by Nhys Glover
Not that I expected to sleep. But as I had slept little the night before and was exhausted from the journey, I might be lucky enough to snatch a few hours before Marcus’ return.
It seemed my lot in life was to wait. And so I did so, whiling away the time with daydreams of my pack. I remembered the kiss I had shared with Asterius. Gods, could it actually have been as good as I remembered it, or had my imagination embellished the experience over the many times I had relived it?
It did not really matter because it could never happen again. And it was a harmless way to idle away the hours as I waited, I told myself resolutely. Anything was better than fixating on the fate Camellia had in store for me.
Time passed. I napped. I daydreamed. I listened to the raucous conversations in other rooms. When a repetitive banging started up next door, followed by gasps, moans and cries, I was sure someone was being killed. The only thing that kept me from reporting the crime to the landlord was the tired laughter from the occupants of the room once the thumping ceased. Clearly, the victim was not as badly off as I had suspected.
Worse still was the stifling heat that made the chamber pot reek so badly I was tempted to leave the safety of my room just to remove it. But the risks were too great, so I put up with the smell as well as all the other hardships, in the hope that they would be over soon.
When the loud knock finally came I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“It’s me,” Marcus said loudly, so I could tell it was him without opening the door first.
I lifted the bar and flung back the door, letting in the fresher air I so desperately needed. I almost collapsed into Marcus’ arms, I was so glad to see him and breathe less fetid air again. Not that the hallway was fresh, by any means. But it was still a great deal better than what I had been subjected to in my little cell.
Marcus pulled a face. “Gods, that is foul. How have you stood it in there?” he exclaimed.
Embarrassed that my bodily waste had provided the stench, I blushed and shrugged. “I did not have much choice, did I? Do you want to come in or can I come out now?”
Marcus dragged me away from the room as if the gorgon herself was in residence. Outside in the wonderful fresh air, we found a secluded spot to talk. I noted Marcus had brought several bodyguards with him. I wondered if they were Pater’s ex-gladiators. They looked big enough.
“Camellia is an astute woman, I have to give her that. She sent a dispatch to Pater yesterday using one of your father’s imperial certificates. It said you had run away, that she was concerned for your safety, and that if he should see you he was legally bound to return you to your home. I imagine she sent a similar one to your cousin. Pater therefore cannot see you. If he does he must comply with her wishes.”
I groaned and buried my head in my hands. “So, our arguments about what was strategic did not matter to him? I should have known better!” I drew in a few disappointed gulps of air, still appreciating them after my internment. When I went on I felt a little better. “She must have known it was you who helped me escape. Thank goodness we thought to hide me here instead of us both going directly to your pater.”
Marcus nodded. “Exactly. Pater was impressed.” The amazed pleasure in his voice was obvious.
I found myself grinning, for all the situation was so dire. I was starting to realise that Marcus rarely impressed his father, and so this odd turn of events lifted his spirits. Did he remain in the country rather than in Rome with his family because of the man’s disapproval? Yet hadn’t his fighting and tactical skills won the man over? From the way he had spoken, I had gathered that was the case. Yet now I wondered if it had been enough to weigh against all Marcus’ other less than manly attributes.
Yet was not our emperor known for his less than manly characteristics? He changed his hair style as often as he changed his tunics, from what the gossips said.
I dismissed my concerns and focused on the pleasure Marcus was feeling right now. It felt good that at least one person seemed to be gaining from his involvement with me. Everyone else was losing, or would lose, if Camellia had her way.
My thoughts turned to my pack yet again. What would Pater do to them when he found out? At least Camellia could not get her hands on them until they returned. By then Pater should be back.
Which left only Ariaratus and Minerva. I already knew what had been done to my precious handmaiden, I could not face what might have been done to my master. Although I was no longer his student, so I should stop thinking him as my master. It was an oddity I had become used to, that I was his Little Mistress while at the same time he was my master.
“I am worried about Master Ariaratus,” I confided. “Camellia sent Minerva to be a field-hand. What would she do to him? She must know how much I value him.”
“Minerva a field-hand? That would be a sight to see. Could she even bend over far enough to pull carrots, do you think?” Marcus joked, trying to lift the mood.
I gave a weak little laugh. “I could imagine her pecking at the turned fields like a hen as she clucked.” I grew serious again. “I have to get her away from there. That life will kill her.”
“Once your father returns all will be righted, I am sure. You need to worry about yourself for now. Pater has sent the missives out to Aquincum and Ovilava. He also has friends in Ostia that would likely have you stay, but not if they thought you were on the run from your paterfamilias. Because of your hair—I had to explain that as a skin condition—I told him you were currently travelling as a boy for safety reasons. He therefore believes we might be better off passing you off as a distant male cousin just arrived from... Where do you know the most about?”
I thought seriously for some time. Pater had regaled me about all the places he had visited. But the one that had appealed to my imagination the most was Britannia. I had no idea why. It was a wet and dismal isle, from what Pater said. But it also had a kind of mystical feel to it that defied explanation.
Druid priests were known to have a powerful influence over the Celtic tribes, in Britannia and on the mainland. Their gods were concerned with the land and nature, in a way most of our gods were not. Except for our spirits, of course. They sounded to be a lot like the gods those barbarians worshipped.
I remembered Pater telling me how only a few years ago Gaius Suetonius Paulinus had chased after and wiped out most of the Druid priests who had escaped to a mystical island off the coast of Britannia. When I asked why our general would do such a thing, Pater said it was because they refused to recognise the emperor as a god and incited unrest amongst their people. It made me sad when I heard it.
“Britannia. I will say I come from Britannia. From Camulodunum. I can say our estates were destroyed during the recent revolt by the warrior woman, Boudica, and the rest of my family killed. A terrible tale! I know she was our enemy, but if my daughters were raped by Romans I might go to war against them too.”
Marcus studied me in amazement. “I think our pack has rubbed off on you. You have quite a violent streak, have you not?”
I shrugged and grimaced. “I must admit, spending as much time as I do with gladiators, or soon-to-be gladiators, gives me a different view on life to the average dutiful noblewoman. I do not know if it is a good thing or bad. It is what it is.”
“So, you will be content disguising yourself as a boy for a little longer?” Marcus asked.
I grinned. “As long as I do not have an attendant who will want to help me bathe. Or be expected to share the private baths with family members. I may also have to get my hands on some herbs to stop my bleeding while I am there. Boys do not have a monthly flow, after all. If I write you a list can you have it filled?”
“A woman can stop her... her feminine flow?” Marcus said with an audible gulp of surprise and embarrassment.
“A heavy flow can certainly be relieved. And cessation for months at a time. But it can interfere with long-term fertility.”
“Will that not concern you?” he asked. “Do not all women want childr
en?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I would like a child, but as long as I have a full life in other ways I will not mind if it does not happen.”
“You might prove to be the perfect woman for me!” Marcus declared brightly. “Pater will expect me to marry at some point, and I am loath to do so, if by doing it, I lose a woman her chance at children. I could not perform that function. If you know what I mean.” He blushed.
“I have heard that some men who prefer their own gender have trouble in that way. There are herbs to help with that too, you know, if that is of interest to you.”
He shuddered. “I can get an erection. I just cannot reach completion with a woman. I am just not interested. A woman’s body does not excite me.”
I could see that the subject was embarrassing him, so I changed it. “I will need clothing, including a toga. Although it would be dishonourable of me to don a toga I am not entitled to.”
Wearing the garb of a citizen worried me more than dressing as a boy did. I had grown up equating the length of material wrapped around a man’s body with his god-given right of citizenship. To don one, when you were not entitled to wear it, was not only a criminal act, it was enough to lose favour with the gods.
“What if you stay with me, and I pass myself off as your slave attendant?” I suggested, trying to avoid the possibility of offending the gods. “As long as you do not... well, you know.”
“Share my bed with my attendants? Is that what you are asking?” Marcus sounded a little annoyed but not overly offended by my intrusiveness.
“Yes, I suppose that is what I am asking. And do your attendants have a say in whether they share your bed or not?” I asked, a little more determinedly.
It was none of my business. And given all Marcus was doing for me, I certainly had no right to pass judgement on him. But I had to know. I could not bear the idea that he was like the other Roman patricians I had heard about.
He looked away uncomfortably. “My Pater uses his slaves for his pleasure. Male and female. I grew up seeing the dead looks in those slaves’ eyes and knowing how it got there. When I grew old enough to have needs... Well, I meet them with prostitutes. At least if I pay for it I am not forcing anyone.”
I leaned in and kissed Marcus on the cheek. He jerked back, his hand rising to that cheek, eyes wide with surprise.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
I grinned. “For being an honourable man. I know some prostitutes are slaves and have no rights to their own bodies, but we have no control over that. What we can do is make sure we do not use our own people that way. Or that is what I believe. I know my beliefs are odd for someone like me. But I think it comes from spending too much time with slaves. I have come to see them as people like any other. As the Stoics tell us. So I am glad you feel the same way.”
“I think we have talked about too many personal topics for one day. Let us return to task. If I were to stay with our friends in Ostia, when we have a perfectly good villa just outside Rome, I would have to have a reason to stay.”
“Does your pater have trading vessels? I know he must keep the income from them low, or risk his Equestrian status, but if he is like my Pater he does dabble in trade.”
Marcus nodded, seeing where I was going with this. “I can say I have business dealings with some of the captains of Pater’s ships. That might keep me in Ostia for a few weeks. Good thinking! For a girl you have a good brain!”
I punched him in the arm. “Watch it or I will take back all the good things I have said about you.”
He laughed and playfully punched me back. It hurt a little and I cried out. Marcus was immediately contrite, which allowed me to get even by punching him a little harder in his solid arm without fear of a counter-blow.
Up until that moment, I had not realised my friend was almost as hard-muscled as my pack. It annoyed me that I was such a weakling. Even when I was used to carrying Ariaratus’ pack, I never developed the kind of muscles men wore with such ease. And they did not have to deal with the pain and inconvenience of a monthly flow either. There were a lot of reasons why I wished I was born a boy, beyond the obvious of being Pater’s heir.
When we had finished with our play we returned to business with more focus.
“Will we be taking your bodyguards? How is it you did not have any back home?” I asked, eyeing the two big men lounging against a tree just out of listening range. They looked relaxed, but I knew they were alert to the possible dangers around us. My pack had taught me to see such signs others might miss.
“Pater was horrified when I turned up without any. And when he heard I had you with me, he insisted I bring those two along. I should take them to Ostia with us, I suppose. Just in case Camellia tracks you down there. And it will look better if I am supposedly wandering the docks.”
With our plans in place, Marcus sent a message to his father telling him that he and his attendant were going to take care of his shipping interests in Ostia for a few weeks, and for his belongings to be sent to him, along with clothes for the bodyguards and a slave boy of about twelve. Then we began the short journey to the coast, Marcus and I in the cisium and the bodyguards following along behind in a chariot.
Once in Ostia, we hungrily ate bean stew from a stall and found a seller of herbs who carried what I needed. Then we made the short journey back along the coast to the villa of Apius Julius Rufus.
In no time, Marcus was ensconced in the guest apartment reserved for friends and family arriving or leaving Rome via the new Portus Augusti, and we began our game of cat and mouse in earnest.
Chapter Nine
ASTERIUS
Once Otis had dropped me by the side of the road just outside Brigetio, I began jogging leisurely back the way we had come over the course of the day. This was going to be a lot easier than I expected. All I had to do was stay out of the way of the army in Aquincum. I first thought to steal enough money to find accommodation in the small township, which had built up around the small fort, but I was not yet ready to risk someone noticing such a theft while I was still in the area. I could live off the land well enough for the few days to a week I had to wait, I decided. It would attract less attention and likely be cleaner and the food better.
When I arrived in town I spent some time listening to gossip in the marketplace. The best way to get a feel for an area was to listen to gossip. Much of it would be untrue, but there would be enough that was accurate to guide my next actions.
What horrified me immediately was talk of the gladiatorial contest that had taken place a few days earlier between a famous retired gladiator from Rome and one of the recent captives. The match had been exciting, and the soldiers I listened to had made a substantial amount backing the old gladiator, while locals backed the warrior.
Reeling a little at the news, I took several steps away into the shadows created by a nearby wooden dwelling. There were many such buildings here, thrown together in a hurry along the river banks to meet the needs of the troopers at the fort.
Alcohol and prostitutes would be the main needs, but there would be others. And locals would soon gravitate to the new town to buy and sell their produce. I knew it happened this way all over the empire. Rome brought civilization everywhere it went. Or that was what I’d been taught. But my lessons had been determined by the conquerors of areas like this. They were the ones who decided what ‘civilization’ meant.
I dismissed the philosophical debate in my head and focused on the startling news. What did it mean? Had I gotten the dates wrong? Was my master here already? My heart lifted in relief. Sooner than I’d hoped. I might have found him sooner than I expected. This had to be good for Accalia!
I sauntered over to a shop keeper in the open marketplace. I fingered his cloth and asked if he’d witnessed the contest the soldiers had spoken of.
“Sure. Everyone did,” he told me in Sermo Vulgaris, the common speech of the empire, his accent almost too heavy to understand.
“You win?” I as
ked, as if I didn’t care one way or the other.
The man scowled. “No. I should have knowed it fixed. That old man too good fighter for age. Should have knowed patrician who owns him would not set up match if he had chance of losing.”
“He still at the fort? The patrician who set up the fight.” My fists had clamped tight around the coarsely woven cloth and I had to force myself to relax them.
“No. He left after match. Couple days back.”
My heart began to race in terror. I had missed him? How could I have made such a mistake? Or had I miscalculated the length of time Otis and I had taken to get here?
I cast my mind back to what Accalia had told us. I would have sworn she said the Master would arrive at Aquincum at the start of the last week in June, not leave on the ides.
Where had she said he would be heading after Aquincum? Had she said? Yes, she’d listed one place before this and two places after. Noricum. Somewhere in Noricum came next. My panicked mind lost the name of the settlement for an instant.
Ovilava. That was it.
“I heard they were going next to Ovilava. Is that along the road west of here? Or south?” I asked the shopkeeper who was becoming more hopeful of a sale every minute I spent fingering his goods.
“West. Couple weeks slow wagon. He moved fast though. Fine horses. Fast. Though they pull weighty load.”
“He didn’t travel by boat?” I’d already seen plenty of military craft sailing the wide river they called the Danube. It would make sense that the Master would make use of them if he could.
The man shook his grizzled head. “No. Went by road. They good this time of year.”
With a sick feeling I realised I’d probably been left in Brigetio not long after the Master had passed through it. How could I have gotten it so wrong?!
He was at least two days ahead of me. I wondered what would attract the least amount of notice. I could run all day with a heavy load on my back if I had to. Not as fast as a galloping horse, by any means, but the Master was not travelling that quickly. He would be taking his time and stopping overnight along the way. If I ran through the night, I had a better chance of catching up to him.