The Chicken's Curse

by Frances Watts

  Felix glanced at her. ‘I don’t think you can just decide that for yourself.’

  Livia crossed her arms. ‘I don’t see why not. What gives anyone the right to own me?’

  Felix wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He presumed Livia’s parents had been captured in a battle, brought to Rome and sold at the slave market. Which was what would have happened to him if he’d fallen into the hands of the Nervians thanks to General Porcius’s bad luck.

  ‘How would you like it if you were made a slave through no fault of your own?’ Livia continued, as if she knew what he was thinking.

  He wouldn’t like it at all, Felix admitted to himself. Was Livia running away from the governor any different from him running away from the Nervians if he’d been captured? He had an uncomfortable feeling that his situation and Livia’s were somewhat alike.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were a slave?’ he asked, instead of answering her question.

  Livia fixed him with a penetrating gaze. ‘If I’d told you when we first met, what would you have done? Would you have let me go with you?’

  Felix blushed. ‘No,’ he confessed. ‘I would’ve thought you were bad for running away.’

  ‘And now that you know the truth, are you going to turn me in?’ she demanded.

  ‘Of course not!’ he replied. ‘I just rescued you, didn’t I?’

  To his surprise, she beamed at him. ‘You did. Thank you.’

  She reminded him of his sisters. Perhaps it was the same with any slave – they were all just people like him and his family? It troubled him that he hadn’t considered this before.

  ‘Livia,’ he began. Then it occurred to him that Livia wasn’t her real name; it was the name of the governor’s daughter. ‘What should I call you?’ he asked.

  She gave him a puzzled look. ‘You know my name.’

  ‘But Livia’s not your name. Those men told me that Livia’s the name of your mistress. I mean your true name – the one you were born with.’

  Livia bit her lip and glanced away. When she turned back he thought he saw a glint of tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t know what name my parents gave me. I can’t … I can’t even remember them. For as long as I can remember I’ve been Livia’s. Like those men said, I belong – belonged – to Livia. All anyone has ever called me was Livia’s: Livia’s slave, Livia’s girl, until Livia became my name too.’

  Felix gaped at her. He didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even have a name of her own.

  She shrugged then smiled shyly. ‘But when you call me Livia it sounds like my real name.’

  The sight of her smile made a smile tug at his own lips. ‘Okay, Livia – let’s get a move on.’ As Felix lifted the reins, he realised he didn’t know which direction they should go. He couldn’t take her to Rome; Sulpicia at the prefect’s house had said Livia was scared of being sent to the arena. Maybe she’d like to return to her real home, the place where her parents had come from – wherever that was. ‘Um, where would you like to go?’

  ‘Rome,’ Livia said promptly. ‘As quickly as possible.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked doubtfully. It didn’t make sense – surely she should be running as far from Rome as possible if she was going to be sent to the lions?

  ‘Hurry!’ she said. ‘Before the prefect notices I’ve gone.’

  Whichever way they were headed, hurrying seemed like a very good idea. They were nearing the outskirts of the town now; he could see the Durocortorum road ahead. As they turned onto the flagstones Felix urged the horse into a gallop.

  Felix and Livia clung to the edge of the carriage, but the chicken was flung about from side to side.

  ‘This is no way to travel,’ it muttered crossly. ‘Why do we have to go so fast?’

  Felix was about to say that the prefect’s men might be behind them, when it occurred to him that Beefy and Reedy would be coming towards them from Durocortorum. He glanced behind for the prefect’s men then peered at the road in front for the governor’s men. Behind, then in front. Behind, then in front. Before long the constant swivelling of his head to look for pursuers was making him dizzy.

  What would the general do if the enemy attacked from more than one direction? Felix asked himself. He thought longingly of the tortoise formation, and how the soldiers to the front and sides locked shields, while those in the centre held their shields over their heads to create an impenetrable barrier.

  He, Livia and the sacred chicken had no hope of forming an impenetrable barrier. What other strategies did the general use? He thought of General Porcius poring over the map, studying the terrain. That’s what he’d have to do too: use the terrain to their advantage and take a path their pursuers weren’t expecting. Instead of going by carriage from Durocortorum, as they’d originally planned, they had to find another way to get to Rome.

  He was reminded of the delivery driver he’d helped that morning, the one who’d talked of how wine from Rome was imported to Lutetia and then sent all over Gaul. If wine could travel from Rome to Lutetia, couldn’t he, Livia and the sacred chicken make the reverse journey?

  After another quick glance behind and ahead, Felix tugged on the reins to slow the horse. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said. ‘One that will throw everyone off our trail. We need to go west.’ Quickly, he explained about Lutetia.

  ‘That sounds good to me,’ Livia said. ‘I don’t care which way we go, so long as we get to Rome.’

  ‘And I don’t care which way we go,’ the sacred chicken added, ‘so long as it isn’t by chariot. Perhaps a carriage of some sort …’

  ‘That’s not exactly what I had in mind,’ Felix said as he steered the horse and chariot to the side of the road and stepped down.

  Fingers fumbling with the knots in the dark, Felix hastily unhitched the horse from the chariot. ‘Now help me push the chariot into the ditch so no one can tell what path we’ve taken,’ he said to Livia. ‘Then we’ll ride the horse through the forest.’

  Together they shoved the chariot into the ditch.

  ‘I’ll get on first,’ Felix said, approaching the horse.

  Livia put her hands on her hips. ‘Why should you be in front?’

  You’d never know he’d rescued her only hours ago – or that she had ever been a slave. She was as bossy as ever.

  ‘Have you ever ridden a horse?’ Felix retorted.

  ‘No. Have you?’

  ‘No,’ Felix admitted. ‘But the horse and I have developed a bond.’ He held out his hand to the horse, which promptly bit it. ‘Ouch!’ He snatched his hand back.

  ‘Let me try,’ said Livia.

  Holding her palm out, she let the horse sniff it before stroking the velvety nose. Leaning close, she murmured in the horse’s ear and then pulled back to look deep into its brown eyes. The horse snuffled softly.

  ‘I think she prefers me,’ Livia said, sounding just a little smug.

  ‘Fine,’ said Felix crossly. ‘You go in front.’

  He made a cradle of his hands for Livia to step on, and she leaped lightly onto the horse’s back. After he’d passed the sacred chicken to her, Livia extended a hand to help him clamber up. Then, with the chicken wedged between Livia’s back and Felix’s front, they left the road for the shelter of the forest.

  They rode through the night, the horse plodding through the trees, Livia occasionally adjusting their course when the moon deigned to show itself.

  Felix, who’d been on edge since stealing the chariot that morning – could it really still be the same day? – finally felt some of the tension drain from his body. Before long he found himself drifting into a doze, lulled by the slow rhythm of the horse’s gait, the muffled quiet of the forest …

  His slumber was broken abruptly by Livia’s scream and the chicken’s squawk.

  Felix opened his eyes to see two men standing in their path brandishing knives.

  The early-morning sun glinted off the blades as one of them barked, ‘Hold it right there!’

&nb
sp; Chapter 7

  The bandits were alarming to behold: big, burly, bearded men who ran at them, roaring.

  With a frightened neigh, the horse reared back, and its passengers tumbled to the ground.

  ‘Give us all your valuables,’ the black-bearded bandit ordered.

  Felix was too winded from the fall to speak.

  ‘Well?’ the bandit said.

  ‘We don’t have any valuables,’ Livia gasped.

  ‘What about your jewels?’ said the chicken.

  ‘She doesn’t have them anymore,’ Felix hissed.

  The blond-bearded bandit squinted at them suspiciously. ‘Don’t you have anything of value?’

  ‘There’s me,’ the chicken declared. ‘I am a sacred chicken! My value is beyond compare.’

  ‘What’s it squawking about?’ the bandit asked.

  ‘I think it’s hungry,’ Felix replied.

  ‘This has been a waste of time,’ Blond Beard grumbled, sticking his knife back in his belt.

  ‘Wait,’ said Black Beard. ‘What about the horse?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Blond Beard, considering. ‘It’s a fine-looking horse.’

  Livia sprang to her feet. ‘No,’ she said, clutching the horse around the neck. ‘We won’t give her up.’

  She didn’t have half that much affection for the chicken, Felix noted, even though it was sacred and the horse wasn’t.

  ‘We’re not asking you to give it up,’ said Black Beard.

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Livia, sounding relieved.

  ‘We’re telling you!’ He pulled the knife from his belt and advanced towards them, swishing the blade from side to side. ‘Any objections?’

  ‘No,’ Felix squeaked. Livia shook her head, eyes wide.

  They stood there, speechless, as the bandits mounted the horse and rode off in the direction of the sunrise.

  When the sound of hooves had faded, Livia turned resolutely away. ‘Let’s go.’ She began walking, her head down.

  ‘Come on,’ Felix said to the chicken.

  ‘I don’t feel so good,’ the chicken complained.

  ‘You’re probably just feeling a bit queasy after being thrown from the horse.’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ said the chicken. ‘I think it was something I ate.’

  ‘You haven’t eaten in ages,’ said Felix. ‘You must mean you’re feeling hungry.’

  ‘No, it was definitely something I ate. It must have been at the prefect’s house.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Felix. ‘We didn’t eat at the prefect’s house.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Don’t yell,’ begged the chicken. ‘I told you: I’m not feeling very well.’ It swayed on its feet for a minute then let out a giant burp.

  Something small and hard landed on Felix’s foot.

  ‘Yuck,’ he said. ‘What is it? A piece of gristle?’ He peered down at it. He’d never known gristle to gleam before. ‘Hang on – this is a gold ring.’ He picked it up.

  ‘Oh, is that what it was?’ said the chicken. ‘It looked shiny, so I ate it.’

  ‘Wait, you ate this where?’

  ‘I told you: at the prefect’s house. You were gone such a long time and I started to get hungry, so I went inside to see if I could find something to eat.’

  Felix rubbed his forehead. ‘Let me get this straight,’ he began, but was distracted by Livia, who was marching down the path towards them, eyes flashing.

  ‘Will you two hurry up?’

  ‘Sorry, the chicken wasn’t feeling well. It swallowed this ring at the prefect’s house and just burped it up.’ He showed it to her.

  Livia examined it. ‘It’s got a chicken engraved on it. What are the odds? The chicken burped up a chicken ring. I guess if it’s valuable we might be able to use it. Now, come on – we’re wasting time.’ Her voice was sharp with impatience as she set off down the path again.

  The ring was too loose for his fingers so Felix jammed it on his thumb, where it stuck tight. Then he and the chicken – who seemed to be feeling much better – hurried to catch up.

  The loss of the horse to the bandits slowed their progress so much that Felix started to wonder if they would have been better off going to Durocortorum after all, despite the risks. For two days they tramped west through forests of conifers. The rain had stopped only for the snow to start, and the tall, dark trunks of the conifers were stark against the white-tipped leaves and forest floor. But although they were getting closer to Lutetia (surely!), Felix felt a growing sense of despair at the realisation that by travelling west rather than south, they were hardly any closer to Rome than when they’d started.

  ‘Livia,’ he said, ‘can I ask you a question?’

  Livia eyed him warily. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Why did you suggest we travel together back when we first met?’

  Livia shrugged. ‘At first I just thought there’d be safety in numbers, and that it would be a good disguise. And I liked the fact that you seemed a bit in awe of me when you thought I was the daughter of a senator. No one had ever treated me like that before – with respect, I mean.’ She gave him a sideways look. ‘But I guess you feel differently now that you know the truth.’

  Felix shook his head vigorously. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re wrong. I’m more in awe of you than before. Running away like that – you have more courage than I ever will.’

  ‘You ran away too,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Yes, but … I’m going home. Why are you going to Rome?’ With the arena and the lions, he thought.

  There was a long pause, then she said, ‘To see my brother.’

  ‘What? You have a brother?’

  But it seemed Livia was done answering questions. She picked up her pace so that Felix and the sacred chicken struggled to keep up.

  They walked on. The forests gave way to fields, fields to small plots, small plots to small houses, and then all of a sudden they had crossed a bridge and were in Lutetia. Instead of trees there were basilicas and temples, baths and theatres, and people everywhere.

  Felix scanned the street. One of the temples was particularly striking, not so much for the height of its dazzling white columns as for the flock of dazzling white birds at the building’s base. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘A flock of—’

  ‘Geese!’ cried the chicken, its beady eyes alight with pleasure. ‘Such noble birds!’

  Livia considered the waddling, squabbling rabble doubtfully. ‘Really?’

  ‘To be fair, the sacred geese of Juno did save Rome from invaders,’ Felix said.

  ‘A bunch of honking hooligans like this?’ scoffed Livia. ‘You’re making it up.’

  ‘I am not!’ said Felix. ‘It was when the Gauls were invading. They were trying to take the fortress on the top of Capitoline Hill in the middle of the night, but the sacred geese that lived in the Temple of Juno sounded the alarm and saved the day.’

  ‘And when was this?’ Livia wanted to know.

  Felix shrugged. ‘About three hundred and fifty years ago.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good story,’ Livia conceded.

  ‘I’m going to introduce myself,’ said the chicken. ‘It’s only polite, as one sacred bird to another.’ It let out an ear-splitting squawk.

  The geese raised their heads.

  ‘Squawk! Squawk!’ the chicken called.

  ‘Honk! Honk!’ said the geese.

  There was a further exchange of squawks and honks, and then the chicken cried, ‘Cake! These geese are fed on cake! And they’ve invited me to join them.’ It began to hurry away.

  ‘Wait,’ said Felix. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ the chicken asked over its shoulder. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Felix felt unexpectedly reluctant to let the chicken go. ‘What about Rome? What about us?’

  ‘Who?’ the chicken said. Then it ran towards the other birds without a backwards glance and was soon lost from sig
ht, one sacred chicken in a flock of sacred geese.

  Livia put a hand on Felix’s arm. ‘If he wants to make a goose of himself we can’t stop him.’

  Felix sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. What now?’

  ‘We keep going to Rome, of course.’

  Chapter 8

  Felix’s impression of Lutetia was of a lively, bustling town, but he didn’t have much of a chance to take it in as Livia set off at a fast pace.

  ‘I hope the sacred chicken will be okay,’ he fretted, looking back towards the temple where they’d left their friend. At least, Felix had considered the chicken a friend – a careless, complaining kind of friend.

  Livia tossed her head. ‘I’ll never understand why you’re so attached to that haughty, bossy bird.’

  Perhaps you needed to be in the military to understand the power of the sacred chicken, Felix mused.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, gesturing for Felix to keep up.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Felix said. ‘I’m pretty sure we’re safe. The governor would never think to look for you here.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Livia. She bit her lip. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’

  Felix felt a flicker of alarm. ‘There’s someone else chasing us?’

  ‘No – I hope not. But I need to get to Rome fast.’

  ‘I don’t understand what the hurry is,’ said Felix. ‘I thought you just needed to get away from the governor’s house. What’s in Rome?’

  ‘My brother.’

  ‘Why is it so important that you see your brother?’

  ‘Because Julius Caesar is going to kill him!’

  Felix’s flicker of alarm became a flame. ‘Caesar is going to kill your brother?!’

  ‘Well, not with his own hands. He’ll have my brother torn to pieces in the arena by a savage animal. Like a lion, or … or … an ostrich.’

  Felix had never seen an ostrich, but he knew it was some kind of giant bird – and clearly a vicious one if it was used in the gladiator games.

  ‘Caesar is going to make an ostrich kill your brother? Why?’

  ‘Because of me!’

  Felix was now struggling to keep up with both her pace and her story.