by Carol Ashby
He sat once more at the table by the back wall, and a girl brought two steaming bowls of porridge. Galen gave her a smile and a nod.
Adela blew on the spoon before she slipped it between her lips. A taste like this was definitely worth getting up early for.
Galen stood as she licked the back of the spoon after the last bite. “The innkeeper said it’s about twenty-five miles to the top of the pass. A hard day for the horses with as high as we’re going to climb. Time to head out.”
Galen bounded up the stairs and stood at the top, grinning as Adela walked up behind him.
Twenty-five miles is a long distance, but it didn’t seem so to Adela. Galen rode beside her, teaching her the Latin names for the things they passed, and so many were things she’d never seen before. Hermunduri forests were filled with leafy trees and thick undergrowth. As they climbed, the forest around them changed from beech trees with their many-branched trunks and canopy of leaves to beech mixed with spruce, then spruce and fir and larch. The trees grew so tall and pointed, and they had needles like tiny daggers instead of leaves.
But even though the sun rose higher in the sky, the air grew cooler as the horses carried them farther up the mountain slope.
Galen called a halt long enough for them to eat a lunch of cheese and dried apples and add a layer of clothing. Adela pulled his brown shirt over her light blue, long-sleeved tunic. She didn’t roll up the sleeves because the extra length of the long arms covered her hands, providing welcome warmth.
What to do with the rectangular fabric with the ties on each end baffled her. Then Galen showed her how he wrapped his around his calf and tied it to make leg warmers underneath his trouser legs. He untied his fleece vest from the back of his saddle and handed that to her as well.
She wiggled her toes inside the felt boots. With the tube socks, her feet stayed warm. Warm feet usually made for warm hands, but her hands were cool, even with the sleeves hanging past her fingertips.
The road grew rockier as the tall trees changed to stunted shrubs, but the view back down the mountain toward Octodurus drew more than one gasp from her. A hawk circled overhead, screeching. For the first time, Adela understood what it meant to have a hawk’s-eye view of the world stretching out below her, with giant trees looking no taller than grass, and the rivers they’d followed seeming no more than trickles.
But the sparse growth of stunted trees and low shrubs provided little protection against the wind as they got closer to the summit. Adela tucked the edge of her cape under her knees to keep it from flapping in the breeze and flipped the hood over her head.
Stunted trees gave way to heath and grasses and blankets of wildflowers. Splashes of blue, yellow, and white dotted the rocky soil around them. Yellow and orange patches of lichen softened the harsh gray of the rocks.
The wind nipped at her face, even with the hood up, so she wrapped the scarf over her ears and across her mouth. But her cape, which draped her horse as well as her, trapped the horse’s warmth. Almost like a brazier, Galen had said, and he was right.
The sun was low on the horizon when the stone buildings at the top of the pass came into view. Despite the beauty surrounding her, Adela was more than ready to get inside.
Galen reined in, and she stopped beside him.
He pointed at a sprawling stone building. “That’s the mansio. My sister’s husband Dec would have stayed there when he was tribune of the legion in Mogontiacum. I’ve heard some mansiones even have baths. Soaking in some hot water would feel good right now, but you have to be on official Roman business to stay there.” His hand moved toward a cluster of smaller buildings. “That’s probably the inn for regular travelers the lanista mentioned.”
He turned Astrelo’s head toward the inn and nudged him into a walk. They passed a stone corral holding a dozen or so horses. The stable beside it had an attached stone-wall corral on the end opposite the main door. Raucous laughter could be heard through the closed door of the inn just past it.
Galen’s forehead furrowed. “Stay here while I go see if there’s a room available.”
Adela watched him push open the heavy door and go inside. It was only a few moments before he came out, and his mouth curved down.
“The private rooms are all taken. There’s only the common room where we could spread our bedrolls, but…” He shook his head. “There’s a lot of drunken men already, and the women are all…for rent. I don’t want to take you in there.”
He rubbed his chin. “Back to the stable.” He took Astrelo’s reins from her and started walking.
Adela shivered, even though she wasn’t especially cold.
Galen left her with the horses and entered the stable. She heard his voice in conversation with another man, then he returned wearing a smile.
“I’ve rented a stall for the horses and a place in the loft for us. It won’t be as warm as the inn, but it’s out of the wind and better than nothing. The stable boy will bring us some hot stew as well.”
As she followed Astrelo into the stable, Adela glanced back at the inn. A drunk stumbled out the door and threw up by the wall before going back in.
It was much better to be cold in a stable with Galen than warm in an inn with that.
The hot stew had been tasty, but now it was time to sleep. Adela shivered as she knelt and spread her blankets on the straw. A chill wind blew into the loft through the broken shutter that only half-closed the opening through which hay was tossed. A few snowflakes floated on the wind.
Better than sleeping in the open, but still much too cold. She fixed her gaze on the smoke drifting out of the chimney of the inn before the wind blew it sideways, and she sighed.
Galen took the top blanket from his bedroll and spread it on top of hers.
She looked up at his face. “Take it back. You’ll be too cold without it.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re warm enough. I don’t need it.”
“And I won’t take it and leave you cold. But…” Her head tipped. “If we put yours on the bottom and mine on the top and spread the cloaks on top of that, we can both be warm enough.”
His eyebrow shot up.
“I trust you, Galen. We can share and both be warm.”
He rubbed his mouth and glanced at the opening. A plume of snow blew in and settled on his bedroll.
“If you’re certain…I won’t argue.”
“I am.” She scooped up his blankets and shook the snow off. Then she spread them to be wide enough for two and added hers on top.
Galen picked up her cloak. “Lie down.”
She slipped between the blankets, and he spread her cloak over her. Then he slid into the blankets and spread his over both of them.
He stretched out with his back toward her. “Good night, Adela. Rest in peace.”
She rolled on her side, facing away from him, but she felt his every breath as the blankets moved with each expansion of his chest. She pulled the blankets up over her nose and relaxed in the warmth they shared. Her own breathing slowed, and she drifted off.
Adela wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but when she awoke, she felt Galen’s warm breath on her neck. His arm was draped across her as he held her against his chest. Her heart started to race. But he was breathing so slow and steady; it was clear he was asleep.
She lay still as a stone. If she moved and awakened him, he’d take his arm away, and that was the last thing she wanted. That arm made her feel wanted and protected.
What would it be like to lie with Galen as her husband? No man had ever treated her like he did: respected as a person, valued as a friend, admired for herself and not for whose daughter she was.
That thought drew a broad smile. Then it faded. She was expected to marry the man selected by her father, the warrior son of another chieftain. Would her husband be rough and demanding? Would he be like her own father, drinking too much before coming to her, then only caring about his own pleasure?
Gal
en would never come to her drunk. He’d never hurt her or make her do anything that wouldn’t give pleasure to both of them.
He rolled over, pulling his arm across her arm as he turned.
Adela fought the sigh. That was much too soon. Then his breathing slowed. He was sound asleep again, not likely to wake easily.
She rolled over and snuggled against his back, draping her arm over him ever so slowly so she wouldn’t awaken him.
In his sleep, his arm moved to hold hers against his chest. His hand settled over her own. Her smile returned. What would it be like if it was warm and her arm could rest against his bare chest instead of a shirt and tunic? But if it was warm, he would never have let himself sleep next to her like this.
Her breathing synchronized with his, and her smile broadened.
Being with him on this quest to rescue his friend had turned into the best time of her life, despite the horrible beginning. Despite the long days in the saddle, poor food, hard ground, and cold nights.
For Galen’s sake, she wanted to find his friend safe and rescue him…but not too soon.
Chapter 19: Words to Remember
Day 13
When Adela opened her eyes, white clouds of frozen breath greeted her.
Galen was gone. She lifted herself on one elbow and pulled her cloak up around her shoulders. Somewhere below her, she could hear him humming. She rose to her knees and peered over the edge of the loft.
Galen was in the stall below, brushing Astrelo. The rustling of the straw as she stood drew his gaze. Then it drew his smile.
“Good morning. I hope you slept as well as I did.”
“I did.” The thought of his arm around her drifted through her mind. “Maybe even better.”
Astrelo bumped him to demand more brushing. Galen obeyed, but he turned his eyes back on her after each stroke.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share the blankets. It would have been too cold sleeping alone.”
“I trust you as much as any man could deserve.”
That drew his chuckle. “Given some of the men you’ve met lately, that’s not saying much.”
If only he knew how much she meant those words.
The stable boy entered, bearing two steaming bowls of porridge on a tray. Galen took it and paid him as Adela leaned over the edge of the loft. A gust of wind came through the broken shutter, and her hair swirled against her cheeks. Then she pulled it back and tied it with the blue ribbon that matched her eyes.
Galen turned his eyes away, and she climbed down the ladder.
He raised a bowl closer to his nose and inhaled. “Not as good as my sister’s, but much better than what’s in the food sack. Tonight, we’ll stay in Augusta Praetoria and get a hot meal at an inn.” He bounced his eyebrows. “I do like roast rabbit, but there won’t be time for my Hermunduri hunter to snare us one. Plus, we won’t have the wildland like we’ve been riding through north of the pass. Much of Italia is under the plow or covered with orchards and vineyards.”
After they’d eaten, they saddled up and headed south. As they passed a stone marker, Galen pointed down at it.
“What’s the number there?”
Adela glanced at it. “XXIII. That’s twenty-three.”
“That tells us how far it is to Augusta Praetoria. Going down should be easier than coming up, but I still want a good rest for the horses today and another hot bath for us.”
Adela pointed at the stone building rising a short distance from the mansio. “What’s that?”
“Someone built a temple to honor Jupiter Poeninus.” Her head tipped, a question in her eyes. “That’s a combination of the main Roman god and a Celtic god worshipped here before Rome claimed the pass.”
“What are those people doing?” A small group waited on horseback as the oldest of their party came from the temple.
“Probably leaving an offering to ensure a safe trip over the pass.”
“Do we need to do that? We’re only halfway.”
A crooked grin punctuated his chuckle. “No. A Roman god can’t guarantee our safety on the pass…or anywhere else.”
As he opened his mouth to tell her which God could, a troop of Roman cavalry rode up beside him. The officer’s stallion was draped with the Roman military harness of leather strips with bronze medallions at their crossings; it would have been a proud addition to Val’s herd. The officer himself, with his metal body armor and red horsehair crest atop a gleaming brass helmet, was almost as magnificent.
The tribune reined in beside Galen. His gaze raked Galen from head to foot. Disdain twisted his mouth into a smiling frown. That vanished when his calculating eyes took Astrelo’s measure before shifting to Otto’s stallion.
Galen’s shoulders tensed. He couldn’t afford to have either horse taken by military seizure. “Salve. I see you appreciate good horses. That’s a fine animal you’re riding, but we citizens of Rome deserve the best. Where did you buy him?”
The tribune’s eyes lost their predatory gleam when Galen said ‘citizen.’ “From the best stable in Rome.”
“I breed horses. I’m always looking for good brood stock. The name of the stable?”
“It belongs to Tiberius Cornelius Lentulus.”
“I’ll have to visit it this trip.” Galen suppressed a wry smile. Visit the former governor of Germania Superior who made it a capital crime to follow Jesus? Not likely.
The tribune nodded once and nudged his horse into a fast walk. The two younger officers and sixteen cavalrymen followed suit.
Astrelo snorted, and Galen reined to the side of the road to give them more room to pass.
As he considered whether it was wise to talk about the only God with real power while a cavalry troop rode so close to them, Adela’s arm shot out, her finger pointing.
“That lake is still frozen. Look at how the ice sparkles.” She urged her horse off the road for a closer view.
Galen blew out the breath he was half-holding. It would be unwise to tell her about God with soldiers so close. But their presence did mean he wouldn’t have to worry about bandits. His God could protect him from hazards on any trip…and it looked like He just did.
Augusta Praetoria, Day 14
The sweeping vistas of distant peaks near the top of the pass gave Adela the hawk-like feeling again, but she was glad to trade it for the warmth of the sheltering forest at lower elevation. It was the middle of the afternoon when they finally rode toward the stone wall surrounding Augusta Praetoria. It stood more than three times the height of the legionaries standing guard by the arched gate.
Adela’s eyes widened. “The whole town looks like a legion fortress.” She turned a smile on Galen. “But Roman warriors are safe for Romans…and the one a Roman is protecting.”
“And they’re good to ask questions when you want honest answers. Listen and remember what I ask next.”
He rode past the man standing outside the gate and reined in by the men standing at ease inside. “Ubi honestum diversorium?”
A flow of words and some gesturing by a legionary earned a thank you from Galen. Then he led her into the city.
“The most important word was honestum. It means respectable. When you ask for a place to stay or eat, be sure to use it. Most use caupona for an inn, but that might get you sent to a place like the one at the top of the pass.” His forehead furrowed. “That’s not a problem for a man but for you…not a good choice.”
Adela followed Galen as he wove through the streets. She scanned the signs on the shops. Here and there, she saw a word she knew.
He was about to enter the stable yard of an inn when he turned in his saddle and pointed across the street. Above an arched entryway hung a sign that said “Thermae.” His eyebrows bounced as the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. His smile broadened when she nodded.
A stable for the horses and a respectable inn for them. Add to that a visit to the bath and a tasty hot meal, and it would be a
good evening.
But she would rather be cold at the top of the pass with his arm wrapped over her than warm in a soft bed without it.
Day 15
It was a four-day ride from Augusta Praetoria to Ticinum. The route through the foothills along the Duria Major river had been pretty and an easy ride. But after two days, they’d left the hills behind, and now they rode across a plain covered with farms and large estates.
After the wild beauty of the Alps, Adela would have been bored to tears if it weren’t for Galen. He pronounced the Latin name of each new thing that came into view in a solemn voice, with a grand sweep of his hand toward it for good measure. More than once, he’d pulled a giggle out of her when he announced something as unimportant as a fence post as if it were a temple column.
They stopped by a stream to water the horses, and Galen placed his hand on his chest as if he were about to make a speech to the tribal leaders.
“Adela of the Hermunduri, I proclaim you the best student of Latin I have ever taught, and I declare you ready to learn the mysteries of the many forms of the words that describe what we do.”
“All fourteen of them?” She fought the giggle again. “With six versions each?”
Galen relaxed in the saddle. “Not all fourteen. Not yet, but we can get started on the most useful ones. There are five main patterns, but they aren’t all that different.”
He rubbed his cheek without the cut. “I’ll take an example of each, and we’ll add their endings. Amo, amare…no, that’s not a good one for you.”
Her eyebrow rose at his chuckle. “Why isn’t that one for me?”
“Amo, amas, amat. It means I like, you like, she likes something. But you’d never be saying amo to a Roman sentry when you ask directions. You probably shouldn’t say that to anyone. They might get the wrong idea about you.”