This is our last message, Chief of the Alemanni. We have seen preparations for the arrival of the emperor’s son. If our vision for the future does not become real, we will take action.”
Crocus stepped back. His tent was warm and the smell coming off the priest was worse for it.
“Never threaten me, priest. Or I will cut your cock off and force it down your throat. You will go home in tears to your wives.”
The priest shook his head. “My life or any part of my body are not important to me. Cut me and see.” He held out his arm, pulled the sleeves of his tunic up. A multitude of scars crisscrossed every part of his arm.
Crocus raised his fist. “Be gone. I know your message. Take this back to your masters. Tell them to wait with the patience of the eagle.”
He pushed at the chest of the priest. But the priest stepped back and was gone through the flap before his hands could connect.
XXIX
Off Genua, in the Ligurian Sea, 306 A.D.
Juliana woke. Everything was darkness. Rain hissed. The ship creaked. Scuttling. The rats were busy. She’d blocked their way into her cubby hole, but it wouldn’t be long before she’d feel their tails swish past her face again, like in the smaller ship.
She swept her hands around her body. Her limbs ached, as if they'd been stretched. It was hard going finding comfort on a coil of rope pressed up against a row of water jugs in a storage hole, while avoiding dripping rainwater. She held her breath. Listened. Something had woken her. Not the rats or the endless dripping or the rain or the rhythmic slopping of the water, something else.
Tap tap. Her breath sucked in fast. That was it. The noise. She pulled her tunic tight over her knees and prayed, hoping whoever or whatever it was would go away. Was this the moment she’d been dreading?
“Juliana.” A soft voice, Sybellina's. “Open the hatch.”
Perhaps she'd go away. Juliana hardly dared to breathe. So much had changed since Sybellina had joined them. Constantine rarely spoke to her these days. Lucius was always bad tempered. Rome had been bursting with faces, but they were menacing, marble-like. And she’d barely seen any of the city. And now there was the threat of Sybellina.
How was she supposed to treat this priestess? A shiver ran through her. Some of the older priestesses who visited their village had frightened her. They could turn any man’s head, or a woman’s, if that was what they wanted, and not only see the future, but create it.
Tap, tap. “Open the hatch, Juliana. I know you are in there.”
Juliana felt for the water jugs and pulled aside the two she'd used to block the hatchway. Then she yanked at the door.
Sybellina's face appeared, illuminated by the glow of a small green glass oil lamp. A trickle of smoke swirled from the lamp as the flame swayed crazily, twisting Sybellina’s smile. Behind her, the oarsmen slept. Above, the rain pounded.
“Come out, Juliana. This is no place for a woman. You’ll sleep at the end of my bed. The oarsmen will be after you if you stay here. Unwilling slave girls slip overboard too easily on nights like this.”
Juliana stared at Sybellina. She’d heard a few of the oarsmen joking as she crawled into her sleeping space that evening and feared the obvious lust in their laughter. The prospect of having to fight some of them off had been a worry she’d tried not to think about. Had she been wrong about Sybellina?
She crawled out of the cubby hole.
Sybellina’s cabin had a cot bed of gleaming oak with an ivory headrest, pushed up tight against the far corner. A knee-high wooden table with piles of cushions around it took up most of the rest of the free space. An animal scent of musk hung in the air.
“Before you sleep, I need your help.” Sybellina handed Juliana a linen cloth to dry herself.
Sybellina put a finger to her lips, knelt in front of the table and patted the carpet beside her. She shook her head, disappointed when Juliana didn’t sit immediately. Then, with elaborate care, she lit the fat candle squatting at the center of the table. Shadows swayed across the walls as draughts pressed in from the wind groaning outside. The rain beat down on the planking above their heads in violent waves.
Sybellina patted the carpet beside her again. This time Juliana knelt by her side.
She’d helped many times before with supplications to the spirits. She knew what was expected, to witness Sybellina’s prayers.
“I know all about you, Juliana,” said Sybellina. She sounded like an old friend imparting some long thought about insight. “Did you know I was a slave once too? I know the hundred humiliations you suffer every day. You must let me help you.” She reached out a hand and stroked Juliana’s bare forearm, as if her skin was silk.
Something came bubbling up, unbidden, from inside Juliana's chest. No one ever spoke to her kindly anymore. Slaves like her had to accept, not feel.
Juliana bowed her head. Sybellina wrapped an arm around her.
When she looked up, a set of small amber rings had been placed in a tight circle around the candle. Sybellina touched her finger to her lips, as if to stop her speaking. Then she placed a finger on each ring in turn. When she spoke, she sounded like a kindly teacher.
“This is the ring of earth, Juliana, and these are the rings of air, and water, and fire.” She stared at Juliana, as if assessing her.
“Each of these rings has a story to tell. Tonight, they witness that I have taken a new sister.” She held out her hand. “Give me your hand, Juliana.”
Sybellina took Juliana’s upraised hand. She guided the middle finger from ring to ring, as she uttered their names again.
“These are sacred rings. The rings of remembrance. See.” She held one up. Juliana could see Greek lettering etched into it. “Each letter of each word on each ring represents something. That is how we remember the wisdom handed down. As one of our sisters, you'll be taught what each of these powerful, magical words mean. Would you like that?” She looked expectantly at Juliana.
Could she refuse?
“But first,” said Sybellina. “I need your help. A simple token of our new kinship.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if a refusal of something so small would be most unlikely.
Juliana shifted position. She had been initiated by her birth mother into the house of heaven when she was only seven years old. She knew it was expected that she would not tie herself to another rite. The things she had been taught, to see the past in dreams, to see spirits, and unlock what they wanted to say, and the pleasures of the divine marriage, might all be lost, if she swore allegiance to another path.
/> Sybellina leaned forward. For a long moment Juliana thought she was going to be kissed. She didn’t move. She just stared, mesmerized. Sybellina’s lips were opening wide. Her tongue licked at the air between them. She leaned forward again. The top of her tunic was open, letting Juliana see the mounds of her breasts moving as she breathed. Juliana looked away. Then back again. Sybellina was beautiful.
The moment extended, as if time no longer followed its predictable course. Shadows moved, as if they were leaning forward, eavesdropping.
“Juliana.” Sybellina shook her brown tresses out. “Tell me the last recent dream reading you have done, and everything you wish for will be yours to enjoy.” She gestured grandly, indicating her body and the rings on the table.
Juliana’s unease churned like a pit of queasiness inside her. An image of Constantine listening attentively to her dream reading came back to her, as it had done almost every day since he’d told her his dream.
“Please, you must ask me something else, mistress.” She squeezed Sybellina's hand. Her own felt clammy.
“No, you must tell me this. This is what I want to know.” Sybellina's hands flew like birds fluttering in the air.
“It is easily done, surely. I know you dream readers take oaths, but you can reveal your readings to the great mother without breaking any oath, trust me. We are both from the house of heaven.”
Juliana leaned back. One voice inside her head tugged at her. Tell Sybellina. Tell her what she wants. You must. Look at all she has to offer.
“How can we be sisters, if you’ll give up nothing?” Sybellina's tone had turned quarrelsome, as if she had been injured. She pressed a hand to her forehead. Her other made a fist in the air as if she was in pain.
Juliana wanted to help. But he’d find out. And he would never trust her again.
“I've already revealed my deepest secrets to you,” said Sybellina. “You must tell me what he said to you. Our pact has been sealed, witnessed by the rings. Tell me quickly. I will not tell anyone. I swear it.”
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