The Sign of The Blood

by Laurence OBryan

  She'd been warned there’d be a feast of welcome in the governor’s palace that evening and laid out Constantine's best embroidered togas in readiness. Lucius would have to borrow one, as his own was too patched for such an occasion.

  When she’d finished the preparations, she waited at a bench in a corner of the courtyard, sewing closed a rip in a toga. Only Constantine looked at her as they passed. But that lifted her heart and sent it soaring. None of them motioned her to follow them. After they'd moved into their rooms, Sybellina appeared from hers and without a word or glance at Juliana, who felt, for a sickening moment, as if she’d been caught doing something terrible even glancing at her, Sybellina headed toward the baths. A slave boy from the household padded behind her carrying a red lacquered box. Juliana watched, relieved, as the boy followed Sybellina through the iron-grill gate to the baths at the rear of the courtyard. It hadn't taken her long to find herself a new acolyte.

  Soon after, Lucius appeared again. He called to Constantine, then sat on the stone bench near the center of the courtyard. He looked around, constantly. Constantine came out from his room. He still walked with a slight limp from his recent injuries, but his bandages had been removed to allow air to the wounds. He had healed quickly. Lucius waved at Juliana to come forward.

  “Valerius is with that slave girl who was rubbing him down,” she heard Lucius replying to something Constantine had said. Then he turned to Juliana. “Did you find some good wine?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Well, let’s see if it is as good as Valerian claims. Fetch a jug.”

  “You'll get your chance with the bath girl.” Constantine sounded amused. “I saw her giving you the eye when she was rubbing him down.” He looked up and winked at Juliana. She half smiled back at him, then suppressed the rest and turned away.

  When she returned their mood had changed. “You must . . .” Lucius stopped talking as she came forward. He scowled, then looked around as if he was checking if others might be listening.

  “Wait there, Juliana. Tell us if anyone’s lurking about beyond the gate.” Juliana bowed and went to stand by the gate to the baths. It was not far from where they were sitting. Beyond it she could hear Sybellina ordering the slave boy. Then everything went quiet from the baths. One of the few benefits of being a slave was that you heard conversations, some very interesting conversations. She stepped toward her masters, so she could hear them better. Constantine’s voice was raised.

  “What are you worrying about? I'm safer now than I have been for years. What do I have to fear?”

  “Think about it, Constantine.” Lucius was angry. “Our arrival spiced the pot. Most people hate new things. You know that. Look to his advisors if you want to change his mind. I bet they’re the ones telling him not to grant you the position you deserve. You must be careful. Every step you take is being judged.”

  Juliana held her breath, afraid she might not hear Constantine’s response. Then, far off, there was shouting and horses neighing. And something rustled in the rose bush that twisted through the trellis behind her. She looked around, alarmed, but saw nothing.

  “And you're wrong, Lucius, trust me on that. Why would his advisors stand against me?”

  Lucius stood up. Juliana turned her back to them, as if she had no interest in their conversation.

  “They see you as a threat, Constantine. To themselves and to your father. They’ll want you far below them. In the underworld, I expect.”

  Her mouth went dry. Was Lucius right? Was Constantine in danger? Her skin felt clammy down her back.

  “I’ll show them they have nothing to fear.” Constantine sounded confident.

  “You’re a dutiful son, truly, but you must be on your guard, that's all I'm saying.” Lucius’ tone changed. He sounded angry now. “Have you seen the way Crocus, that Alemanni cavalry commander, looks at you before he whispers in your father's ear? Something’s going on there. I swear it.”

  Juliana turned her head. Lucius had his hand on Constantine’s shoulder.

  “So, we make an alliance with Crocus. But I want no intrigues. And tell me, did my father agree to see you again?”

  Lucius tutted loudly.

  “No, he hasn’t. I must wait, they say. I'm useful in Crocus’ cavalry. I’ll be called when your father's ready.”

  Constantine laughed, a small bitter laugh. “And so we are all waiting.” He sighed, loudly. “You'd think my father was doing this deliberately.”

  “It’s his advisors. It must be.”

  “Don't start down that road again, Lucius. You have a position in the army. That’s more than I have. Come, let's get ready. It's getting late, and it’s cold out here. This is not Bithynia.” He stood up, and with a sideways glance at Juliana, and a nod, he disappeared off to his room.

  Lucius motioned Juliana to him.

  “You’ll help me get ready.” He looked and sounded angry. Juliana bowed quickly and followed him.

  As she fussed around him, adjusting the folds of his borrowed toga, he enquired about how she was. His tone was friendly now, and it came to her that he wanted something. Ever since Tiny had died he'd been endlessly hard with her, ordering her about on endless errands, fetching and carrying things he sometimes never used. Now, there was something else he wanted.

  “I see the way you look at him.” His words were accompanied by a grin.

  “Master?” She had dropped the edge of his toga. She picked it up quickly. How could she have been so stupid? She imagined all the ways he would punish her.

  “Don’t fret. Your secret’s safe with me.” He tapped at her hand playfully, then looked at her openly in a way that dispelled most of her fear, like water washing away dirt. The relief made her grin too. He motioned her to move away and finished adjusting his toga. “You heard our conversation outside, I suppose?”

  “Yes, master.”.

  “You will know, then, that I fear for Constantine’s life.” She moved further away from him. The ochre stained wall was right behind her and half-lit shadows were playing on it from the cluster of oil lamps suspended in their bronze floor-standing holders in the far corner of the room. It felt odd to hear Lucius talk like this, confiding in her. For a moment she thought he’d confused her with someone else. Then a strange sensation warmed her stomach. He was discussing these things with her because he trusted her.

  “Juliana, you know you must not speak of any of these things, not to anyone.” He frowned at her. His mood was changing again.

  “I won’t, master. You have my word.”

  “And will you help me protect Constantine?”

  “Yes, master.” Her blood was thumping in her neck, as if it expected some further shock to come.

  “Good, I have a task for you. Tonight, you will accompany me to this feast for us, and I’ll point out Crocus, the cavalry commander, to you.”

  Juliana glanced at him quickly, then down at the floor, where a good slave kept her gaze. What was he up to?

  “You will find him tomorrow morning, early, and seek a private audience. Say you have a message from me. When he sees you, tell him I wish to make a donation to assist with his expenses and that I wish to meet him.” Lucius shrugged nonchalantly, as if such a donation meant nothing to him. “When you return, come straight to me, and tell me everything he says and everything he does. Everything, do you understand? So, keep your eyes open.”

  A nagging worry was growing inside her. She’d known a slave who’d been pressed to be a messenger, to spy on one of the neighboring families back in Bithynia. The man was found soon after, hanging from a tree. As a warning to tricksters who copied Mercury, so she’d been told. She opened her mouth, leant a little forward, as if she might say something, then thought better of it.

  Her stomach felt empty and hollow. Then it came to her. Was this why she'd been allocated a proper bedroom, so that Lucius could keep a close eye on her?

  He shook his head, as if he knew what was going on in hers. “It’s just a simple mes
sage, Juliana.” His tone implied he was injured at her ill-concealed unease.

  She looked up at him and felt a rush of guilt. She didn't ever question her instructions, not in any way, even with a look. She knew better. She shouldn’t even have opened her mouth to reply. Keep your head down when asked anything was what had been drummed into her, with beatings for the most minor infraction. If you don’t react in any way, your master will not get angry. She'd learnt that long ago, but he’d asked so politely and the strict rule of obedience, which every slave had to follow on pain of death, had seemed overruled, relaxed on their journey. She pursed her lips. She mustn’t do that again. She'd seen awful, stomach-churning things happen to slaves who spoke out. And she’d need Lucius' help if she was ever to be free.

  Lucius leaned toward her. “If you serve me well, Juliana, you’ll be rewarded well. Now remember what I told you and make no mistakes. You have nothing to fear.”

  She knew at once that she’d been lucky. He wasn’t going to make anything of her reaction. She excused herself, saying she had to ask the Master of Valerius' household for a clean tunic for herself. Soon she was running down the back corridor, relief pushing her on, and when she returned, grateful, with the tunic, she went into her room to change. When she was ready she came out again quickly into the courtyard where Constantine and Lucius were waiting for Sybellina.

  When Sybellina finally appeared, her skin glowed as if she'd come straight from the warm room at the baths. Her hair had been coiled painstakingly on top of her head, and her diaphanous green gown fitted tightly around her slim body, with a necklace of small yellow pearls dangling from her pale neck. She looked like a statue of a goddess sprung to life.

  Juliana felt ugly, terribly ugly, in her coarse tunic, even if it was clean. She glanced again at Sybellina, then looked down. Sybellina was bowing for Constantine, revealing her breasts entirely. They were pendulous and alluring. Juliana had managed to suppress her feelings toward Sybellina, but now, seeing her so obviously trying to tease him, her resentments came rushing back. She was standing a little way from them, her head bowed in the most respectful attitude of a slave, determined not to catch anyone's eye. None of this should matter, she kept telling herself. She would think only of finding her father. But she found it hard to distance herself.

  And it became even harder when Sybellina's flirtatiousness extended to Lucius. And he also appeared remarkably eager to join in. Sybellina kissed him on both cheeks, and then she kissed Constantine on both cheeks before squeezing in between him and Lucius with a laugh and putting her arms around their waists. The tinkle of her laughter filled the air as they waited for litters to arrive at the front of the villa.

  When a slave arrived to say that their litters were here, they were all ushered out into the street. Juliana had seen litters in Nicomedia, and in Rome, but neither city had as many as here, nor the variety of styles. She didn't have to run to keep up with the stocky attendants, who carried each of the two litters, Constantine and Sybellina in one large one with six men carrying them, and Lucius in another with four men, but she had to walk fast, and it felt odd after all the days in Gaul riding beside or near to her masters to be following them again. She was reminded starkly of her place.

  In the gray of what seemed a very long dusk the light from the torches burning at street corners made the breastplates of their attendants gleam. The people of the city stood back as the procession passed down their narrow brick-paved streets. Most of the other litter attendants weren't nearly as burly, or as well armored as theirs. Some looked worn down by their task. Indeed, one pair weighed down with a large red-curtained litter stumbled as they went by. Angry, panicked shouts emanated from the occupant as the attendants righted the litter at the last moment. Juliana almost stumbled too as she watched. She'd wanted to rush to help, but now all she did was give the attendants a nod as they passed in the street. They stared back, as if observing the passing of gods.

  The governor's palace had a wide, double height pillared reception hall, which was packed with people by the time they arrived. A buzz of conversation ran through the room, like you might hear at a busy market. Local officials and army commanders with bejeweled concubines mingled with merchants and the emperor’s high officials all dressed in their finest. Slaves, both male and female, in minuscule purple tunics, carried trays of silver goblets filled with spiced or honeyed wines. Bright frescoes on the walls glowed in the gently swaying light from clusters of oil lamps hanging from the roof.

  They passed a man loudly pointing out new additions to the frescoes, the tribal God Rhiannon, the god of horses, and Esus, the god of nature, now occupied prominent positions on the walls alongside Jupiter and Apollo.

  “Britannia is a rich province, it seems,” said Lucius, to no one in particular.

  Laugher and animated conversation floated round them as they moved through the hall. Constantine was hailed by an obese high official whose two equally ugly daughters were pushed forward and presented to him with insistent glances by their mother. Juliana scowled. They bowed low showing anyone who wanted to look the fullness of their milk white breasts. One of the girls grinned up at Constantine as her breasts and protruding nipples were exposed. Juliana hoped her presence and sour expression might deter them a little, but neither girl looked in her direction, though their mother glanced at her in a way that signaled she knew Juliana wasn't one of their class.

  The mother asked Constantine in a wheedling tone, “And when will your father arrive, my lord?”

  Constantine shrugged as a distracting commotion broke out on the far side of the room. All heads turned. People stood on their tiptoes or leaned on their partners to get a better look. A troop of four trumpeters had entered, each wielding a massive spiral war trumpet. An extended trumpet blast quietened the onlookers. Juliana felt a shiver of anticipation.

  The tall wooden doors at the rear of the room creaked open as the last note of the fanfare died away. The emperor, Constantine’s father, appeared in the doorway in an elaborately embroidered purple toga. There was a gasp, then a cheer, then everyone bowed low as the emperor moved forward.

  A few began to prostrate themselves, but the emperor waved them up, insisting loudly that it wasn't necessary.

  Time passed slowly all that evening for Juliana. She felt isolated, and in fear of what was to come. No one spoke to her except Lucius, and he just gave whispered commands to smile, stand straight or to refill an empty goblet. Other personal slaves could be seen around the room doing the same for their masters. They all looked better at it than she was.

  The crowd thinned as those who’d not been invited to dine departed. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the whole party moved to a dining hall. Juliana took her place behind the table Constantine, Lucius and Sybellina were led to. When she smelled the food she was glad she’d eaten bread with cheese before they’d come. A large lump of it had been pressed into her hand in the kitchen by the girl who’d helped her unpack.

  Trays of dried herring and stuffed kidneys were served first, then roast beef, and minced oysters (the best in the empire, claimed Valerius) stewed with celery and dates. Each dish was announced by its server. The smell of food was tantalizing. Her mouth watered as each one appeared.

  The locals drank wine and beer as if they had a great thirst. It intrigued her that the emperor and his son drank and ate hardly anything. It was her first time observing them together, within a couch length of each other, and she concluded they were as similar as father and son could be, each a thick-necked bull dominating their table.

  Half way through the feast a red-tunicked slave appeared by Sybellina's side, at the opposite corner of the table from where Juliana stood. He whispered in her ear. Sybellina, with most of the eyes in the room on her, went and sat close by the emperor at the main table. The buzz of conversation in the hall rose to a crescendo as she leaned close to the emperor and laughed her warm and friendly laugh for all to hear. Juliana looked away.

  Constantine
's expression darkened. The conversation at his table stopped for a moment. He turned and looked at the expectant faces around him.

  “My father delights in the soothsayer I brought for him. Let's hope she brings him good fortune.” He raised his goblet. The other diners at the table, Valerius, his father, his mother, and Lucius, raised their goblets and drank.

  For the rest of the night Juliana stole occasional glances at Sybellina. All the men around her were clearly enthralled by her presence. She was like an old mare with a knot of graying stallions pressing round her. How could they be so taken in by her pale, badly-plastered make up and high-pitched laugh? There were clearly a lot of half-blind men in Britannia, the type who needed a slave to find the straps of their sandals.

  Even the plump, almost-naked dancing girls, who were desperately trying to entertain the emperor’s guests, could not hold the gaze of anyone at the table after Sybellina had joined it.

  She had to be using some powerful magic. How else could so ordinary a woman hold so many men in her spell?

  Constantine had turned his back on his father's table, while he and Lucius entertained everyone around them with stories about their journey from Nicomedia. More wine was drunk and toasts to the emperor, Rome, and the imperial family passed, one after the other, from table to table.

  “Come, my new friends, let me show you the real entertainments this city has to offer,” said Valerius, after one raucous toast. Then he stood a little unsteadily, and motioned Constantine and Lucius to follow him. Lucius stood first. He motioned Juliana to his side.

  “You will come with us, Juliana,” he said, softly. “Perhaps we'll meet some of your relatives.” He touched her cheek, stroking it. Some of the men were looking at her now and grinning, making her feel uncomfortable. She could smell stale wine from his breath as Lucius whispered in her ear. “Do you see the red-bearded man beside the emperor?”