He had warned her. She'd failed to tell their master. She was sweating cold drops. More slaves and officials and more guards pressed by her as she made her way into the kitchen.
The head of the imperial household's slaves came toward her. A bald headed, powerful looking ex gladiator. He glared at Juliana. She side-stepped out of his way. A slave dying was not uncommon but dying in such a way could be a bad omen on the household.
“You knew him, didn't you, Juliana?” an older slave woman said. Juliana turned. The woman motioned her forward.
“You are lucky, my girl. Our new emperor has forbidden torturing slaves who know things,” the woman whispered, looking round. “You must say nothing, nothing, remember my words. Some want the old days back, you see, and to have us on racks with our limbs broken for daring to say something they don’t like.” She looked around, clearly scared, then shook her head firmly, a finger tight to her lips, her eyes wide.
The next thing Juliana heard was Lucius shouting for her. She straightened her tunic and with the woman shaking her head behind her, she shoved her way back to where Tiny's body lay. People were drifting away, except for some guards and officials. A puddle of blood seeped all around the body. She could smell it, sweet, earthy, cloying.
“Do you know anything about this?” Lucius shouted, as she came closer. He gripped her arm, shook her. Veins bulged across his brow.
She hesitated. She should tell him everything, shouldn’t she? But she couldn’t.
“No, master, no. I ran from where I was sleeping. It is terrible, master. I don’t believe it. This is impossible.” She hoped she sounded innocent.
Lucius spun around. “Who found this slave?” A hand rose in the air. “Was he alone then?” Lucius strode purposefully over to the slave. He gripped the man's bare arm so tight the skin turned white around his fingers.
“Yes, master. There was no one else here. He was wailing,” said the slave.
“Who carries out burials here?” shouted Lucius. A hunched man came forward and bowed low. “Arrange for this stupid dog to be buried, tonight, in the outcasts’ pit. The dogs can have him.” Lucius turned and was gone.
A wave of relief, then briefly anger at Tiny, at how stupid he was, then deep remorse flooded her like a weight as Juliana watched them take the body away. She sat in the courtyard alone after everyone had gone, listening to the wind and the occasional barking of dogs in the distance. She quivered every time she heard some more excited barking starting up. She gazed at the stars as the barking quietened. The pinpricks of light were like distant candles being held by some celestial audience. Who would ever know what those lights really were? She prayed. She prayed to the goddess of her mother, the Heavenly Mother, the same goddess as the priestesses who came by the estate every year preached about, the goddess of light, of love, and of fire. She prayed for Tiny. She prayed for herself, held her arms up. They shook as she prayed
Winged Goddess come,
Lady of the Moon,
Lady of the Sun,
She who holds all hearts.
Who listens to our prayers,
Mother of the Gods,
Full of Grace,
Save us this day,
And at the hour of our death,
Forgive our sins, amen.
She put her hands over her eyes. When would it be over? The pain. The not knowing what was to come. Her tears flowed. They were for Tiny, and they were for her too. Everything was so different here. At every turn, there was a threat. No one rested in the middle of the day, the rain was miserable, and the food was different, greasy. It made the latrines stink and the smell of them stung her eyes far worse than it had in the east.
Her life there had been hard, but she’d felt close to her real home, her real family, far away on the border with Persia. Her childhood, her life before being captured, didn’t even seem real anymore, as if she was remembering a dream.
And what would her future hold? More fear?
She’d thought she’d become used to being scared, but she hadn’t. And there was one thing sure now. Sybellina was capable of anything. An image of Tiny’s body being taken away like a bundle of rags came to her and she shivered. Would that be her future too?
XLI
Gesoriacum, Northern Gaul, 306 A.D.
The camp of the Alemanni outside Gesoriacum stood on the supposedly poor ground close to the marsh south of the city. Crocus didn’t care. Soon the Alemanni would get the respect they deserved. And anyway, it was a good place for summoning the spirits of the underworld.
“Get the prisoner. Bring him to my tent,” he shouted at one of his bondsmen, as he strode through the group sitting cross-legged in the open area around which the officers’ tents had been set up. There were at least thirty bondsmen there, each one sporting the twisted ribbons in their hair representing the part of the great forest their families came from in Germania.
He sat on the red mat at the center of the tent and ordered the cauldron to be brought. It was time to feast.
It was set up in front of him.
When the prisoner arrived, Crocus ordered him stripped naked. The man was a member of the Brigantes tribe, which was appropriate for what was to happen. His hands were bound behind him and he was forced to his knees in front of Crocus.
“Will you give willingly so that another of your tribe may be granted luck by Wooanaz and their journey gifted with the spells of good fortune?”
The man shook his head. His eyes were wide.
“Do you accept you were caught stealing from our camp a few days ago?”
The man nodded, slowly. His expression hardened, as if he knew what was coming.
“You will accept the penalty, then.”
The man sniffed, as if holding back tears.
“Drink this,” said Crocus. The man had been left without water since his capture. He would drink anything now, even a concoction that would wake him up and ensure he experienced everything that was to come.
“Put him up,” said Crocus, softly.
The man struggled as he was taken, but his hands were bound tight, so he couldn’t do much more than wriggle and bend. He was laid out and then his feet were bound, and his knees, and a gag with a speaking stone in it was placed in his mouth.
He struggled violently as he was hoisted onto the ring set at the meeting point of the tent’s staves. But after a few more breaths he quieted and hung above the cauldron. His eyes were closed now, his expression calm, as if he was praying to the God he’d preferred as a child.
His eyes opened again when the iron wire was placed around his neck. They stayed open as it was tightened with the torc set at the back, twisting round and round, the wire cutting slowly into the Adam’s apple. He tried to scream. But already his windpipe was too restricted to get out more than a whistle.
Now his eyes were as wide as they could go, bloodshot and bulging, but still he lived, and his blood ran from all around his neck and dripped down into the cauldron from his blood soaked hair.
Crocus stood after a while, took his gold goblet and went to the cauldron. It was already a hand’s breadth full of blood. He dipped the goblet in and put it to his lips. He sipped. Yes, the blood tasted good. The sacrifice would be successful. The blood cake would be made and shared with the men. They would know then that they were bound to a new purpose.
He made the sign. The wire was brought tighter and the skin ruptured all around the prisoner’s neck as his flesh opened wide like the mouths of the gods seeking blood.
A violent shudder passed through the prisoner’s body.
Crocus stiffened, turned, as a breeze opened the flap of the tent to let the man’s spirit out.
XLII
Gesoriacum, Northern Gaul, 306 A.D.
When she reached the sleeping cells, she took a small, nearly finished candle and went to where Tiny had been sleeping. Already there was almost no trace of him. His spare blanket and extra tunic had been seized by some opportunist slave, probably before he was eve
n dead.
And there was a strange odor there too. It made her more afraid. A dirty and empty cotton bag and a soiled spare under-garment lay discarded on the floor. The only other thing she found was a thin bronze bracelet, which gleamed at her from under his cot when she looked there, holding the candle in front of her. It had been missed by whoever had been here first.
She picked up the bracelet and went back to her cell.
Early the following morning, after a night of waking to every noise, she was summoned by Lucius.
“Take your things today to the galley we've been assigned. The master of the imperial household will tell you where to go.” He came up close to her. “Are you sure you know nothing about what happened to Tiny? You must have talked to him.” He glared at her.
“We rarely spoke, master. I didn't care for his company.” She looked down.
“Why?”
“He was close to…” She paused, then she said it. “Sybellina.” She wanted to say more but didn't dare. And another part of her wanted to take back the little she had said. Who believed a slave?
Lucius' tone softened. “Well, you must forget all this. Tiny was overcome by a daemon. I've seen it. You shouldn't be exposed to such things.” He squeezed her arm. “You must keep away from Sybellina, do you understand?”
She nodded. He released her.
“Smile, girl. The wind has changed. Everything is right for our departure. Your father was from Britannia, wasn't he? Do you know what part?”
“The land of the Brigantes, master. He . . .” She hesitated.
“Yes.”
“He had a family name, master. Arell, from the family of some queen.”
“How do you know all this?”
“My mother, my real mother, she told me stories about him over and over. He was supposed to come back for us.” A wave of emotion rose from somewhere deep inside. She bit her lip to control it. Memories flooded back. She coughed. Then again.
“You want to say something?”
She put a hand toward him, as if she would clutch him, but she didn’t. “I never thought much of this, master, but my mother told me once that I had the secret power of my father’s blood in me.”
“What power is that?” He leaned toward her.
“My mother called it the power of the raven. The ability to see the guilty secrets in people’s hearts. Their past misdeeds and evil acts.”
Lucius took a step back. His eyebrows went up.
“Have you seen mine?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think the power is strong in me. Only once or twice in my life have I felt people to have evil secrets they are carrying around.” She looked into his eyes.
He stared back at her. “And you have that feeling now.”
“Yes, I do.”
“About who?”
“The Lady Sybellina.” She blurted it out. “She carries evil inside her. I am afraid, master. Afraid how all this will end.” She waved in the air, including everything around her.
“We must be on our guard then, Juliana.” He leaned closer to her. “And I hope you will find out more about this power of yours in the land of your father. We will travel through the territory of the Brigantes.” He turned and walked away.
She bowed at his back. This was the news she needed. She still felt sick at the thought of Tiny's bloody death and what it meant about Sybellina’s powers, but maybe there was hope for her. Maybe, if she asked in the towns they passed through, she might find her father, or his people. Her father might be powerful. He might buy her freedom. Hope soared inside her.
She collected her few belongings and went down to the dock. At first, she was refused permission to board the galley they'd been assigned to, but then the head of the imperial household spotted her and waved her forward. She was told to wait below deck with some other slaves in a cramped and damp smelling area.
Constantine, Lucius and Sybellina came on board soon after. Juliana was called to help settle Constantine and Lucius' baggage, which had been brought on board piece by piece. They had been given space in a low wooden structure on the rear of the upper deck. As Juliana was setting up hammocks for her masters, she saw Sybellina behind a thin curtain in a dimly lit corner. She was sleeping there.
At first, Sybellina seemed not to have noticed Juliana. Then Sybellina woke and lit an oil lamp, which silhouetted her against the thin curtain as she changed her gown. Juliana couldn't help staring as Sybellina moved around, naked behind the screen, applying oils to her body.
Juliana could see why men wanted her so much. She was slender, had large breasts, but more importantly she seemed sure, confident of herself, and her body. The sight reminded Juliana of a young tigress she'd seen at the games a long time ago. She watched Sybellina, noticing the way she moved, then copied her movements, mostly in her mind.
Then Sybellina blew out the oil lamp and walked past her with her nose in the air. Juliana finished what she was doing and went to explore the ship.
Below decks, slaves, legionaries and oarsmen mixed together. Half the rowing positions were taken up by legionaries. They all slept where they sat, and rowed when called upon. Other legionaries lay in the gullies between the benches, their packs and weapons beneath them. There was much excitement, as for some of the legionaries this was their first sea voyage. Many were sick later.
Juliana discovered that she was one of only two female slaves on the ship. The place they had been given to rest was in a corner behind the water stores, where, on this vessel, a guard was permanently stationed.
The departure of the war fleet that day was a heart stopping experience. War horns blared from the ships and were answered from the shore. Along the beach, galleys and wide bottomed merchant vessels pulled away from the shore. Toward the horizon, ships sailed away. In the port, late passengers dashed along the quay and almost-forgotten pieces of baggage were hurriedly loaded. Then, after the last ropes were cast away, they were moving, lumbering out to sea, as the rowers pulled, and the rowing masters beat their drums, echoing one another into the distance.
“This wind should take us across the channel in half a day,” the other girl assured her, as they watched from the middle of the deck.
The sky that morning was a just-washed bright blue. Small puffs of clouds, like pieces of cotton she’d seen once at a market, scudded across it. The tide had turned.
“All the signs are right for a good crossing,” said the girl. She squeezed Juliana’s arm.
Then a noise, a keening, came to them. As one, they both scanned the shoreline to see the source. Juliana’s mouth opened wide when she saw the crowd of women standing, pressed together, on the gray pebble beach beyond the dock, wailing as if every last one expected to be slaughtered. She’d never seen or heard anything like it.
“Those Alemanni,” said the other slave girl with a sniff. “They bring shame on all Germania. You wouldn’t see the Chaucii crying like that, just because their men are off to war.” She pushed her dark curls back and secured them with a heavy red hairclip. It seemed too valuable an object for a slave.
Juliana looked back toward the port, saw people crowding onto the dock. Others were streaming onto the beach behind the Alemanni women, where rows of fishnets were drying. It seemed that everybody from the town, from the simplest in their rough woolen tunics to the rich in their fine togas, had come out to watch the fleet set sail.
It looked as if the town’s permanent inhabitants, who’d cowered in their houses, felt free to appear again. Slowly the wailing was drowned out by shouts from the ships, and the creaking, sliding noises of the oars. And then, above their heads, there came a whoosh as the sail was raised.
“My master says that I am part of a great campaign,” said the girl, as they pressed together at the side planking near where the stairs led down to the rowers.
“Few women are so fortunate, he tells me.” She linked arms with Juliana.
Juliana didn’t reply, but she didn’t push the girl away. They w
atched together as ships around them dipped in and out of the rolling swells. Juliana felt pride and a tingle of excitement at being part of it all, and the prospect of setting foot in Britannia, a place that had always seemed impossibly far away.
“Masters love themselves,” said the girl. Then she giggled.
“Mine tells me he’ll clean Caledonia of every runt who stands against the peace that Rome bestows on us all. And that he’ll bring prosperity to all Britannia, finally, a unified colony.” The girl sighed as if remembering something painful. “Who can resist the might of Rome?” she said, wistfully. Then she pulled herself closer to Juliana and whispered in her ear. “How often does your master fuck you?”
Juliana looked her in the eye. “He doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.”
The girl stared at her for a long moment, then looked away.
Juliana breathed in deep. She was about to visit the land of her father. The thought sent a shiver through her. Then she raised a fist to her chest. Here she could be the person her birth mother had foretold. It had seemed impossible that she would find her destiny in the land of her father, the eager words of a seer who’d wanted her to see hope ahead, but the words had come back to her on the voyage and it all seemed possible now.
XLIII
Londinium, Southern Britannia, 306 A.D.
It took them two days to reach Londinium. The crossing was quick, less than half a day. Juliana saw white cliffs in the distance, unlike any she’d seen before. Then they turned away from the shore and the wind died, and for the rest of that day they battled currents as the galley was rowed slowly northwards. At times it seemed they were going backwards and the curses from the officers striding the deck not far from where Juliana huddled confirmed her fears. The sea was darker here than any she’d seen. The stories she’d heard of great sea monsters lurking in these parts seemed totally plausible.
The hidden monsters, the Cetos, could be pulling at the underside of the boat. Perhaps they would pull it down under the waves next.
Then the wind changed again and just before dark, with her fears quietening, they reached a place she was told was near the mouth of a great river, though she saw no signs of it. They anchored by an island with a stone temple on a low headland. A lighthouse on the nearby mainland marked the entrance to a large port. Most of the galleys would dock there. Rutupiae, she heard the place called, and from comments overheard she found out that almost all the legionaries would make their way to Londinium by road from there.
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