by Bryan Litfin
Rex leaned against the wall for a moment, then pulled back and gave Flavia an approving nod. “I know what they’re doing. This is going to work. Watch this.”
The boss knelt before a wooden panel and removed it. A blast of cool, moist air whooshed into the room, along with the sound of gurgling water.
“Against the flow!” the street urchin said gleefully.
“What is it?” Flavia asked.
“My boss is a repairman for the Curator of Waters,” said the boy, obviously proud of the setup. “One day when we were cleaning the duct in the Aqua Marcia, we discovered that this old building is one of the few that rests up against it. Nobody bothered to tear it down when they built the new line. They just ran the aqueduct right past it. So we cut this hole into the pipe. We never divert any water, so the other watermen don’t notice a leak or reduction of volume. All we do is bring our imports into the city on float-boards. Or if we have a good reason”—the triumphant smuggler swept his hand toward the hole—“we send exports out.”
Flavia recoiled from the cold, black opening. “I’m not getting in there! It’s too dangerous! And dark! And confining!”
Rex put his hand on her shoulder. “Aqueducts have access shafts along their length, Lady Junia. If we go now, there should be enough daylight coming through each hole to see our way to the next.”
“It’s not like you can get lost,” the boy said. “Just keep pushing against the water coming down from the mountains. When you look up and see no bars, that’s the exit hole we use. It’s in a lonely forest outside the city. We’ll be there with your horse.”
The boss pointed into the gaping maw of the Aqua Marcia. “You’d better leave now if you want any sunlight along the way. If you wait any longer, the light will belong to Luna, not Sol.”
Flavia grasped Rex’s tunic and drew close to him. “This scares me so much.”
“I’ll go first, and I won’t leave you,” he promised. “We’ll go vent to vent, manhole to manhole, one by one. Eventually we’ll get there. It’s the only way out of the city.”
Closing her eyes and nodding, Flavia released her grip on Rex. He poked his head into the opening and looked upstream. After his eyes had adjusted a bit, he could see a shaft of light far down the tunnel. He clambered into the murky constriction—a space not much wider than his shoulders and just high enough to allow him to crawl on his hands and knees. The water filled the duct about halfway, reaching up to his elbows as he inched forward in his crawling stance. The stream was icy cold.
Flavia followed behind, groaning a little in her reluctance. Upon hitting the frigid water, she sucked in her breath and let out a shivery whimper. Unexpectedly, Rex found himself feeling a sense of admiration for her courage. Being trapped in this snake belly scares her even more than it does me, he marveled, and yet there she is, right behind me. She got in, and she’s determined to see it through to the other side. This rich girl is braver than I would have guessed!
“Rex, don’t leave me!” she cried, grasping his ankle.
“I’m right here, my lady. Let’s get this over with. We’ll stop at the light up ahead.”
And so began the long, dark crawl that Rex, for all his bravado, would recall with a shudder for the rest of his life. Soon there was no sound but the swish of water and his own grunting exhalations. The first cleanout shaft let in only enough light to remind the two underworld voyagers that they were completely encased in a rock-hard tube of death. Flavia rose up and pressed against the iron grid of the locked manhole above. “I need to get out!” she screamed, pounding on the bars. But the iron remained cruel and unyielding despite her urgent pleas. There was nothing to do but push on.
The next two beams of light seemed dimmer, and the third one had a definite redness to it. Rex knew the sun was setting outside. He hated the thought of the utter blackness that nightfall would create inside the duct. By an act of his will, he forced the terrifying idea from his mind and resumed his crawling.
The pair forged ahead as the inky blackness deepened. Rex’s arms and legs were numb now, and his mind seemed hazy too. A cry from Flavia was cut off by a splash and a desperate thrashing behind him. “Lady Junia!” he shouted. “Are you alright?”
There was no answer.
Terror seized Rex as he imagined that a heavy pulse of water must have engulfed her—immersing her in the tunnel, pouring into her lungs, swirling her through the pipe like a bug washed down a putrid sewer.
“I’m here! Grab hold of me!” he cried, thrusting his leg backward in a futile attempt to find his courageous companion. But despite his urgent probing, he felt no clutching fingers on his ankle, nor perceived any sound but the constant drone of gurgling water.
At last a choking gasp burst from the darkness, followed by a long fit of desperate sputters and coughs. When Flavia finally had her wind back, she broke into a forlorn cry. The heart-wrenching tones echoed around the stone conduit.
“What happened? What hit you?” Rex asked, still feeling a little frantic. His rational mind knew there were no pulses of water in Rome’s aqueducts, only perfectly engineered grades along a gradual slope. Still, a whispering voice told him it must have happened just this once—and probably would again.
“My arms slipped, and I couldn’t push myself up,” Flavia sobbed. “I want out of here! Please, God, help me! Christ, my Lord, get me out of here!”
“I told you, I ain’t no Christian!” came the unexpected voice of the feisty street urchin. Rex looked up to see his grinning face at the final manhole—one with no bars in the way. “But I’ll be your savior anyway, Curvy Hips,” the boy added. “Now reach up here, and I’ll help you out. Looks like this pipe ain’t gonna be your tomb after all.”
6
OCTOBER 311
As Flavia climbed behind Rex in the saddle, she found herself unsure where to put her hands. Around his chest? Or is that too personal? But wouldn’t that be better than his stomach? Surely not his hips! Do I grip the folds of his tunic? Or maybe I should just do what I really want and pull him tight against me like my barbarian lover come down from the wild forests?
I’m only seventeen! Nothing in my life has prepared me for this!
The lurch of the horse breaking into a fast walk solved Flavia’s dilemma. Rather than tumble backward over the gray mare’s rump as it stepped out, she tightened her grip around Rex’s torso, interlocked her fingers, and settled in for the ride.
It was completely dark now. The moon hung low in the sky, its fat, tawny orb crisscrossed by the bare branches of the trees. No sound broke the nighttime stillness except the quiet crunch of the horse’s hooves on fallen leaves. Flavia inhaled deeply, reveling in the sheer pleasure of fresh air and open space around her. When the youthful smuggler had helped her clamber from the aqueduct’s maintenance shaft, the feeling of relief had been more intense than when she had escaped the Carcer. Flavia wasn’t sure how much longer she could have held on to her sanity in the tight confines of that water pipe.
The gray mare had been waiting at the bottom of the ladder when she climbed down from the duct, which was running on arches above the ground at that point. Rex had followed behind her, and after the money was exchanged, the two escapees had been turned loose with a simple farewell. Perhaps due to the honor code that criminals are said to share, the smugglers had thrown in a pair of woolen cloaks that could double as blankets, plus a small bundle of food. Though it felt strange to share a bond with these dealers in illegal contraband, Flavia realized she wasn’t in much of a position to be picky about where her next meal came from. I had better get used to being an outlaw, she thought, because that’s what I am now.
As the night wore on and the air grew colder, Flavia found herself trembling from time to time. At a little clearing under the pinpoint stars, Rex halted and dismounted. “It’s gotten chilly,” he said. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Yes. I think mostly because my dress is still damp.”
Rex dug into the saddlebag and prod
uced one of the cloaks. “Sorry I didn’t notice it earlier. I’m one of those people who’s always too warm. I guess my body makes a lot of heat. You’ll feel better with this around you.”
“Are we going to ride all the way to Tibur?”
“No, I think we’ve endured enough hardship for one day. You started this morning in a Roman dungeon, and things haven’t gotten easier since. I’m looking for water, and when I find it, we’ll camp.”
After climbing back into the saddle, Rex flung the cloak around Flavia, then fastened it at his own neck to contain and share their body heat. The move forced her into an even closer embrace than before. As she leaned against the hard muscles of his back, she was surprised to feel a little warmth rising to her face and neck. He’s right, she thought, smiling in the secret depths of the cloak. He does make a lot of heat!
After what Flavia imagined was about an hour of riding, they arrived at a tumbling brook in the bottom of a wide, sandy ravine. The moon was higher now, bathing the forest in a white glow. Rex reined up at a clump of boulders beside the stream. The rocks made a kind of enclosure with a flat space in the midst of it.
“This is a good spot,” he said. “Soft ground for sleeping, and that circle of rocks will hide our campfire. Let me help you down.”
Flavia took Rex’s hand and let him assist her. “I used to ride often on my father’s estates in Sardinia. But as tired as I am now, I’m glad for the help. Thank you.”
The packet of food provided by the smugglers was wrapped inside a clay cookpot. It contained barley, oil, beans, salt, a loaf of bread, and a flint. While Rex cared for the horse, Flavia got a fire going and prepared a porridge, adding some wild onions that she had found nearby. Though it was chestnut season now, Flavia knew she would have to climb a little higher into the Apennines to find those sweet, nutritious nuts. Her uncle’s estate included several hillsides covered with the splendid old trees. Yet tonight, even a hot barley porridge sounded like a meal fit for an emperor.
When the food was ready, the hungry travelers huddled around the campfire and passed the plain wooden spoon back and forth. After the first bite, Rex offered a nod of approval. “How did a rich girl learn to cook like that? I thought the kitchen was the slaves’ domain.”
“Oh, I love the kitchen!” Flavia said. “Our cook is the sweetest old man you could ever meet. The scullery maids always show me how the ingredients go together. It’s fascinating.”
“The master’s daughter socializes with the slaves?”
“Of course. It’s not a problem. In my house, we don’t treat our servants like they’re beasts. We love them like family.”
“But they’re still slaves.”
“Actually, my father offered every one of them their freedom if they wanted it. Each servant in the home chose to stay rather than take their chances on the streets. That mansion on the Aventine is a shelter for them. Unlike most slaves, they know they’ll never be whipped. They are treated with respect and are free to marry. And they receive plenty of food. They have security for life.”
“I suppose that’s better than what most people face in this world,” Rex acknowledged. “But doesn’t that sort of leniency make them rebellious?”
“Not at all. Almost the whole household is Christian. While we have different ranks in the house, we’re all held together by love. Our scriptures say, ‘There is neither slave nor free, but all are one in Christ Jesus.’”
“What does that mean? I thought Christ was a war god.”
Flavia burst into laughter. “A war god! He’s not a war god with a hammer in his hand like your Germanic Hercules! What’s his name again?”
“I think you mean Thor.”
“Yes, Thor. Whatever you call them, those gods aren’t like ours. He is the only true God, and his message is one of love.”
“Apparently, I don’t understand Christianity, then,” Rex said around a mouthful of porridge. “You tell me it’s about loving your slaves like family, but all the Christians I’ve ever met think Christ is a mighty warrior.”
“And what do you think, Rex?”
“I think he’s another form of Hercules. I’ve also heard him equated with Apollo, and Mithras, and the Invincible Sun. All of them have something in common: they’re victory gods. They slay evil beasts or the forces of chaos. They defeat the darkness every night. They rise up from death, bright and triumphant like a sunrise. Isn’t that what you believe about your Jesus?”
“Mmm . . . not quite. Christ did rise from the dead, and he did attain victory—but not so he could give help in a soldier’s battles. His victory was over the evil Serpent and sin and eternal death. Christ helps the soul in its battle for virtue. That’s what my bishop says, anyway.”
“I think the God of the Jews helped them win earthly battles,” Rex countered. “I used to stand outside a synagogue and listen to a rabbi explain their scriptures. The king in their songs was always praying for help against his enemies. And I mean real enemies—people who wanted to kill him.”
“King David was the ruler of Israel. He wrote psalms asking that God would strengthen his hand in war.”
“Right. And aren’t the Christians a type of Jew?”
Flavia pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we do come from the Jews. We definitely have the same God. And King David was a mighty hero who fought the Lord’s battles. So, yes, I guess in that sense, our God is a warrior God.”
“Did Jesus reject the Jewish message?”
“No!” Flavia said adamantly. “That’s the heresy of Marcion, who was condemned by the bishop of Rome long ago. The God of Israel is the Father of Jesus.”
Rex broke into a triumphant grin. “Ha! What do you know? It looks like I just taught a Christian girl something new about her deity. Jesus is a war god after all! He comes from a God who fights battles, and he preaches that God’s same message. You can’t argue with my logic. That’s why”—Rex reached to his collar and removed his amulet with the tau-rho on it—“I’m keeping this around my neck. It’s powerful.”
“Yes, it is, brave warrior,” Flavia said with a gentle smile. “I think you should keep it there and see where it might take you.”
Rex inspected the bottom of the cookpot, then handed it across the campfire. “Here, Lady Junia, finish up the rest of the porridge. You need to keep your strength up.”
Flavia took the pot, still warm, from Rex’s hand. This man isn’t at all what I thought the barbarians were like, she thought as she received the gift. He’s kind, and generous, and he’s even interested in theology!
And he’s an unbeliever, she reminded herself. But for how long?
Flavia handed the pot back to her new barbarian friend. “You eat it,” she said. “I think you need your strength more than I do. Anyway, I’m full.”
Rex shrugged and finished the porridge, then rose to rinse the pot in the stream. When he returned to the fire, Flavia sensed the mood had shifted from any further discussion of weighty spiritual topics, so she asked, “How did you break into the amphitheater, Rex? I would have guessed it was impossible.”
“No, just the opposite. It’s actually easy, because no one is guarding it. Only the fear of punishment keeps people out. If you’re not afraid, you can go right in. I just followed the animal handlers into the tunnels, then found the gladiators’ arming room and took what I could. When I saw them haul you up in that cage, I went to the next hatch and crawled up. As soon as I came out into the sunshine, that crazy cow was about to charge. I stuck a trident in its head just before it gored you. You know the rest.”
“No one tried to stop you?”
“One guy did, but I threw him down hard. He didn’t argue after that.”
Flavia hunched her shoulders and held up her hands in amazement. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Toss grown men around as if they’re dolls! Like that monster who grabbed you in the street—he was huge! But before I could blink my eyes, you had him on his back
like he was a little child.”
“It’s all about technique. Stand up. I’ll show you.”
Flavia obliged, and Rex came around the fire to stand facing her. “Hurl me to the ground,” he said. “I won’t resist. Just throw me.”
She grabbed his tunic and tried to move him, but he was like a statue of marble—firm and unyielding. Suddenly his arm curled around her waist and his stance changed. Before Flavia knew what was happening, she was upended with her feet in the air. She would have crashed to the earth had Rex not laid her down gently on her back. She gazed up at him, towering overhead in the moonlight.
“That’s impressive,” she admitted.
“Not really. You could do it too.” He offered a hand and helped her up. “Try it. Just follow my lead.”
Rex and Flavia clinched like a pair of wrestlers. “Step here,” he ordered, and she complied. “Good. Now turn all the way around and throw your hips into me.”
Flavia tried the move but felt tentative and cautious. Rex told her to put full effort into her attack. Clasping Rex’s wrist in her left hand, she turned until he was behind her, then lowered her stance and used her hips as a pivot. Surprisingly, with her other arm around his body, she found she was able to lift him off his feet. As Flavia followed through, Rex came rolling over her hip and landed on his back. Playfully, he tugged her wrist, knocking her off balance.
“Eek!” she squealed as she fell on top of him, her elbows resting on his chest.
Both of them were laughing at their ridiculous mock combat.
“Look at me! I claim victory! I have slain the mighty barbarian!” Flavia bragged.
“Maybe you have, Lady Junia.”
There was a certain tone in Rex’s voice that made her give him a second look. Though his demeanor was friendly and nonthreatening, Flavia was suddenly aware that she was alone in the woods at night with someone she hardly knew. Nothing in Rex’s behavior suggested he would take advantage of that. He was only letting her know that he was a virile young man, and she was a beautiful woman, and that potent combination was having its effect on him. Flavia found the realization scary and exhilarating at the same time. The sudden swirl of emotions made her push away and sit up.