“ ‘I think we’ll be all right here,’ ” Aurora echoed. “I wonder if that’s what Aeneas told Dido.”
I looked at her with a question on my face.
“How can you not think of that right now?” she asked.
And she was right. Everyone in Rome knows the story, from the fourth book of Virgil’s Aeneid. Juno was determined to keep Aeneas mired in Carthage so he couldn’t found Rome, the successor of the Troy that Juno hated so much. While Aeneas and Dido were out hunting, Juno—thinking she had persuaded Venus to go along with her plan—conjured up a ferocious storm that separated the royal couple from the rest of their party. They found safety in a cave where, with flashes of lightning to serve as wedding torches, they consummated what Virgil called “a kind of marriage.”
“I wonder if Aeneas and Dido were as wet and cold as we are,” I said.
The mid-October rain, blasting down from the Apennines, was cold, and wool doesn’t shed water. It does when it’s on the sheep, but once we make it into clothing, it absorbs water like a sponge. We were both starting to shiver. Aurora was the first to take off her tunic, unfastening the brooch at the shoulder and letting the garment slip to the ground. I got my tunic off quickly. Like a couple of washerwomen, we wrung them out and hung them over a rock to dry. I laid my sword on the ground next to my tunic.
The entrance to the cave was on one side. We hung our clothes there to get some drying benefit from the wind but moved ourselves to the other side to avoid it. Aurora touched the Tyche ring, the only thing she was wearing now. “This doesn’t seem to be working today.”
Sitting down, I pulled her down in front of me, with her back to my chest and my arms and legs embracing her. “I’m feeling very fortunate right now,” I said. “That’s a nasty bruise on your hip, though.” I kissed the spot.
“That’s better.” She snuggled up against me. “I thought you took off your sword. You know, we might be even warmer if we…”
“I wonder if that’s what Dido said to Aeneas.”
* * *
I’ve never felt more like a wild animal. Naked, in a cave, with a storm roaring outside. My legs and arms wrapped around my…mate? At Marinthus’ taberna we were passionate but still aware of ourselves as civilized people. Just now, all inhibitions disappeared. I wonder if Aeneas grabbed Dido’s hair the way Gaius did mine or if she clawed his back the way I did Gaius’? I even forgot about the rocks we were lying on.
His breathing has slowed, warm on my neck. What if we never had to leave this place?
* * *
Some time later we were lying quietly, as close to one another as we could get, limbs entangled, listening to the storm still raging.
“You do remember, don’t you,” Aurora said, running a hand over my cheek, “that Aeneas left Dido?”
“Darling, will you please forget that nonsense? It’s only a story. Virgil was writing propaganda for Augustus’ regime. He had to explain why Carthage and Rome hated one another. I’m not going to leave you.”
“But how can we be together? Even if you don’t marry Livilla, you’ll eventually marry someone. You’ll want to marry—”
“Hush!”
She raised herself on one elbow. “Gaius, don’t hush me. We have to talk about it.”
“No, be quiet. Listen.”
From outside we heard rough male voices, drawing nearer.
“See, I told ya I ’membered this place from last year.”
Two men entered the cave, carrying firewood and crooked staffs that identified them as shepherds. At this time of year shepherds move their flocks from summer pastures in mountain valleys to lower elevations to spend the winter.
Aurora and I sat up and tried to move back as far from the opening as we could. I cursed myself for getting so far away from my sword.
“Well, well,” the larger man said. “Looka here, Pompo. We got company. Coupla pretty ones, already nekkid.”
The men dropped their loads of firewood and smiled—expressions made hideous by their missing teeth and wet, dirt-streaked faces—as Aurora and I huddled together and tried to cover ourselves. The stench of wet, filthy clothes and unwashed men quickly filled the cave, like the smell of wet horses in a stable. The brutes spoke in a rural dialect of Latin, with some Oscan or Umbrian traces that had vanished from standard Latin generations ago.
“You’d better think twice,” I said, lowering the pitch of my voice as much as I could, “before you do anything.” I knew how ridiculous I sounded. Clenching my fists didn’t really help.
The smaller man, Pompo, chuckled and drew a knife. The larger man, pulling a flint from a bag over his shoulder, found enough dry twigs and grass to start a small fire. He looked at our clothes and gave a rumbling laugh that made me feel like Ulysses discovered by the Cyclops. “Narrow-striper, eh? Ya’d scare me more if ya wasn’t scramblin’ ’round tryin’ to cover yer balls. Whadda ya say, Pompo? Ya done thinkin’ twice?”
The other man, who had only four teeth that I could see, rubbed my garment between two of his grimy fingers. “I think this tunic’d fit me real good, Mettius. And I don’t have ta think twice ’bout that.”
Mettius, bearded and in his forties, leaned forward to peer at us as the fire began to blaze and provide more light. I tried to get between him and Aurora. “Wanna protect her, eh? Don’t blame ya, son. Lovely piece a stuff you got there. From them scratches on yer back, looks like she’s done give ya a good hard ride.”
“I’ll bet he don’t have much fight left in ’im,” Pompo said, cracking me on the foot with his staff. I let out a sharp yelp. “Won’er where they come from?”
“Don’t matter,” Mettius said. “We didn’t see nobody else ’round. Botha ya, over on all-fours. Now!”
I stood up and planted myself between the men and Aurora, hoping I looked less ridiculous than I felt. “No, you’re not going to do this.”
Pompo hooked me behind one knee with the crook at the top of his staff and flipped me to the ground, provoking a laugh from both men and a scream from Aurora. Mettius whacked me in the ribs with his staff.
“We jus’ wanna have a little fun,” the brute said. “We don’t wanna hurt ya, but we will if ya make us. Now, get on all-fours.”
Aurora pulled me to her and we turned over on our stomachs. The smaller man, Pompo, whacked me on the side again with his staff to hurry me along. I doubled over as intense pain shot through my ribs, but I would not give him the satisfaction of hearing me make another sound.
“Head on the ground, m’lord. Git yer arse up in the air. You, too, sweetums.”
Mettius asked, “Which one do ya want first?”
“I want sweetums here.” Pompo tapped Aurora between her legs with his staff.
“Well, now,” Mettius said, “I kinda fancy her myself, before you dirty her all up with yer stinkin’ prick.”
“Then why’d ya ask me which one I wanted?” Pompo said.
“Jus’ bein’ perlite.”
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw him shove Pompo out of the way and pull a knife from his belt. They looked like two wolves fighting over a kill.
“All right, all right,” Pompo said, throwing up his hands in surrender to the larger man. “Makes no differment to me. A hole is a hole is a arsehole, be it a he, a she, or a sheep.”
“Gaius,” Aurora whispered plaintively in Greek, “what are we going to do?”
I was sure they couldn’t understand Greek. I couldn’t hope to overcome them in a face-to-face fight, especially not when every breath brought pain. Turning my head to Aurora, I answered her in a low voice. “They’re going to get down on their knees behind us. When I say, ‘Now,’ kick back hard and aim for the face.”
“Shut up, you lot,” Pompo said, smacking us both on our rear ends with his staff.
“Ba-a-a-a,” Aurora said, raising a laugh from both men. In Greek she said to me, “That should make them feel more comfortable.”
When I could sense that the men were occupied lift
ing their garments and preparing to violate us, I said, “Now!”
In spite of the pain in my side, I braced myself on my elbows and kicked with both legs, like a mule. My feet connected solidly with Pompo’s face, toppling him onto his back. I jumped up and grabbed his shepherd’s staff. Before he could draw a knife from his belt, I cracked him across the face. He spat out a tooth and crumbled in a heap.
Aurora’s kick, with only one foot, had not been as well-aimed. Mettius was able to catch her leg and throw her over on her back. But she managed to slip out of his grasp and scramble to her feet.
“Hands off her!” I yelled.
The brute picked up his staff and struck the one I was holding with such force that mine splintered. Aurora jumped on his back, beating him with her fists. He shook her off, grabbed her by the throat, and flung her, face-first, against the wall of the cave. That gave me time to change my grip on what remained of my staff. I thrust it into his stomach and, when he doubled over, brought my knee up into his face. He fell back, not moving. I gave him a solid crack on the head anyway.
“Aurora! Are you all right?” I grabbed my side as I called to her.
“I think so. My head…hurts.” She lay on the ground, at the base of the wall.
“Just give me a minute.” Panting from exertion and fear and pain, I picked up Pompo’s knife and cut enough strips off his tunic to tie up both men, hands and feet. Then I turned to Aurora, who was sitting up by now.
My touch startled her. “Gaius, why has it gotten so dark in here? Did the fire go out?”
“It’s all right. I’m here. Let me take a look at your head.”
Her forehead had struck a protruding rock. There was a bit of blood, but it didn’t look too serious.
Aurora grasped my arm tightly, glancing around her. “Gaius, it’s so dark. I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”
*
I threw more wood on the fire. I thought about taking Mettius’ tunic, since he was the bigger man, and putting it around Aurora and me, but it was so filthy and stained that I couldn’t bear the thought of it touching my skin. But I had to keep Aurora warm. Then I found a treasure. Pompo was carrying a cloak in his bag, cleaner and of high quality—obviously stolen. It was big enough that I could wrap it around both Aurora and me.
“Just stay close,” I assured her. “We’ll be warm in no time.”
“What’s wrong, Gaius? Why can’t I see?”
“It must be the blow to your head.” I kissed her eyes. “I’ve read in my uncle’s notebooks that a blow like that can cause loss of memory or blindness, or it can cause a person to act strangely. But it doesn’t last. We’ll get a doctor to see you as soon as we get home. You’re going to be all right.”
Aurora pulled away from me and started to cry.
I tried to draw her close again, but she wouldn’t budge. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my guilt, Gaius. This is the punishment for what I’ve done.”
The lightning flashing outside might as well have struck me. “Punishment? By all the gods, what are you talking about?”
“It’s what Virgil said. ‘Dido called it a marriage. With this name she covered her guilt.’ Her guilt.”
“Listen to me, you silly girl. You’re not guilty of anything except loving me. And for that I will be grateful as long as I live.”
“But I shouldn’t love you…my lord. I can’t love you. And you can’t love me.” She took off the Tyche ring and threw it across the cave. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be planning your wedding. I’ve ruined everything.”
I put both my hands on her shoulders and did not let her jerk away this time. “You’re upset, frightened. I know that. But you don’t have to panic. We will deal with this when we get home.”
“But Virgil said—”
“Virgil had no idea what Aeneas and Dido said. That wasn’t real. He made it up. You’re reading too much into one line of poetry.”
All Aurora would do was cry. I wished I had Virgil’s gift with words. Perhaps then I could console her. Was her blindness going to be temporary? I had no way to know, but I couldn’t tell her that. All I could do was hope.
One of the trussed-up shepherds moaned. I had gagged them as well as tying them, and I did not mind in the least pushing pieces of their filthy tunics into their mouths. Now that I had my sword in hand, I didn’t think they posed any further danger to us, but I wanted my servants to find us and get us out of here.
*
Aurora cried herself to sleep, huddled next to me for warmth, if not out of love. The storm had passed and the fire was burning low. In my uncle’s unpublished notebooks he describes the way people react when they’ve been hit in the head. They recover more quickly, he concluded, if they are kept sitting or standing up. I had followed that advice recently when I took a blow to the head and I believe it hastened my recovery.
Before I lost the light, I leaned Aurora against the wall of the cave and managed to find the Tyche ring and hang it around my neck. I put the last of the shepherds’ wood on the fire, including their staffs. I was contemplating cutting their tunics off them for a little more fuel when I heard someone calling my name.
Trying not to disturb Aurora, I put my head out the entrance to the cave. My heart leapt with joy to see a raeda stopped by the scarred tree. Demetrius himself stood beside it, calling my name in all directions. Several of my men were riding up and down the road, calling for me.
“Up here!” I cried.
In only a few moments Demetrius, puffing from the exertion, was at the entrance of the cave with dry clothes over his arm. “My lord, are you all right?”
I stopped him and took the garments, giving him our wet clothes in return. His eyes widened as he realized that he was holding both of our tunics. “We’ve been better. We’ll be down shortly. Get the raeda turned around.”
“Yes, my lord. I brought some food.”
“That’s welcome news indeed.”
A dry tunic—and a heavy winter one at that—had never felt so good. I put my sword on under it, then turned to the task of getting Aurora dressed. No matter how I tried to rouse her, she seemed to stay half asleep. I got the tunic on her and wrapped a clean cloak around her. I could see that I would practically have to carry her down the hill. As wet and slippery as the ground was, I was afraid I might let her fall and injure her even more.
Before we left the cave I drew my sword and bent over Mettius. He whined and moaned. I guess I cut a more impressive figure wearing my stripe and waving a sword.
“What are you doing, my lord?” Aurora asked groggily from where she was sitting on the other side of the cave.
“I’m going to do to these swine what they would have done to us.”
Suppressing the urge to gag, I grabbed Mettius’ greasy hair, jerked his head back, and held my sword against his throat with enough pressure that, if he even swallowed, he would break the skin. Behind his gag he cried more loudly. His entire body stank even more as he soiled himself. At least this time he was taking me seriously.
“My lord!” Aurora pleaded. “Please don’t hurt them.”
I flung Mettius’ head back to the ground with a thud and turned to Aurora in disbelief. “Don’t hurt them? After what they were going to do to us?”
“I know, my lord. But you’re a kind and humane man. They’re defenseless. If you kill them, you’ll be no better than they are. Please, don’t. I beg you.”
My hand tightened around the handle of my sword. These men had subjected me to the threat of the ultimate humiliation a man can endure and had threatened to rape the woman I love. And now she was asking me to spare them.
I grabbed Mettius’ hair again and put my sword to his throat. “You have no idea,” I said, grinding the words between my teeth, “how much I want to slit your filthy throat. But I have to yield to this lady’s request, even if I don’t understand it. You’re strong enough, I’m sure, to free yourself before a bear or a wolf finds you. I’ll even leave you
r knife. It’s by the fire. When you do get loose, sacrifice to whatever foul god you worship and give thanks that you’re still alive. But I know your name and”—I increased the pressure on my blade ever so slightly—“if this woman’s injury proves to be permanent, I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter what she says. And I promise you it won’t be a quick or merciful death.”
I stood up as though to leave, then turned back to Mettius, letting the point of my sword rest heavily on his crotch, eliciting one more groan from him. “Oh, if you had actually raped her, I would be feeding your genitals to you right now.”
*
Aurora came to her senses enough to walk down the hill with my assistance. Her grip on my arm was so tight it was painful, almost as painful as the rib on the other side of my chest. “Why can’t I see?” she kept asking.
“We’re going home,” I assured her. “Everything’s going to be all right.” Sometimes the easier a promise is to make, the harder it is to keep. I could only hope that her injury was no more serious than the one I had received when I was hit on the head in an accident in a boat. Her blindness, though, worried me more than I would admit to her. Because she kept trying to go to sleep, we had to prop her between Demetrius and me, to keep her sitting up. I put a cushion behind her head so it wouldn’t bounce against the hard sides of the raeda.
“Did the servants get home with the horses?” I asked Demetrius.
“Yes, my lord. And they found your runaway along the road. All have been returned to Saturius.”
“Good, that’s taken care of. It was resourceful of them to go for help and come back to get us.”
“They did leave two men in this vicinity, my lord, in case you emerged from your hiding place.”
I was disappointed they hadn’t seen Pompo and Mettius, but in the woods and with the storm raging, I couldn’t really fault them.
“There is one other surprising development, my lord.”
I groaned. For me lately the word “surprise” had just meant bad news—my engagement, Tacitus’ departure, now Aurora’s injury. “What is it?”
The Eyes of Aurora Page 16