‘What have you done to Caesar?’
‘Nothing! It’s just …’ She stopped walking abruptly and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. ‘Although we can’t remember our parents,’ she explained, her voice subdued, ‘my brother and I have always been in the same household. When he heard that I’d be going to Gaul and he was to be left behind, he decided to steal a horse and come after me. He caught up to us near Mediolanum, but the governor’s steward saw him. I told him not to follow us, that it was too dangerous! I don’t know why he has to be so stubborn and headstrong.’ She shook her head in frustration.
Felix decided not to point out that it might run in the family.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘the governor was furious. He sent my brother back to Rome in chains with orders that he be sent to the dungeon. Then, not long before I met you in the forest, a visitor from Rome told the governor that there’s to be a series of triumphs in the first two weeks of April celebrating Caesar’s victories and conquests. In the middle of the month, there’ll be a special day of games. All the prisoners from the dungeon are going to be made to fight wild beasts in the arena! The Ides of April is only three months away. I need to be there. I have to save my brother … or … or at least say goodbye.’ Her voice quavered.
That explained her desperate hurry. ‘Okay,’ Felix said, ‘so what’s the fastest way to Rome?’
‘I don’t know.’
Felix was struck by her tone of despair.
‘That’s all right,’ he told her with more confidence than he felt. ‘We’ll find out.’
‘How?’
‘We need to talk to a wine merchant,’ Felix said, remembering why he’d brought them to Lutetia. ‘Someone who trades with Rome. They’ll know all the quickest routes.’
Livia looked at him with something approaching admiration.
‘And if we’re looking for someone who does business,’ Felix concluded, ‘he’ll probably be in the forum.’
The forum proved easy to find. The road they were on crossed another bridge and climbed a hill, and at the top was a large open space crowded with market stalls and surrounded by grand buildings.
Felix approached a group of men standing on the steps of the temple in the forum’s centre. ‘I’m looking for a wine merchant,’ he said.
‘And what do you need that for, lad?’ asked one of the men. ‘You own a tavern, do you?’
His fellows laughed.
‘No,’ said Felix, ‘but I work for General Fabius Maximus Porcius, whose legion is in Belgica. He’s sick of Belgian beer and he wants some wine imported from Rome.’
‘A Roman general, eh? He’ll be wanting the good stuff. In that case, you need to speak to Vino Vicarius. You’ll find him eating in the Fattened Boar.’
‘He is a bore!’ chimed in another, and they all laughed some more.
Following the men’s directions, Felix and Livia walked along a narrow street until they saw a wooden sign with a boar painted on it.
Inside the tavern were a couple of skinny men standing by the bar with tankards in front of them. Sitting by himself at a long table was a man with a tunic straining over his belly and what appeared to be the whole hindquarter of a roasted boar on a platter in front of him.
‘That must be him,’ Livia whispered.
Felix took a deep breath, then approached the bore with the boar. Coughing politely to get the man’s attention, he said, ‘Excuse me, sir …’
The merchant put down the bone he was gnawing on and drew his eyebrows together.
‘What’s that?’ he barked. ‘Are you talking to me?’
‘Er, my sister and I need to get back to Rome quickly for … for family reasons. We’ve heard in the forum that you do a lot of important business with Rome and know more than anyone in Lutetia about the best routes.’
The flattery worked. The merchant licked his fingers thoughtfully then said, ‘If I were you, I’d take a fast carriage to Lugdunum and from there board a boat heading south to the sea. Get passage on a boat from Massilia to the port of Ostia. From Ostia it’s only fifteen miles to Rome. You should be able to complete the whole journey inside a month. Of course, that’s assuming you can afford it.’
He looked them up and down, and Felix was uncomfortably aware of how they must present: he was muddy, and Livia’s tunic was torn and dirty.
‘What would be the cheapest way?’ he asked.
‘Do the whole thing by road. On foot, it’ll probably take three months or more.’
Livia frowned. ‘That’s too slow,’ she said.
‘If we walked as far as Lugdunum, maybe we could work for our passage aboard a boat from there to the coast,’ Felix suggested.
‘Someone might take you on, lad, but no one’s going to give work to a girl.’
And that, it seemed, was that.
‘It makes me so angry,’ Livia said as they left the tavern. ‘No one had any trouble making me work when I was a slave. I can work as hard as any boy. But if I’m not a slave they won’t let me work because I’m a girl.’ She kicked at a stone in frustration. ‘It doesn’t make sense!’
She was right, Felix thought. Spending time with Livia was making him question everything he’d thought he knew. Next, he’d even be questioning whether chickens really could be sacred! (No, he told himself. That was going too far.)
Within a few minutes they were back among the market stalls of the forum. Livia was staring at a stall where a barber was shaving a customer.
Before Felix could ask why, she was marching over.
‘I need a haircut,’ she announced.
The barber, surprised, jumped slightly and his customer cried out.
‘See what you made me do,’ the barber said crossly as he dabbed at the spot of blood on his customer’s chin. ‘We’re all done here,’ he added to the customer, who leaped from the chair like he’d had a narrow escape.
‘Anyway, I don’t cut girls’ hair,’ the barber said.
‘Just as well,’ Livia retorted, unperturbed, ‘because I don’t want a girl’s haircut. I want you to cut my hair so it looks like his.’ She pointed at Felix.
The barber looked at Felix then back at Livia. ‘Are you sure?’
Livia looked at Felix too, and wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, maybe not exactly like his. But as short as a boy’s.’
What was wrong with his hair? Felix wondered. He ran a hand through it and dislodged several leaves and a dead beetle.
‘We don’t have much money,’ Livia confessed.
The barber sighed. ‘I suppose if you were to sweep my stall and sharpen my blades …’
‘Felix can do that while you cut,’ Livia said. ‘We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
So Felix sharpened the barber’s blades on a whetstone and swept, and the barber clipped Livia’s long, dark hair. When he was done, he stood back.
Livia reached a hand up to the nape of her neck. ‘It’s very short,’ she said, seeming self-conscious all of a sudden.
‘That’s what you asked for.’
The barber held up a hand mirror.
Livia gave a single nod then held out her hand. ‘May I borrow your scissors, please?’
‘If you cut off any more you’ll be bald,’ the barber protested.
‘It’s not for my hair.’ Taking the scissors, she carefully cut her long tunic so that it came to just above her knees.
When she was done, she turned to Felix. ‘Do I look like a boy?’ she asked.
Felix considered her critically. Her features seemed finer than his somehow, and her limbs more slender, her knees not as knobbly. But if he didn’t know she was a girl to start with, he might be fooled. ‘Kind of,’ he said.
She turned to the barber. ‘Thank you. Now, where’s the road to Lugdunum?’
Chapter 9
Felix closed his eyes against the brightness then opened them again. His overwhelming impression of the southern port of Massilia was that it was dazzling, with light reflecting off the sea, light reflec
ting off the white buildings. It was especially startling after so long spent in the grey and gloomy north of Gaul.
They’d made it here in record time. For two weeks they’d walked. When the coins Felix had earned in Durocortorum ran out they did odd jobs in exchange for food from farmhouses, taverns and market stalls. In Lugdunum they’d found a river galley transporting empty barrels made of oak to Massilia, where they would be filled with garum – the pungent fish oil used to flavour dishes from Rome to Germania – and sent to all parts of the world. Felix and his ‘brother’ had been taken on as oarsmen for the week-long journey. His brother, it had been noted, was by far the more skilled rower.
Felix rubbed his aching biceps ruefully and glanced at Livia. She was watching the quay for the return of the river captain, who had promised to put in a good word for them with the captain of the ship taking the barrels to Ostia.
For now, though, Felix was content to bask in the sun on the steps of a warehouse by the quay, as the bustle of the port carried on around them. Ships sailed from here to Greece, Hispania and Egypt, making it one of the busiest ports on the sea. A cart with clay jars clattered past, followed by a man wheeling a barrow stacked with glossy red bowls from a pottery workshop. The stink of salted fish wafted from the cluster of stalls that made up the fish market, alive with cries as the stallholders competed for attention.
‘Get some mullet in yer gullet!’ bawled one vendor.
‘Get some cod in yer gob,’ bellowed his rival.
‘That doesn’t even rhyme,’ the first vendor pointed out.
‘I know,’ the rival confessed.
Felix called, ‘Get some cod in your bod.’
Both vendors looked over. ‘Not bad,’ said the first. ‘Give us another.’
Felix thought for a moment. ‘Put some skate on your plate!’ he suggested.
‘Kid’s got a way with words,’ the second vendor observed. ‘Got anything to rhyme with mackerel?’
At that moment, the river captain returned, saying, ‘You’re in luck – the Tarshish is in port. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Captain Kanmi.’
The ship, he explained as they pushed through the crowd on the quay, would be sailing the next morning for Ostia. The crew was busy unloading oil lamps from Africa and taking on board the barrels of garum bound for Rome.
Their destination was the far end of the quay, where Felix saw a modest Phoenician merchant ship, long and narrow with eight oars to a side and a single broad sail attached to the sturdy mast. A horse’s head was carved on the prow and watchful eyes were painted on either side of the bow.
The river captain herded Felix and Livia up the gangplank and along the deck to where the captain stood surveying the activity with watchful eyes. He had dark, curly hair and wore a long tunic tied with a bright blue sash.
‘These are the lads I was telling you about. Hard workers – and cheap as they come.’
The watchful eyes were turned on Felix and Livia. ‘Cheap, you say? How cheap?’
‘We need to get to Rome as quickly as possible,’ Felix explained. ‘We’re prepared to work for our passage without pay.’
The captain tugged at his beard. ‘Well, the price is right. I suppose I could do with a couple more oarsmen.’
Not more rowing! Felix groaned inwardly. But Livia flexed her muscles and said, ‘No problem. We love rowing.’
The captain looked dubious. ‘This isn’t some nice, calm river, you know – this is the sea, and we’ve five days of sailing ahead of us. I’d better put the pair of you on a single oar. In the meantime, you can give the crew a hand with the loading.’
After thanking the river captain for his help, Felix and Livia joined the rest of the crew ferrying vessels of garum along the dock and up the gangplank.
‘Barrels over here, jugs over there!’ roared the first mate, who was directing the loading.
‘There’s no need to shout,’ said Livia over her shoulder as she rolled a barrel past him.
‘What did you say?’ The first mate seemed shocked.
Felix looked around the neck of the amphora he was carrying to explain. ‘My brother doesn’t like to be ordered around.’
‘Doesn’t like to be—? I’m the first mate! Giving orders is my job! Your job is to take them!’
‘Not anymore it isn’t,’ said Livia. ‘I am not your slave. I have entered into a business arrangement with your captain. I will carry and row, and he will take me to Ostia. Just think: a week from now I’ll be in Rome!’ And with that she gave the first mate a smile so dazzling that he forgot to shout orders for several minutes.
By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the boat was laden and all the crew were on board. Under the first mate’s directions, they had stacked the cargo in the centre of the ship, between the rowing benches on the ship’s port and starboard sides. Everything was in order for them to sail tomorrow.
The crew slept on the aft deck, and Felix was glad to stretch out and rest his weary limbs.
The boat was rocking gently on a slight swell, and Felix was almost asleep when he heard a squawk. He sighed. Would the sacred chicken never be quiet? ‘Not now,’ he mumbled.
To his relief, the chicken fell silent. The only sound was the creaking of timbers, the gentle lapping of water against the hull. He drifted towards sleep again.
Squawk!
Abruptly, Felix sat up. He’d heard it again – or dreamed it, rather. He must be missing the sacred chicken more than he’d realised.
A moment later, a voice said, ‘Where’s my cake?’
It was faint, carried on the wind, yet it was familiar. But it couldn’t be!
‘I told you,’ replied a second voice wearily. ‘I don’t have any cake – just this grain.’
‘But I don’t want grain. I want cake.’
‘Please,’ the second voice begged. ‘Eat the grain.’
‘Won’t.’
‘Okay, okay. If I let the ship sail without us and I find you some cake, do you promise me everything will be all right?’
Moving quietly so as not to wake Livia, Felix rose, tiptoed to the rail of the ship and looked over the side.
The quay below was dark and quiet, and completely devoid of chickens, sacred or otherwise. It had been a dream after all.
He was about to head back to bed when he spied a dim light near the gangway. It must be the night watch, he presumed.
The light flashed then dimmed, flashed then dimmed again.
It was a signal, he realised, as the light flashed a third time.
From the darkness among the warehouses he saw a light flash three times in response.
As a figure slipped from the shadows, the person on the gangway held up his light. Felix recognised Captain Kanmi.
‘Do you have it?’ the captain asked in a hoarse whisper.
In answer, the cloaked figure held out what looked like a stick.
The captain took it in his hands and considered it almost reverently. ‘So this is it, eh? Well, you’d better come aboard – we’re sailing in a few hours.’ He went to give the stick back but the cloaked figure held up his hand.
‘There’s been a change of plan,’ he said gruffly. ‘I need you to take this yourself and deliver it in my place. Someone will be there to meet the ship in Ostia. Tell him – tell him I was detained and will be following by road as quickly as possible. In the meantime, guard this with your life.’
‘I’ll keep it in my own cabin,’ the captain promised, looking at the stick again. He seemed kind of dazed.
As the shadowy figure turned away, a gust of breeze blew his cloak aside and Felix saw that the man was wearing the uniform of a Roman general. Pulling the cloak tight, the man glanced around quickly. Felix ducked.
When he raised his head again to peer over the side, the man had disappeared.
The bobbing of the light along the gangway marked the captain’s passage back onto the ship.
Then all was quiet. Felix crept back to his bed on the deck and lay down
, puzzled by what he’d just seen. Why would a Roman general be down at the port in the dead of the night, giving sticks to the captain of a Phoenician merchant ship?
He was almost asleep when a second question occurred to him. Had the Roman general really been travelling with a chicken?
Chapter 10
They sailed at dawn the next day, Felix and Livia sharing a single oar.
As they left the harbour of Massilia and headed for open sea, the man on the oar in front turned and introduced himself as Hannibal.
‘Like the great Carthaginian general?’ Felix asked.
‘No, like the elephant.’
Felix frowned. It was true the great general of Carthage was famed for the war elephants that marched with his army, but … ‘I thought Hannibal was the name of the general,’ he said.
‘Not according to my mother.’
Hannibal’s head was a big bald dome, and his ears looked likely to flap in a strong breeze. He appeared as strong as an elephant, which proved to be the case when he rowed. While Felix and Livia strained at their oar, Hannibal’s strokes were long and smooth.
Behind them sat a wiry man with a grey beard. His name was Gisgo, he said. ‘The captain likes Hannibal for his strength and me for my seafaring knowledge,’ he said. ‘What’s he got you two for?’
‘Free,’ said Felix. ‘We’re working for our passage.’
Gisgo raised his bushy grey eyebrows. ‘The captain does like a bargain.’ He watched them row for a moment before nodding at Livia. ‘He got the better bargain with you, though. You’ve got a good style with the oar, lad.’
Livia opened her mouth to respond then closed it again, frowning.
‘What is it?’ said Gisgo. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
Livia shook her head. ‘It’s just …’ she began, and fell silent again.
‘Just what, lad?’ Gisgo prompted.
‘I’m not a lad,’ Livia blurted.
‘Livia …’ Felix cautioned.
‘You’re not a—’ Gisgo turned to Felix. ‘What does he mean?’
Felix shrugged.
‘I’m a girl,’ Livia said emphatically.
Gisgo gaped at her for a moment then turned his gaze to Felix. ‘Is this true? Is your brother a girl?’
The Chicken's Curse Page 6