***
Harriet’s first essay of term focussed on the changing perceptions of women over time. Harriet intended to concentrate on the eighteenth century, but started with a book on women in ancient Rome. The book absorbed her more than she’d expected, and she read quickly, letting her mind wander to daydream about what it must have been like to live then.
When Olamide came to meet her for lunch, they discussed their work on the essay. Olamide had been reading about medieval women, both those whom the Church had lauded as saints, and those they’d killed as witches.
“I’m not sure which was worse when you look at what the saintly ones put themselves through,” she said. “Starvation, flagellation, praying for hours a day on bended knee. Catherine of Sienna reminds me of a modern problem teenager. She was basically a self-harming, anorexic, attention seeker.”
Harriet laughed. “I might have to have a quick read of your books. That sounds interesting.”
“So how was life for the women of Rome? I’m going to go out on a limb and guess grim. That seems to be the answer for practically every period of history.”
Harriet started to explain. “Not particularly great. A fight for survival if you were poor, like being trapped in a gilded cage if you were a noble woman.”
Suddenly her voice changed. “It was awful,” she said passionately. “Being married off to a much older man with no say in it myself. Being left alone for years on end whilst he went off fighting, never knowing if he’d make it back at all. Having no rights. I knew I risked both of our lives, but is it any wonder I had the affair?”
Olamide stared at her. “Sorry, who are you talking about now?”
“I don’t know,” Harriet said. “I’m feeling a little odd. It was like I was looking out on Rome from someone’s eyes.”
“Let’s go and get lunch,” Ola said. “That’ll make you feel better.” Her calm words couldn’t hide the concern in her voice.
Olamide stumbled over her words as they walked. “I’m not trying to make a big deal of this, but Callum told me that you did something similar in a tute with him. Started talking about the Civil War as though you were there, taking things really personally.”
Harriet remembered it well, though she’d hoped that Callum and her tutor had forgotten. I know exactly why that was though. George’s blood gave me his human memories and reading about the Civil War prompted them. But whose memories were those? I’ve never taken blood from anyone else. Besides, the only vampire old enough is Augustine, and he’s definitely not a woman.
“All I’m trying to say is that maybe you’re overworking yourself,” Olamide continued. “Perhaps you should try and see a counsellor.”
Great, she thinks I’m going mad. I wonder what she’d say if I claimed my boyfriend and half the government are vampires?
The temptation to do so bubbled up inside her, but she held her tongue. Ola dropped the issue as soon as they arrived at the bar and spotted Caroline, although she continued to look at Harriet with marked concern.
Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One) Page 43