Whether the vial would ever be needed was another matter. She would leave that for others to decide. It was time to find a messenger. And if they were caught with it, the person could be told the vial would allow them to kill themselves, if they were captured by an enemy. Each person it passed to could say the same thing.
Her dreams came swiftly that night. First, she saw the she-wolf waiting, her teats swollen, then she saw a Roman army laid out on a plain, banners raised above with a red cross on each one, just as Hosius had predicted. The massed ranks were shouting in unison.
“Augustus, Augustus, Augustus.”
On a podium in the distance someone was being crowned.
She awoke with a start. Who had she seen being crowned as Augustus, the highest position possible in the empire?
Had it been her ex-husband?
LVII
Lindum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.
“Please don't cry, Juliana,” whispered Constantine as they lay sated on the bed afterwards. “If I’m not allowed to return to Britannia soon, I'll ask Lucius to send you to Treveris. I swear it. We will not be parted for long.”
“If . . .” Her voice trailed away.
“I love you.” He wrapped her in his arms. She snuggled up against him.
“I will spend all my time dreaming of you.” He smoothed her hair.
Suddenly, a knock on the door resounded through the room. They both jumped in their skin, as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over them.
The knock came again, loud, insistent. He shouted he was coming. They hurriedly fixed their clothes.
“Who is it?” he shouted, as he dressed.
“It is your Empress Theodora. Open this door at once!”
He waved frantically at Juliana.
“Coming,” he shouted, his thoughts tumbling. He looked at Juliana. She was fixing her belt, her face ashen. He jammed his feet into his sandals, stumbled to the door.
He pulled it open. Juliana stopped smoothing her tunic.
The empress had her back to him.
Her long blue gown had a thin purple edge. Her yellow tinted hair was curled high on her head, held up by a heavy looking gold headband. She turned and scowled at him as the door creaked open further.
“You two have been busy,” she snapped. She looked past him at Juliana, who was standing with her head bowed well behind him.
“Come here, slave.”
Juliana moved cautiously toward her. Theodora waved her forward faster, until Juliana was right in front of her. She put her forefinger under Juliana's chin, pushed her head up.
“I’ve never understood why you like scrawny jaundiced-looking slave girls.” She shook her head, her distaste evident. “I hope this one isn't going to wail, like those others, when you leave her.” She moved past Juliana into the room.
“Be gone, girl, I can't stand maudlin slaves. Ask my boys to come here. They’ll finish this packing.”
Constantine nodded to Juliana. He hoped she’d understand. It would be better for her if she disappeared at this moment. The empress was too powerful. She was only a few years older than him, but she always spoke with the utter conviction of someone who always got exactly what she wanted.
After Juliana had departed, she began to quiz him.
“I was informed Sybellina was your lover.”
“Sybellina plays only with men her goddess approves of,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. Her face looked pinched, pale.
“Did Sybellina tell you about the stupid request she carried here from Maxentius?” The empress was looking at the toga laid out on his bed. She bent down, fingered it disdainfully. It was a crude garment compared to the fine silk she wore.
“No.”
“I so believe you,” she purred. She lifted the toga, sniffed it. “I suppose you expect me to tell you all about her message. Well, I suppose I might, seeing as it doesn't matter anymore.” She looked at him a little crookedly.
He didn’t take the bait.
“Maxentius has offered little Fausta as a bride for you.” Her tone was surprised, as if she didn’t know her own half-sister was being proposed as his wife.
So, that was Sybellina's secret. No wonder she'd acted strangely with him. If she was conveying a marriage offer for him, she would have been warned not to let him get close to her. It would have been forbidden for her to interfere with the subject of her message.
“As you well know, your father would never allow such a match, Constantine. It would lead to civil war. Maxentius is trying to use Fausta's dowry, which you would receive, to bribe us to fight his enemies, and then put him in the position he believes he deserves. That's what he wants from this arrangement. He's always been an ambitious one.”
“Why wasn’t I told?” said Constantine.
The whole thing was stupid and irritating. Then he wondered what Fausta’s dowry would have consisted of. Lands, no doubt, and estates, perhaps more than that. Theodora’s dowry had consisted of so many estates his father had raised almost a legion from the slaves and farms that came with the land.
“Your father has decided it. There was no point in telling you about this before now. Sybellina will go back empty handed to Maxentius. Fausta can look elsewhere for a husband.”
She called to her slave boys who had appeared at the door. They trooped inside. “Pack all these things quickly. Take them, and Constantine, to where the horsemen are waiting outside.”
She turned to him as they began working. “I’ve arranged for the guard troop who accompanied me from Londinium to escort you back there. They’ve been ready and waiting since dawn. You were expected at the stables earlier.” She looked him up and down. “But I can see now that you were busy satisfying your desires.” She frowned.
“Do not forget, after you leave here, Constantine, that you are not your father's successor. And never will be.” Her tone was firm.
Why did she feel she had to remind him of this? She held her hand toward him in a conciliatory manner.
“You do know that that was decided a long time ago. I’m only saying this because I care for you. My sons will be grown men in a few years. None of us want to see you all fighting or worse, killing each other when the time comes. Accept what has been decided, as they will have to, and I will see to it personally that you and your mother live the rest of your lives in peace. I give you my word.” She touched her curls, smoothing them on her head.
“And there may be other rewards too.” Her right hand played with the top of her gown, pulling it slightly open.
He glimpsed the curve of her breasts. He looked away. They'd been right about her. Well, he wouldn't fall for such an obvious ploy, and in front of the slave boys. Did she have no shame? Or perhaps they joined in, as one rumor had implied. He picked up the leather bag with his campaign medallions inside. They would not lose that on him. The slave boys had finished. There hadn’t been much left to pack.
“I appreciate all that, empress, but I should go now. Perhaps…” He let the thought drift, then bowed and walked out. She was lucky he didn't tell his father about her. That would put lightning in the old man’s veins. He shook his head.
But was she right about Maxentius? Did he want to start a war to recover his own place in the imperial succession? He thought about what answer he might have given to Maxentius' offer, if the choice had been his.
He couldn't deny it would be a good marriage, if he had ambitions. Was he not supposed to have ambitions? He balled his fists. Did he have to accept everything they told him?
No, and his father was simply avoiding trouble. It did not mean the succession was totally decided either. There was still hope. It would be many years before his father died. Many things could happen. Theodora’s sons might not prove worthy or they might fall from a horse or sicken and die.
He left the room. Poor Juliana. She really had no idea.
He looked around for her, called her name twice down the corridor to the slave’s quarters, but it was as if sh
e’d disappeared. Theodora's slave boys were with him too, carrying his bags. He couldn’t make too much of wanting to find her. He spotted Lucius peering out of his room. He signaled, strode over to him, waved the slave boys away. They waited at the far end of the colonnade.
“Lucius, thank goodness. Theodora brought news. My mother's sick, so I must go to Treveris today. But there's something I need you to do.” He looked around. This would be embarrassing. He took a deep breath. “I want to have Juliana with me, Lucius. I feel I can trust her. What slaves will I be able to trust in Treveris?” Lucius' eyebrows shot up. He seemed about to say something, but Constantine gripped his arm, then spoke in a rush.
“As a personal favor, arrange her papers for me. I’ll purchase her at whatever price you want. Send the documents to Treveris. I’ll send for her.” His mind was racing. No, he couldn’t bring Juliana with him. The empress would enjoy that too much, especially after she’d found them together. She’d claim he was weak. But he could send for Juliana. Perhaps when he’d made up his mind about staying in Treveris.
“I might be back. If my father can be made to see sense, I’ll be back before the end of the summer. Say nothing to anyone about this.”
Lucius had an annoying grin on his face.
That night, at a tavern on the road to Londinium, Constantine woke in a cold sweat. An old nightmare had returned. A crowd of pleading people, their heads covered with black hoods, had been pursuing him. Their shouted words reverberated in the dark around him. “How long, master, how long before you avenge us?” He thought of calling for Juliana to help him understand his dream, then remembered where he was.
LVIII
Lindum, Northern Britannia, 306 A.D.
That same evening, back in Lindum, Lucius called Juliana to his room. It had been a difficult day for her. When she'd left Constantine that morning, she'd walked away with such intensity of purpose, she'd found herself in the kitchen courtyard before she'd looked around. Then, while working at her tasks, she'd repeated his words over and over in her mind, as if by doing so, it would increase the likelihood of them being true. It was his tone, though, that had convinced her. But tone was a difficult thing to remember. It was frustrating. If only it all hadn't happened just before he went away. Why, after all their time together, did he have to wait until this day?
She'd given Constantine what he'd wanted, without any struggle, and in doing so she'd surprised, even shocked herself.
Most males on her estate had been in such fear of their overseer, they hadn’t pursued her. She'd not been allowed to encourage them either. Between her foster mother's rock-solid convictions about immorality in slaves and her overseer's attempts to break her will by keeping away other men, she'd enjoyed no more than rushed kisses with a few of the most courageous slave boys. Now, when she thought about the possible consequences of what had happened, she felt ill. She'd broken her most sacred vow. She’d given in to temptation. Risked everything. And for what?
She could tell no one about her fears or ask any other slave any questions. They’d work out what was going on in the blink of an eye. But she had heard that if you held your breath afterwards you'd not become pregnant. So, she'd held her breath off and on all day, and if it did work, she was sure she must have stopped any child taking root. But she knew too, that if it was that easy to stop yourself getting pregnant, every one of the slave girls who she’d seen get pregnant would have done it. Their lives wouldn’t have been ruined. And they wouldn’t have been sold to any bidder at the next opportunity and ended up in the mines or a whorehouse.
Pine kernel incense was smoldering in a small brazier on a low marble table in Lucius' room when she arrived there. Two glass-encased oil lamps cast a warm glow on the red frescoed walls. Lucius was sitting bolt upright on a long couch, staring at the painting of a peacock on the wall. She closed the door behind her.
“Juliana, my dear. It's been a long day, hasn't it?” He patted the couch beside him. She shook her head. It wasn’t right for a slave to sit with her master.
He patted the couch again, his expression harder.
She sat as far from him as she could. He moved a little toward her.
“Did you see Constantine before he left?” He placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes,” she replied. She wanted to say more, that she’d enjoyed every part of his body. But who knew how he’d react to that news.
“I’ve been given a new role at Crocus’ side. I ride tomorrow for Caledonia with his Alemanni cavalry. We’re off to slaughter Picts.” He looked pleased. His hand tightened on her shoulder.
“You will take orders from the emperor’s slave master while I am gone.” He paused, looked at her. “Constantine tells me he wants to buy you.” He squeezed her shoulder even tighter.
She breathed in quickly. Her mouth dried. Her skin prickled on her throat.
Would Lucius say no?
“We’ll be finished killing Picts by midsummer. By then you should be with him. Not before.”
Her mouth opened. She wanted to ask why he needed to kill Picts at all.
He shook his head vigorously. “No, don't thank me and don’t tell anyone anything about what happened between you and him. Keep your mouth sealed, Juliana, if you want to go to him, that is. I've made out the papers for your sale already. They'll be sent to Constantine. Be patient until a message returns from him.”
She let out her breath. She would be with Constantine. Nothing else mattered.
Constantine had told her he'd petition Lucius for her freedom. Was he planning to buy her now, not buy her freedom? She stuck her chin out. Would she always be his slave, nothing more?
She gripped the edge of the couch. Lucius patted her shoulder. “You know, you are fortunate. Many slaves would go through torture for a chance to be owned by a member of the imperial family. I hope you appreciate your good luck and remember who stood aside to let it happen.”
She nodded.
“And remember this, keep away from Sybellina. That priestess is dangerous.” He reached up, brushed Juliana’s hair away from the side of her face.
She pulled back a little.
He slammed his fist down on the edge of the couch. It rattled under her.
“You are still my slave, Juliana. I could have had your body anytime, if I wanted you.” He stood abruptly, his fists balled at his side. “I do not force myself upon slave girls. I do not have to. You might appreciate that in the future. Now be gone.”
“I am sure I will,” she said. She walked away, a deep shudder of revulsion passing through her.
The pale light of an almost full moon lit her departure. She went to her cot in a small ante-chamber in the basement of the villa and fell onto her blanket. She took the necklace Constantine had given her from her tunic pocket and touched each piece of amber in turn, hoping, praying that he'd send for her sooner than Lucius expected.
She pressed the necklace to her lips as a wave of emotion swept through her. She’d surrendered her virginity and now she was alone.
Would he let her down?
LIX
Londinium, Southern Britannia, 306 A.D.
When he reached Londinium, Constantine had to wait three days for a post ship to take him to Gaul. During the rough sea crossing he vomited almost the entire journey. The swirling waters echoed the swirl of feelings inside him. He was hopeful that Juliana would join him, but fearful too that Theodora or his father would find a way to stop her and that they would ruin his prospects in the army. When he arrived in Gaul, the governor of Gesoriacum gave him one of his best horses for the journey east.
Sheltering in taverns at night and riding hard during the days along the wide roads of Gaul, he made good progress. He'd been given eight guards as an escort but only their Decurion spoke good Latin. The others were uneducated Belgae. He didn't mind, he needed to think.
As they moved east the flat landscape changed slowly into low, densely wooded hills, with fewer farms and villages. Ancient forests of pale bir
ch and beech crowded up to the road in endless thickets, like rows of giant spears. The spirit, the genii of this forest, seemed watchful and angry.
Tangles of undergrowth clustered around tree trunks. In some places the earth stretched away, leaf carpeted, as far as he could see, littered here and there with random patterns of fallen branches. Occasionally, banks of small white star-flowers enlivened the wood.
The weather held good and the sun shone warm through most of his journey, but it was a sickly warmth lacking the invigorating heat from it in the eastern provinces. Butterflies swirled, and birds swooped. At one point a daring raven stood guard as they passed near the carcass of a wolf.
The city of Treveris sat on the far bank of the River Moselle a little downstream and northwards from where it joined the River Saar. He knew Treveris had been a Roman city since the time of Augustus, occupying the level terrain between the river and the steep wooded escarpment to its east.
The day they reached the Moselle they'd been riding hard, trotting fast with new horses for most of the morning. He'd been searching for the river every time the road crested a thickly wooded ridge, and when at last it appeared he had to call a halt to take it in.
The Moselle lay before them, a giant blue-green ribbon that had fallen into a lightly wooded valley, creating a vision of arcadia. Vineyards ran in stripes up the sides of the escarpments on each side of the river. Fields, laneways, and cypress-shaded villas filled the valley, and on his side, the west side of the river, a wide brick-paved roadway ran down slowly toward the water.
As he descended into the valley along the edge of the escarpment to his left and right, gaily painted temples, most likely sanctuaries for Bacchus, guarded vineyards below. Some of the long fields of vines extended all the way down and right up to the wide, sun-dappled Moselle. It felt as if summer had at last arrived after their many days in rolling misty forests. The valley reminded him of places from his childhood in Moesia.
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