A Noble Captive

by Michelle Styles

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I just have.’ Tullio leant forward. ‘Now, are you going to get me the ships I need or am I going to tell the legate just where you have been obtaining all that fine Falerian wine?’

  Thirty-nine. Helena made one more mark. Forty. Forty lines on a stone wall. So many lines, so quickly.

  She rose from her knees and stared out towards the still harbour. The triremes bobbed in the gentle breeze. More ships than she had ever seen before. But not one of them Roman. The hunting eyes on the prows of the ships no longer a comfort. Helena knew exactly what these ships did and what Androceles intended to do. She had been blind before.

  Her hands tightened on the battlements. She had never expected it to take this long. The first few days and nights had past in a blur of activity and ritual. She could not expect him back. It would take time to get men.

  Then on the tenth day she had begun to hope. She found every excuse to look at the horizon. Each new sail caused a tightening in her belly, hope springing in her heart. She’d raise her hand to shield her eyes against the sun’s glare, imagining Tullio standing on the prow, chain mail gleaming, and sword held aloft. But it remained a dream.

  By the thirtieth day, she had stopped running to the battlements. She forced her hands to continue to their work. Each day brought a new purification ceremony. Aunt Flavia insisted the robes be made from the finest wool, and be sewn only by the sibyl. A time-consuming process, but one that kept her busy.

  Each new sunrise brought greater loneliness. Particularly when her time of the month arrived and she discovered that she would not be carrying Tullio’s son or daughter. She knew she should feel relief, but a small part of her wished for a baby, something to bind her to him. It made her realise that a child was not a disgrace. A child was a blessing from the gods.

  Helena took one last look at the harbour. He was not coming. He had promised she would not have to face the cave alone and he had not returned. Only now she realised how much she relied on his promise, how it had carried her through those meetings with Androceles, Kimon and Uncle Lichas.

  ‘I wondered if I would find you up here.’

  Helena turned towards the steps at the sound of Aunt Flavia’s voice.

  ‘I thought to have some time to myself.’ Helena moved in front of her tally of days.

  ‘You are up here watching for Roman ships.’

  ‘How…how did you know?’

  ‘Instinct.’ Aunt Flavia dropped a hand on Helena’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be concerned. No one will have guessed. Remember, the goddess moves in mysterious ways. She has her own time. Marcus Livius Tullio is a good man.’

  ‘The goddess does not speak to me, Aunt.’ Helena stared directly into Flavia’s eyes and watched them widen. ‘I nearly died in the cave. I would have died if Tullio had not rescued me. When I put on the mask, I feel nothing.’

  Aunt Flavia’s face grew grave. Helena shifted on her sandals. She had to make a clean breast of everything.

  ‘I was coming to tell you the day I was made sibyl. I was coming to tell you that I was leaving. I was going to go to Rome and start a new life. I have no desire to be a sibyl.’

  ‘Niece, everything happens for a purpose. If the goddess did not intend you to be sibyl, she would not have made you one.’ Aunt Flavia’s clawlike hands caught Helena’s. ‘You need to trust her and to trust your heart. You have a good heart, Helena. You will do what is right. That is what your mother said to me on the night she made me sibyl and I have lived by it.’

  Helena’s mouth dropped open and she hurriedly closed it. Aunt Flavia had experienced the same doubts and fears as her. She always thought Aunt Flavia a tower of strength. The goddess spoke to Aunt Flavia. She was positive of that. The enormity of what she was about to do made Helena’s knees weak.

  ‘I can never be you. I can’t wield power in the way you did. Day by day I see the seafarers, in particular the ones from Cicilia like Androceles, gaining power. Kimon swaggers around the temple, bragging what he will do, the raids he plans on the mainland. He is careful to couch it in bland terms, but I know.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The Falerian wine they gave the temple. It came from an earlier raid. The rings they wear came from the same raid. Tullio told me, but at first I did not want to believe.’

  ‘Are you sure of this, niece? You need to be positive. A cursing is not a matter taken lightly.’

  ‘I know it is true.’ Helena squared her shoulders. ‘At first I didn’t want to believe, but now I do. I see Zenobia becoming closer than ever to her distant kinsmen. She will pervert and use this temple for her own ends.’

  ‘What do you think they are planning?’

  ‘They intend launching a major raid on Rome. Women and children will die, Aunt, and I have to find some way of stopping it.’

  ‘Lichas should never have married into that clan.’ Flavia’s mouth held a bitter twist. ‘It was an evil day when we made an alliance with that family.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do? Is there no way you can continue as sibyl and issue an edict against them?’

  ‘Do you think they’d listen?’ A green spark showed in her aunt’s eyes, making her look younger. ‘Do you think they’d pay attention to me? A woman who is a mere shadow of her former self?’

  ‘The other chiefs would. They respect you still, Aunt Flavia, despite what Zenobia says.’

  The hope that had sprung in her aunt’s eyes died. Her hands fell to her sides.

  ‘The last bout in Kybele’s cave took my breath away. My hands are useless claws. It is time for me to pass on my robes, mask and sword. If not to you, then who?’

  Helena put an arm about her aunt’s shoulders. She felt as fragile as one of the doves. Helena did not trust herself to speak. Another dream gone. She had had a faint hope that Aunt Flavia would simply agree to stay on as the sibyl, that she understand what a horrible mistake had happened.

  ‘What is left for me to do?’

  ‘The only thing left to us, you and me, is to be as strong as possible. I will guide you as much as I can, but you must listen to your heart. It may be that the goddess is speaking, but you are not listening.’

  ‘I pray you are correct.’

  Aunt Flavia withdrew a sundial from her pouch and held it up.

  ‘It is time to begin the purification, Helena. We cannot delay any longer.’

  The brown and green coast appeared as a line on the horizon. Tullio’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. They were here. On the appointed day. In time, he hoped.

  A smaller battle group than he would have liked, but he prayed that it would be sufficient. This time, it would be the pirate chiefs who were caught off guard.

  ‘You’ll lead the attack, Quintus, once the corvus has been lowered.’ Tullio nodded towards the plank with a long spike on the end. Its main purpose was for boarding ships and allowing the infantry to cross easily carrying their shields. ‘Once you are on shore, have some men torch the triremes, but take the bulk to the temple.’

  ‘And what will you be doing, sir?’

  ‘I’m going a different way to provide a counter-attack.’

  ‘But Galla told me the only way on or off the island is through the harbour. Come with us. We will go the back way, the way the sibyls use.’

  ‘There is another way. It is how I planned to get Helena off the island. Now, I will use it to get me on.’

  Quintus grasped Tullio’s forearms, preventing him from moving. ‘Seven men. You are only taking seven men with you. Are you sure that is enough?’

  ‘It will have to be. The shore is not very wide there. I don’t want to risk anything more than a small boat. You will wait until you hear a loud horn blast. This will be the signal for your part of the attack to begin. If the pirates start to swarm out of the harbour before then, block them.’

  ‘What horn?’

  ‘The horn of Neptune. I intend to deliver a lesson to the pirates that they will never forget.�
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  ‘But how can you be sure?’

  Tullio stared out over the sea. Small waves danced in the sunshine. All peace and tranquillity.

  ‘I am more sure about this than I have ever been about anything.’

  ‘Should I not make it, you will ensure that Galla gets my veteran’s settlement.’ Quintus touched his hand to his chest. ‘I promised her I’d marry her and become a farmer after the remaining five years of my service is up.’

  ‘You’ll make it, Quintus.’ Tullio clapped his centurion on the shoulder. ‘We’ll all make it.’

  ‘It was a noble thing that Helena did—getting Galla out like that. I hadn’t expected it. Galla is the sort of woman I could spend my last days with. I feel I owe Helena an apology.’

  ‘Helena acts in the most unexpected ways.’ Tullio kept his eyes on the island drawing steadily closer. He did not trust himself to look at his centurion.

  ‘Don’t you worry, sir, Helena will be fine. Galla told me that she has been training for this all her life. It is what she wants.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, centurion.’

  ‘Sir, I wanted you to know—it has been an honour and privilege serving with you.’

  Tullio’s jaw tightened as he stared at the island’s shore. Helena had been training to be sibyl all her life and he was about to launch an attack that could potentially destroy her life. But if he did nothing, she’d die. He felt that in his bones. He woke up in cold sweats. He knew he should never have left without telling her how he felt about her, without pleading his cause. He had to tell her that his life was nothing without her.

  With each passing wave, each breath of wind, the ships sailed closer.

  ‘It is time, Helena. The drums have started. The heads of the seafarers are all in place.’

  Helena rose slowly from her chair. She allowed Aunt Flavia to fasten the gold belt about her hips, to slip the bronze hands over her fingers and to fit the mask on to her face.

  Tullio was not going to come. He had failed her. The heads of the seafaring houses would dispose of her once they knew the truth, but she had this little piece of time to try to do some good. She would accuse Androceles and Kimon of their crimes and bring them to some sort of justice.

  Tullio had said that they killed his ex-wife in a raid. She had not wanted to believe then. She could believe now. She had peeped out through a curtain and had seen Androceles, resplendent in purple with a multitude of rings on his fingers. And the Falerian wine with the markings. Tullio was correct about that as well.

  She would do this for Tullio and he would never know. He was right. Someone had to stop Androceles. She had to hope the goddess would help her—somehow.

  She felt the weight of the mask bear down on her face, and struggled to breathe. Then she came through it and felt a kind of peace. She could do this.

  ‘Sound the drums to begin the ceremony.’

  Tullio stood ankle deep in seawater, pulling the boat on to the rocky beach when he heard the boom of drums. A solemn sound. His hands stilled.

  ‘By Hercules’s club,’ Rufus exclaimed. ‘The sound sends shivers down my spine.’

  ‘I will be happier when I hear the sound of the gladii hitting the shields as our men advance, but for now the drums will do.’ Tullio cocked his head and listened again to the slow steady rhythm of the drum. ‘They are calling people to worship, not to war. We have landed undetected.’

  ‘Having landed here, what do we do now?’

  ‘We climb.’

  Tullio spat on his hands and slung his shield over his shoulder. His gladius, a short sword made in the Spanish fashion, was at his side. Unlike the one he had lost to the pirates, its hilt was only smooth wood and its blade had never been tested in battle, but Tullio prayed it would serve him well.

  This time, Jupiter and Hercules were with him. He had arrived before the investiture started, and therefore he had a chance of saving Helena.

  His fingers dug into the soft red dirt, failed to get a good grip and he slid back a few feet.

  ‘Do you really think we are going to be able to climb that?’ Rufus asked, giving a low whistle.

  ‘I don’t think. I know.’ Tullio pulled his body over the narrow ledge. The muscles in his shoulders protested as he started reaching for the next hand grip. He came face to face with a lizard and watched it scuttle away. Then he saw the track he had seen that day on the turret, faint but there. Enough for one man.

  He turned back and saw the last rays of the sun hitting the sea.

  Helena advanced slowly to the sound of the drum. One step for every beat, just as she had practised countless times before.

  The temple was full to overflowing. At the front were the different heads of the seafaring houses. Twenty in all. Behind each ranged their captains, pilots and seamen. Further back still were the ordinary villagers. Helena saw Niobe’s wide eyes as she clutched Pius’s hand. Helena’s step faltered. She wanted to stop and explain, but the drumbeat urged her on.

  She reached the altar where Flavia and Zenobia stood and mounted the short flight of steps. The drum fell silent. In a high-pitched nasal whine, Zenobia intoned a long piece about why they needed to change sibyls and how Flavia had brought Kybele’s wrath on the entire population of the island.

  Helena listened in growing disbelief. She saw Aunt Flavia stand rigidly to attention.

  Zenobia ended her piece, allowing her hands to drop to her sides.

  The drum boomed again three more times.

  Helena’s hand brushed Tullio’s medal. Her back straightened. She would do this. It was her last chance. She had to trust her heart.

  She made the ritual supplication to the goddess and turned to face the sea of upturned faces. She removed the bronze hands, and took the gold mask from her face. The crowd gasped.

  ‘My friends, we are gathered here today to make me the new sibyl. People have spoken about Kybele’s desertion.’

  A swell of murmuring started to gather, a ripple, but gathering pace. Helena held up her hands, motioning for quiet.

  ‘Kybele is not angry with the old sibyl but with what has been happening. What we have allowed to happen. The sibyl forbade raiding, but there are some who have not listened.’

  ‘She lies!’ Kimon jumped to his feet. ‘She consorts with Romans and lies!’

  ‘Here before you is one such man.’ Helena forced her voice to remain steady. ‘He and his father murdered in cold blood and gave the temple tainted goods.’

  ‘Strong words, Helena.’ Androceles rose to stand with his son. She heard the whisper of his sword being taken out of its sheath. ‘I hope you are able to prove them.’

  She tried to speak, but the lump in her throat was too big.

  ‘We’re waiting, Helena. Prove to us that it was not the sibyl’s fault. Show us that Kybele guides you.’

  The doors of the temple clanged open. Zenobia screamed. A figure with a drawn sword stood in the doorway.

  ‘I have returned. I kept my promise.’

  Helena’s knees sagged with relief as she heard Tullio’s voice boom out.

  He had come. Tullio had arrived.

  ‘You dare much, Roman.’ Androceles sneered. ‘Is it for the tribute you come?’

  ‘No.’ Tullio’s black gaze met hers. ‘I come for another reason. Something infinitely more precious than gold or silver.’

  ‘Let the Roman speak.’ A small voice echoed through the chamber.

  Everyone fell silent. Then Pius yelled. ‘My sister, my sister speaks.’

  Helena recovered first. ‘Kybele has performed a miracle. We should heed her words. She has shown us a sign. Ill will come to any who do not obey her.’

  The mass of people parted and allowed Tullio to walk to the altar. He kept his eyes straight ahead. What he was about to say was bigger than Rome. Rome’s interests were secondary to his. He hoped Helena understood that.

  When he reached the foot of the altar, he stopped and turned.

  ‘My friends, Rome does not have
a quarrel with the vast majority of you. Only those who rape and plunder. To any man who lays down his arms, I promise to resettle you on my lands in North Africa as I would settle any of my veterans. A colony with land to farm, and no need to rob or plunder.’

  He waited, hearing the collective indrawn breath. Would it all be over simply?

  ‘Pretty words, but is this truly what the gods want us to do?’ Androceles stepped forward, curved sword in his hand. ‘Neptune has blessed my every venture.’

  ‘Shall we settle this man to man, Androceles?’ Tullio asked between gritted teeth. ‘Then we shall see whom the gods favour.’

  ‘Let me fight him, Father,’ Kimon said. ‘I have seen Romans fight. This one will be no match for me.’

  ‘I am not so old that my son must fight for me. I too have seen this Roman fight.’ Androceles made a mocking bow. ‘Very well. I accept your challenge.’

  Helena stuffed her hand in her mouth. She wanted to cry out and stop this madness, but it was impossible. The seafarers were urging the fight on, making a ring. Tullio advanced forward and saluted her.

  ‘May the gods favour the brave,’ Helena said.

  Androceles crouched, tossing his sword from hand to hand. A maniacal gleam was in his eyes. ‘I have waited a long time for this, Roman. When you are dead, know that I will take the temple and use it. The gods will favour me.’

  The swords clashed. Metal against metal. Tullio blocked the first blow, felt the jar go up his arm. He prayed his sword would hold. Androceles’s sneer deepened.

  ‘You will have to do better than that, Roman.’

  ‘I intend to.’

  Tullio pressed forward, stabbing rather than slashing.

  They circled each other. Tullio watched Androceles’s movements and waited. He saw an opening and took it. This time Androceles brought down the hilt of his sword on Tullio’s wrist, nearly knocking the sword from his hand.

  Tullio retreated, the old injury to his shoulder aching. He glanced upwards and saw Helena’s white face.

  He would do this. He had to do this. For Helena.