‘Stop!’ she cried. She lunged between the two men. ‘This is madness!’
That was when they heard the wail. It started softly, crescendoing into something so loud and heartbreaking that it might have been the wail of every suffering woman in every bloody battle from the beginning of time. Arria’s mother was holding her stomach. Her face was engraved with agony.
‘Her labour begins,’ Grandmother pronounced. She shook her white head with impatience, then crossed the room and plucked the dagger from Clodius’s hands. ‘We shall need this to cut the birth cord of your new brother or sister.’
Clodius started to protest, but Grandmother was already crossing to Arria’s mother, barking out orders as she went. ‘Epona, I need you to gather as many pots as you can find and fill them with water. Arria, go ask the farmer’s wife for whatever cloth she can spare.’ Grandmother pointed at the pile of kindling. ‘And will someone please start a fire?’
The moment of danger had passed and Arria exhaled her relief. She scanned the barn for Cal’s tall figure. ‘Cal?’ she called, but there was no answer. He was gone.
* * *
At dawn, Arria’s mother gave birth to a healthy baby boy. His hair was thick and black, and his tiny wail was as sweet and clear as a lamb’s bleat. Grandmother swaddled him in her own shawl and presented him to Arria’s mother with a joyous shout. ‘Hail Goddess Kybele, Ancient Mother!’
‘Hail Ephesia, Warrior Queen!’ added Epona.
‘Hail Mary, Virgin Mother,’ said her mother.
‘Hail Artemis, Goddess of Childbirth,’ said Arria, though the exaltation sounded hollow and joyless. Epona slid Arria a sympathetic look, then diverted the family’s attention with a thunderous howl.
* * *
That night they feasted on a deer that had miraculously appeared outside the door of the barn. ‘The people of this village have been so good to us,’ commented Arria’s mother.
As pater familias, Clodius was duty-bound to carve the beast and sample the first bite. Instead, he carved off a piece and offered it to Arria. ‘You need this more than I do,’ he said.
Arria had not eaten in days, but when she placed the warm meat on her tongue she did not taste it. She could only taste the salt of her own tears.
‘Why do you weep, Sister?’
‘I weep for joy,’ she said, though it was a lie. She wept for the anguish she had felt when Cal had spoken the truth: I love my wife, and no one will ever take her place. It was as Arria had always feared. He was not hers and never had been. Whatever bond she and Cal shared, it was but a handful of threads compared to the deeply woven love he would always have for his wife.
‘I am happy for your joy, Sister,’ said Clodius. He carved another piece of meat and offered it to Epona. The fire crackled and the two exchanged a tender smile. Arria recognised that tenderness, though she would never know it again. She would never love another. It was Cal. It had always been Cal and it always would be. And so she continued to weep quietly—not for joy, but for her broken heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cal peered out of the shadows at the woman he loved. She was sitting around a campfire talking with the other women about baby Faustus, who lay cradled in his mother’s arms. The women spoke in hushed tones, but he could tell by their gestures that they were doting over the infant. When they gathered together each night, they spoke of little else.
Cal had been following them for many days now. They had stayed in Serenus only long enough to feast on the deer he had secretly delivered them and prepare for their journey. Only days after Faustus had been born, they had started out for Britannia.
Cal had followed them relentlessly, marvelling at their speed. Epona’s sturdy grey mare was undaunted by the mountainous route they travelled and she bore Clodius, Arria’s mother and the baby with gentle agility. Arria, Grandmother and Epona walked beside the large horse and guided its path during the day, stopping in towns to purchase food and clarify the route as they made their way steadily northward towards the Strait of Hellespont.
There, Cal knew they would cross from the senatorial province of Asia into the imperial province of Thracia, heading ever westward towards the wilds of Germania and Britannia. Cal wondered if they understood that the further they got from Ephesus, the more dangerous their travel became—especially a group such as theirs, comprised as it was of a newborn baby, a lame man and four women.
Cal worried for their safety, though he was careful not to underestimate their strength. He had recently learned that women could be as fearsome as men when they wished to be, especially when equipped with wooden poles. Or if not quite as fearsome as men, then at least twice as brave.
In truth, he simply could not bring himself to leave her.
Not even after her brother had threatened to kill him and he had realised that there was no place for him in Arria’s small, fragile tribe. Watching the six of them together over the past twenty days had convinced him that he had done the right thing. With her family finally at peace, Arria was safe, needed and loved. He could never do anything to threaten that.
He could only see that she arrived safely in Britannia and that she and her loved ones found a place they could call home. He knew in time she would forget him, though the thought gave him a pain in his stomach.
In the meantime, he followed her as closely as he dared. He watched her in the mornings, when she sat up on her mat and her honey skin caught the first rays of light. Some mornings she woke up in tears, and it was all he could do not to burst out of his hiding place to wipe them.
He followed far behind them during the day, but when they stopped to rest he sometimes neared, if just to see her touch her lips to the waters of a stream. How he missed those lips. How he would always miss them.
Strangely, it was not Arria but Epona who seemed to suspect Cal’s presence. She sometimes turned abruptly, as if she wished to catch him following behind the group. She often gazed into the brush wherever they made camp. Once Cal had even caught her studying one of his footprints.
Cal knew he should keep himself better hidden, but his body was drawn to Arria’s as if through some invisible force—especially on evenings like these, when he sat in the shadows watching the firelight flicker in her eyes.
‘Arria, will you not tell us how you escaped the governor’s domus?’ Epona asked suddenly. ‘We still have not heard the tale.’
Cal saw Arria flush. ‘It is a lengthy tale,’ said Arria, ‘and one that you may find difficult to believe.’
‘Please tell it,’ urged Arria’s mother. ‘I, too, have longed to hear it.’
Arria gazed into the fire. ‘Very well then,’ she said, then began the story of her escape from a place she called Hades. She spoke in hushed tones, describing a terrible monster called the governor who locked her inside a dark, sweltering dungeon.
Cal could sense her pain as she described a battle with three demons—Heat, Thirst and Hunger, and how she had defeated them with the aid of a talking mouse.
Flames danced upon her cheeks as she painted a picture of smoke and fire, water and steam. Her voice grew softer still as she recalled encounters with a magic lamp, a benevolent dragon and a whale’s hot belly.
Cal watched Clodius sit back in disbelief as Arria described her miraculous arrival at the Temple of Artemis. He saw Arria’s mother shake her head with something resembling pity as Arria explained how the goddess had transformed Arria’s pole into a divine spear.
‘And I bounded into the arena and sent the spear flying in defence of the man I love.’
Cal sat up. The leaves rustled beneath him and he saw Epona’s eyes grow alert.
‘The man you love?’ Arria’s mother asked.
‘The gladiator, Mother. The man you met the night I arrived in Serenus. He is the man I love—the only man I will ever love.’
‘The man who robbed me of my leg
,’ Clodius clarified and Arria stared at the ground.
Epona levelled her gaze on Clodius. ‘I am afraid that the heart cannot choose what it loves, or whom.’ Epona’s gaze remained locked with Clodius’s for a long while, as if engaged in some silent discussion. When finally Epona looked away, she gazed into the forest where Cal was hiding.
‘Do go on, Arria. Finish your story,’ said Grandmother and Epona returned her attention to Arria.
‘Cal and I fought side by side,’ Arria continued. ‘We raged and battled against the governor’s guards—Cal with his gladius and I with my spear—but they continued to pour down from the stands, the crowd cheering them on. We realised that our only choice was escape. We had just begun to run away when the Emperor himself stopped us.’
Arria’s mother gasped. ‘The Emperor?’
‘Yes, Emperor Trajan himself. He congratulated us for our performance and told us to name our wish. We asked for freedom.’
Grandmother clapped her hands together. ‘A marvellous story! The gods were with us that night, were they not?’
‘Or perhaps they were within us,’ mused Arria.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Arria’s mother.
‘That night, Epona was Ephesia, the Amazon queen, Grandmother was Kybele, the divine midwife, and you, Mother, might have been Mary herself on her bed of straw.’
‘And you, dear Arria, were Artemis, virgin huntress, ready with your spear,’ added Grandmother.
‘In times of difficulty, the gods give us strength...’ mused Epona.
‘And in times of great difficulty, we become them,’ Arria finished.
There was a long silence and it seemed to Cal as if Arria had just spoken some ancient truth.
‘The tale stretches the bounds of reason,’ grumbled Clodius.
‘It is quite miraculous,’ added Arria’s mother.
Cal wished he could jump from the shadows and proclaim that it was all true. He wished he could shout to the entire universe that it did not matter how fantastic, that he believed Arria’s story.
But if he truly believed all of it, then he had to believe the part in which she had called him the only man she would ever love. And if that was true, then he knew he could no longer simply watch her from the shadows, listening to her stories. He needed to find a way to make himself a part of them for ever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was more of a whimper than a howl. She heard it in the bushes as she passed and increased her pace. She had fallen behind the group as they skirted a wheat field, distracted by what she thought were early berries. Now she heard the soft patter of footsteps behind her and turned to find that a dog was following her.
He was one of the shepherding breeds, his long brown hair interrupted with patches of white. She could tell by the enthusiastic swing of his tail that he was not dangerous and by the deep contours of his ribs that he was on his own.
Arria tried to shoo him away, gesturing with her arms and emitting a series of harsh hisses which had absolutely no effect. Soon he was rolling on his back at her feet and she was squatting to scratch his stomach. He gave a joyous moan, then righted himself and licked beneath her chin. He cocked his head as if to say, ‘Well?’
* * *
That night, they were sitting shoulder to shoulder around the fire, watching a rabbit roast on a spit.
‘We cannot keep him, Arria,’ Clodius was saying. ‘We are halfway through our funds already. We do not need another belly to fill.’
‘But he will not eat much, Brother. And he could help keep us safe.’
‘She is right,’ added Grandmother. ‘He can be of great use as a guard at night.’
‘Will nobody take my side?’ Clodius said, sending Epona a pleading look, but he found no aid. Instead, Epona flashed him a crooked grin and gestured to Clodius’s lap.
‘I fear that the choice has already been made, Clodius.’ The dog’s head had come to rest against the stump of Clodius’s thigh. The creature was peering up at Clodius with unabashed longing.
Clodius masked the grin that seemed to threaten at the edges of his lips. ‘He knows that I shall carve the rabbit, that is all. He thinks that if he shows his deference he will earn a piece of meat.’
‘Is he right?’ Epona challenged, her eyes twinkling.
If Arria had not seen what happened next with her own eyes, she would never have believed it. Her brother carved off a piece of meat and offered it to the dog. Cautiously, the dog accepted the bite, his whole body wriggling with delight. Arria knew exactly how the hungry beast felt.
So did her brother, apparently, for he quickly cut off another piece and gave it over to the grateful pup. It was not long before the dog had curled himself up between her brother’s legs and began to doze. Her brother patted his head affectionately.
‘Brother, I fear you are in danger of falling in love,’ said Arria.
Clodius glanced briefly at Epona, then smiled. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘What shall we call him?’ asked Arria’s mother, cuddling baby Faustus in her lap. ‘How about Cerberus, the Hound of Hades?’ She made a scary face at little Faustus, who emitted a tiny coo.
‘Or Argus, Odysseus’s loyal beast,’ said Grandmother.
‘I vote for Romulus...or Remus,’ said Epona with a wicked grin. ‘I think that would be quite poetic.’
‘Apologies, Familia,’ said Arria. ‘But I may have already given him a name.’
Clodius threw up his hands. ‘I was beaten before I even began!’ He stroked the dog’s fur. ‘Well, what is it?’
‘First you must promise not to laugh,’ Arria said. She scanned the faces around the fire and took a breath. ‘His name is Trajan. Trajan the Merciful.’
Grandmother was the first to break her promise, though her laugh was more of a deep groan, beginning in her belly and ending in her nose, which emitted a sudden, loud snort. Soon the whole group had descended into laughter, and even Trajan added his howl to the chorus.
* * *
Trajan proved a worthy companion. He guarded them day and night, keeping them together as they trekked and patrolling their camp when they stopped. Whenever Arria went off to hunt or forage for food, Trajan would follow behind, and the two would always return with a prize. In the night, Trajan would spread his protective presence amidst his flock, but every morning he awoke at Arria’s side.
* * *
On the kalends of May, they hired a boat across the Hellespont Strait and crossed into the Roman province of Thracia.
The first stage of their journey complete, they made an early camp outside a small town and determined to rest a few days and celebrate their success.
The next day, Arria was gathering firewood when she discovered her brother standing at the edge of the glade, watching Epona groom Ephesia.
‘She is a beautiful creature, is she not?’ asked Arria.
‘Indeed she is,’ said Clodius.
‘So sure-footed.’
‘I was not speaking of the horse,’ said Clodius.
‘Clodius, Arria, there you are!’ cried Epona, hailing the two. ‘Watch this!’
Arria and Clodius watched as Epona took several steps away from the horse and then made a large circular gesture with her arms. Obediently, Ephesia turned around, making a full circle in the grass. Epona gave a proud bow.
‘Brava!’ Arria exclaimed, clapping. Ephesia whinnied, then reared back on her legs.
‘Whoa there,’ said Epona, calming the excited horse. Epona grabbed the mare by the mane, swung on to her back and the two broke into the forest at a gallop.
‘She will never be tamed,’ Arria said, chuckling.
‘Epona has been working with her. She grows tamer by the day,’ said Clodius.
‘I am not speaking of the horse,’ said Arria with a wink.
A crimson blush coloured hi
s cheeks. ‘Your perception is matched only by your wit, dear Sister.’
‘Happiness strikes where it pleases, does it not, dear Brother?’
There was a long silence. ‘Sister, I fear I have wronged you,’ Clodius said at last. ‘And now I intend to make things right.’
In that instant, Arria heard Epona’s voice. She was galloping back towards them. ‘Arria, you must come!’ she called breathlessly. ‘It is Trajan. He is in trouble.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was a rather devious lie, but it could not have been helped. It was the only believable way to lead Arria to the temple without arousing her suspicion. Trajan was not in trouble, of course. He was simply bait: a cuddly, adorable kind of bait that would lure Arria right to where Cal wanted her.
‘Come quickly, Arria!’ Epona called behind her. She brought her horse to the temple stairs and Cal stepped briefly from the shadows to receive Epona’s news.
‘She is coming, then?’ he asked.
Epona grinned. ‘She nearly kept up with the horse.’
Cal flushed with happiness. Their ruse had worked: Arria was on her way.
‘I owe you a debt,’ he told Epona. He had been right about her. She had known of his presence all along and had been subtly trying to convince Clodius to accept him.
She had finally arranged a meeting between the two men the day before and they had agreed to put away the past for the sake of Arria.
Epona smiled, then gave Ephesia a little kick. ‘Just make her happy,’ she said and rode off deeper into the forest.
That is my greatest wish, thought Cal.
In moments Arria appeared at the temple steps and Cal moved back into the shadows. ‘Epona?’ she shouted and Cal watched her eyes grow wide as she beheld the crumbling temple he had chosen for their meeting.
Forbidden to the Gladiator Page 21